SADISTIC HEART

Independent. Private. Highly selective. Low activity. A roleplay blog for the villainous "Monster Princess" Do-S from ONE & Murata Yusuke's One Punch Man, based on both canon and personal interpretation. Whipped into shape by Tengu. Reawakened in October 2024.

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Dingy alleyways are no place for someone like her, but she'd hoped that the labyrinthine twists and turns of her current surroundings would help to aid in her escape. Puddles explode beneath her boots as she stomps down on the pavement with one foot following the other. What was once an even gait has become a mad dash. Her chest is on fire. Her legs ache. Even with a body that's as flawlessly sculpted as hers, it fucking hurts to hold a sprint for as long as she's had to. Keeping it up for much longer is not a possibility.

Her mind races as she tries to come up with another solution. There has to be a surefire way of giving her pursuer the slip. She's smart. Cunning. A perfect mix of beauty, brains, and brawn. So there's a solution. ( There has to be something. It's just not obvious yet, that's all. ) She convinces herself that she's on the cusp of something, but has to let it fall when a neon-tinged woman floats down just in front of her.

She can't stop on a dime so she pivots sideways into a skid instead. The soles of her boots try and fail to find something that they can cling to. She almost stumbles and falls but shifts her balance back at the last moment. It's a shaky stop that matches the sweaty, heaving mess that she must be.

Compared to her, the emerald esper is completely flawless. There's no sweat on her nape. No dirt on her clothes. Each of her countless curls is as perfectly positioned as ever. Her chest barely rises and falls even when she is breathless, but it's obvious that Tatsumaki isn't winded at all. The coy look that's on her face when she speaks up makes Do-S want to throttle her.

Red flashes in her vision. The fucking gall to suggest that it's her fault she's ended up like this. ( It's never her fault. Never ever. ) There are plenty of heroes and monsters who can outpace the dominatrix, but that doesn't mean she isn't fast. In just a few minutes she's cleared a marathon. That's ridiculously impressive. And it only becomes more absurd when you take into account that she did it all while wearing heels. Her athleticism is absolutely not the problem. What's the matter is the imbalance of their match up.

"Shut your trap!" Wheezing vitriol. Just trying to assert herself makes her feel a little dizzy. No matter how tough she tries to look, there's no way to sell it when she could slump to the ground at any moment. "Flying is such bullshit!"

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

Absolutely everything about her life before becoming a monster. That she was ever human to begin with is something she will deny and deflect from unless seriously pressed. There's no trauma there, she just prefers to project the image of having always been her powerful and queenly self. The answer is similar even in verses where she isn't a monster, although in that case it's everything about her youth.

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

She doesn't have a hobby that's like that. Her love for showing off means that she always performs optimally in front of others. The only catch is that even if something was difficult for her to learn she'll insist on acting as though it came to her easily.

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

Being respected is more important than being liked. Even if no one wanted her at a gathering, she'd enjoy being able to flaunt her presence. There is power in that.

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

A weak handshake can be deferential when coming from someone who's beneath her. It's a sign of fear that feeds into her sense of superiority. If however the gesture comes from someone who should be her equal or her superior it is deeply offensive. From a person like that, she can only understand it as being a sign that they don't take her seriously enough.

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

She has to scoff at that. It's not a laugh that rolls off her tongue or curls her lips. It's more of an acrid thing. The esper's claim is just as cutting as it is amusing.

"Don't sell yourself short, darling," Do-S fires back, "I've seen you go off. If you want the title of 'Prissiest Bitch', then it's yours to claim."

It isn't clear which one of them is worse. At least not in this particular way. They're both volatile like fine liqueur waiting for a stray spark. The only difference between them, this heroine and villainess, is their care for self-presentation.

Every bit of edge that the dominatrix has is coated in a layer of glossy black lacquer. She revels in her implicit threat, but does not let her grisly edges overtake her more appreciable features. She believes herself to be a goddess. ( It's laughable, but she does believe it from the bottom of her heart. ) That title comes with expectations. A goddess must be beautiful and elegant at all times. Less than any others, Do-S does not like it when her image slips. ( It always does eventually, but maybe it wouldn't if she weren't surrounded by morons. ) Her temper only gets the better of her when others do not play by her rules.

Keeping her serene is easy. Just dance for her. Sweat for her. Worship her. It might be taxing. ( It will be taxing. ) But she's a very predictable being. Even her outbursts are telegraphed most of the time.

Compare her with the esper, someone whose disposition is like a frigid gale from the onset. ( That is just her opinion though. As an egotist herself. ) Tatsumaki shows little warmth to most people, whether real or fake. Always so grumpy. Always so ready to erupt. That the blonde at least attempts to be affable should make her the better of the two by default.

"Can't disagree." The dominatrix's eyes flick lazily over to the esper's. Pools of burgundy meet with neon green for a moment. Their gaze is held long enough for mutual acknowledgement, but not for any longer than that. What's more important to Do-S is a cautious review of her fingers.

It's not often that they see eye-to-eye so easily. Differing roles make it make sense. They're not supposed to think the same way as each other. Anything else takes a miracle or a moral inversion. ( It isn't a miracle this time around. ) Judging people based on preconceptions is horribly unheroic. The esper is probably used to being told off for her thinking, but Do-S won't do that. More than just casually agreeing, she views intrinsic worth as an objective fact.

The sun rises. Flowers bloom. Human beings are born unequal. All of those statements are obvious. Like remembering to draw breath, they do not need to be thought about. That's why her nails are more interesting.

It's about time to repaint them. All of them. There are some discrepancies to take care of too. Her left ring finger is a little chipped. Her right thumb is the same. On that same hand, her index and middle should be shortened. ( For reasons. ) It's not a lot to take care of but it's annoying.

A scream echoes through the night. It's harsh. Just as grating to the ears of onlookers as it is harsh to the throat of its owner. ( Pitiable? Maybe without context. Not at all to those who know what has played out. ) A burly thug cries for mercy because his victim-to-be has turned the tables. She's on the verge of breaking his legs. It's harsh but not undeserved. He's done much worse than that to plenty of good people. It might be that that tendency is his downfall. It's been too long since he's tried anything against someone who knows how to fight back.

Do-S makes a face as she watches the back alley scuffle unfold. From her vantage point up above she sees the whole scuffle play out from start to finish. It's not impressive. That man, her lackey, is as pathetic as pathetic gets. His role was just to serve as bait, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable for him to be taken down so easily. He shouldn't be giving up and swearing to spill his guts just because someone is threatening to break his limbs. It makes her look bad if he's that disloyal and intolerant of pain.

"Ugh. That's more than enough." This display is confirmation. The blonde knew it, but now it's confirmed. She really is the only capable crook in town. It should be a stroke to her ego, but at the moment it just irritates her. With enough good help, she might not have needed to be out on the streets like this in the first place. "Let's get this over with."

Her thumb and index press together. Tension builds, exploding with a loud snap. It's sure to draw attention, but that's the whole point. To her left, three sets of hands sway in tandem. Her signal is their cue to pitch the burden they've been lugging.

A metal grate made from galvanized steel. Fifteen feet wide. Forty feet tall. It's perfect for sealing away the alley. Too perfect, some might say. It digs deep into the architecture, shrieking harshly and kicking up sparks as it slides along premade grooves in the walls of the building on each side. When its bottom hits the ground, it rings out with a terrible thud. ( That means it's her turn to follow. ) Another signal, another snare. Her men have finished what they were needed for. The rest is hers to tackle alone.

Her toes dip over the lip of the roof, tasting the ether. It's a fourteen foot drop from there. Maybe just a little less if the builders cut corners. Maybe. Either way it could be lethal. Most people wouldn't chance that kind of leap without precautions, but the dominatrix isn't like most people. She doesn't think twice about stepping off the ledge and plunging into the abyss. Posture firm. Hands raised. She drops like a bullet and lands like one too.

There's a harsh crunch as the heels of her boots pierce into the asphalt. The low crouch that breaks her fall doesn't stay low for long. Do-S rises to her feet with an elegant nonchalance. Her right arm rolls in its socket. She works the kinks out of her neck with a quiet but audible pop. ( She wants it to be known that her display of athleticism has taken nothing out of her. It's a boast and a threat. ) There's no reason to hurry. If winning were all that mattered to her, she wouldn't have bothered with all of the spectacle in her entrance. She wants to make a harsh point, and to enjoy herself in the process.

ii. Do-S is a villain and will be written as such. I'm not her. She's not me. Dark themes and mature content will be present, but only in the context of fiction. Real immorality is inexcusable, and I won't associate with people who think otherwise.

iii. Multiship and open to smut, but neither is a priority over other dynamics and interactions. I am selective in all aspects of my writing and these areas are no exceptions. I won't be pressured into anything I don't ardently want to write.

iv. Limited canon means that my interpretation of Do-S is very personalized and, after writing her for as long as I have, it's not likely that some of my characterization may diverge from official material. If the way that I play her is to your dissatisfaction, you may unfollow at your own discretion.

v. Do-S is incredibly overpowered. Mind control can be a discomforting trope for many reasons but it's especially difficult to handle in roleplay, where taking away another mun's agency over their muse should be avoided at all costs. What this means is that I won't have her use her powers without prior discussion and consent. What it does not mean is that other muses will be allowed to provoke or make light of her without any fear of repercussion. Respect goes both ways.

Boku No Hero Academia : Tenkubashi Tomiko was born into wealth. From earliest childhood onward, the girl's parents spoiled her rotten. Her ego was always large. It only grew when her quirk emerged. She found herself able to mentally dominate others. Physical contact was the only catalyst needed.

A suspect power combined with a selfish heart gave birth to a villain. Going by the alias "Do-S", Tomiko seeks to attain wealth and power by any means.

General Villainy : In the criminal underworld, "Monster Princess" Do-S is feared far and wide. Her psychokinetic power allows her to steal the hearts of others, and through its use she has claimed numerous victories over some of the Earth's most powerful heroes. Her talents are often for hire, but she is risky to employ. No amount of money can buy her true loyalty. There is little she won't do if it further solidifies her prestige.

Vampire: The Masquerade : A 9th Generation Toreador sired in 1909 after a night of fleeting passion. Tomiko could only hold her sire's interest for so long before she was thrown to the wayside. She had no choice but to stumble through the early years of her undeath, alone and without guidance.

Ruthless self-reliance kept her alive. She made it her core tenet as she gradually learned to play by the rules of Kindred society. Some of her mistakes should have been fatal, but her sire's absence did not remove his innate blessing. Tomiko's lineage was enough to keep her safe until she finally found her place. In the Final Nights, Tomiko is a well-regarded socialite and the proud proprietor of an S&M club. All Toreador find their art and she is the same. Bodies are her canvas. Pain and pleasure are her paint. Many members of her clan disagree with her preferences, regarding her as close to antitribu, but they keep their feelings to themselves. Even if they do not want to, they must respect her for her well-entrenched roots. Tomiko is powerful and always seeking more.

In a world where mankind fights for survival against monstrous beings, the self-styled "Monster Princess" Do-S sits high atop the hierarchy of inhuman fiends. She is a domineering woman whose concerns both start and end with the boundaries of her own immaculate flesh. She is a sadist. A narcissist. Someone utterly debauched. If there are any shreds of humanity in her, they've been wrapped up tight beneath leather and latex.

It's a wonder that she always walks with a horde of worshipers slavering at her heels, but their heart-shaped pupils do tell all. It's all hollow devotion. A seizure of strings. Do-S does not earn her adoration. She takes it. Her power is the power to enslave hearts and she clasps her shackles with reckless abandon. It's dangerous to catch her eye.

Her fearsome reputation is well-earned, and only fools would face her down without the utmost caution. No matter how strong you think you are, her will is always stronger. With just a single swing of her whip, you might find yourself becoming her newest acquisition.

Her Powers

Psychokinesis. An ability to control minds. For Do-S, who is defined by self-worship, there can only be one way that her powers manifest. Others must love her as much as she loves herself. Loyalties are overwritten. Self-preservation is destroyed. Thoughts and actions are allowed, but only if they are in service to her.

Her technique is inproficient but the raw strength behind it is enviable. Brawn fills in the empty gaps. If she were wiser, or better, she might be able to control others with just a thought. It's a boon for mankind that she is haughty. She does not believe in trying to refine what she already views as pure perfection.

It isn't a bad thing that she requires a focus for her talents. That's what she thinks. The thorny whip she holds is a symbol of her station as a dominatrix. She would wield it no matter what, but why shouldn't it be the implement that binds others to her will? Sometimes it conveys an advantage. Few assume that their undoing will come from what looks like an ordinary weapon.