I Really Think Having An Emotional Connection Is So Important To Bakugou Sexually.

i really think having an emotional connection is so important to bakugou sexually.

like, i think he has to be in the exact right mood in order to get off by himself at home alone. can't be too tired, can't be too stressed out, can't have too much on his mind regarding work or other things, and even if it's been a while and his body is sensitive and wanting for it—if his head is not right, he can sit there for hours and never reach his peak.

which is why i think ultimately he doesn't do it that often, because it pisses him off to waste the time and not find the release. makes him more agitated. i think porn for the most part doesn't help him because he's too picky, literature probably helps a bit more, but he's still picky, and his imagination can get him there, but his headspace has to be right.

i think he's slow to hands-on stuff, when your relationship starts, and you can tell he's going to be like that pretty quickly. he responds to your touch like it's an accident; you reach out to hold his hand and he pulls his back like your knuckles have knocked by chance, like you're too close. it's not meant to be a rejection of any kind, it's just—he doesn't want you to touch him if you don't want to. if you don't mean to.

but when he realizes that you mean to, that you want to—

it has him skyrocketing. surprises him terribly, the affect you have on his body, and how quickly, because not even he can always have that affect on his own body.

you reach up to push some hair out of his face and your fingers skirt his cheekbone and he feels like a stupid gross disgusting puddle of mush. you loop your arm through his and lean into him while you're walking and he feels like a prize, like he's yours and you're his and you want everybody to know and that gives him a rush of pride that makes his head woozy.

he's dropping you off at home after date number he-doesn't-know and you're staring up at him outside your front door and he knows he should kiss you so he does and his whole body lights up with a heat he doesn't recognize at all. just from that.

and then he finally gets it: that heart-aching, stomach turning, body shaking want he's only ever heard about, and now finally feels.

013. CARNATIONS

You're late.

You're very late.

You didn't wake up Touya at nine am like you usually do. You didn't bring Touya breakfast—there was a tray placed on his bedside table by someone else when he'd awaken, the lid fogged up from the steaming food being neglected inside. You didn't leave a note or pop into his room to let him know you had a meeting or something of the sorts

But the storm raging on outside Touya's window seemed to be the answer. The thunderous rain outside seemed never ending. The sky was dark and the world outside was clouded with a thick, misty haze

Touya had done a hundred push-ups, taken a shower, finished his letter to Shoto, ate his breakfast, and even made his bed in the time he spent waiting for you.

He was cursing under his breath every five seconds—because the damned sheets absolutely refused to cooperate with him. Every time he tucked them into one corner of the mattress, they came flying off the other one. He banged his head against the headboard at one point too, before flopping down face first onto his unmade bed with a groan

Why it was so hard to make a bed was beyond him. He supposes it's because he didn't have any practice making his bed, you always made it for him when he was showering. And for most of his life, he was lucky to even sleep on a mattress. He wasn't used to so many throw pillows, cushions, blankets—the simple luxury of being comfortable just wasn't something he was familiar with.

But as the dull pain in the back of his head subsided, Touya sits up in his bed with more determination than before. He had a bed to make. He had somewhere to safely sleep at night, and that was a fact no one could change. He musters up the meanest glare he can offer the bed, before yanking off the sheets in a single, fluid motion.

And then, Touya got to work.

It took him nearly an hour to make the bed perfectly. He experimented with different folding techniques and positioned the pillows about a hundred different ways until it he was satisfied with the outcome.

His shoulders were sore from all the strain once he'd finished. But he was proud of himself. The feeling fluttered around his chest—light and dizzying as he sat down on your chair instead of the bed, rolling it backwards so he could appreciate his work from afar.

But even after all of this, you're still not here.

The downpour outside represents his mood soon enough, and he sits in the room sulking after another hour passes. Maybe you're still at home—stuck and unable to leave because of the weather. Yesterday, you were telling him about the storm that would come today, but the weather outside is just brutal. He hasn't seen it rain this badly in Japan in a long time.

Maybe you were driving extra slow—the rain must be a difficult obstacle to drive through. He imagines the slick roads would make it hard for anyone to drive in, and he quickly pushes down the prospect of something bad happening to you as he takes a steadying breath

He's on edge—every little sound he hears has his heart rate spiking thinking it may be you. Finally, at three pm, there's a knock on his door.

Touya knows it's not you. Your knock is soft before you click open his door, your knock is three raps against the wooden door and your knock is a question. This knock—this knock was a single, harsh and near bang on his door. This knock wasn't a question, this knock was a demand to be let inside.

It's the last thing he hears before the door clicks open, and Touya stiffens, unsure of what to expect out of whoever it is on the other side

"Todoroki, your presence is required downstairs. This will only take a moment of your time, please." The woman speaks firmly, not giving Touya even a second to respond before she turns on her heel and walks out of the room

She didn't look Touya in the eye as she spoke, like she was afraid he'd catch something in her gaze she didn't want him to see. And her words came out quickly, her steps even faster as she walked out of the room and waited outside for Touya with a small group of doctors

Touya knows something is off, but for some reason—he foolishly doesn't think this meeting would be about you. Because there's no way these doctors would be ignorant enough to take you away from him—they could be mean, sure—but they weren't stupid. And he can quickly assume your overall well-being is fine, because your colleagues' demeanors don't appear saddened by anything. There's something else swimming in their gaze, and even though he's fishing for anything that may tell him what—he's coming up empty handed.

Touya complies quietly, allowing them to lead him down several floors before he's being pushed into a meeting room. He sweeps his gaze over the doctors and the people in suits who await him inside, entirely unimpressed. This must be some sort of a check up on him, or new details on his rehabilitation plan they wanted him to be formally made aware of. He walks over to the seat they gesture him towards, sitting down and letting out a sigh as he leans back in it

Unfortunately, you're not in this room. There's not a single sign of your bubbly smile at all as he enters—he can't even spot the color of your usual outfits, the room consisted of all its occupants being dressed in muted and dark colors.

Everyone in the room seems restless, and Touya can only shift in his seat as the murmurs around him quiet. There's something poisoning the air, but he still cannot figure out what has everyone so on edge and tense.

A man clears his throat, and Touya figures he must be important with the way everyone quickly turns to look at him as he rises out of his chair. He makes a quick motion with his hands, and there's a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs snapped over Touya's wrist faster than he could blink.

He stills, slowly turning to look at who had cuffed him to the table because they tricked him—the woman in question deactivates her invisibility quirk, offering Touya nothing more than an apologetic nod before averting her gaze

"The cuffs are on for our own safety, Touya. We brought you here because we want to apologize for our hospital's incompetence. We failed to acknowledge your privacy had been invaded, and we can do nothing but ask for forgiveness and work to be better. We don't tolerate anyone who breaks the rules and policies we have set, and Y/n is no exception."

Touya swallows the lump forming in his throat before letting out a laugh. It's a short, angry breath of air that he exhales almost like a scoff. Did this guy have even the faintest clue what he was talking about? Touya's fingers clench underneath the tight grip of the cuffs around him as his eyes remain unblinking. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for his response

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

The pale skin around his wrists has angry blotches of red and bruises beginning to bloom because of how hard he was straining his wrists against the cuffs. The man winces at Touya's expression before growing quiet, making a feeble attempt to search for how to come across as clearly as he can

Touya's eyes suddenly narrow into slits as he leans back in his chair, trying to look at the whole picture this man was doing a terrible job at painting. It sounded like they were saying you wouldn't be his doctor anymore. But that's just silly. You were a good doctor—no, you were the best doctor. No one in this hospital could ever hold a candle to you.

"Touya, I'm trying to tell you Y/n won't be your doctor anymore."

There's this incessant ringing in Touya's head as he grinds his molars together, trying to control his temper. His eyes are ablaze as he glares at the man in disbelief—features hardening into something terrifying within an instant at his words

"You can shut your mouth, because you have no fucking idea what you're even talking about. Y/n didn't—what was it you said, invade my privacy? You're a real piece of work, you know? Shove it up your ass, you stupid, old, bast—"

"Touya,"

Touya freezes. His head whips around in an instant at the sound of your voice, and the chair he's sitting on swivels with the movement as his eyes find yours. You're not in your usual clothes—in place of your usual doctor attire is a soft blue sweater, deep brown pants, and a simple pair of dark lolita shoes. You're wearing jewelry too, he notices. And your hair is down—you look out of place. Like a toy put in the wrong box.

"I am sorry for what I've done, Mr. Todoroki. My relationship with you goes against our hospital's most crucial morals. I–I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Forgive me. The words echo, and the room is suddenly eerily quiet

The dogeza is considered the most formal form of apology in Japanese culture. Getting on your knees in front of someone isn't taken lightly, but your legs practically buckle beneath you as you bow your head in shame

Touya wants to reach out to you, but they've made the cuffs on him stronger and tighter than last time—and he can only thrash against the restraints helplessly as he watched your forehead kiss the ground near his feet

Touya wants to tell you to get up, he wants to tear apart the person who thought it would be a good idea to publicly humiliate you like this—to reduce you to something beneath him, of all people.

"Y/n," He croaks, the reality of losing you seemed like the beginning of his inevitable end

"Y/n," He tries again

Something cracks in his chest when you raise your head and avoid his gaze, staying completely silent.

And for once, Touya doesn't have the pleasure to feel your hands hold him when he so desperately needed your touch. Physical affection from you was so important to Touya. He needed the reassurance of your touch, the confirmation that you were there—or he'd overthink himself into a frenzy.

He watches you be tugged out of the room by your supervisor, who spoke quietly into your ear. Too quietly for him to hear. Your shoulders are slumped as you walk out of the room, and Touya cranes his neck to try and get one last look at you before the door closes—but he misses his chance when your supervisor steps in the way of his view, closing the door after leading you outside.

Learning you couldn't take care of Touya was a knife to the gut—but that knife twists and deepens a hundred times over, piercing right through all he was when you walk right by without sparing him a single glance.

You didn't look at Touya at all. Not even once.

It took nearly two hours until Touya was secured back into his room. He wrestled and resisted every officer that got in his way. He was so mad—he didn't care who he hurt. Crimson seeped into his gaze, and all he saw was blinding red—kicking and punching at anyone who even tried to put their hands on him. He'd need cameras put back into his room after today, there was no doubt of it. Your supervisor tells you they'll probably install them tomorrow to keep a closer eye on him

You walk silently, a quiet whisper falling from your lips as you adjust the face covering you wore.

"Thank you,"

Your supervisor nods curly, giving you no further response as she kept a firm hand wrapped around your bicep. That guards positioned in Touya's hall let her pass easily, and she maneuvered through the familiar twists and turns of the hospital as the two of you got closer and closer to your destination

"I can get you ten minutes maximum, Y/n. I'll stand outside when you need to come out—and when I knock, you come immediately. Understand?" She questions quietly as you nod quickly, watching her fish out Touya's keys.

"Go in quick and lock the door—do not let him out."

She shoves the key into the doorknob, before placing a hand on your back and nudging you inside within a second as you tug off your face mask

The door closes and your hand quickly reaches out to lock it behind you. But you can't even take a step forward before you're being shoved backwards with such menacing force that it knocks the wind out of you. Touya hears your breath hitch at the last second, and he moves at the speed of light as he puts his hand between your head and the door to soften the blow

He presses a chaste kiss onto your lips in an instant, murmuring your names desperately in question as he tugs you into the room. It's dark, and you stumble as he leads you to his bed. He pulls you onto it quickly as his arms wrap around you, muttering apologies into your hair and choking on his own sobs as he fists your sweater in between his fingers

You whisper his name, and everything hurts. His mind, his body, his soul—it's all set alight the moment you confirm you're real. You're here and somehow holding him.

"What happened?" He whispers, pulling back as his thumb runs over your cheekbone—catching the falling tears and smearing them into your skin

"He took photos of us together while we were at your house. Yesterday, he showed them to everyone—and—and I got fired. 'm sorry, it's my fault too." You whisper quickly as a growl gets caught in Touya's throat

"It's not your fault. It's his—I fucking hate him. So damn much." Touya whispers. His jaw trembles as he clenches it, pupils lined with a thin ring of cobalt as he watches you press a dozen kisses onto his face—holding him like he was some precious treasure you'd stumbled upon.

"But—that's not what I'm here to talk about, Touya." You say, the words tumbling from your lips in a haste as Touya presses you closer into his body, a fruitless attempt to try and fuse the two of you together. He'd melt his own body if he could, melt it and meld it against yours so he could be stuck to you forever—they wouldn't be able to take you then, would they?

"You need to promise me you'll behave. Promise me you'll listen to your doctors and show them how strong you are. Show them you're a good man—Touya, promise me you'll show them." You plead, and Touya nearly whimpers against your skin as his forehead digs into the crown of your head. He struggles to form a single word, muttering and mumbling incoherently as he holds you

"Touya—Touya, are you listening to me?" You question, growing desperate to the point where you need to try and pry his hands off of you—anything to get him to just look at you and confirm he was listening. But his grip tightens, so much so where it's beginning to grow painful. His muttering becomes clearer, and you can finally hear the words he was repeating over and over again as he rocked gently against you

Please don't leave me.

He flingers flex reflexively over yours, his eyes glittering like sapphires in the light from the sunset outside—it had finally stopped raining, and the sun somehow managed to shine through the thick clouds.

He looks up, expression open and vulnerable in a way you've never seen before. His eyes are unblinking as he stares at your face—trying to commit every detail of it to memory. Because Touya is scared—he's so fucking scared he'll never see it again.

"If you do this one last thing for me, I promise I'll be waiting outside for you. Please, Touya. I'm sorry."

He presses his eyes close, brows furrowing like he was in physical pain. You press your lips gently to his forehead, and he shudders beneath you when you kiss him so softly

"I—I don't know," He confesses, confusion and hurt imbued into every one of his features as he tries to figure out just how he can go through the upcoming months without you by his side

Touya's hesitant. He looks afraid—his eyes wide as they keep darting over your features, a subtle tremble in his voice as he speaks. You've never seen him so panicked and scattered—and it hurts knowing you had to leave him like this in a few minutes

When he was even half as upset as he was now, you'd spend hours talking to Touya. Chipping bit by bit at the shell he kept over himself, allowing your soothing words in bit by bit. Your love and presence was salve on his burning wounds

But you were leaving soon, and he doesn't have the heart to unlatch his limbs from yours. You cradle Touya to your chest, speaking softly into his hair where he can only hear fragments and fractions of what you're saying

".....Think of your family.....Only six months.....I'm so proud of you.....It'll all be ok, I promise.....I love you, Touya....."

And he nods through it all, allowing your voice to guide him through the misty maze of his mind. It felt like you knew Touya better than he knew himself, sometimes.

"Okay,"

And Touya is so sincere when he looks at you, irises shaking as he wraps his arms around you in a bone crushing embrace

"I'll be on my best fucking behavior. Don't care if they kick me around or poke me in the eye with their needles. I'll do my best. But you, Y/n if you're not there in the end—fucking promise me this isn't goodbye." He whispers, a sharp knock resounding through the air as you nod frantically

"I promise it won't be, Touya. I love you so much—please be good for me."

It's the last thing he hears before the door clicks open, before you're spinning on your heel and moving out of the room in a blur. He can't hear a thing, and the blood rushes to his head so fast it feels like he's about to pass out. Touya slumps against the headboard, heart beating out of his chest before a faint flicker of regret flashes across his face. His back straightens as a broken curse leaves his lips once he realizes his mistake

He forgot to kiss you goodbye.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; touya, my baby, is so brave. he's putting on his big boy pants rn. and he'll be getting a new doctor wahh bye bye y/n ☹️ he's probably gonna hate his new doc...or will he?? 👀 do what you will with that piece of information heheh. also, here's a playlist no one asked for! :D i made it a while ago and thought i may as well share it with you lovely souls...! the next few days are going to be very busy for me, i can only ask you guys to be patient for the next chapter 🫶 and ofc, thank you all for making carnations so special to me <3

tags!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kelin-is-writing

@shugs1801 @imaginationmess

@lasa27 @sophiathefrog @etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo

@hvnares @ephmeraloblivion @lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006

@stoned-anime-babe @qatiee @shadowsingers-redhood @alycat171

@21-princess

@xileonaaaa @rylerboi @blurryperrtymoonlight @mrcleans4headwrinkle @accidentpronedork

@exquisitenesss @miniatureempathknightpony @afterlife11

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storiestoobsessover

4 months ago

BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty–and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’”

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

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storiestoobsessover

3 months ago

thinking about having ochako's ankles over your shoulders. strap deep inside her, and her whining because you cant won't cum inside her ): practically in tears because she wants it so bad, and shes so spoiled she doesnt know why you wont give it to her. pleading for it so pretty while you coo at her ): <33

need to smoke a fat cigarette in the rain

ohhh she gets so . teary. she wants it so bad she’s clawing at your hips and her nails are digging into your shoulder. like a cry of frustration, all weepy and pushing herself back into you like she’s hoping you’ll pushing her into a mating press just to knock her up. oh she gets upset about it, wants to know why you’re refusing her when she’s your good perfect girl and she always gets what she wants. can’t even talk her down from it with words, no matter how much you try to sweet talk your way out of it she’s just too upset. so you just gotta agree and give it to her. hike her knees up to her ears and promise you you’ll give her exactly what she wants, just has to stop crying

78 notes View Post

storiestoobsessover

1 month ago