Chapter Text
It started as a stupid bet over a poker game between roommates on a night when a villain had knocked out their power lines. Izuku and Shinsou apprehended him quickly enough, but without electronics, the night got pretty boring, so they passed around a bowl and started playing five card draw.
Being relatively inexperienced when it came to anything THC-related, it didn’t take long for them to forget if they’d already discarded and drawn new cards, or for the black and red suits to start blurring together.
Izuku grins as he lays out his cards. “Royal flush, bitch.”
Shinsou frowns at his two pair, eyes widening when he looks at Izuku’s hand. “You’ve got four clubs and a spade.”
Izuku blinks through bleary, bloodshot eyes. Dammit. Shinsou’s right. The King is a goddamn spade.
“At least that makes my decision easy,” Shinsou says. “A black spade.”
Izuku’s not worried about the fact that Shinsou’s going to tattoo him. It’s hard to make ends meet as a rookie Pro Hero. Izuku ghostwrites articles for small online hero publications, and Shinsou got a job apprenticing at a tattoo parlor. His work’s pretty good for someone who’s only been tattooing for six months—he’s done a small piece on Kaminari’s wrist and a band of musical notes around Jirou’s arm, and they both look great.
No. It’s the placement of the tattoo they agreed upon that has Izuku panicked. Worst of all, Izuku agreed to it when he was still sober. A little horny and sad, sure, but sober, dammit.
Shinsou clears his throat. “You can back out, you know. It’s just a dumb bet.”
For some reason, that makes Izuku panic even more. “No, no—I wanna do it.”
Shinsou shuffles the cards and places them back in the box. “I’m gonna go sketch the design. You’ve got about twenty minutes before the needle goes in to change your mind.”
Izuku nods, feeling a little heady even though the high’s starting to wear off. Okay. He’s getting his first tattoo. No big deal, really, other than the fact that, for some reason, it’s giving him a raging boner.
While Shinsou draws, Izuku takes a flashlight to the bathroom and splashes cold water in his face. He’s being creepy. Shinsou’s his friend, nothing more. Sure, he’s attractive, but it’s not like he’s got feelings for the guy. No, it seems no matter what he does, his stupid heart is reserved for Kacchan and Kacchan alone. Even if Kacchan only sees him as an annoying, nerdy childhood friend whom he reluctantly accepts.
When he finally calms his dick the fuck down, Izuku heads back into the living room. Shinsou’s illuminated by the light of several lanterns and flashlights, and he’s holding a piece of transfer paper. It’s got a sketch of a spade with the letter K in the center.
“King of Spades,” he says. “What d’you think? It’s about seven centimeters… the smallest I can realistically go without worrying about the letter getting all muddy in a few years.”
Izuku wants to tell him to make it bigger. He bites his lip. “Nah, that’s perfect.”
Shinsou grins wickedly, and okay, yeah—it’s definitely sexy. Izuku wants to punch his stupid dick. He’s a professional. “So, uh… how do we…”
“I’ll put down a clean towel so you can lie on your stomach. When I step out, you can pull the back of your shorts down and use the other towel to cover up if it makes you more comfortable. If I need more skin exposed, I’ll just ask you to move it a bit.” He says it so confidently. So clinically. Izuku kind of hates him for it.
“Uh… Okay.” Izuku gulps. “Yeah.”
Shinsou leaves, and Izuku lies down on the towel, pulling down the back of his pants like Shinsou said. He lays the extra towel over the entirety of his ass. He’s not that modest, but he doesn’t want Shinsou to think he’s being a creep.
Maybe he is being a creep. After all, this is kinda weird. Who gets their first tattoo on their ass? Izuku, apparently. He’s completely sober now, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to back out.
Shinsou returns a few minutes later with his portable kit, picking up the transfer paper and kneeling next to Izuku. “Okay, what side do you want it on?”
“Left, I guess?” Izuku doesn’t know why that’s his preference, but it just feels like that’s where it should go.
“What about placement?”
“I… don’t know. I guess kinda the upper part? Maybe a little to the side, like closer to my hip?”
“Good choice,” Shinsou nods. “It’ll heal faster if you don’t have to sit directly on it. I’m gonna need you to move the towel a bit.”
Izuku slides it over, making sure it’s still covering his asscrack, because that, apparently, is his line? Like he didn’t share communal showers with Shinsou for two years. He’s being ridiculous for no damn reason.
When Shinsou presses the paper to his skin, Izuku lets out a breath. Be normal be normal be normal. He lifts the paper and passes a hand mirror to Izuku. “Make sure the placement’s okay.”
Izuku props himself on an elbow and cranes back, tilting the mirror to get a good look. His pulse races as he sees the blue ink spade on the glutes he’s worked so hard to strengthen.
It looks… Good.
He imagines walking around in his hero suit as Japan’s golden boy, grinning innocently. Nobody’d know there was a slutty little tattoo on his ass.
Slutty? Is this tattoo slutty? He hopes so. Oh, god—why does he hope so?
“Y—yeah,” Izuku manages when he realizes he’s been staring at his own ass for way too long. “That’s good.”
Shinsou opens the kit and sets a metal tray on the coffee table. He slips on latex gloves and unseals a small bottle of black ink before unwrapping a new needle. He sets it in the gun and clicks it on and off a few times, making it buzz.
The needle goes in the ink. “You’re sure, Izuku?” Shinsou says. “Last chance to back out.”
Izuku grits his teeth. “Do it.”
The gun buzzes again, pressing into his skin. And fuck, he’s doing it. He’s getting a literal tattoo on his ass that he let someone else pick out for him. In a bet , of all things. It’s a little unreal. Izuku’d expected it to hurt at least a bit, but it barely feels like blunt fingernails. He vaguely remembers reading that areas with more muscle hurt the least, but he’s broken his bones more times than he can count, so he doubts any placement could hurt, really.
…okay, maybe not any placement.
As Shinsou works, the awkwardness starts to ebb away, and Izuku gets too curious for his own good. “What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever tattooed?”
Shinsou laughs. “Butthole.”
Izuku cringes. “What?”
“Hold still—you’re gonna make me mess up the lines.”
“S-sorry.” Izuku tries to relax his glutes, but like… damn. That’s weird. “Can’t you refuse?”
“I could,” Shinsou says. “But you can charge a lot for something like that. And inflation isn’t going away anytime fast.”
Point… taken.
“Done with the line work,” Shinsou says. “Wanna take a look, or would you rather ‘til I fill it in?”
Fill it in.
“I… Kinda want to wait for the final reveal.” Izuku doesn’t know why he says it, or why the thought gives him a flush of warmth.
“Hm.” Shinsou starts etching the gun into his skin with small, faster movements. “I get it. It’s a cool contrast—first your skin’s just normal and boring, and then the next time you look: bam. Tattoo.”
Izuku tries not to think about that too much and lets himself zone out while Shinsou works. It’s relaxing. Therapeutic, even. After a while, he turns off the gun and sets it in the tray. “That’ll do it. Take a look."
Izuku grabs the mirror. I have a tattoo I have a tattoo I have a tattoo—
On my ass.
He gulps, lifting the mirror to reveal the black spade surrounded by irritated pink skin. He gasps a little in spite of himself, turning his head to get a look at it through his own eyes.
“So?” Shinsou says expectantly.
“I… wow. Thanks,” Izuku says, a little breathless and more than a little shocked he went through with it.
“Is it okay if I take a picture for my portfolio?” Shinsou asks. “It’ll be anonymous, and I’ll zoom in so it’s not completely obvious it’s on your ass. I can make it tasteful as fuck.”
“You don’t have to.” Izuku barely believes the words that spill from his mouth. “You don’t have to make it tasteful, I mean."
Shinsou’s tired, stoic eyes widen. “Seriously?”
Izuku’s cheeks scorch. “Sorry—forget it. I don’t know where that came from.”
Shinsou lets out a light, bemused laugh. “You’re kind of a freak; aren’t you?”
Fuck. Maybe he is. Izuku cradles his head in his outstretched arms, but quickly lets curiosity get the better of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Shinsou take out his phone to snap a few photos.
I’m trying to be all professional and shit,” Shinsou says. “And here you are asking me to take raunchy pics of my work.”
“I didn’t say raunchy!” Izuku defends himself a little too quickly, a little too harshly. “Besides, it’s not like you have to be professional. I’m not an actual client.”
Shinsou freezes. Sits back on his heels. “Then… can I say something?”
Izuku dares a look into Shinsou’s eyes. They’re as tired as ever, dark circles more defined in the lantern light. A moment of fear is quickly clouded with a haze of unmistakable desire.
Okay. So. Shinsou’s gay. Izuku’s gay. They’ve both brought home a guy or two over the past year or so they’ve been roommates. Nobody they mutually know, and their conversations around the subject haven’t been much more than a, “nice” the next morning.
Izuku takes in a slow, careful breath. “Yeah?”
It’s not that Izuku hadn’t noticed how attractive Shinsou is in his own depressed, bitter, Aizawafied way. But they’re friends, and pretty good ones at that, so why fuck up a harmonious living situation?
“It looks… like… really good on you,” Shinsou says.
Arousal pools low in Izuku’s belly. Tinges of it have been there for a while, but it was easy to ignore when Shinsou was being so clinical. But now…
“Sure you don’t want something a little more bold?” Izuku asks, and he’s starting to wonder if the ink was imbued with some sort of aphrodisiac. Quirked up ink? Is that a thing?
Probably not. Izuku just hasn’t gotten laid in a while.
Guilt mingles with want. Shinsou’s his friend.
But Shinsou’s not Kacchan.
Kacchan, who decided six months into their agency work with Hawks that he was going to jump ship to Jeanist for no fucking reason whatsoever.
Not that Izuku’s waiting for Kacchan to come crawling back (whatever, he’s not). It’s not like he wants to go back to his room and send Katsuki an unsolicited photo of his ass just to show the bastard he’s not as sweet and innocent as he seems.
Fuck it.
Shunning every sense of modesty and decorum he thought he had, Izuku removes the towel from his ass with a flick of his wrist. “That’ll give you a better shot.” He hands Shinsou his phone, but Shinsou’s just staring, mouth hanging open.
And Izuku can’t lie: he loves that reaction. “It’s not unprofessional if you’re taking them with my phone.”
Shinsou nods like it’s the most sensible thing in the world, which, to be fair, lots of things are when you’re horny.
And that’s enough to push Shinsou past whatever unreasonable moral ledge he was peering over. He snaps photo after photo.
When he’s done, Shinsou puts a clear bandage on it and hands Izuku a card with aftercare instructions, leaving so Izuku can shuffle back into his pants.
And that’s that. Izuku has his first tattoo.
Wild.
Shinsou doesn’t come back for a long time, so Izuku scrolls through the new photos on his phone to confirm that, yes, he definitely loves his new ink. If he wears pants with a low waist, it’ll probably poke out a bit when he bends down. And if Izuku’s honest with himself, he kinda digs that.
He’s also got the overwhelming urge to post the tattoo on PixaGram. It can’t be his main hero account, obviously, but it should be okay if he uploads on his private account for friends, right? He crops one of the photos of his ass so he doesn’t get a temporary ban, but it’s still very obvious where the tattoo is located. He types out a caption and hits send, heart racing.
I lost a bet, but I’m not complaining!
It takes a grand total of two minutes before he starts getting comments.
KiriRIOT: Midoooo!! WHAAAT?
Midoriya_Izuku: Yepppp
KiriRIOT: No fucking way
FloatyOcha: OMG that’s so CUTE!! What’s the K for?
Midoriya_Izuku: King! I lost five card draw bc I thought I had a royal flush with clubs. But the king was a spade lol
He gets a follow-up private message.
FloatyOcha: For a split second, I thought the K stood for Katsuki!!
Izuku’s stomach drops. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He hadn’t even considered that. Like, it’s a card suit, so it makes sense that the K stands for King, right? Nobody’d think he got it for Kacchan, right? Ochaco’s one of the few people he’s confided in about his feelings, so it’d make sense that she’d draw that conclusion.
Me: NOOOO definitely not! People aren’t gonna think that, right?
FloatyOcha: Nah I’m sure you’re fine
He tries to calm his panic by looking at new notifications.
Kaminari_Denki: K for Kacchan?
“Dunce face!” Izuku mutters, deleting the comment before DMing the idiot.
Me: It stands for king! IT’S LITERALLY THE KING OF SPADES. Could you not post shit like that? Why would I get a tattoo for Kacchan??
Kaminari_Denki: Ohhh sorry!
Kaminari_Denki: Idk just seemed like something you’d do if you were drunk?
Me: No I wouldn’t and I’M NOT DRUNK
Izuku sets down his phone, takes a deep breath, and stares up at the ceiling. Well, it’s too late to delete it—too many people have seen, and no doubt their DMs are zipping through the airwaves at this very moment. Which, while not entirely Izuku’s intention, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t in the back of his mind before he even posted.
He’d probably never admit it out loud, but he likes the kind of attention this kind of thing gets him. It throws people off; makes them see a side of him he hides from the public, his friends, and, if he’s honest, even from himself. It’s a side of himself he loves. A side of himself that scares him.
Now that he has a permanent mark on his skin that alludes to the darker parts of his thoughts, maybe it’ll help Izuku embrace it. Let it out of his cage.
Two weeks later, he’s desperate for another one.
The spade’s been healing nicely. For the first couple days, it sort of felt like he had a sunburn concentrated to one part of his ass. After that, the itching was unbearable, but he abided Shinsou’s instruction: slap, don’t scratch!
Is it weird, slapping your own ass? Yeah, but when he imagined someone else doing it while railing him from behind, the strangeness transformed into something more erotic. He definitely jerked off more than usual during that stage of healing.
But now the fresh black ink has healed over, and it’s just another part of his skin. A part that he can’t help but look at every time he gets out of the shower or undresses.
Izuku’s been a little shy about it in the Agency showers, keeping a towel wrapped around his waist up until the moment he has to change back into his regular clothes. He works with guys who’ve known him since he was an awkward, mumbling teenager (and who’s he kidding? He still mumbles). For some reason, it’s embarrassing that because of his PixaGram post, most of them know that’s not true anymore.
So maybe to embrace his confidence, he just needs one more tattoo in an obvious place that people can’t miss.
Izuku approaches Shinsou when he gets home one evening. Shinsou’s sprawled out on the couch, flipping through shows on a streaming app. He tilts his head in greeting.
“How was your shift?” Shinsou asks.
Izuku sits down at the other end of the sofa. “I’ve been thinking… I want another tattoo.”
“It’s addicting; isn’t it?” Shinsou’s grin goes all the way to his tired, dark eyes as he observes the intricate band around his bicep. “You got any ideas?”
Izuku nods enthusiastically. “I want it in a more obvious place this time. Like my arm or my back or something? I’ve been bouncing around ideas all day.” He digs the notebook out of his backpack and flips it open to the pages with sketches.
“Putting off your paperwork again, I see.”
Izuku scrunches his nose. “It’s been a slow week, okay?” He points to one of the sketches. “I thought it might be cool to have Blackwhip going up my arm. Or…” He flips the page. “Like a color burst of the One for All stars I see in the vestige realm? Either on the back of my shoulder or my upper arm.”
Shinsou examines the sketches. “I dig it. Is there one you’re leaning more towards?”
“Uhh…” Izuku looks down at his hands. “Whatever’d be cheapest? I can only pay about 32,000.”
Shinsou snorts. “I can’t do either of these for that low a price. The Blackwhip one’s huge, and it’d take more than one session. And I need to take into consideration the amount of color and detail I’d need to do to make OFA pop.”
Izuku’s heart sinks. His budget’s so tight already. “So what’s your quote?”
Shinsou takes out his phone and opens a calculator app. “For Blackwhip, we’re looking at about 44,000 for each session. So 88,000 total.”
Ah, fuck.
“I can do OFA for a little less. Probably in one session depending on the size… Like 58,000.”
Izuku groans, sinking into the couch.
Shinsou scoots a little closer and taps at the OFA sketch. “But I really wanna do this one. It’s cool as hell. So maybe we can negotiate something, especially if you’re not coming into the shop to get it done officially. If it’s just a friend tattooing a friend, we’ve got some leeway.”
Izuku’s heart lifts. “I could do all your cleaning for a couple weeks. Or a month. Or I could do all the cooking?”
Shinsou purses his lips, looking at the ceiling as he ponders the deal. “You never deep clean anything.”
“Hey, that’s not—”
“And you’re not a very good cook.”
“I’m getting better!”
“Tell that to the sakana no nitsuke you burned last week.”
“How was I supposed to know fish took way less time to cook than pork?”
Shinsou rolls his eyes, lifting himself off the couch. “Tell me when you come up with a more appealing offer.”
“Wait!”
Shinsou stops in his tracks. Looks back at Izuku.
Izuku’s desperate, which is stupid. So fucking stupid. He wants this as soon as possible. He needs people to see who he is deep down. He’s tired of people treating him like the stupid, innocent kid he used to be. He’s twenty-two, dammit, and half the heroes he works with—even some of his classmates—act like he’s stuck in a stage of arrested development just because he’s got a chipper attitude.
“What about 32,000 and a blowjob?”
Shinsou’s jaw drops. Izuku leans forward, refusing to avert his eyes from Shinsou’s stunned face. He needs Shinsou to know he’s one-hundred percent serious.
“That…” Shinsou takes a breath, “sounds super unethical.”
The corner of Izuku’s mouth twitches. “If it’s not being done at the shop, then it’s just one friend tattooing another, right?”
Shinsou blinks rapidly. It looks like his mind is running fifty miles a minute. “But what’s that gonna do to our friendship?”
“Absolutely nothing would change.” Izuku is steadfast, even if he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of his mouth. “I wouldn’t be kissing you or dating you or asking you to sleep in my bed. It’s a transaction.”
“Yeah, a sexual transaction.” Shinsou gulps, looking a little unsteady. “You must see the implication of that.”
Oh, yeah. Izuku definitely does. It’s thrilling and scary, like the moment before a skydive. “And what if I like the implication?”
“I…”
“If you think it’s a bad idea, just say so,” Izuku challenges. “Just figured I’d put a fair price on the table.”
“Like I said, it’s a complicated piece. Make it two blowjobs, and we have a deal,” Shinsou counters.
Now it’s Izuku’s turn to be frozen in shock.
“One before the session and one after.” Shinsou folds his arms over his chest. “Final offer.”
Izuku stares in stunned silence. His horny-brained scheme actually… worked? And why is there something so satisfying about that? “When can we… uh… start?”
Shinsou’s cheeks tinge pink. “My evening’s free if yours is.”
Well, fuck. Izuku didn’t expect this to work in the first place. He’s still surprised at the fact that any of this came out of his mouth, and now it’s actually happening? No, he’s gotta be in some bizarro world fever dream.
Izuku’s a little shaky as he asks, “When do you want me to…?”
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
Fuck. Izuku’s heartbeat quickens. His mouth waters, skin scorching as he gets on his knees in front of Shinsou. He undoes the belt, unhooks the button on his jeans, and unzips them. Desire pools, and Izuku feels his pants tighten as arousal surges into his own dick.
He’s actually doing this. He’s going to trade a blowjob for a tattoo.
What does that make me?
The question spurs Izuku forward, and he hikes Shinsou’s jeans and boxers down to his ankles. Shinsou’s half-hard cock flops in front of his face, and Izuku wraps his hand around it, starting with slow, even strokes. When Izuku squeezes his balls, Shinsou tilts his head back with a groan.
“I know you’re doing me a huge favor,” Izuku says darkly, “so I’m gonna make this good.”
Izuku takes the tip of the now-hard dick into his mouth, flitting his tongue around the opening and lapping at the beads of precum. He takes Shinsou down slowly, knowing he’s steadily raising the pleasure Shinsou feels. When Izuku gets Shinsou to the back of his mouth, he opens his throat and swallows him to the base.
Shinsou grips Izuku’s hair as he bobs up and down with measured, deliberate purpose. “Fuck… Didn’t know you gave such good head.”
Izuku moans in satisfaction, earning a small thrust from Shinsou.
Yeah. There’s a lot Shinsou doesn’t know about him. Some of those things, Izuku’s only recently discovered about himself.
Shinsou gives a few gentle thrusts of his hips, and Izuku lets the cock jut against the back of his throat. He pulls Izuku’s head up a little and says breathlessly, “Can I face-fuck you?”
Izuku lets out a moan of approval that vibrates against Shinsou, nodding just in case it wasn’t clear that, yes, Izuku absolutely wants to be face-fucked right now. Shinsou grips tightly to Izuku’s hair with both hands, thrusting his head back and forth with the rhythm of his hips.
Izuku’s intermittent groans muffle as the cock slams his throat. He gasps small breaths through his nose as spit slicks down Shinsou and smears against his lips.
It’s dirty and fast and so fucking good, and Izuku can’t help but let him fuck his throat into oblivion.
Shinsou slows momentarily, loosening his hands. “You still good?”
“Mhm.” Izuku nods as best he can, using the brief reprieve to take deeper breaths.
“Want me to keep going like that?”
“Mhm.” Fuck yes he does. In the moment, Izuku wants nothing more than to let Shinsou destroy his throat, tattoo him, and destroy him again.
Shinsou sets a vigorous pace, and tears form in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. His face flushes hot. His dick rubs hard against his jeans. He can barely breathe, and he doesn’t care.
“Gonna come,” Shinsou groans.
Izuku grips his hips and slams Shinsou into him as hard as he can. Shinsou thrusts hard, quashing Izuku’s nose against his pelvis as hot ropes shoot against his throat. He gulps them down with each slowing thrust and shudder. When Shinsou lets go of his hair, Izuku slips the dick out of his mouth and takes deep breaths into his burning lungs.
“Fuck…” Shinsou’s a little shaky as he pulls his pants back up. “You okay?”
“Never better.” It comes out a little raspy from the throat fucking.
“Who knew you could give such good head?”
“It’s a well-kept secret,” Izuku says. “Welcome to the club.”
While Shinsou goes to clean up and work on his design, Izuku mindlessly scrolls his phone. He’s having trouble concentrating on anything but the fact that he just paid for a tattoo… with sex.
Like, this was entirely his idea, and he doesn’t feel an ounce of shame or regret about it. If anything, it makes him feel empowered, if a bit slutty.
Okay, maybe really slutty.
Shinsou comes back with a print-out of his design, which Izuku approves and decides he wants on his right shoulder blade. Shinsou leaves again and comes back with his tattoo kit.
They move to the kitchen, and Izuku takes a seat on one of the stools and removes his t-shirt. If he wants to show this off, he’s going to have to invest in a few tanks.
Shinsou presses the transfer paper to Izuku’s right shoulder blade and peels it off, handing Izuku his mirror to check the placement.
Izuku almost gasps at the starburst outline. This one’s huge. No wonder Shinsou asked for two blowjobs. And Izuku’s more than happy to deliver.
“Look good?” Shinsou asks.
Izuku’s mouth is dry. “Perfect.”
This time, Shinsou works with an array of bright rainbow pastels. This one definitely hurts more, as Shinsou has to work over bony areas. But it’s more than manageable—it’s nothing like getting torn to bits on the battlefield, at any rate.
This one takes a lot longer, and Izuku distracts himself by sipping the sports drink Shinsou insisted he needed and reading articles about up-and-coming heroes. Some of them are from reputable sources, but others are trash. He knows the ones in the latter publications are gossip without an ounce of truth to them, but it doesn’t stop from giving him an overwhelming sense of jealousy when he comes across a piece about Kacchan and Camie titled, The New Hero Dream Team.
Because what the fuck? Kacchan’s working with fucking Camie and he didn’t say anything?
Kacchan hates Camie. Or at least, that’s what Izuku thought. But they’re posing together, shoulder to shoulder, and Kacchan’s got a big, very-un-Kacchan-like smile on his face.
Izuku chews the inside of his mouth. “Did you know Kacchan teamed up with Camie?”
“Really?” Shinsou says. “That’s weird. I thought she annoyed the shit out of him.”
“Doesn’t look like it anymore.” He holds up his phone to show Shinsou. “D’you… think there’s something going on between them?”
Shinsou laughs a little. “You sound jealous.”
“Well, yeah.” Izuku tenses as the needle hits a sensitive spot. “First he resigns from our agency, and now he’d rather work with Camie than me?”
“You really need to talk to him, man,” says Shinsou. “Hasn’t this pining gone on long enough?”
His words twist Izuku’s stomach. “It’s complicated. I can’t just say, ‘hey, Kacchan, I’ve had feelings for you for like, forever, and I need you to tell me why you left Hawks’ agency to get all up close and personal with this airhead you can’t stand.’”
“He might be more amenable to it if you bring it up while giving him the best head of his life.”
“Oh my god, stop it.”
“What? You’re, like, insanely good at it.”
Izuku warms at the compliment and lets Shinsou continue his work.
After a couple breaks and two sports drinks later, Shinsou sets down his gun and shakes out his hand. “All done—wanna take a look?”
The second Izuku glimpses it through the mirror, he gasps. It’s exactly how he envisioned: a big starburst spanning his shoulder blade, all colored in vibrant pastels that shimmer from the newness. “Holy shit.”
“So you approve?”
“It’s… incredible.”
Shinsou smiles. “Is it okay to take pictures for my PixaGram? Much easier to get tasteful ones this time.”
“As long as you tag me!”
Shinsou aims the phone, snapping a few photos before changing the angle. “Hero account, or personal?”
Izuku thinks on it. “Let’s do personal for now.”
When Shinsou’s done, he reaches for the clear bandage.
Izuku turns around on the stool. “Hang on. Wanna blow you first.”
Shinsou’s breath hitches as Izuku moves to undo his pants again. “Christ, dude, you’re insatiable.”
Izuku smiles at the compliment as he hooks his fingers into Shinsou’s pants and pulls them down to reveal his still-soft cock.
He takes Shinsou completely into his mouth, humming as every bob makes him harder, longer, thicker.
“Where the fuck’d you learn to do this?” Shinso says, apparently still stunned at Izuku’s skill.
He’s sucking his friend’s dick, so he may as well be honest. Izuku lets off with a pop and works it with his hand. “I practiced a lot with toys before I ever tackled the real thing.” He plunges back onto Shinsou’s cock without any warning, earning a lust-filled whimper that makes Izuku work even harder.
“Fuck…” Shinsou’s hands are in his hair again, but gentler this time around. “You must really like cock.”
That puts Izuku into a frenzy, and he pulls off, holding Shinsou at the base as he licks long, sloppy strokes all up and down, slathering him with spit, pulling back with satisfaction to admire the strand connecting his mouth with Shinsou’s cock.
“Always have” Izuku takes him into his throat only to pull him out after a few brief movements. “But lately, I've been wanting it even more.” He envelops Shinsou again, working fast, hollowing his cheeks as Shinsou ruts up into him.
“Never would’ve taken you for a cockslut,” Shinsou breathes. “Fuck… I’m getting close. Can I jerk off into your mouth?”
Abso-fucking-lutely.
Izuku releases him, opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue as Shinsou works his dick in rapid movements. He throws his head back, and Izuku lines himself up, letting the cum spurt into his mouth and gather in the dip of his tongue.
When Shinsou looks at him again, Izuku displays the thick white liquid. Shinsou’s eyes are huge. “Holy… shit.”
Izuku closes his mouth and swallows, dabbing up the bit that spilled and licking it off his fingers.
Shinsou’s already buttoning up his pants and excusing himself to wash his hands before he applies the bandage, leaving Izuku hard with the taste of cum lingering on his tongue.
It’s fucking perfect.
After Shinsou applies the bandage, they go their separate ways. Izuku heads back to his room, admiring the new ink in the mirror before lying down on his stomach so as not to irritate it.
When he checks his phone, Shinsou’s already uploaded three photos of Izuku’s shoulder with the caption:
I think I’ve turned my roommate onto tattoos.
Izuku doesn’t know if the wordplay is intentional, but Shinsou’s certainly turned him onto something. A confidence he’s never known surges to new heights, and he can’t wait to see where it leads him.