Work Text:
Dabi never enjoyed life sober.
He always had some substance coursing through his veins, pumping artificial dopamine into his brain and fueling his high. He always wanted to be high.
No matter what it was.
But he didn’t like it.
Shigaraki was always loud about his distaste for drugs. Cigarettes were tolerable, enjoyable even. Anything else was gross and vulgar.
It wasn’t a problem until their recent change in routine.
“I won’t fuck you if you’re high.”
Dabi groaned loudly, pulling away with frustration flushing his cheeks. Or maybe it was the alcohol? Who knows.
“‘m not high, just buzzed.”
“You reek of weed. I don’t want to fuck somebody who won’t even remember it later. It feels fake.” He crossed his arms over his chest firmly, not budging an inch.
“It’s real, baby. It’s always real with y-“
“No, it’s not. You feel good because you’re high. I don’t want that.”
He leaned a bit closer, one of his hands brushing his side. Dabi shivered at the touch.
“I want to know I’m the one making you feel good.”
At the feeling of cold fingers scraping his hips, he nodded.
Shigaraki gave a soft smile. “Wait an hour and take a shower.”
He nodded again, almost running to the bathroom.
He’d never been touched so wholly in his life.
Every caress of his chapped hands sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to crawl out of his skin and let his fingers graze his muscle and bone. He needed to feel more. He had to.
His tongue swirling over his throbbing sex almost made him sob. He was so warm and yet so cold. He encased him entirely and left no part of his cock untouched.
It was pure ecstasy.
He never wanted this to end. The sheer euphoria of having him touch his mangled body.
And fucking him? Heaven on earth.
—-
He had plenty of bad highs, but never one where he was mad.
Normally, the weed made him calm. Brought a certain lightness to his head and cleared his being. He felt pure ecstasy.
And yet, it didn’t feel fulfilling this time.
He tried. By Gods did he try. He spent hours getting higher and higher, feeling his skin turn to peach fuzz and melt off of his too-firm bones.
And it wasn’t enough.
All he could think of was how good it felt to fuck Shigaraki. The comfort of his clenched walls. How divine he felt abusing his hole. Sweet sugar dripping from Shigaraki’s lips as he kissed him.
And the weed was nothing compared to that.
As he bumbled to the shower to wash away his sin, all he could think of was the touch he couldn’t have.
The back of his brain tingled, ablaze with a sensation he hadn’t felt before.
“You seem high.”
Dabi shook his head roughly, eyes focusing on the body ahead of him.
“What?”
“You’re still high. Wait an hour and we can try again.” Shigaraki pushed back, slipping off of the bed.
“Wait-hey, baby, I’m all here. I promise, ‘m not-“
“I didn’t say no, I said not right now. Relax.”
His rough voice almost softened for a moment.
“Now go wait it out, dipshit.”
As he left, Dabi felt an itch in his skull. It scratched against his grey matter and jostled his nerves. No matter what he did, it remained until the fog cleared and Shigaraki stepped back.
God, how long had it been?
“Sobered up yet?”
He looked around the room, eyes floating. “You…it’s been like, five minutes Shig.”
Shigaraki stepped back. “Clearly not.”
The itch returned as he stepped back out.
—-
This time, it felt even better.
His hips snapping forward, fingers deep in Shigaraki’s throat. The deafening sounds of skin slapping skin, his partner gagging on his phalanges and spit running down the sides of his mouth in rivers. Each nerve on fire as he slid in and out of his well-stretched hole with slick ease. Sickening breaths heaving from his chest as Shigaraki whined like a bitch in heat.
It was fucking beautiful.
He loved seeing him like this. Bent out of shape, putty in his burnt hands. He was at his complete disposal.
And all he could feel was him.
His hot, clenched walls. His soft and plush throat. His dried lips. His dried but slick hair he made him wash. His cracked hands grabbing his wrist.
And the sight. Dear Gods the sight.
His eyes hazy and full of desire, tearing up at the stimulation. Both holes completely packed with him. Desperation pouring from his dehydrated skin. He could smell the pure ecstasy, mixing with the scent of cheap cologne and dusty cigarette smoke.
He felt whole. Fulfilled. Completely satiated.
He felt empty mere moments later, Shigaraki screaming in pleasure as he, too, was fulfilled.
—-
It wasn’t enough.
It had to be. Something had to be enough. Anything.
He hasn’t done party drugs in a long time. It had been years since he had felt the sheer shock of cocaine.
His hands grazed the wall, feeling every inch of its texture. The cracks in the plaster felt linear.
Or was it tile? Where was he?
His eyes, glazed over, scanned the room for the mirror he left on the bed.
His hands found the sink, gripping the edge with aggression lacing his fingerprints.
He needed more. Enough to feel whole. Fulfilled. Even moderately satiated.
He just needed to get higher. Feel it a little more. That would fix it.
His fingertips met the wood of the counter, finally reaching the mirror. His eyes settled on the image depicted in it around the lines, pathetic and desperate.
He reached for the rolled paper, tightening its circle and leaning down to its entrance.
Fire erupted in his sinuses, flaring through each and every sensor.
But it wasn’t enough to even touch the itch.
And he couldn’t wait to sober up.
To feel it again. To leave this failed attempt behind and let his hands touch what was really his. To get higher than any drug could get him.
And he couldn’t.
“You’re tweaking, moron.”
The disappointment made his stomach drop.
“Not for long. Just give me a couple hours, it’ll go away. You’re being unreasonable here, man. Just give me some time. Just a bit.” His words were frantic with rashness. He needed a taste. Anything.
“No. I told you, I won’t fuck you if you’re hi-“
“Then we won’t fuck. Just let me touch you. I can make you feel so good, Shig. You know I can. I always have. Just let me touch you.” His hands, shaking with his ignited nervous system, reached out for his partner.
And they were denied.
“What the fuck-please. Come on, just a touch-“
“No. Clean yourself up, then we’ll talk.”
Dabi felt anger flare in his chest. He needed this. He needed him. Pain settled beneath the anger, reminding him how truly frenzied he was. He would’ve done anything to just touch him.
“Fine. Go fuck yourself.”
He stormed off with the itch settling behind his skull, scratching at the bone and drilling into his veins.
He never was afraid of needles. He couldn’t be. With how often he sewed himself up, he had to tolerate them at least.
And yet, he was tearing up at the needle in his hand.
He did everything right. It was clean. His heroin was sourced well. He banded his arm. He cleaned off the vein.
But he was still fucking shaking.
It would be a second. Just one. A mere moment in his life, and he would go higher than he could handle. What if he couldn’t handle it? He was too sober, he didn’t want to kill himself. He needed something, but was this it? Could he handle that?
His thinking stopped as his mind ghosted over Shigaraki’s curves.
He plunged the needle in, shoving the plunger down and feeling his veins catch fire, ice chasing it.
Every inch of his body sat in shock, buzzing like a live wire. He could feel everything.
Including the itch.
He tossed the needle aside, the box it fell into disappearing into the walls. The walls were too close. They spoke with hushed voices, reminding him to scratch.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
But when the high kicked in, he tried.
It wasn’t working. All he felt was the haziness of a low mixing with the jolt of a high. Was this really clean heroin? Was it strong enough? What the fuck had he gotten? Why had he done this? Shigaraki felt so fucking good in his hands.
His hands scratched at his scalp, trying to locate the burning itch in his scalp, desperate for Shigaraki’s skin. He needed to feel him. To fuck him. To love him.
He tried to reach for it, but his hands weren’t connected to his body. He was moving outside what his sensation allowed. He tried to reconnect them before Shigaraki moved.
The image faded as he focused on the wall ahead of him, blankets smothering his pores and preventing them from breathing. His skin felt like it was dying.
He was dying. He needed hydration. He needed to feel Shigaraki’s damp, sex-hydrated skin. His sweat was the only thing to keep his skin alive.
His mind was melting. He needed his hands to hold his cranium together before his brain turned to sludge and flowed through the sutures of his skull. His frontal lobe felt like it was falling off.
And he ran.
He dodged the walls and the floorboards sticking up through the ground to trip him. He felt each turn and took it, wading through the water to get to his room. He just left his own seconds ago. He was moving slower than his brain allowed. He was melting. The pool would swallow him and dissolve his abused body. Shigaraki needed to be here. He had to feel him.
“Hey! What the fuck-woah, let’s not kiss the floor, huh?”
He was touching him.
The itching stopped.
He melted into his skin, feeling every inch of the eight fingers.
“I need you-“
“Fuck, you’re gone. What the fuck did I say-“
“No, shut the fuck up.”
His hands shoved themselves towards the body holding him up, feeling how cool the skin was. It was solidifying his own.
“I need you. I need all of you, all the time. Nothing feels as good as you do. You’re better. I’ll stop the drugs and the drinking and shooting and snorting and whatever the fuck else you want. Please. Please, fuck, just touch me. I need you to touch me.”
He leaned into the body, feeling the boiling water wash away.
“Please Shigaraki. Just fucking be me.”
The hands didn’t let go. They couldn’t. Seeing him so far gone and still begging for him to make him feel better had him stuck in shock.
So he just touched him.
—-
Withdrawing was worse than any stomach bug he’s ever had, including each vomit-accompanied date they’d had. He felt like he was dying as his brain was cooking and falling out his mouth.
But he would do it forever if it meant he could touch him.
Shigaraki promised they could fuck each other every night if he would just clean out his system.
He’d vomit every day if he had to.
Anything to feel him.
Anything to get rid of the itch.
Anything to be with him.