Imaushi Wakasa Fluff - Tumblr Posts

crying because :((((( literal tears in my eyes I'm about to breakdown

𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟎 𝐏𝐌 — ft. imaushi wakasa

wakasa likes it when you let him lay his head on your lap, and when you play with his hair.

hell, he loves it when you tug the elastic out of his locks and tangle your fingers in the coloured stripes of his hair, because god it feels so good after an entire day of having his hair all up in that tight ass ponytail.

he likes it best when you're both sprawled over your shared bed, muttering to eachother random comments about what happened through out your day, and he can see the crescent moon through the window.

outside, he might be the unphased, powerful and infamous executive of brahman, but once it's all over and he can come home and spend some time with you, that side of him dissolves.

he dissolves, into your hold, melting at your touch like you're the sun coming through the kitchen window and he's the ice cubes you always put in the coffee you drink at the start of your day.

he used to call shinichiro a sap, for constantly complaining about not having someone to coddle and take care of him - but now, he knows there's not a day he can survive without you around to treat him like he's something soft and fragile and sweet, after so long of being impassive, hard and battle-ready.

"there's a bruise here, waka." you gently press at his left shoulder blade. he's laying on his stomach, face pressed to your thigh, eyes shut.

"hm?" he pretends he's half asleep, hoping you won't get up. "oh. yeah, that's nothing. just leave it."

"it's purple, waka." you press, and he feels you moving, trying to ease him off you so you can get up. "let me get some ointment—"

"no, wait." he grabs your wrist and pulls you back - you turn to him, and he lifts himself off the sheets and sits up, hair falling in seams to curtain the sides of his face. pretty.

"what?" you question, and he has to take a moment to gather his thoughts. he blinks at you, long lashes throwing shadows across his face.

"one kiss." he says, and you raise an eyebrow.

"a kiss." he repeats. "gimme a kiss, and then you can go get the ointment."

you roll your eyes at him, then raise your hand as if to flick his forehead - but instead, you lace your fingers around the back of his neck and pull him close, land a peck on his lips.

"thanks." he gives you that half smile of his, lazily affectionate, and lets go of you so you can go get the ointment for him.

he's surprised when you lean back in and touch his forehead with your lips gently, before getting up and walking out of the room, muttering under your breath about kitchen drawers or something - he doesn't catch your words properly, because he's too busy thinking that, damn.

there really isn't going to be a day where he'll make it without you there with him. if shinichiro saw him now, he'd say, hah, you're the real sap.

but wakasa doesn't mind. he wouldn't mind being called anything, if it meant he was with you . . . and on that same note, he wouldn't really mind having shinichiro come round and call him a sap, either.

Wakasa canon needy boyfriend HEHEHE 💖💖💖 he needs attention always !

[ NEEDY ] IMAUSHI WAKASA.

“waka, please,” you sigh tiredly, but wakasa can hear the smile in your voice—he can even feel it as your lips press against his forehead in a gentle kiss. but he doesn’t let the soft touch of your lips bribe him into letting go, however. instead, he’s shifting more weight to press onto you as his face hides in the crook of your neck, pulling an exasperated groan out of you as you glare down at him.

“no,” he mumbles, latching onto your body tighter, “stay.”

“i can’t.”

“yes you can.”

“i need to get up,” you huff, “i’ll be late for work—again.”

“then be late. just tell them you had important things to do.”

“cuddling in the morning isn’t important—”

“that’s rude,” he interrupts, pouting into your neck as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s important to me.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, can’t help but purse your lips as you look down at the mess of hair under your chin as wakasa tucks himself into you. it’s a losing battle every morning—a constant back and forth that you know you’re powerless to win.

at first, imaushi wakasa seems like a distant guy. he seems like someone you’d get lucky to even hold hands with, someone who keeps his space and maintains his composure. at least, that’s what you used to think. it doesn’t take long after dating to realize he’s quite the opposite—that he’s clingy in the mornings, that he needs far too many kisses throughout the day to be normal, that he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, that he can’t sleep without you playing with his hair at night.

it’s funny at first, it’s cute and makes you just a little giddy that a renowned gang member is as needy as he is around you—but sometimes, like right now for example, it’s just a little inconvenient too.

“wakasa, you have to let go—”

“don’t wanna,” he grumbles, grabbing your hand and planting it over his head. you sigh—and yet, you’re tangling your fingers into his long tresses and scratching at his scalp. and really, you hate to admit it, but maybe it’s not entirely his fault that he’s as spoiled as he is—you never seem to really be able to fight against him, giving him exactly what he wants no matter how many times you tell yourself not to.

“you’re so damn needy,” you mumble, slowly rubbing circles into his back as he sighs happily. you eye the clock wearily, watching as the seconds tick by and the minute hand moves slowly but surely until you’re late—just like you are every morning with him.

“no ‘m not,” he murmurs—and then his head tilts up and his lips tug into a tiny pout as you pull your hand away from his head. “why’d you stop?”

“see?” you snort, pinching his nose affectionately, “very needy.”

your hand moves to cup his face, rubbing a thumb over the swell of his cheek. and there’s something satisfying about seeing someone like him pout as he presses his face deeper into your palm, something that makes your chest swell fondly as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, something that makes him that much more human. sometimes, you almost don’t think it’s the same person—the man you’ve watched punch noses in can’t be the one sprawled over your body right now, can’t be the one who whines for five more minutes of cuddles in the mornings as you’re running late for work.

“can’t you just call in sick,” he grunts, plopping his head onto your chest, staring up at you as he props himself up on his chin.

“no,” you roll your eyes, “you ask me this every morning. the answer is still the same.”

“if you loved me you would,” he grumbles, glaring at you as you poke his curled lips with a giggle.

“don’t i love you when i run late every morning for your extra cuddles?”

“hardly.”

“you’re ungrateful,” you flick his forehead, chuckling as he clicks his teeth and swats your hand away, “i risk my job for you every damn morning.”

“you don’t need it,” he insists, “i’ll take care of you, and you stay with me in the mornings. it’s a win-win, see?”

“i don’t think being stuck under you is a win—”

“oh yeah?” he grins, making your heart skip a beat, “but you never seem to complain when you’re under me,” he says cheekily.

and he’s unfair—looking up at you in that handsome way he does, throwing you that lopsided smirk with a strand of hair loosely hanging across his face. you tuck it behind his ear, trailing your thumb along his cheeks and across his nose, tracing over his lips and under the crinkles of his eyes.

for a moment, you think maybe wakasa isn’t the only one who’s needy—you think maybe you need him just as badly as he needs you too.

“waka,” you groan, throwing him a dirty look as he snickers. “i really have to get up—”

“just five more minutes,” he pleads, flopping back onto your chest and snuggling against you, tucking his head under your chin. and when you kiss his forehead, he’s sure he’s won—just like always.

“you said that like twenty minutes ago,” you raise a brow.

“this time for real,” he mumbles.

it’s a lie—you know it as well as he does, but you don’t think it’s a morning without imaushi wakasa clinging to your body until you’re more than a little late.

so with a fond smile and a roll of your eyes, you wrap your arms around him as you kiss the top of his head, pulling the blanket over his body as he sighs in content.

“you’re a liar,” you snort, shaking your head as he smiles victoriously into your shirt.

gray omg u get me sobsob he’s so baby CRIES 🥲