saiki

The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock was usually the only sound Saiki Kusuo tolerated in his bedroom. It was a predictable, mechanical heartbeat that grounded him. Today, however, the room was filled with a different kind of frequency—one that was far more chaotic, despite the outward silence.

Saiki sat on the edge of his bed, a volume of manga in his hands, though he hadn’t turned the page in ten minutes. Beside him, Y/N was curled up against a pile of cushions, ostensibly looking at her phone. To any outside observer, they were just a quiet couple enjoying a peaceful afternoon.

To a psychic, it was like sitting next to a live wire emitting a constant, humming static of suppressed longing.

*Good grief,* Saiki thought, his expression remaining perfectly deadpan as he stared at a panel of a hero punching a monster. *The hormones are particularly loud today.*

He didn't need to look at her to know exactly what was going on. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, and her internal monologue—usually a gentle stream of consciousness about snacks or cute dogs—had narrowed down to a singular, pulsing focus. It was that time of the month. Not the one involving cramps and chocolate, but the one that turned her into a bundle of shy, high-voltage nerves.

Y/N shifted, the fabric of her skirt rustling against the bedsheets. She glanced at him, her large, doe-like eyes shimmering with a mix of affection and agonizing hesitation. In her mind, a vivid image flashed: Saiki, his glasses discarded, his usual stoic mask breaking into a soft moan as he looked down at her.

Saiki gripped the edge of his manga a little tighter.

"Kusuo?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yes?" he replied telepathically, his voice echoing in her head with its usual flat, monotone clarity.

"Nothing. I just... I like being here," she said, her cheeks flushing a deep rose.

*Liar,* Saiki thought, though not unkindly.

In her mind, the thoughts were swirling like a cyclone. *He’s so handsome when he’s focused. I wonder what he’d look like if I... no, don't think that. He can hear you! Stop thinking about his hands. Stop thinking about the way his voice sounds when it’s low. Oh no, he definitely heard that. I’m so embarrassing. I probably look like a total mess right now.*

Saiki finally turned his head to look at her. From her perspective, she was a flustered, sweaty disaster struggling with "inappropriate" urges. From his perspective, she looked like an angel. The soft afternoon light caught the stray strands of her hair, and the vulnerability in her wide eyes was enough to make his own heart skip a beat—a biological function he usually found annoying.

He closed his manga and set it on the nightstand.

"You're thinking too loud," he said, his internal voice softening.

Y/N squeaked, burying her face in a pillow. "I'm sorry! I can't help it. It’s just... everything feels very intense today."

"I am aware," Saiki said. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed a lock of hair away from her damp forehead. "You don't have to be embarrassed. It’s a biological process. It’s not as if I haven't seen the inner workings of the human psyche before. Most people are significantly more depraved than you."

Y/N peeked out from behind the pillow, one eye visible. "But I feel like I'm being greedy. I just keep thinking about... wanting to see you happy. Or seeing you lose your cool a little bit."

Her thoughts drifted to a specific scenario—missionary, skin to skin, the weight of him grounding her while she focused entirely on the expression on his face. She wanted to see the cracks in his poker face. She wanted to be the reason he forgot to be a psychic for a few minutes.

Saiki felt a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with his pyrokinesis. He shifted closer, narrowing the gap between them until their knees touched.

"You think you're a mess," he noted, reading the flickers of insecurity in her mind. "You're worried that you're too quiet, or that you're not 'good' at this."

Y/N sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Well, yeah. I’m not exactly a femme fatale, Kusuo. I’m just... me. And you’re literally a god. I feel like I should be more exciting."

Saiki sighed, a sound of genuine exasperation. "Good grief. You really are an idiot."

He leaned in, his face inches from hers. Without the green-tinted glasses, which he had momentarily swapped for his invisible contact lenses earlier that day to avoid accidental petrification, his violet eyes were piercing.

"I spend every second of my life surrounded by the noise of four billion people," he said, his "voice" dropping to a resonant, private frequency in her mind. "Everyone wants something from me. Everyone is loud, selfish, or chaotic. But you? Your thoughts are the only ones I actually want to hear. Even when they’re like this."

He moved his hand to her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

"You think you look unappealing when you're like this? I think you look like the only thing in this world worth paying attention to."

Y/N’s breath hitched. The shyness was still there, a heavy anchor in her chest, but the desire was starting to outweigh it. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Can I... can I try something?" she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"You don't have to ask," Saiki replied.

She crawled forward on the bed, her movements hesitant but determined. She reached for the hem of his plain green shirt, her fingers trembling. In her mind, she was imagining the taste of him, the way he would react if she took the lead for once. She wanted to give him a blowjob; she wanted to hear that specific, choked-back sound he made when he was caught off guard by pleasure.

Saiki’s breath hitched. Usually, he was the one in control of every variable in his life. He could stop time, change the weather, or teleport to the other side of the planet. But as Y/N pressed her forehead against his chest, her scent—sweet and heady—filling his senses, he felt his control slipping. And for once, he didn't want to teleport away.

"You're shaking," Saiki murmured, his hands finding her waist.

"Because I'm nervous," she confessed, looking up at him with those big, honest eyes. "I want to do a good job. I want you to feel... everything."

Saiki felt a wave of affection so strong it almost felt like a physical blow. He pulled her up so she was straddling his lap, his hands gripping her hips firmly.

"You don't have to 'do a job,' Y/N. This isn't a test."

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. He felt her shudder, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The thoughts in her head were becoming less like sentences and more like pure, raw emotion—heat, love, and an overwhelming need to be close to him.

"Kusuo," she gasped, her head tilting back.

He moved back to her lips, kissing her with a sudden, rare hunger. It wasn't the polite, chaste kiss they usually shared. It was deep, demanding, and tasted of the restraint he had been practicing all afternoon.

As they broke apart for air, Y/N looked at him, her face flushed and her eyes hazy with arousal. She felt a surge of confidence seeing the way his pupils were blown wide, his usual calm replaced by a visible, simmering tension.

"I want to see you," she whispered, her voice gaining a bit of strength. "I want to see you lose control."

Saiki tilted his head, a small, almost predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—a look that would have terrified his classmates but made Y/N’s stomach flip in the best way possible.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe," she said, her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt.

Saiki caught her wrists, his gaze intense. "If we do this, I won't be able to filter my thoughts as well. You'll hear everything I'm feeling. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Y/N nodded eagerly, her doe eyes shining. "That’s exactly what I want."

Saiki let go of her wrists and laid back on the bed, pulling her down with him. As she settled over him, her innocence clashing beautifully with the raw desire written across her face, Saiki realized that he didn't care about the "disastrous" nature of his life for once.

He didn't care about the annoying neighbors, the impending volcanic eruptions, or the fact that he’d have to clean the sheets later with apports.

Right now, the only frequency that mattered was the one they were creating together.

"Then don't hold back," he said, his voice a low vibration she felt in her very bones.

And as Y/N leaned down to finally show him exactly what she had been thinking about all day, Saiki Kusuo decided that perhaps, just this once, being a psychic wasn't so bad after all. Because even if he could hear every thought, the reality of her touch was something no superpower could ever truly replicate.