hey there!!! i saw your post abt looking for inspiration and wanted to say that i've loved what i've read of your work so far! i would love to see more saiki k related works, as the genre has died a bit in popularity on tumblr lol. maybe something with a domestic focus, like a marriage scenario or headcanons of your choice!
Hii! I'm so sorry for the delay in my response but ahhhh!! Thank you so so much for requesting a Saiki k Insert because I love him incredibly so <3.
I hope you enjoy this work and it's what you'd pictured. I was having fun with the concept of Saiki being married and domestic with his partner. Embedding his canon personality traits into something mundane.
Thank you so much again, it really means a lot!
Youâve been married to Saiki for about half a year now, and what an absolutely glorious six months it has been. Actually⊠not really glorious, more comforting. Itâs coming back home to gentle and patient love. But you decide to confront him about something thatâs been pricking at you for a while. Oh no!
Fluff. Just pure domestic life and fluff.
Music resonates through the speakers as you bob your head, singing along while pouring coffee into two cups methodically. You smile down at his designated cup, a gift youâd gotten to commemorate his novel surpassing 100,000 copies. The smile grows more Cheshire-like as you reminisce about the moment you gave it to him.
How you couldnât manage to speak through relentless giggles and breathless words, tears forming in your eyes, handing over the mug with the words,Â
âEditor? I hardly know herâ, embossed on it.
And he delivers the most deadpan expression youâve ever seen (even worse than the look when you ask him if he likes you three times a week). You notice the vacant gaze, his soul ascending his body (and NOT with astral projection).
You also notice how he refuses to drink coffee from anything else.
A chuckle escapes your lips as you place the cups on the coffee table, just as the door creaks open and your husband walks in. Youâre tugged towards him, like a puppet on a string, as you whisper, âWelcome home, my loveâ, rising on your toes to kiss him softly.
Like the puppeteer he is, he instinctively kisses you back; too languid to be intentional, you observe as he pulls away to take off his jacket, putting on his germanium ring waiting on the cabinet. It was a present youâd purchased on your second anniversary, providing him an option to put it on around you in case he wanted additional peace and tranquility.
Not that he didnât find solace in the steady warmth of your presence, a point heâd made when refusing the ring in the first place. But you wanted him to have that choice in the first place.
And based on the subtle tan line on his index finger, heâd acquiesced.
Now, every time he got home from work, heâd kiss you (if you arrived earlier), heâd slip on the ring, and go about his routine. Just you squeezed into every morsel of his mundane.
âHow was work?â, you murmur, taking his bag from him.
Meaning he needs time to decompress.
You nod, placing his case in its spot and heading over to the couch to sip on your coffee. Meanwhile, he walks over to the bedroom to shed his clothes. Inconspicuously, without making much conversation.
Years of knowing Kusuo, and years of memorizing every subtle trait of his, youâve come to accept his reserved nature, especially when heâs exhausted and overstimulated from a long day. Itâs an attribute youâve embraced; sometimes you need some time to yourself as well.Â
But do not get your man wrong.
In your quiet adjustment to his needs, heâs molded his own habits to meet yours.
An equal partnership, you mightâve read somewhere.
Speaking of which, he returns to the couch, maneuvering your feet to rest on his lap while he indulges in his drink. You do the same, catching up on a book heâd recommended whilst his hand rests on your ankle.
Silence envelops the apartment as you melt into the routine youâd crafted, gulping each otherâs presence in quiet, small doses.Â
Youâre done with three chapters when he feels regulated enough to speak, telepathically, of course.
âLong as well. I had a bunch of meetings plus that presentation I talked about.â, you respond, dog-earing the page and setting it down on the table. As much as you welcome the respite, nothing beats catching up with your beloved husband.
He hums, a soft sound that reverberates through the stillness of your house, âYou texted that it went well.â
âIt didâ, you murmur, getting up from the couch to pick up the cups, âI was anxious for no reasonâ. Without even glancing back at him, you quickly add, âDonât say I told you soâ.
âBut I didâ, you mock.
âReal mature, sweetheartâ.
âDonât use that against meâ.
A snort escapes his lips just as a smile grows on yours, âDidnât realize calling you what you are was a crimeâ.
âIt is, and youâre using it to your advantageâ.
âMhmm, donât try to get away from that, Kusuo. I see through youâ.
He shakes his head, taking your book to place a bookmark instead; although heâs accepted your quirks, he doesnât have to comply with them.
You, on the other hand, whilst loading the dishwasher, decide itâs the perfect time to hatch your plan.
Recently, youâve caught on to a trait of his; something youâd been privy to when you were dating but didnât realize it needed to be addressed now - six months into your marriage.
But⊠no time other than the present.
âAlso, I told you, right? I met up with a few friends after workâ, forcing your voice to be cavalier.
âYeah, how did that go?â
âIt was good. We caught up on a lot of gossip, which is just⊠the best! Sakura, Aki, and Megumi cameâ.
âWasnât Himari also a part of this?â
You turn around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. âI knew it! You followed me, didnât you?â.
Heâs taken aback just for a second before his stoic mask emerges, âWhat are you talking about?â.
From an outsiderâs perspective, your actions could be perceived as an orchestrated overreaction. However, with the way his fingers tap against his thigh, you know youâve caught him.
âIâm not mad, Kusuo. You know thatâ.
âWhat would you have to be mad about?â
You sigh, walking back over to the living room, âIâm serious. I was being dramatic. I donât mind if you stalk me or whatever. If I did, we wouldnât have continued to date, you know?â.
His fingers clench into fists, âDonât⊠talk like thatâ.
Padded footsteps resound as you stop in front of him, running your fingers through his hair, âMâsorry. Didnât mean it like thatâ.
His head sits heavy against your palm as he leans into it, eyes shut under your placating tone.
âI just meant⊠I know that you like to know what Iâm doing, what your friends are up to. Just to keep an eye on us. Iâm more than okay with itâ.
âSo you should know that I wasnât blaming you or anythingâ.
Heâs silent, a different form of his status quo - youâve hit the problem dead on.
âIâm serious. I was just being dramatic and pulling your leg. I donât care if you wanna stalk meâ.
He looks up at you, gaze impassive (his head tilted to your hand but ignore that), âItâs not stalkingâ.
âItâs not, by Dictionary standards-â
âAlright, alright. Itâs not stalking. You were just⊠in my vicinity for some unbeknownst reasonsâ.
âBetterâ, he murmurs, closing his eyes once more, triumphant in his victory in etymology.
âSpeaking of reasons, why do you do it in the first place?â
He doesnât deem it a response that you take in stride, âI mean, I just donât want you to feel like you have to follow me or be around me because you donât trust me or some shitâ.
âWhat?â, you echo, looking down at him with a confused frown on your brow.
âYou think I do that because I donât trust you?â
You murmur, flustered, âWell... not in those words exactly⊠Iâm just spitballing hereâ.
âThatâs a stupid guessâ.
âHow could I not trust you? Youâre my wifeâ, his voice firm in your mind, sending shivers down your spine as a goofy grin forms on your lips.
âYouâre smiling while weâre talking about the lack of faith in the foundation of our union?â
âThatâs on you, big guy. You canât use the w-word and not expect that reactionâ.
He shakes his head, the sigh leaving his lips as dramatic and exasperated as you.
âBut reallyâ, you say, cupping his face and angling his head up to catch his gaze, âWhy do you do it then?â
Lavender eyes stay steadfast on you, tracking every expression long enough to feel evasive before they pull away to focus on the toaster instead.
âKusuo... You donât have to say it if you donât want toâ.
âI do it⊠because I like knowing whatâs happening with you. If youâre safe. If youâre having fun. I⊠like being around youâ.
His words permeate the air and every inch of your cells, stilling all of your senses, causing your heartbeat to punctuate the intensity of the tranquility. Your cheeks hurt from the Cheshire grin weaving a place into your lips (possibly making a home for itself).
âYou canât blame me!â, you exclaim, shifting to straddle his lap, âMy hot, sexy husband just revealed he wants to be around me all the timeâ.
âYou said hot and sexyâ, he murmurs telepathically, leaning back against the couch, hands retreating to their sheaths (your waist).
âI knowâ, you nod solemnly.
âYouâre actually insaneâ.
âSo are you, baby boy~ Sâwhy you married meâ.
âIâm a psychic with unimaginable abilities - Iâm insane by natureâ.
âMhmm and youâre sooo in love with meâ.
He responds with a sigh, resting his head on your shoulder, resigning to your antics - your standard interactions. Your laugh rings against his earlobe, arms crushing him into you, and you pretend not to point out the quirk of his lips you feel on your neck.
