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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

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munch!

★ pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: waka loves his fiancee. especially when her legs are around his head.

★ content warning: smut, pwp, porn without plot, cute porn though, simp wakasa, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pussydrunk!waka, unprotected sex.

★ a/n: all my juicy bitches wya 😩😩 thought id do some fan service. enjoy!! mwah mwah xo

★ w.c.; 3.8k

mdni! smut beneath the cut

"YOU'RE SO FULL OF SHIT," Keizo hummed. "There's no way you actually, genuinely think that's a good way to live."

Shinichiro shrugged. "I'm just not a fan."

"Fan of what? Eating pussy?" Wakasa chimed in. The three men were lounging in the living room of Shinichiro's apartment, sharing friendly banter. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I like receiving better," Shinichiro retorted.

Wakasa couldn't possibly disagree more. "Just say you're bad at it, Shin."

"Shin, you sound like..." Keizo began. "You sound like one of those guys who just want to be included in the conversation, but you actually have like... no experience whatsoever."

"Eating pussy is so much better than getting blown, man," Waka mused. "I mean really, you're missing out."

"Take it from him," Remarked the largest of the three, who sat back in his chair with his legs spread wide. "He's a devoted munch."

"For enjoying giving my girl pleasure? Alright, dude." Wakasa rolled his eyes. "The way the girls' legs grip your head, the way she squirms... you're telling me you don't eat that up?"

Wakasa had a sort of reputation around these parts, although it wasn't like he didn't have anything to do with it. He adored his queen. His beloved fiance. It was no secret to anyone from one end of Tokyo to the other that she was the apple of his eye, and that he lived to please her to the furthest extent possible. However, in more recent times, he had made a name for himself. The name in question?

"You know what that makes you?" Keizo remarked with a sharp exhale. "A munch."

The two men were seated in the lounge shortly after a meeting. Their coworker and boss, Shinichiro Sano, sat just off to the side of them, watching the exchange with a shit-eating grin.

"What does that even mean?" Wakasa furrowed his brows. Sinking further into the couch, he reached into his vibrating pocket.

Shinichiro decided that now would be the perfect time to chip in with his own two cents. "A munch is, like, the male equivalent of a dickrider, obsessed," he answered, although it wasn't like anyone asked. "Someone who's all up in one girl's pussy – metaphorically and sometimes physically. Like you."

After a brief pause, Wakasa's weary lilac eyes scanned the illuminated text on his screen. "Rather be all up in one girl's pussy than be getting none at all," He retorted, holding the phone up to his ears. The tone of his next few words was virtually unrecognizable from that of his previous statement as he answered the incoming call.

"Hi, pretty baby," He greeted. "How are you?"

From the other end of the receiver, he could almost see the way her face scrunched together when she yawned. She paused, and then in that sultry, soft-spoken voice that drove him wild, she said, "Hi, Daddy."

Shinichiro's eyes widened as he leaned forward in his seat. Although Keizo's surprise wasn't as outward, even he couldn't hide the quiet chuckle that escaped when he dampened his lips with his tongue. Wakasa clutched the phone closer to his ear, turning away from the two men.

"I'm with the guys, baby, behave," he warned her, although his tone remained as soft as ever. "Is something the matter?"

He heard his precious girl sigh on the other side of the phone, followed by a quiet rustling sound. He wondered where she was right now. It sounded like she was in bed. If that was the case, he could already picture her in all of her sculpturesque beauty – tangled in the sheets of their queen-sized bed, heart-shaped lips parted ever so slightly, face dusted with a hue of pink that matched her pretty pink satin jammies. He wondered if, then, she would be wearing his hoodie. Fuck, just the thought of that had him squirming.

"Nothin's the matter, um..." His muse trailed off. He knew she was fiddling with her earlobe, just as she always did when she was deep in thought. "Jus... I jus' miss you."

If it were even possible, Wakasa felt his exterior soften even more. "I miss you too, princess."

"When are you coming home?"

If she asked him like that again – in that quiet, beautiful voice of hers – he would be coming home within the next few minutes, no questions asked. He didn't tell her that, of course. The two of you had spent the entire night indulged entirely in one another. His neck bore the battle scars of such an altercation; two small red hickeys which had been tactically placed by a devious little gremlin without his knowledge.

"Not sure, why?" He asked, fighting off his internal monologue which had memories of last night on replay in the back of his mind. "You need somethin'?"

"No," Was all she said. There was a brief silence, during which Keizo and Shinichiro resumed the conversation they had been having.

He heard her rustling around in the background again – his phone vibrated once, signifying a new message, but he didn't go to answer it – and then she said, "Look at what I sent you."

Wakasa obliged, like the munch he was, and opened the message. It was from her, of course. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected though, was the image that awaited him when he entered the private message with her.

Immediately, he shielded the phone from his friends (who were, in hindsight, far too deeply immersed in their own private conversation about the politics of gender roles and derogatory nicknames to care ). Feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck and the corners of his lips twist into a grin, he fought to regain his composure.

"You took that just now?" He asked, a little more quietly than before. "Have you been waiting for me to come back all morning?"

"Mhm," The girl mumbled proudly. "And when you do come back, that'll be waiting for you."

That was all he needed to hear. Wakasa stood up from the couch and dusted off his shorts. "Be there in 15."

"Kay," you giggled, and that was the last thing he heard before you hung up on him.

Wakasa sighed, pocketing his phone, and then turning back to his two friends. "I gotta bounce," He called, interrupting their conversation to announce his departure. "I'll catch you guys later."

Keizo crossed one leg loosely over the other, throwing his arms along the backside of the couch. "The missus calls?"

The shorter man – who was already reaching for the doorknob – flashed a small grin. "What can I say? I'm like superman."

Shinichiro, who was now against one arm of his loveseat while his legs were thrown over the other, commented on Wakasa's choice of words. "More like Supermunch."

Wakasa ignored his comment, pulling open the door. "Suck me." .

"Oh fuck."

Wakasa groaned in response, although the noise was muffled by her thighs. Buried nose-deep in the world's wettest pussy, his grip was like a vice, strong hands digging into the girl's hips in such a manner that he knew his fingers would leave pretty purple bruises.

His thick, beautiful goddess. He loved everything about her. More than that, he loved eating her out. When he'd run his tongue over the most sensitive part of her, her whole body would twitch. Her hips, painted with stretch marks, were his handles. He adored the way her soft, supple body careened into his touch.

She tasted like heaven, and god, she was gushing for him.

He sucked gently on her clit, which was flushed red with arousal, watching in awe as the woman arched up off of the bed. He could see this show a thousand million times and he would still be just as enthralled as he had been the day he had taken her like this for the very first time. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pretty pink pussy, his tongue found its way down toward her dripping hole.

Leaving not a moment to waste, she gripped his disheveled ponytail by the root, pushing his head in deep enough for the tongue to slide right in – like it was meant to be there.

"Please," His fiancee pleaded, although he wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. She knew full and well that he wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon. "Mnnnh-"

And, just to tease her, he withdrew, replacing his tongue with two damp fingers. "Feel good, sweetheart?" He murmured softly, just up against her red-flushed skin.

While he wasn't answered with words, the response he got was nonetheless gratifying. With a gasp and a desperate rut of her hips against his mouth, against the low vibration of his voice, she sent a message as clear as day.

He made no effort to stop her. Instead, adjusting his hands to grip the meat of her ass, he allowed the beautiful, frenzied girl to shamelessly ride his face. Her hips jumped up and down, rubbing her pretty little clit on his lips and his nose, smearing her juices all over his face. She shuddered, opening her legs even further, and arched into the warm, mushy mess he had created with his mouth.

She looked so fucked out like this, so ruined. Her head was thrown back, hair strewn haphazardly over the satin pillow, pink lips parted gently to make way for her trembling breaths. The little red babydoll she was wearing – what started all of this – complimented the undertones of her skin in such a way that it made his head spin. One of the straps hung loosely off of her shoulder, just barely exposing her breast. She was too much; he wanted to touch everything. To say he was enjoying the view would be an understatement. God, he could paint it if he could – on some Van Gogh shit, but if he were a porn addict.

Her smooth legs clamped shut over his ears. He huffed a satisfied little laugh before prying them apart and continuing to make a ruin out of the poor girl in the open.

Unfortunately, as he was only one man, he had to pull away for some air. He plunged two digits back into her, curling them up against that spot that would make her purr. He knew her body like the back of his hand, having memorized every curve, every crevice. Moving forward to continue lapping at her clit, he tried sucking in more air without having to stop. He never wanted to. He could hardly breathe but, fuck, he wouldn't mind going out like this: squished between his fiancee's thighs, feeling her warm essence drip down his chin while she cried out for him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The way she took his fingers so well, sucking them in and then clenching around them like she never wanted to let go. The way she gasped out his name over and over like a broken mantra. He could feel the heat of his own arousal straining against the seam of his boxers, but he didn't care. Being able to see her like this was more than enough.

With a gasp, he pulled back. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're purring like a kitten for me."

She carded a trembling hand through his hair, taking some of it into her small fist and tugging on it. He arched into the sensation. He loved the pain.

"Please," She begged again.

Though his fingers never stopped, he paused his desperate licking to draw the moment out even longer. An hour wasn't enough. He wanted to be inside of her all day, in perfect tune with the rhythm of her body, every arch, every stutter of her hips spurring him on. He rubbed the point of his index finger over her sweet spot, pulling her apart from the inside. "Use your words, princess."

Judging by the way her walls were beginning to spasm around his fingers, fun time was about to be cut short. He wanted more. No, fuck, he needed more. But honestly, he wasn't so sure that she could take anymore. Her eyes rolled back, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of her mouth a mile a minute while she struggled to hold on.

Deciding she had taken too long to answer, he dove back into her, parting her lips with his nose and then forming a light suction seal over her clit. He had to readjust himself to fit his fingers and his mouth in such a small space.

She felt so good inside, so warm. He could die in this pussy.

His fiancee gasped, "Waka, stop, 'm gonna cum."

His lips departed from the woman's dripping wet cunt, but only to roughly slide her ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding her previous please, he devoured her. His hair was beyond disheveled, tangled in her fist, while the rest hung in damp strands around his face.

He peered up at her hungrily, pulling back and greedily licking her off of his fingers. "Say my name like that again," he'd practically moaned, running his hands up and down your trembling thighs. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf in the breeze and he was reveling in it. "Say my name while you ride my tongue, baby."

"Mmmfuck– wait," She gasped. Her body, however, sent a different signal. She yanked his hair – hard, too – and trapped his head between her thighs. Those pretty little noises she was making increased in pitch and became more frequent within. She was near the breaking point, broken pleas of his name tumbling from her devilish lips. "Wait, wait... Waka, baby."

He wasn't planning on obeying her, moaning against her now abused clit while his lips and tongue alternated applying pressure on it. The pleasure coursing through his veins was enough to drive him wild – fuck, if she kept swallowing him up like that he was gonna cream his pants. She was getting loud and, to be frank, that was turning him on like crazy. He wanted to reach down and palm the ache between his legs, rut his hips down against the bed – anything to release some of the tension that was building between his legs – but he was far too enamored by the sight of her to take any attention away.

Head thrown back, hand gripping his blonde (and purple) tresses like a vice, back arched up off of the bed while that red babydoll dress slipped further off of her shoulders... she was a sight to behold. He never wanted to stop, never wanted her to stop moaning his name. He didn't care if the neighbors heard – hell, the whole building.

His tongue swapped places with his fingers.

The way she was mewling for him like a cat in heat made his heart run wild with desire. She was beautiful, so fucking pretty. She always was. But nothing compared to the way she looked like this, spread open for him like a mouth-watering buffet. He whined, feeling her tug harder at his hair. Her guts were clenching around his tongue like she wanted more. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he got what he wanted from her, so he removed his mouth from the girl's dripping cunt, allowing his fingers to work her open – an obscene mix of her juices and his spit glistening as it ran down his chin. Somehow, he found the strength to utter the words, "I need you to cum for me."

He had power over her at that moment, he knew he did. He had her rocking her hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet release she so desperately craved. When she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep quiet – because she had gotten a bit louder, to say the least – he quickly grabbed her wrists, pinning them down into the mattress. "Let me hear you, baby," He panted. "Let the whole building know who's making you feel good."

And he continued the downright slaughter of your pussy with his mouth this time.

"Daddy," the girl mewled, curling into herself. He'd been edging the poor thing around for far too long. He knew that. He just didn't care enough to stop.

It slipped out. It must have... Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of her core, her lips spilled praise of his name. "Daddy!"

His smirk grew in size. He licked some of her off of his lips, and then hummed, twisting his fingers around. "That's it, princess. Such a good girl for me."

And then he could see something in the girl snap. The coil of her release snapped with all the power of an oncoming freight train, slamming into her in such a way that had her back arching up off of the bed. Her hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while savoring the slow strokes of his long fingers against her gummy walls. He could feel the shock tear through her in waves, ripping trembling gasps from her lungs while she clenched around him.

"Baby," she mewled. "Oh, fuck, baby."

He slid his fingers out of the girl slowly, savoring the way her pretty pussy clenched over his fingers one last time before pulling out. Taking the soaked digits up to his lips, he sucked them clean. God, he would never forget how she looked right now, even if he'd seen it a thousand times before.

"Fuck, I wanna feel you," He shuddered, pushing himself onto his knees and then reaching for his tee shirt. Seeing her cum on his tongue like that was enough to drive him mad, dick straining hard against his pants. His lips found their way to hers in a messy clash of tongue and teeth, slick spreading from his face to hers while juices dripped down his neck. He pulled back, "Wanna feel you so fucking bad it hurts."

His beautiful fiancee sat up with uncalled quickness, small hands grabbing at his wrinkled shirt. That was all he needed to push the girl onto her back, promptly tugging the damp fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. When he turned back around, he caught the way her eyes studied the linework of his tattoos with newfound hunger.

She reached a pretty manicured hand out to rest on his abs, fingers splayed open, roaming the expanse of his ink. She traced the lines down to his abdomen, down to the junction between his hip and his pants – where his v-line was peeking out. He felt himself twitch beneath her touch.

"Don't be a tease," He breathed, although that breathless smile never wavered. He had to make a conscious effort to regulate his breathing. If he didn't restrain himself, god, he didn't even know what he would do to her. He had spent the whole ride over here fantasizing about her, about his pretty girl. He could do so many things, but there was so little time to do them. At least, that's what he'd been thinking before he felt her hand cup his erection through his sweats.

He let out a pent-up gasp that turned into a breathy chuckle. "Ah, fuck."

And then he pulled the girl into another bruising kiss, gripping her ass in his hands and pulling at the flesh like he was tearing into Thanksgiving dinner. Her hand pressed further into his crotch.

She parted from his lips to mumble, "Want you..."

"Yeah?" He breathed. It was getting hard to keep his composure when her hand was palming at him through his pants. His hands slid over her waist and gently cupped her face. "Where do you want me, princess?"

She laid back against the bed, arching her back down. Her legs remained folded against his waist. He quietly observed her, mesmerized by the woman and the way she welcomed him with open legs. Sighing blissfully, he lowered his hand to the warmth between her legs, which had begun to drip

Wordlessly, she brought her legs up onto the table. The man quietly observed her as she did so. He was mesmerized by the girl and the way she welcomed him with open legs. He hummed, lowering his hand to the warmth between her legs. "Right here, baby?" He asked.

Instead of answering, she reached for the waistband of his pants.

He left no time to waste, sliding them down over his hips with a hand at her back and letting her tug his boxers down below his thighs.

Immediately, she pushed her hips back against his, rubbing the head of his cock between her drenched folds. Something in him snapped, or rather, something was about to snap.

"Put it in, Daddy," she whined, and, fuck, when she was getting his cock wet like that he had no right to refuse her. The way she was so desperate even though she just came... he was going to get her pregnant one of these days.

He sighed, adjusting her legs around his waist, running his hands down her stomach – which rose and fell with every ragged breath – to rest on her hips. He let one hand move down towards his dick, wrapping around the leaking tip and then lining it up with her entrance. She was dripping all over him.

Before he could put it in himself, the girl slammed her hips back, sheathing the entirety of his cock in her heat.

"F-Fuck," He gasped, although it came out more like a whine. He let her set the pace at first, sliding back and forth in a way that had his head spinning. Her walls were so wet, so warm, so gummy. Fuck, it felt like he was melting.

Fucking into his dripping-wet fiancee, he couldn't fight the strangled moans that were ripped from the depths of his soul. "Fuck," He whimpered. He slowed down to savor the way her pussy sucked him in, and then pushed him out, and then sucked him in again. It made him dizzy. "Fuck, fuck."

"Mmm," the little devil chuckled. "Feel good?"

"So warm," he panted in response, sounding like a bitch in heat. "Oh fuck, I–" He angled his hips upward, bringing his hand over her cunt to roll his thumb over her clit, relishing in the way she cried for him. "I'm not gonna last long."

He'd never put it in so soon after eating it before. Fuck, the sensation was indescribable. He wanted to die like this – buried eight inches deep in her warm, wet cunt.

"Kay," she giggled. Then she moaned, "I want you to cum inside, okay?"

He knew that if even thought about getting to paint her insides right now he wouldn't last much longer. Hell, this would mark the fifth time he'd done it this week, even if it was only Tuesday. But, shit, whatever the princess wanted?

"Okay, baby."

Princess would get.

a/n: hey heyyyy, I hope you enjoyed it!!! if you liked it, you would loooove my other waka fics which can be found here.

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @tokyorevengersslut69, @mikeys-bike-slut, @midtwenties-angst, @sleepysnk, @enneadec, @noaabean, @galactict3a, @em1e, @drakensdarling, @wakashawty, @satanlovesusall666, @sin-and-punishment, @mztoman, @sanzuicide, @bontensbabygirl, @strawberrychrome, @scaraphobia, @bertholdts--butt

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notiddygxthgf · 11 months

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10. don't look back

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, so much more...

★ a/n: so so so sorry for leaving yall on a cliffhanger like that ughhh!! momma loves u all. anyway not much to say about this one, so enjoy! hope yall brought tissues <3

★ w.c.; 7.1k

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CONFUSION DISTORTED YOUR FACE. Your heart skipped another beat, and then another. The warmth of the room seemed to dissipate, leaving a chilling silence in its wake. The symphony of anticipation within your chest faltered, eyes widening as they scanned the messages on the screen – your phone.

Shit, you thought. Shit, Shit, Shit… you had been foolish enough to leave your phone behind in a drunken haze.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” You murmured softly, your voice betraying your confusion.

“You’re full of shit,” he chuckled humorlessly. His eyes met yours and they were dark, emotionless. “Waka? Of all fucking people, too?”

His voice sent shivers up your spine. It didn’t make any sense; you had done everything right… so, why now? Your eyes fell to the cigar in his hand, white at the tip from the ash. You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “Babe, I don’t even know–”

“Don’t call me that,” He retorted rather bluntly. “Don’t play dumb with me, girl.”

“I’m not playing dumb,” You answered.

“We both saw those fucking messages,” He spat, taking another hit of his cigar before he tapped it into the ashtray. “Least you could do is tell the truth.”

“It’s out of context,” you hissed, in some feeble attempt at getting him to believe you. “It’s not what it looks like, I–”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?” Takeomi slammed his fist on the table. You jumped at the sound, face burning a bit with the heat of your embarrassment. You wanted to say something, but it appeared as if all coherent thought had successfully left your body. Your mouth was glued shut.

Takeomi shook his head with a sigh, rising from the loveseat in a manner that had you backing away from him. You knew what he was capable of doing to you. Given that the two of you were alone right now, you prepared for the worst. Takeomi had you cornered.

“Cat got your tongue? Shame,” he tutted. Towering over your trembling body, he pulled a hit from his cigar, blowing the bitter smoke out against your face. His eyes were dull, glazed with liquor and anger. Still, you knew it meant nothing good. “Bet you were real loud for him, weren’t ‘ya?”

You froze, paralyzed, like prey being hunted by a predator. Your heart hammered against your ribcage like it wanted to break free. “Takeomi, I…” you swallowed, reaching toward him with a trembling hand. “I know this seems cliche, but I promise, I can explain–”

In the blink of an eye, Takeomi had braced a hand on your chest, shoving you backward into the coffee table. The force of the push sent you flying into it, glass tabletop shattering as ceramic vases tumbled onto the floor. You gasped, clutching your back.

Takeomi flicked his cigar onto the carpet, stomping it out with his shoe. “Listen,” he began, “I’m only g’nna ask you one time, babe. You’ll answer honestly if you know what’s good for you.”

The leather of his shoes crackled as he squatted down to your level. The world was beginning to spin, but the image of his stoic expression glaring down at you was one you would remember forever. He reeked of booze and nicotine, brows drawn low over his stormy grey eyes, black hair falling into his red-tinted face. “Did you cheat on me with my fucking coworker?”

You raised your head in an effort to look at him. Eyes rolling back, you stared up at the ceiling instead. Your mouth felt very dry all of a sudden.

“Say it,” He spat, voice cracking slightly beneath the pressure of his emotions. He was closer to you now than before, face hovering only a foot or two above yours. His eyes were a boiling cesspool of anger and hate. “He’s already on his way here. One of you’s gonna ‘fess up.”

Wakasa was coming. The thought of him being there brought a sense of relief over you, one that was quickly replaced by the realization that he would be walking right into a trap.

He’s already on his way here.

“Take…” you muttered weakly. A groan left your lips the moment you attempted to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

“Tch,” he sucked his teeth. Rather than helping you up or apologizing for shoving you, he dusted his hands off onto his briefs, standing up and then turning away from you. The light caught the arch of his nose as he turned toward the knock that sounded at the front door.

“Just in time,” he remarked. You tried to crawl to your feet, keep him away from that door, but you felt too weak to move. Takeomi stepped right over you, anyway. It didn’t take him long to open it.

“ Sorry I’m late.”

If you had ears like a dog, they would have perked up at the sound of his voice, his song. That low, casual croon that made your heart warm even though you knew it wasn’t right. Your gaze remained on the ceiling, world blurring a bit around the corners. I must have hit my head pretty hard,you thought, rubbing your temples in vain as if that would help ease the slow throb.

“Come in, please,” Your boyfriend replied, allowing Waka to enter his space with such faux generosity that you felt yourself turn toward the sound of his voice in an effort to watch the interaction.

Wakasa was upside down from where you were laying, clad in a black leather jacket and some blue jeans. He scanned the interior of his coworker’s apartment, lavender hues flitting over the living room. He paled visibly when he saw you laying there.

Takeomi shut the door behind the two of them, allowing Waka to process everything that had unfolded before his eyes in such a short period of time. When a minute or so had passed, he clapped a hand over Waka’s shoulder.

“Waka, you’ve met my girlfriend, right?” Takeomi mused.

Wakasa’s mask seemed to slip – if only for a brief moment. Still, as always, he managed to play it cool. “Yeah,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Am I interrupting somethin’?”

You gazed back at him, hoping your eyes relayed the message. Run. Run before it’s too late.

“I got a call from her neighbor, says she had a bike parked in front of her house this morning,” Takeomi continued anyway. He stepped around Waka, folding his arms behind his back. “I don’t have a bike.”

Wakasa furrowed his brows, tilting his head. He amazed you, still, with his innate ability to keep that poker face in even the most perilous of situations. “Okay…” he trailed off. The confusion seemed genuine. He had you fooled for a moment. “Where are you going with this?”

The grin on your boyfriend’s face was anything but welcoming. He shook his head and then looked at Waka like he had every intention to kill him. “You fucking my bitch, man?”

You felt your heart plummet. This was it, you thought. Waka was going to fess up to it. This little illusion the two of you had was about to come crashing down. The glass beneath your wounded arm shifted as you tried to get to your feet.

To your surprise, Wakasa didn’t even flinch at his words, instead drawing up a brow and sparing a brief glance your way. He looked at Takeomi as if to say, Really?

You had to admit, the act was convincing.

Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Takeomi nodded. “Figured you’d try ‘n lie your way out of this,” he muttered. His words were a bit slurred together, stumbling drunkenly for a moment as he reached into the interior pocket of his coat. The object he produced was shiny and silver, glinting beneath the lamplight as he turned it toward his coworker.

With wide eyes, you gasped, clawing at the floor.

“You bet’ta fess up, Imaushi, ‘M not fuckin’ playing,” He slurred. The veins in his hand popped, fingers tensed around the grip of his gun.

“Take,” Wakasa sighed, still remarkably calm considering he had a gun aimed at his head. You knew it was all an act, of course, but you had to give credit where it was due. Even if the timing wasn’t necessarily appropriate. “You’re drunk. Put the gun down.”

“How long has this been goin’ on behind – hic – my back?” Takeomi pressed further.

“I’m not fuckin ‘yer girl, man,” Wakasa shook his head. “The hell are you on about?”

Takeomi held a finger up to the shorter man, shoving his hand back into his pocket and rummaging around until he found your phone. He fiddled around with it for a bit and then turned the screen over.

The room went quiet in an instant, tension pending in the air as Wakasa squinted at the tiny screen. You found yourself doing the same. Bracing your hands on the glass-speckled floor, you stumbled to your feet.

“Say hi to the camera, baby.”

With a gasp, you covered your mouth. The tips of your ears turned red. Shit. He found the video.

“Taking it so well…”

“Waka–!”

“We– hic– well?” Takeomi grumbled. If he didn’t have a gun pointed at Wakasa, you probably would have laughed at the way he stumbled forward. “That’s not you?”

Wakasa quirked a brow, leaning in to get a closer look. The corner of his lip twitched as he licked it. His eyes darted between the phone in Takeomi’s hand – the screen where you knew your vulva was spread open on display for a live studio audience – and the gun.

The sound of your own voice nearly brought you to hysterics. You were mortified.

Finally, he sighed. “I mean, shit, man,” he offered after a lengthy pause. “That’s some pretty solid evidence there, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Takeomi’s eyes locked with yours in a dance of torment and love mingled with betrayal, hatred clashing with the shattered fragments of trust. The tears that had begun pooling in your eyes earlier streamed down your tender cheeks as you pleaded with him silently.

He turned the barrel of the gun towards you, and for a moment – a brief, fleeting moment – you saw Wakasa’s mask break, eyes widening as he watched it happen.

“Six years,” Takeomi reiterated, stepping away from Wakasa and inching closer to you.

Your efforts to back away from him were ultimately in vain, you realized the moment you felt your back collide with the wall. Takeomi had you cornered – again – as he waved the gun in your direction.

“Take, please…” You pleaded with him, face stained with tear marks. Your voice trembled beneath the weight of his unspoken threat. “I–”

“SIX FUCKING YEARS,” He shouted, the force of his voice causing you to jump. The anger seemed to be gnawing at him on the inside, anguish and hatred waging war within him, a tempest of conflicting emotions threatening to put an end to this once and for all. He appeared to stand before you on the precipice of a decision, torn between the love that had once bound the two of you and the searing pain of betrayal. His voice broke, “Was it not enough for you?”

You hadn’t realized he had backed you up against the wall until you felt the chill from the metal barrel press against your neck. His other arm kept you pinned in place.

His eyes were wild, watering a bit as he looked at you for a moment. He cocked his gun, though the quiet click seemed to be amplified tenfold. His hair fell into his face. “I want answers,” he whispered.

“Take, put the fucking gun down!” Wakasa shouted somewhere behind him. He seemed closer than he was before, like he had inched closer to your manic boyfriend, although you weren’t about to crane your neck around to find out.

Takeomi’s bloodshot eyes flickered with a mix of confusion and rage, a fire surging with him that was fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Then his finger tightened around the trigger.

Wakasa lunged forward, tatted arm appearing in your field of vision as he reached to grab Takeomi’s wrist.

Your breath caught in your throat as the scene unfolded before you. You held your breath. The seconds seemed to tick away, each one passing slowly as Waka bravely reached for the gun. You held your breath.

With a sudden surge of determination, like your tears had spurred him on, Waka managed to pry the gun from Takeomi’s trembling hand. The weapon clattered as it hit the ground.

In the deafening silence that followed, Wakasa tucked a blond stray behind his ear, sending the gun sliding away from the scene with a small kick.

Before the relief had even settled in, Takeomi turned on his heel and lunged at Wakasa with a wild swing. His alcohol-addled coordination betrayed him, however, as he tripped over his own feet – missing by an inch or two as he fell over the backside of the couch.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him tumble over the edge.

Wakasa’s head turned quickly as he called out to you. “I’m parked outside,” he hissed. “Go, now.”

He pulled a wireless key fob out of his pocket – you could see the silver detailing of the BMW logo glint beneath the dim living room lighting as he tossed it to you.

“Wait, Waka–” You breathed, voice a hushed whisper. Still, you caught it.

“Get in the fucking car, NOW,” He commanded you. One look into his wide eyes reminded you that he wasn’t asking.

At that moment, your heart seemed to stop beating altogether. The room seemed to shrink around you. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off of the wall and made a beeline for the door. The adrenaline surged through your veins, pushing you past your limit, pushing you towards freedom while your legs threatened to give.

You could still hear Wakasa’s voice echoing in the back of your mind, urging you to run while you had a chance. The urgency in his tone fueled you further and further, drowning out the chaos behind you. It wasn’t until you reached the door that you paused to glance back over your shoulder.

“You leave now and we’re fucking done,” Takeomi warned you. He had braced himself on his elbows.

Wakasa was stepping over the sideways couch, hair down over his back and covering his face with a hair tie stretched open on his fingers. He scooped a few handfuls of hair up behind his head. His wrists twisted with expert precision as he tied it back. His neck cracked with a quick crane of his head to the right.

Sensing what was about to go down, you turned away, throwing the door open and making your escape. You let the door shut behind you, stepping out into the cool night air. Your chest heaved for a moment.

You pressed your ear against the door, tears streaming down your cheeks as your emotions enveloped you. You felt horrible leaving Waka to fend for himself, but you would have felt worse if you went against his word.

So, pulling your clothes tight against your trembling body, you ducked and entered the street. The midnight sky blanketed Waka’s black Mercedes. It looked like it had recently been polished.

You unlocked the door and plopped into the passenger seat. The moment you shut the door, the tears came pouring out. Your hand continued to grip the handle of the door with white-knuckled intensity. The air inside of the car felt all but suffocating, as if the weight of your actions hung from each and every molecule around you. Panic gripped you, tightening its hold with each rapid beat of your frightened heart.

Teary eyes blurred your vision. Your lover’s words echoed – again, for the millionth time – in your mind.

“Get in the fucking car, NOW.”

He’d sounded so angered, so tired of you. How had everything unraveled so quickly?

The sound of your own uneven breathing was the only thing keeping you company in the car, ragged breaths fogging up the window to your right. Tossing the key fob into the cupholder, you turned towards that foggy window, pressing your hot cheek against its cold surface. The chill was refreshing, even if a part of you felt bad for leaving prints on Waka’s freshly cleaned windows.

You didn’t care. Your mind was alight with possibilities – with fear and uncertainty. Where would you go? What would happen to you now that the cat was out of the bag?

Clutching at your throat, you ached for air, desperate for a moment of clarity. But the walls of Waka’s Benz seemed to close in on you. Images of the fight flashed through your mind. The reality of your actions crashed upon the desolate shores of your rotten mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses and drowning you in a sea of guilt. You couldn’t escape the consequences of your betrayal, the pain that had been etched on Takeomi’s face forever imprinted in your mind.

You felt terrible.

A sob wrenched itself from the depths of your soul. Then another.

The world was hazy, disorienting, as if reality had been warped by the weight of your guilt. For a few minutes, you sat there, mind spinning a mile a minute. You wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking temporary solace in the touch of your own skin.

When the driver’s side door suddenly popped open, you jumped in your seat. You made quick work of your salty tears, wiping them away from your face while you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Waka dropped into the driver's seat with an exasperated sigh. Though your eyes trained themselves on the dashboard, you could see him reach for the steering wheel out of the corner of your eye. He looked a little messy. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was in a similar state. His knuckles were dusted with a faint red hue.

After a brief pause that seemed to span for an eternity, he offered, “Buckle in.”

You did exactly that.

The car revved to life. The buttons on the dash lit up in unison. Waka gripped the steering wheel, throwing his other arm over the back of your seat and glancing behind him before turning back to the road. He pulled out of the parking spot without another word.

And then he took off.

★

The ride to your house was as silent as it was tense. It wasn’t very long, seeing as you only lived ten minutes away. That ten was more like five today, though you weren’t sure if it was because a part of you wanted to stay in this car with Waka just a little while longer or because Waka had been doing double the speed limit the whole way over.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your place, and that dreadful, gnawing feeling in your gut had returned, bringing the tension in the car back with it. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, awaiting Waka’s next words.

You were expecting him to shout at you, to lash out at you like an angry father. Like your father, like your boyfriend (ex boyfriend?).

You hadn’t been expecting him to turn the car off, and you most certainly hadn’t expected him to cast a sorrowful glance your way, brows drawn low over his pretty eyes.

“Sorry I yelled at ‘ya,” he sighed. What surprised you even more was the way he reached out to graze a gentle hand over your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. He added, “Take’s fuckin’ crazy. I didn’t want him hurtin’ you.”

It was becoming a bit of a chore to continue breathing normally when he was so close to you. You needed to leave now before you dug yourself a deeper hole, you decided, reaching for the door.

Waka beat you to it. In the blink of an eye, he’d reached over your lap and pulled the door shut. He kept you pinned to the seat with his arm.

“Fuck you,” you seethed. You were frustrated, you were confused – before you knew it, you began to cry.

“I just wanna talk,” He reaffirmed. His words did nothing to calm your nerves.

Your hands trembled as you struggled to find the words to convey how you felt. The car seemed a lot smaller than it had been only moments prior. You took a deep breath, voice quivering beneath the weight of her accusation.

“You ruined everything,” You sobbed, voice barely a notch above a whisper, eyes now locked with Waka’s in a heated standoff. The pain etched on your features made your jaw tighten.

None of this would have happened if you'd never met him.

Waka’s expression was unreadable, a tick in his jaw was the only indicator that your words had hit the mark. “Yeah, it’s all my fault, ‘course it is,” he retorted, voice tinged with an uncharacteristically bitter tone. “Not like you willingly invited me into your room or anythin’.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze challenging his stance even though you knew he was right. “You gave me your number first… you knew I had a boyfriend, you dick.”

Waka’s expression changed slightly, allowing you a glimpse into what you imagined was a pretty deep pool of anger. “You texted me, doll.”

He was right. Again. The realization made you break a bit inside.

Your voice quivered with unspoken emotion as you let the tears fall freely. “You’re such an ass, you know that? Why’d you have to come around and fuck me over?”

“Oh, don’t even,” he snapped back. “I risked it all for you. I did everything I could, and ‘yer gonna sit here and blame me?”

The silence that followed was heavy, settling between the both of you like a brick wall as the both of you exchanged angry gazes. The tension in the car built up.

“I never wanted it to come to this,” You spoke louder this time, heartbroken and vulnerable. “You took everything from me.”

“Don’t pretend this wasn’t a mutual decision,” He shook his head at you, chuckling humorlessly. “You are every bit as guilty ‘s I am and you know it.”

You froze. He continued.

“Deep down you know you wanted me to keep coming ‘round,” he added rather cockily. He cocked his head to the right, beckoning you to try and prove him wrong. “You loved it, didn’t ‘ya?”

Another brief pause had passed, and your anger had reached its boiling point. Without thinking, you raised your hand, bringing it towards the side of his face like you wanted to hit him. But Waka – quick on his feet, as always – reflexively caught your hand mid-swing, preventing the slap from landing.

Time seemed to freeze altogether.

Your eyes widened, hand suspended in the air a mere inch or two away from Waka’s face. His grip on your hand was firm, strong, a harsh reminder of a fact you had apparently forgotten; You didn’t stand a chance against him.

The two of you fell into an uneasy silence as you locked eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable.

Waka’s voice was steady, his grip unyielding. He looked – for a moment – as if he wanted to say something to you, remind you of who you were talking to. Before long, however, his anger softened, as did his gaze.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” he mused. His eyes never flitted away from yours, even for a moment, even as he pulled you closer to him. “Even if I could go back ‘n change the past, I would still pick you. Every time.”

His breath was soft, mint-scented, and fresh. You felt your resolve crack. You wanted to scream at him, to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him until your lungs gave out. You hated the way he made you feel.

The car was filled with a heavy silence as your tears streamed down your reddened cheeks. Your heart squeezing painfully, you reached out, hand weakly forming a fist, and feebly punched Wakasa’s chest.

“I hate you,” You whispered, knowing you didn’t mean a word of it.

Waka’s eyes filled with sorrow as he caught your fist, gently holding it against his chest. You could feel his heart beating in synchrony with yours. A moment passed, agonizingly slow, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, a bittersweet collision of love and resentment.

Then, to your surprise, he did the unthinkable.

“Let’s stop seeing each other,” his honey-sweet croon pierced through the silence, his tone resolute.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Shoving yourself away from him, you shot him an incredulous look. The road ahead seemed to blur as you tried to wrap your head around his proposition.

“What…?” You had asked in vain.

The confined space of the car seemed to amplify the tension. The world outside seemed to stop spinning for a moment. This was the same car where he’d first swept you off your feet so many nights ago. Now, like some sort of cruel joke, the image before you paralleled the memory. His unexpected words hung heavy in the air.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. In fact, he looked a little down about it, like he was having doubts of his own about the decision.

“I never should’da gotten you involved in all of this mess… I can fend for myself with him but… I know you can’t,” He said remorsefully. He seemed… genuine. When his eyes met yours, it was as if you had fallen for him a second time. “It’s too dangerous. We need to stop seein’ each other.”

In the span of a minute, Wakasa had managed to tear your heart right out of your chest.

“No…” You did a complete 180. You were so weak for him that you hated it. But, shit, how you loved the feeling. “I can’t lose you too, Waka, I…”

“I’m not asking,” He deadpanned. You felt your heart plummet.

“You’ve gone cold on me,” You whimpered. You didn’t care if you sounded desperate. You knew your blood burned for him. “Waka, that’s not fair… please.”

“I need to protect you,” Waka’s eyes were filled with bittersweet longing – like this was breaking him, like he wanted to reach out and caress you but he knew he couldn’t… just as much as you did. “I have to do this. ‘S for your own good.”

Your mind raced to make sense of the cryptic words that had spilled from his pretty lips. “‘Kasa,” you breathed.

When he spoke again, his mask cracked a little more. “You know as much ‘s I do that he’s gonna go on a manhunt. I dun’no what I’d do if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me, doll, I…” His voice trembled a bit. He took a moment to regain his composure. “Me leaving would be the best thing for you. For both of us.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. God, this hurt. You knew it would come eventually, but, shit, you hadn’t expected it to hurt so bad. Your voice cracked, “You’re ending things to protect me? Without giving me a choice? What happened to “if Takeomi weren’t in the picture” ?”

Wakasa squeezed his eyes shut. His hands tightened into fists. “We’re done. We can’t do this again.”

“I’m telling you we can’t see each other again. Okay?”

For a moment, Wakasa looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to make you stay. Worst of all, you kind of wanted him to.

Eventually, he answered, “You can pretend it never happened, but I’ll know. You’ll know.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the memory. It’s funny how history repeats itself.

“I can’t lose what we have,” You shook your head. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, I… I don’t know what I’d do without you. We can make this work, I know we can.”

You continued after a lengthy inhale. “I can’t let this go over fear… no, not unless I know you’re doing it because you don’t want this.”

Deep down, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. Your heart ached for him. You couldn’t let this go. Not after you had given up so much just to be with him, no, not yet. Just a moment longer.

You reached out for him, hand hesitantly searching for his, seeking solace in the midst of the turmoil even though you knew you had already lost.

You needed him. You realized that the moment the thought of a life without him had even crossed your mind. You knew it from the moment the two of you had sworn off intimacy in that shower together. No, you knew it from the first moment your eyes had met his. Wakasa had wedged his way deep into the tissue of your rotten heart.

You were in love with him.

“We can leave it behind. Start fresh,” You pleaded with him, gripping his cold hand. “Don’t you want that?”

He stayed quiet. He wanted it as much as you did, you knew that. He ached for you too. But when you squeezed his hand and it remained limp in your palm – without so much as a squeeze back – you knew it was too late. Like the life drained from the veins of a corpse, Waka had gone cold.

Lowering your head toward his hand, you sobbed. You had never stopped crying, not since he had proposed that the two of you stop seeing each other. Yet, now, it seemed that the tears were streaming down your face rapidly. Like the torrent waters of a river cutting through earth and soil, they poured down.

“I love you, Wakasa, I can’t… I…” You trailed off, at a loss for words at the absence of his own. Who knew this would hurt so badly? “You love me too, don’t you? Tell me that you love me too.”

The car fell silent, once again bringing back the memory of you sitting here in this same spot calling things off with him only a while ago. The weight of your desires hung in the air.

Wakasa’s eyes were full of regret. He shook his head, taking his hand out of your grasp, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You felt your heart shatter. You recoiled as if you had been struck by some invisible, unforeseen force. Then, you let Waka’s hand slip from your touch.

Slowly, to your surprise, he pulled you into another hug, wrapping his arms around your trembling form. Your heart thumped wildly against your chest, torn between the comfort of his touch and the impending heartbreak that lingered in the air. He was confusing you.

He muttered. With a gentle squeeze, he held you closer, “‘M sorry. This life ain’t for you, doll.”

Your body stiffened against his, still struggling to process everything that had been dumped on you in the span of two hours. You clung to him like it would be the last embrace the two of you ever shared – no, because it would be the last embrace the two of you ever shared.

“No, please, don’t do this to me,” You pleaded brokenly. “I need you, ‘Kasa.”

“You know I have to do this,” He held you like he shared the sentiment, like he, too, wanted to make the most of what could very well be the last time the two of you saw each other like this. “No happy endings, remember?”

After this, he would be nothing but a stranger. The thought made you want to hurl.

You had never felt so alone before.

Was this love?

Your whole body shook with the force of your sobs. Waka gently brushed your tears away. His voice, dripping with tenderness and sorrow, seeped into your soul. “This is goodbye, okay?”

No, you thought. I won’t accept this.

You pulled away from him. “You’re a fucking coward,” you whispered between sobs. “I hate you.”

Waka's eyes met yours, his gaze soft and understanding, yet it only fueled the flames of your anger. How could he claim to comprehend the depths of your pain, the intricacies of your shattered heart? His tenderness felt like a cruel mockery at that moment, intensifying your resentment towards him.

“I know,” He nodded, as if accepting your accusation, though his expression revealed a profound sadness. It was as if he had heard those words before, and carried the weight of similar accusations. But his quiet acceptance only stoked the fire of your fury, fueling the bitterness that threatened to consume you.

Yet, despite your anger, there was a part of you that couldn't help but notice the sincerity in his gaze, the flicker of pain that danced in his eyes. It was a contradiction that confused and infuriated you even further. How could he evoke such conflicting emotions within you? How could he still have the power to touch your heart, even in the midst of your rage?

Feeling a surge of defiance amidst the sea of anguish, you pulled away from him, the anger within you bubbling to the surface. With a sudden burst of energy, fueled by your fractured heart, you swung open the car door and stumbled out onto the pavement.

"I wish I never fucking met you," you seethed, the words torn from the depths of your wounded soul. You wish you meant it.

Then you slammed the door shut.

The words hung in the air, charged with the intensity of your pain. Each syllable reverberated through the silence, cutting through the stillness of the night. And as the echoes faded into the darkness, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving Waka behind

With each step you took, the anger within you burned brighter, fueling your determination to distance yourself from the source of your heartache.

A call of your name shook you out of your angered reverie. You knew you shouldn’t stop, that you should have kept marching right on. Yet, you couldn’t help but turn to look back at him one more time.

He made you feel so weak.

He had rolled the window down. In his hand, he had your pink slipper. It was then that you realized you were missing a shoe.

“You left this,” He noted, waving it toward you.

You refused to give him that satisfaction. Shaking your head at him through teary eyes, you spat, “Keep it, asshole.”

You turned your back on him again – for the last time – and stormed off. Every stride carried you further away from the wreckage of a love that had once blossomed but now lay in ruins. The words you had spoken, filled with bitterness and regret, echoed in your mind, a desperate attempt to sever the ties that still bound you to Wakasa

Yet, deep down, beneath the layers of anger and pain, a part of you yearned for the impossible—to undo the meeting that had led to this heartache. It was a futile wish, born out of the shattered remnants of a love that had once promised happiness.

Don’t look back, you thought.

And you didn’t. Not even as you fumbled for the keys in your pocket and unlocked the door to your house. Not even when you slammed the door shut behind you. Not even when you collapsed against the door, letting a gut-wrenching sob out the moment you found yourself in the safety of your own home.

And even when you sank to the floor in tears, fighting the urge to throw that door open again and run into his arms, you found yourself repeating the phrase like a mantra.

Don’t look back.

heyyyyy 😓😓 how yall doin.... no but fr how are we feeling after this one? could this be the end of waka??? (it isn't.) im not too confident abt this chapter even tho I put my whole pussy into it... I promise the next one will be infinitely better TRUUUSSSSST!!! to make up for the way I chewed your hearts up and spat them out this chapter (sorry lol) I will say!! stay tuned for the next episode of party monster featuring cameos from sano shinichiro, daddy benkei, and another character who I can't tell u abt yet!! (also who knows we may or may not get a chapter from wakas pov.... who knows.... u aint hear it from me) yk the drill tho, drop ur thoughts predictions and requests in the comments, I love listening to yall ;)) see u next chapter!! <33

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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