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Love Wasn't Supposed to Make You Crazy

Summary:

"I said he can come home with us," Endeavor tells the lawyer.

The lawyer shakes his head as Dabi snarls, “If I have to live with the old man, I’d rather fucking stay in prison."

Natsuo makes a noise of frustration. "Are you sure me or Nee-san can't take custodianship during this probation?"

The lawyer nods. "It has to be a licensed hero."

"And our quirks just aren't considered strong enough," Natsuo sighs, slumping into his seat.

The room goes quiet, and Shouto says, "He can stay with me."

Everyone stares at Shouto, but Shouto is looking at Dabi, who smirks. "Why the fuck not? I'll stay with peppermint."

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Anyone who knew me then would say I loved you far too much. Like a wildfire or the sharp edge of a knife.

                                                                                                                        ~"Crazy Love"  Lang Leav


Shouto was twenty-three and a pro-hero when Dabi—it was really hard to think of him as Touya—was finally eligible for probation, but there was, as with most things, a catch.

“If I have to live with the old man, I’d rather fucking stay in prison,” he’d snarled with enough vehemence that Shouto had zero doubt he was sincere. 

Even years later, he doesn’t know why he did it. Even after years, it still doesn’t feel like it was a decision as much as it was a compulsion. He supposes it doesn’t really matter, because he opened his mouth and said, “He can stay with me.”

They had all stared at him in shock: Dabi, the warden, the probation officer, the lawyer, and, of course, their father. Seven years in prison hadn’t exactly made Shouto and Dabi any closer than they were when Dabi tried to kill him. 

“Is… that acceptable?” the warden asked 

“Shouto is the number five hero currently,” Endeavor replied, though he’d sounded unsure. 

Everyone had looked uncomfortable, but Dabi laughed and said, “What the fuck not? I’ll stay with the peppermint!”

Which was how Shouto ended up with a roommate in his new apartment, only three weeks after he moved in. 


Things are predictably awkward at first, but Shouto is pretty sure that’s mostly because even at twenty-three, he’s still pretty socially awkward—despite his friends’ best efforts. He hasn’t really lived in close proximity with someone like this since high school in the dorms, and even that was different. 

But Dabi seems to appreciate that Shouto got him out at least a little bit and doesn’t go out of his way to pull Shouto’s chain too much, so things settle in oddly fast. 


Shouto isn’t sure when he noticed the way Dabi watched him. He isn’t actually sure he did notice, not consciously. Social cues still often go over his head, and his friends often bemoan how oblivious he is to people coming onto him in general. So maybe it isn’t really surprising that the pieces don’t fall into place—lounging around the apartment without a shirt, lazing on the couch in only a towel after a bath, the way no hall or space they pass through ever seems big enough to avoid touching—until Dabi shoves him down on the couch and crawls into his lap. 

He cups Shouto’s crotch, and it stirs. “I’m horny,” he says, close enough that Shouto can taste the smoke on his breath. 

“And that’s my problem now?” Shouto asks, but he doesn’t shove him away. He could—he’s not the Number Five hero for nothing—but it just… doesn’t really occur to him. Dabi doesn’t feel like a threat. 

“Since you’re my only human interaction that isn’t my gross probation officer? Yeah, it is.”

Dabi’s free hand tangles in Shouto’s hair, pulling it out of what remains of the ponytail he had, and he tugs. A soft gasp escapes Shouto before he can stop it, and his cock begins to harden in his pants, where Dabi’s still cupping him. 

This close, he can see Dabi’s pupils get larger, see the ring of fire-blue shrink. “Oh, shit,” he says, but he sounds excited, and he tugs again. Shouto can’t stop either the moan or the way his hips hitch into his big brother’s grip. “Fuck, baby brother. Are you a virgin?” 

He’s not, but that’s hardly any of Dabi’s business. And, if he’s really honest with himself, he certainly feels like he is at the moment. When he had sex before it was nice, but he honestly has never seen the appeal. This feels entirely different. 

Dabi pulls again, harder this time, and Shouto whimpers, almost fully hard. He doesn’t remember the last time he got this hard this fast, and it actually makes him feel a little dizzy. 

“Fuck,” Dabi hisses, letting go of Shouto’s crotch to fumble at his belt and fly. He pulls out a cock that looks big on his skinny frame, and Shouto wonders if he should be surprised that it’s pierced. Dabi tugs on his hair again, and Shouto’s mouth waters. “Ever blown anyone?”

Yes, but badly. Shouto had hated it. He swallows, a needy mewl that should be utterly embarrassing climbing from his throat when Dabi twists his fist, pulling tighter so that it hurts more. 

Stroking his hard dick with his free hand, Dabi says, “You want to blow me, don’t you, baby brother?”

It takes far too long to gather the thoughts to say, “You’re my brother.”

“Yeah, I sure am. And you’re fucking gagging for it just from a little hair-pulling.” He shifts his hips forward, rubbing the head of his dick over Shouto’s lips. 

It still doesn’t occur to Shouto to push him away, to fight him off. 

“Can you imagine the look on the old man’s face if he knew you blew me?”

Spite is a terrible motivator. It still makes Shouto open his mouth and take the head of his big brother’s dick in. Curiosity and lust do the rest. 

Dabi goes slow, working his way deeper, testing Shouto’s gag reflex, before yanking hard on Shouto’s hair and driving down into his throat. 

Shouto comes from the pain of his hair being pulled and the feeling of barbells rubbing his throat from the inside. He swallows every drop Dabi spills down his throat, and when Dabi pulls back, Shouto trembles with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. 

Flopping on the couch next to him, Dabi sighs in satisfaction, not bothering to put his dick away. It glistens with Shouto’s spit, and something in Shouto wants to swallow it again. The way it felt, filling his throat, rubbing inside, how powerless he felt in Dabi’s hands...

“Fuck, peppermint,” Dabi says, watching him under lidded, lazy eyes. “You ever taken a cock in your throat before?”

No. Never. Not even close. 

But he knows he will again. 


The hair-pulling is only the start. Dabi wastes no time in figuring out Shouto’s kinks, and it turns out, Shouto has a lot of them. Oddly enough, nearly all of them seem to complement Dabi’s own perfectly. 

They figure out that Shouto really doesn’t have a vanilla bone in his body. He likes it rough, he likes to be manhandled and shoved around. He likes being the one who has no power, having all of the decisions taken out of his hands. That it’s his big brother he’s doing this with was barely a factor to begin with, and it matters not at all when Dabi is making him forget his own name, much less who he’s related to. 


Shouto doesn't attend a lot of hero conferences. They tend to be for networking and getting to know the it people to know, but between being Endeavor's son, one of Deku's best friends, and his status in his own right, he doesn't really need to network. For the heroes who didn't need to network, conferences were more about seeing and being seen, maybe getting first look at the newest support devices, which he also mostly doesn't need because he's also friends with Hatsume, and if there's anyone better in the business, he doesn't know them. 

But the Conference on Global Hero Networking is an exception to the rule. It's a week-long event in the United States, and it has played a critical role in shaping hero law throughout the world, doing its best to keep as many countries on the same page as possible. It makes smaller countries more able to easily call in reinforcements if they're dealing with something bigger than the locals can handle, and also provides continuity for any traveling citizen on how they're expected to act in the event of a villain attack.

Going overseas means being gone for over a week. While he can leave Dabi unsupervised during the day due to work, or even maybe a couple days in the event of an emergency, he can’t leave him for a week and a half. Whatever Shouto thinks of most conferences and events, getting an invitation to this one is rather a big deal, so saying, “Sorry, I have to be responsible for my former-villain brother who’s on probation” isn’t really an option. Especially because he was invited specifically to give a lecture on villain empathy and rehabilitation. 

So, no leaving Dabi at home unsupervised—okay, he could technically leave Dabi with Endeavor, who wasn’t invited this year, but he’s pretty sure that’s the best way to land Dabi back in jail—which means that he gets to bring Dabi with him. 

He’s honestly not upset about the excuse to keep Dabi close. 

Things are going more or less fine until they get to the expected hotel, only to find that it’s been overbooked. Already extremely jetlagged, Shouto can’t be more than annoyed with the poor guy behind the desk who starts frantically calling other local hotels to get him into another one. 

With the Conference in town, there aren’t a lot of options, but Shouto accepts the first one without much consideration because all he wants is to get in the room and pass out, even though he knows he can’t until after dinner or he’ll spend the next three days adjusting to the time difference. 

The “hotel” they’re booked in is actually more of what Americans call a “bed-and-breakfast” place, so it’s more rooms in a house than hotel. Shouto only takes in the front desk or the decor as much as is required to identify the exits (well-labeled) and the security (surprisingly subtle) before they’re shown up to their room. 

When they step into the room Shouto actually stops and stares. 

The bed—singular—dominates the room. It’s got a huge, ornate black headboard, made up with red satin sheets that look like they’d be right at home in a love hotel. Heavy red velvet curtains hang around the windows, and the furniture in the room matches the headboard. Shouto usually enjoys staying in high-end hotels when he travels, the kinds that are clean and modern, and match his own sense of order and minimalism. Behind him, Dabi dissolves into cackling laughter. 

“This is going to be awful,” he complains even as Dabi shuts the door behind him. He strolls over to the bed and flops down on it while Shouto stares at the bed like if he just looks at it long enough, it will change into something that doesn’t look like it’d be at home in a sex dungeon. It’s the absolute antithesis of everything Shouto finds relaxing, and coming back to this after the long days at the conference is not appealing. 

“Nah, it’s gonna be great,” Dabi replies, pressing down on the mattress, testing it. “At least it’s comfy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, forcing his feet to move and circle to the other side of the bed. He sets his things down before sitting. Dabi reaches out and yanks him down, then rolls to hold himself over Shouto. It occurs to Shouto that he has completely lost any sort of threat sense from Dabi in the last year, because he doesn’t even flinch when Dabi yanks him, even as unexpected as it was. 

Grinning down at him, Dabi says, “You’re going to be gorgeous against these sheets.” His eyes trace Shouto’s features. He reaches down to cup Shouto, drawing a soft gasp from Shouto. “And look at it this way, baby brother: at least there’s only one bed.”

Shouto rocks his hips up against Dabi’s hand, but Dabi simply massages him through his pants. It’s been over a year since the first time Dabi fucked his throat, and Shouto knows that it’s wrong to be sleeping with his older brother, but no one makes him feel the way Dabi does, and he’s not willing to give it up, no matter how wrong it might be. 

“Such a slut,” Dabi says as Shouto bucks into his grip, and the insult just makes him harder. “I bet I could make you come in your pants like a teenager.”

Shouto wouldn’t take that bet; he’s sure Dabi could make him come in his pants, but that’s not what he wants. 

“Dabi, please,” he says. 

“Tell me what you want, baby brother,” Dabi says, licking a stripe up his neck. 

“You,” Shouto says, not bothering to deny it. He’s long past denying it. He wants Dabi, wants to be fucked by him, feel his cock filling him, writhe against the balls on his piercings. Dabi’s fucked him with toys meant to mimic his piercings, but nothing is quite the same as Dabi’s hard, hot dick and the cool, unyielding metal of the barbells. 

Dabi chuckles, taking his hand away from Shouto’s crotch to shove his shirt up until it bares his nipples. “My very own hungry cockslut,” he coos, then pinches one of Shouto’s nipples between his fingers. Shouto gasps, pushing his chest up into the sensation. He shifts until he puts a knee between Shouto’s legs, then nudges Shouto’s legs wider, wide enough for him to kneel between. Wide enough to make his pants uncomfortably tight; they’re formal and don’t have a lot of stretch in them. 

Sitting up, Dabi pushes his own knees wider, forcing Shouto’s wider and the pants tighter against his almost entirely hard dick. 

“Should have made you wear a thong the whole time. Let that string tease your needy fucking hole for hours, teasing you in public.” 

The idea of it makes Shouto squirm, his cock throbbing in his pants. 

“You like that idea, don’t you? Like the idea of being a slut in public, being needy for me.” He reaches up with both hands to start twisting and pinching Shouto’s nipples. 

“Fuck,” Shouto says on a sigh, clutching the slick sheets. After sleeping with Dabi for over a year, he knows that when they’re together, Dabi is the one in control, the one who decides what Shouto gets. Honestly, Shouto loves it that way. He loves just surrendering to Dabi, letting Dabi take what he wants. He doesn’t think that Dabi is a typical “thoughtful” lover, but he loves to take Shouto to the edge, to shove him off, to submerge him in so much sensation that the stress is drowned. 

“You know what I think would be so fucking pretty?” Dabi asks, almost conversational. He pinches Shouto’s nipples hard, hard enough that it’s far more pain than pleasure, but there’s a rush when he lets off, the throb of a bruise that he actually finds almost irresistible. He pinches again, and the sensation is even more extreme, more perfect. “Don’t you want to know, baby brother?” 

Trying to catch his breath, Shouto says, “I want you to fuck me.” He means for it to come out as a demand, but it comes out more of a whine. 

Dabi pinches his nipples again and pulls them out from Shouto’s chest, making Shouto arch his back, and his cock leaks in his pants. 

“Your tits are so fucking sensitive, peppermint.”

“Dabi!” Shouto snaps, not sure if it’s a plea or a reprimand. 

It makes Dabi chuckle. He lets go of his nipples to pull Shouto’s hips further up into his lap, rubbing his own hard, trapped dick against Shouto’s. The throbbing in his pants competes with the throbbing in his chest, and he whines. 

He grinds hard against Shouto, and Shouto can feel his underwear starting to stick to his dick with how much he’s leaking. “Do you want me to fuck you, baby brother?” Dabi teases. 

“Shit,” Shouto says, his voice breathy, throat dry from his panting. “Yes, you know I do.”

“What if I want something first?”

Trying to hitch his hips against Dabi’s, he groans when Dabi instead takes them in a hard grip, his thumbs digging into bruises he left three days ago. Shouto turns his face into the bedding, trying not to set the bedding on fire in his frustration. This isn’t home where Shouto has made a concentrated effort to buy things that are flame retardant at least. Even though he’s been using his fire for years, it’s still the quirk that tends to get out of his control when he gets too emotional. It turns out that years of refusing to use part of his quirk means that it requires at least as many years of undoing that repression, even apart from Dabi’s own tendency to flame up with little warning. At the moment, though, it means he has to concentrate to keep his fire under control. This place is almost frighteningly flammable.

Dabi pinching his nipple between ragged fingernails makes Shouto cry out. “Your mind seemed to be wandering, baby brother,” he says as if Shouto is a misbehaving child. 

“It’d suck—” He gasps again as Dabi lets go of him to pull his own dick out. The sight of it steals Shouto’s ability to speak, and he whimpers, a wet spot appearing on Shouto’s pants a visible sign of how much Shouto’s leaking. 

“What would suck?” Dabi asks, stroking his cock, lingering on the piercings. The impulse to flip him, tear off his pants, and impale himself on Dabi’s dick is strong, but he resists the urge. As much as he wants that dick inside of him—and he really, really does—he also knows that waiting until Dabi is ready to give it to him will be worth it. The tease, the denial, the lack of control all intensify everything they do together, and as much as Shouto desperately wants to be fucked until he forgets his name, he also knows it’ll be worth the wait. “Shou-chan…”

It takes a moment for Shouto to backtrack and remember what he’d been trying to say. “It’d suck… if we burned this place down.” 

“It would suck,” Dabi agrees, almost too easily. “It would also suck for you if I locked up your pretty dick in a cage and kept you from coming till we get home.”

A shudder goes through Shouto’s whole body at the threat, and he can feel his dick leaking even more. The spot on his pants grows and Dabi grins in response. 

“What…” Shouto stops to lick his lips, to try to get some moisture back in his parched throat. “What… do you want?”

Dabi rubs his nipples again, pressing hard onto the sensitive nubs, teasing him, making him writhe, not sure if he wants more or if it’s too much. “What do I want?” he muses, almost to himself.

Dabi!” 

He grins, pinching Shouto again, and Shouto is so, so close. 

“I think we should take better advantage of such sensitive tits,” Dabi says, and Shouto’s head is swimming with all of the stimulation, heading straight for that space in his head where he just is. “I want you to pierce them.” He pinches again, getting an embarrassing mewl from Shouto as he tries to flinch away.

“Pierce… my nipples?” Shouto asks, making sure he’s understanding what Dabi is asking. It’s getting really hard to think. 

“Yes. Pierce these pretty, sensitive nips. Think how good it’d feel if I could tug at them. Think I could make you come just from playing with them?”

Shouto honestly thinks that Dabi might be able to make him come just from playing with them anyway. 

“If I say yes, will you fuck me?” Shouto demands. Dabi’s own dick is glistening with precum, and Shouto wants to taste it so much that his mouth waters with it. 

“Tomorrow,” Dabi says. “You’ll get them pierced tomorrow. Promise.” He swipes his thumb over the head of his dick, then leans forward to run the pre over Shouto’s bottom lip. Shouto leans up to take the thumb between his lips, savoring the taste of his brother, fellating the thumb. Dabi groans and pulls his hand back. “Promise me, baby brother. Nipples pierced, tomorrow, and I’ll fuck you till you scream.”

“Fine, I promise!” Shouto snarls. “Now fuck me.” 

Dabi makes short work of his pants, leaving Shouto only in the shirt rucked up underneath his arms. He shoves two fingers deep into Shouto’s mouth to wet them, and Shouto gags around them when they bump his gag reflex. Dabi pulls his fingers back, scooping as much saliva with them as he can. He rubs the wet fingers over his dick quickly, then lines himself up with Shouto’s hole and shoves in with a hard thrust.

At the last moment, Shouto locks his teeth and traps a scream behind them. They’re not at home, but in some random hotel, where they have no idea how thick the walls are, where people might know they’re brothers. Having to stay quiet actually further heightens the experience. Dabi rocks back out a little, then thrusts in deeper. The spit is just barely enough to ease the way—if they didn’t have sex so often and if Shouto’s body weren’t so used to taking him, it probably wouldn’t be okay at all—but between the spit and his own pre, there seems to be enough, and Dabi thrusts home. Shouto’s dick throbs, and he’s so, so close, he can barely stand it. 

Pulling out till just the head is still inside, Dabi flashes him a grin full of teeth that pulls at his piercings, then he thrusts back in, not stopping this time till he’s buried to the hilt. The angle of the thrust catches Shouto just right, and he comes, his back arching off the bed as he sprays them both with his come. 

Dabi throws his head back and groans, but he doesn’t come. Shouto didn’t expect him to; Dabi loves to make him come more than once. He stays still as Shouto slumps against the sheets, trying to catch his breath. 

“Knew you’d be so fucking pretty on these sheets,” Dabi says when he has Shouto’s attention again. He runs his hand through the come on Shouto’s chest, gathering it, then pulls out, drawing a noise of protest from Shouto. He’s not surprised when Dabi uses the come to add extra lube before he presses back inside. Shouto sighs, a sound almost of contentment as Dabi bottoms out again, and Dabi smirks at him. “You are such a perfect cockslut,” he says, but he says with a raw affection that warms Shouto to the core. 

“Just for you,” Shouto tells him, which is so true, he aches with it. 

Twisting his hips, Dabi makes Shouto’s spent dick twitch and gets another soft gasp. “No one else can make you feel like I do. No one else can fill you like me, fuck you like me, own you like me.” He punctuates each statement with a driving thrust, and Shouto doesn’t even try to protest. 

He manages to tear a hand off the sheets, and take Dabi’s, lacing their fingers together. He doesn’t say anything, but from the way Dabi’s smile softens just a hair before he begins to fuck Shouto in earnest, Shouto knows Dabi understands what he doesn’t say. 

Why wouldn’t he? It’s true, after all.

Notes:

I'll be updating weekly with this one. I had way too much fun with this so I hope you enjoy it too. Uh, seriously though, mind the tags. I was extremely self-indulgent here.