[Whenever Shigaraki gets around to visiting Dito's house, he'll find that the front door is unlocked. The disciple had never gotten into the habit of locking his doors while he was awake-- any valuable objects that he possessed were always on his person, and if anyone burst into his house looking for a fight, well... he'd be more than happy to oblige them.
The warm and heady smell of chicken stew wafts in from the kitchen. Dito's normal hunting attire has been replaced with a more casual shirt with trousers and suspenders, and he lounges supine across the arms of the living room sofa, his nose stuck in a book of Plato's Dialogues. His spear lies within reach against the chair. There's no sound except a steadily ticking clock; the occasional turning of a page.
Is Shigaraki going to announce his presence or simply sneak in like a creeper?]
Out of habit, he tries the doorknob first. Since it opens, the answer is a bit of both. After spying the body of his host laying across the couch and closing the door behind him, Shigaraki puts his hands in his pockets. "You already know I'm here, so don't pretend to read."
If he didn't know Shigaraki was there, which is a possibility, then now he does. But excuse him as he sort of looks to the kitchen, because there's no such thing as home cooking at his non-home.
It's still unclear whether or not Dito was already aware of his presence, but the slow and easy smile he flashes as he slides catlike off the couch should be a good indication that he expected Shigaraki to arrive, at the very least.
He raises his arms above his head in an indulgent stretch before striding off in the direction of the kitchen, the sheathed spear remaining where it is against the sofa. No shortage of confidence, this one.
"I took as long as I needed." It's not an easy trek sometimes through the landscape. For him, just a long trip. Not many people smile at him with a normal smile. Toga's are always on the cusp of talking about murder. If Dabi smiles it's time to run. With few exceptions, anyone else is doing it in a sarcastic or cynical way if they weren't Mister or Spinner.
After a moment or two more of considering if they're both stupid, or both just willing to take the chance, Shigaraki moves into the kitchen after Dito shows him where with that movement. Also, you know, the smell of food. Food he's standing next to, then looking back at Dito over. He should really make him try it first. Then he decides he hasn't eaten well in a while and searches out the utensil to start eating it right there at the stove. He leans against a counter. "This's good."
Dito takes note of the way Shigaraki so flagrantly shows his back to him. A show of his own confidence? Or is it a dare for Dito to try to attack his blind side? Either way, the disciple is into it. He settles himself against the kitchen table, watching Shigaraki sample his food; paying close attention to how those long fingers carefully grip the spoon. He shrugs.
"Just something I picked up on my travels. I got sick of going hungry after my mistress kept leaving me only the dregs of the feasts she had her servants prepare. She had an appetite as huge as those funbags of hers, so I often had to fend for myself when it came to meals. Glad to meet a fellow stew-lover, though."
Making Dito a taster wouldn't have worked in the long run for Shigaraki anyway. He's a Vileblood, after all, and poison wouldn't have affected him. Besides, he considers poison to be the coward's way. If he'd really wanted to kill Shigaraki, he would've done so in a battle to the death.
Confidence is definitely what it is. Dito moves fast, but Shigaraki will destroy everything in his path, except this stew, and has a few things up his sleeve. He's confident enough that he can at least move if he needs to and there doesn't seem to be a reason so he doesn't. Eventually he turns around and continues his leaning and eating. At least, at least he's not talking with his mouth full.
"She sounds like a bitch." No words minced, next bit of food into his mouth and his turn to shrug. "I like food. This is good food. I like good food even better." The way he chooses to live isn't extravagant and this, to him, sure is. Battles to the death aside, he isn't letting his guard completely down, but he's at least relaxed in what he's doing.
"When you say Mistress, I'm betting you don't mean you willingly signed on to their employment from the way you talk."
The scar at the corner of the man's mouth stretches when he opens his mouth to eat; when he talks. Dito finds himself staring at it, idly wondering how the raised skin would feel if he were to touch it. Shigaraki's question shakes him out of his daydream, and he rolls his shoulder in another shrug.
"Hard to say. I don't have a lot of memories of my life before I was added to her collection. I'm assuming those were some sort of hidden price for serving her or something like that. If I did willingly sign on, I'm pretty sure being her official bedwarmer wasn't part of the contract. At least, I hope it wasn't. I'd like to believe past me had some dignity."
Eating is exactly what's on his mind in comparison to his counterpart and Shigaraki's eyes tick to the man in front of him. They're not telling, it's just that he's certainly looking at him with some sort of understanding behind the look and a slowdown to his eating.
"You were a slave. You can say it, I'm not a baby and neither are you."
Shigaraki's voice is harsh; disdainful. He must have been expecting Dito to feel either chastised or offended, but Dito is neither. His gold eyes flash, delighted that he's being spoken to in this way. After all of Five's innuendo and coquettish behavior, it's wonderful to hear someone tell it like it is.
Dito shakes his head with a chuckle.
"Boy, you are not one for foreplay, are you? Just dive right in without any preamble. Not that I'm complaining or anything-- it's a welcome change. Kind of reminds me of someone I know from here."
He settles his full weight against the table with a sigh, crossing his arms casually over his chest. His tone when he speaks again holds less of the lightheartedness it had before.
"But you're right, not to put too fine a point on it. She owned me, body and soul-- in every way a person could be owned. I was her butler, her footman; her concubine.
But honestly? I probably could've dealt with all of that if she just wasn't so fucking irritating. Hearing that throaty croak of hers day in and day out made me seriously consider tearing my ears off."
Shigaraki shrugs his shoulder, uncaring to the possibility of having offended someone by saying the truth. It's what he'll do if they like it or not. The truth is the truth no matter who it is.
He's listening, but it's more a listening akin to trying to understand, or rather understanding but putting things together along with mannerisms. It's a coping mechanism. "You're free now, aren't you? Or is she here?" He's decimated that stew, setting the bowl in the sink. Not that he's doing it, but it's the thank you that he gives to more than no one else so far.
Dito watches as Shigaraki finishes his meal, making a mental note to wash the bowl later as he watches the other man set it into the sink. It's not that Dito is particularly fastidious, but he knows that if he gives into his laziness he'll eventually have a host of vermin to deal with.
His eyes flick to Shigaraki's at the question, but there's nothing in the other man's expression except for a detached interest. It reminds him of Zero, honestly, and not just because they both happen to sport a pair of gorgeous red eyes.
"You would know if an Intoner was here, believe me. One second of hearing her song and everyone would be under her thrall. It's what she did to all the soldiers in her army. Like worker drones serving their disgusting, overfed queen. I don't think even someone with your enormous talents would be able to withstand it."
It's not that Shigaraki looked 'impressed' before, or anything of the like, but hearing that she is someone that could overtake him makes him most certainly unimpressed. "No one owns me. Mind or body."
True as it may be, Shigaraki likely had little defense against her and never wants to find out. "If she shows up, tell me. I'm the last person she'll want to piss off by trying to take over my mind."
Though Shigaraki's expression remains impassive, Dito can easily hear the confidence in Shigaraki's voice; the conviction. A slight shiver runs through him, and he pushes himself from the table, making his way over to where the other man is standing.
He stops when he's less than a foot away from him. This close, Dito once again notices that Shigaraki is at least a head taller than him, but that doesn't stop another one of those rakish smiles to upturn his lips.
"Don't worry-- if I didn't end up killing her again, you'd be the first one I'd tell. I'd want front row seats to that particular bloodbath. Maybe you could use those skilled hands of yours to fuck her face up before she dies. That'd be fun to watch."
That. Is the movement of a predator. Moving into the same space as him as he stands there and proclaims death to whatever idiot tries their hand at anything but submission to him. Especially where his mind, his autonomy, is concerned. Just as much as he would be standing up to whomever this mistress is, Shigaraki doesn't flinch when Dito enters his arm-space. The dangerous bubble that people know too well not to be in and Dito is one of those people. No less with an obvious innuendo of a smile on his face.
Killed her once already, huh? "Is that what gets you off?" The answer is yes, it's said in a tone that indicates his rhetorical statement. "You want to watch me send cracks through her face? The idea of her falling into chunks is just fap material?"
"Yeah." Spoken with the sheepish tone of a teenager forced to admit a crush. "Can you really blame me, though? If you had someone riding you day and night for as long as you can remember, forcing you to do her laundry, carry her clothes and toys and whatnot all over creation-- and all without being able to protest or even kill yourself-- wouldn't you indulge in a little fantasizing every once in a while?"
Dito's smile turns coy. "Come on. You can't tell me you don't enjoy it, with the power you have. I'm sure you have your fair share of fantasies-- flaying the flesh from your enemies' bones, watching as the skin is eaten away to reveal twitching muscle and pulsating veins... relishing in the sight of their smug self-important faces contorting with agony as they're reduced to their most basic primal fears..."
He shivers again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Sometimes the only way to endure the horrors of the world is to get off on them. Don't you agree?"
That figures. Nail right on the head and Shigaraki isn't sure if he wasn't just lured here by the promise of food to see if he'd take part in other kinds of meals. There's an easy answer for that question and it's "No. I'd have killed her a long time ago. No one will take me from me."
But the way that Dito is describing how Decay works sounds like someone describing a delightful form of foreplay. "They don't get the chance to make any faces. If I want something to die, it dies."
Dito is a quick person, agile as far as Shigaraki is concerned and so when he whips his hand forward to attempt to grab him by the neck, minus one pinky up, it's for a good reason. "You could try therapy, or changing the world you're in. Tried either of those?"
Dito laughs, not in a mocking way but in a way that suggests he's indulging in an amusing mental image. "I have no doubt you would've succeeded where I'd failed so many times, with the powers you have," he said. "My powers are unfortunately centered on martial prowess, which wasn't exactly enough to counteract her mind control.
"I suppose I should count my blessings that she didn't have access to my thoughts. That was pretty much the only thing that kept me sane, really. No matter how much she controlled my body and facial expressions, my mind-- and my hatred of her-- was still my own."
Dito is indeed an agile person, his specialty in darting into battle and acting as the gadfly to adversaries while the heavier hitters focused on dealing damage, and so when Shigaraki's hand lashes out and grabs him by the throat, it's a conscious choice of his not to dodge. It's almost as if he were anticipating the attack.
Shigaraki's fingers dig firmly into Dito's neck-- not enough to hurt or choke, but enough to drive the point home. He could kill Dito right now if he'd wanted to. He swallows, the muscles of his neck pulsing underneath Shigaraki's grip, and a soft moan escapes his lips at the feeling; at the thought of the other man's intelligent fingers encircling his trachea.
"Mmh-- thought you would've gotten it by now, smart as you are. This is my therapy. With every death I cause I'm carving out just a little bit more of my place in this world. You feel it too, don't you? That satisfaction of having someone at your mercy? That knowledge that you have full control over who lives or dies? You can't tell me that doesn't excite you."
Dito stares into Shigaraki's eyes, unwavering; his expression full of that same smoldering amusement. I dare you, his smile seems to say. One hand reaches up to wrap around the other man's wrist.
"Otherwise I'd be dead right now, wouldn't I?" His voice is a purr.
He's being complimented. Tomura knows he is and it isn't taxing just there's something nibbling at his toes about it that doesn't seem right. People don't just compliment him let alone seem like they mean it. They mean it because of his abilities, not because he has them and the capability. But that sounds like what's going on and it's a little overwhelming as a thought alone.
Tomura's fingers stay tight, one finger away from his neck. He can learn it that way if he needs. Not tight enough that he can't speak, clearly. That he can't dive right into what he could or couldn't do and why sometimes he does or doesn't. "Only when it suits me. I destroy things I hate. You cook. That's what's saving you right now."
This guy's going to go off in his damn pants if Tomura isn't careful by the sounds of it. "You're right. I could kill you and I'm not. More than cooking I think you'll have your uses if you can clean up your bullshit."
Dito chuckles again, the sound vibrating against Shigaraki's fingers. He shakes his head as much as the grip around his throat will allow. "It's cute how you think I'll believe that for a second. My cooking ain't what caused you to contact me in the first place and it sure as hell ain't why you're staying your hand now. It's just a perk, nothing more-- just like those gorgeous red eyes and that luxurious white hair are just perks for me.
"Face it-- there's something about me that just interests you. Something that makes you want to keep me around, at least long enough to figure out what makes me tick. And I think you already know what my uses are." Dito's thumb strokes the inside of Shigaraki's wrist once, surreptitiously; tantalizingly. He flashes a bold smile right into the other man's impassive face.
Surprisingly, it may be a tight, threatening grip but he lets that movement move his hand rather than worry it to anything else. The scar that Dito enjoys so much pulls upward into a snarl along with the lips it lives on the more the shorter man speaks. As far as everything else that's been said, Shigaraki is starting to believe that Dito really does find him attractive and that says more about the mind of the man than Shigaraki's actual look.
But using him? Even if he does or doesn't want to, it's not like he has a whole lot of life-hands-on-experience for this. It's never been his goal and so it amplifies itself in the only way it can for him: Aggression. The only way he can show frustration at something is to turn the tables and yet even as he's pushing forward to reverse their positions and not have himself be up against the counter, instead putting the shorter man there... He already knows it will do nothing.
"Cut the bullshit. For someone who wants me to stay, you're really pissing me off." In itself it is its own admission and his hand tightens, only lightly cutting off access to air. Dito has him fucking nailed. He won't kill him because he does want to know what makes him tick. "Your uses aren't linked to innuendo filled dick jokes in the lobby. If you want to stay in bronze that's a quick way to let the plat players know you're a loser. So what is your use? If you have an answer that doesn't use stupidity and innuendo, go ahead." Tomura loosens his hand, letting it drop from Dito's throat. "Show me."
The pain of being pinned against the counter is sudden and unexpected, and Shigaraki will have the satisfaction of seeing Dito's smile falter just a little. But it's a momentary knee-jerk reaction, and it's a good thing Shigaraki isn't expecting to see any fear on the other man's face, because he's in for a disappointment. Even the quick and threatening squeeze he gives to Dito's throat is treated as no more than a gentle caress, as the disciple lets out another satisfied sound and actually lifts his chin in response.
"Thought I showed you quite a few of my uses when we were dancing together in the graveyard," Dito tells him. "But fine-- I'll speak a little more plainly. I'm suggesting a partnership, my good lord Wraith. You show me a good time as far as carnage and mayhem goes, and my spear is yours to do with as you wish. And that's not a double entendre."
Almost idly, he suddenly tightens his grip around Shigaraki's wrist, lifting the other man's hand so that two of his fingers are lightly touching his lips. There is still no fear in the disciple's expression, even though he's perfectly aware of what the white-haired man could do to him at any moment.
"Unless you want it to be," Dito finishes before briefly taking Shigaraki's fingers into his mouth, curling his tongue around the digits with a smug chuckle.
Shigaraki will take the momentary lapse of smile as his win, tilting his head with a curious look on his face. Knowing what he does, the villain understands why 'lord' coming from his mouth sounds sarcastic and serious, but he's not convinced of which. A partnership? The last time he tried one of those... was never. Not really, at least if you ask him.
He allows the movement of his hand, allows the manipulation of fingers to his lips and maybe he's giving himself away, but as a habit, he moves his thumb. Less chance of mishaps when he's still very obviously considering all this. The answer is a simple answer. "Maybe." To which? He's not saying right away. "I'm better than her to take advantage of that, you know." That and he'd get pegged figuratively right away as someone who didn't know what he was doing aside the obvious things.
"I'm not a nice man, but I don't like her. So I won't be her. If you want to watch me kill things, I'll call you when I go out to do it." He hasn't moved his fingers away, though, his temptation is high. "You wouldn't be half bad if you didn't let your dick do the talking." Says the man still very dangerously close who is trying to make his decision on what he wants to do. Walk away or advance.
"Hmm..." Dito hums a pleased chuckle in response. He slowly withdraws Shigaraki's fingers from his mouth, keeping them only a hairsbreadth away. His lips brush against the other man's fingertips as he speaks. "What can I say? I'm a creature controlled by his desires, as are we all. Life's too short to waste time with pining and wishing. I see something I want and I go for it. Probably a holdover from when I was a disciple. Sex is pretty much as impersonal as a handshake for us. Most of us, anyway."
Dito flicks his gaze upwards to Shigaraki's. Though that rakish devil-may-care smirk is still present on his face, his eyes are serious. He draws Shigaraki's fingers a few inches away from his mouth. "You can tell me to fuck off, you know. I'm not her either. I'm an asshole, but I'm not a fucking asshole. Know what I mean?"
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Maybe if you get here in time there'll be some dinner left over. If that's any incentive at all.
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Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way. I'll get there when I get there.
[Which will be a bit speedier since..... y'know. Food.]
text > action
The warm and heady smell of chicken stew wafts in from the kitchen. Dito's normal hunting attire has been replaced with a more casual shirt with trousers and suspenders, and he lounges supine across the arms of the living room sofa, his nose stuck in a book of Plato's Dialogues. His spear lies within reach against the chair. There's no sound except a steadily ticking clock; the occasional turning of a page.
Is Shigaraki going to announce his presence or simply sneak in like a creeper?]
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If he didn't know Shigaraki was there, which is a possibility, then now he does. But excuse him as he sort of looks to the kitchen, because there's no such thing as home cooking at his non-home.
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It's still unclear whether or not Dito was already aware of his presence, but the slow and easy smile he flashes as he slides catlike off the couch should be a good indication that he expected Shigaraki to arrive, at the very least.
He raises his arms above his head in an indulgent stretch before striding off in the direction of the kitchen, the sheathed spear remaining where it is against the sofa. No shortage of confidence, this one.
"Dinner's on the stove. I've already eaten."
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After a moment or two more of considering if they're both stupid, or both just willing to take the chance, Shigaraki moves into the kitchen after Dito shows him where with that movement. Also, you know, the smell of food. Food he's standing next to, then looking back at Dito over. He should really make him try it first. Then he decides he hasn't eaten well in a while and searches out the utensil to start eating it right there at the stove. He leans against a counter. "This's good."
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"Just something I picked up on my travels. I got sick of going hungry after my mistress kept leaving me only the dregs of the feasts she had her servants prepare. She had an appetite as huge as those funbags of hers, so I often had to fend for myself when it came to meals. Glad to meet a fellow stew-lover, though."
Making Dito a taster wouldn't have worked in the long run for Shigaraki anyway. He's a Vileblood, after all, and poison wouldn't have affected him. Besides, he considers poison to be the coward's way. If he'd really wanted to kill Shigaraki, he would've done so in a battle to the death.
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"She sounds like a bitch." No words minced, next bit of food into his mouth and his turn to shrug. "I like food. This is good food. I like good food even better." The way he chooses to live isn't extravagant and this, to him, sure is. Battles to the death aside, he isn't letting his guard completely down, but he's at least relaxed in what he's doing.
"When you say Mistress, I'm betting you don't mean you willingly signed on to their employment from the way you talk."
(cw: past sexual abuse)
"Hard to say. I don't have a lot of memories of my life before I was added to her collection. I'm assuming those were some sort of hidden price for serving her or something like that. If I did willingly sign on, I'm pretty sure being her official bedwarmer wasn't part of the contract. At least, I hope it wasn't. I'd like to believe past me had some dignity."
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"You were a slave. You can say it, I'm not a baby and neither are you."
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Dito shakes his head with a chuckle.
"Boy, you are not one for foreplay, are you? Just dive right in without any preamble. Not that I'm complaining or anything-- it's a welcome change. Kind of reminds me of someone I know from here."
He settles his full weight against the table with a sigh, crossing his arms casually over his chest. His tone when he speaks again holds less of the lightheartedness it had before.
"But you're right, not to put too fine a point on it. She owned me, body and soul-- in every way a person could be owned. I was her butler, her footman; her concubine.
But honestly? I probably could've dealt with all of that if she just wasn't so fucking irritating. Hearing that throaty croak of hers day in and day out made me seriously consider tearing my ears off."
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He's listening, but it's more a listening akin to trying to understand, or rather understanding but putting things together along with mannerisms. It's a coping mechanism. "You're free now, aren't you? Or is she here?" He's decimated that stew, setting the bowl in the sink. Not that he's doing it, but it's the thank you that he gives to more than no one else so far.
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His eyes flick to Shigaraki's at the question, but there's nothing in the other man's expression except for a detached interest. It reminds him of Zero, honestly, and not just because they both happen to sport a pair of gorgeous red eyes.
"You would know if an Intoner was here, believe me. One second of hearing her song and everyone would be under her thrall. It's what she did to all the soldiers in her army. Like worker drones serving their disgusting, overfed queen. I don't think even someone with your enormous talents would be able to withstand it."
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True as it may be, Shigaraki likely had little defense against her and never wants to find out. "If she shows up, tell me. I'm the last person she'll want to piss off by trying to take over my mind."
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He stops when he's less than a foot away from him. This close, Dito once again notices that Shigaraki is at least a head taller than him, but that doesn't stop another one of those rakish smiles to upturn his lips.
"Don't worry-- if I didn't end up killing her again, you'd be the first one I'd tell. I'd want front row seats to that particular bloodbath. Maybe you could use those skilled hands of yours to fuck her face up before she dies. That'd be fun to watch."
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Killed her once already, huh? "Is that what gets you off?" The answer is yes, it's said in a tone that indicates his rhetorical statement. "You want to watch me send cracks through her face? The idea of her falling into chunks is just fap material?"
(cw: mention of suicide)
Dito's smile turns coy. "Come on. You can't tell me you don't enjoy it, with the power you have. I'm sure you have your fair share of fantasies-- flaying the flesh from your enemies' bones, watching as the skin is eaten away to reveal twitching muscle and pulsating veins... relishing in the sight of their smug self-important faces contorting with agony as they're reduced to their most basic primal fears..."
He shivers again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Sometimes the only way to endure the horrors of the world is to get off on them. Don't you agree?"
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But the way that Dito is describing how Decay works sounds like someone describing a delightful form of foreplay. "They don't get the chance to make any faces. If I want something to die, it dies."
Dito is a quick person, agile as far as Shigaraki is concerned and so when he whips his hand forward to attempt to grab him by the neck, minus one pinky up, it's for a good reason. "You could try therapy, or changing the world you're in. Tried either of those?"
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"I suppose I should count my blessings that she didn't have access to my thoughts. That was pretty much the only thing that kept me sane, really. No matter how much she controlled my body and facial expressions, my mind-- and my hatred of her-- was still my own."
Dito is indeed an agile person, his specialty in darting into battle and acting as the gadfly to adversaries while the heavier hitters focused on dealing damage, and so when Shigaraki's hand lashes out and grabs him by the throat, it's a conscious choice of his not to dodge. It's almost as if he were anticipating the attack.
Shigaraki's fingers dig firmly into Dito's neck-- not enough to hurt or choke, but enough to drive the point home. He could kill Dito right now if he'd wanted to. He swallows, the muscles of his neck pulsing underneath Shigaraki's grip, and a soft moan escapes his lips at the feeling; at the thought of the other man's intelligent fingers encircling his trachea.
"Mmh-- thought you would've gotten it by now, smart as you are. This is my therapy. With every death I cause I'm carving out just a little bit more of my place in this world. You feel it too, don't you? That satisfaction of having someone at your mercy? That knowledge that you have full control over who lives or dies? You can't tell me that doesn't excite you."
Dito stares into Shigaraki's eyes, unwavering; his expression full of that same smoldering amusement. I dare you, his smile seems to say. One hand reaches up to wrap around the other man's wrist.
"Otherwise I'd be dead right now, wouldn't I?" His voice is a purr.
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Tomura's fingers stay tight, one finger away from his neck. He can learn it that way if he needs. Not tight enough that he can't speak, clearly. That he can't dive right into what he could or couldn't do and why sometimes he does or doesn't. "Only when it suits me. I destroy things I hate. You cook. That's what's saving you right now."
This guy's going to go off in his damn pants if Tomura isn't careful by the sounds of it. "You're right. I could kill you and I'm not. More than cooking I think you'll have your uses if you can clean up your bullshit."
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"Face it-- there's something about me that just interests you. Something that makes you want to keep me around, at least long enough to figure out what makes me tick. And I think you already know what my uses are." Dito's thumb strokes the inside of Shigaraki's wrist once, surreptitiously; tantalizingly. He flashes a bold smile right into the other man's impassive face.
"Well? Don't you wanna use me?"
cw: choking (ish)
But using him? Even if he does or doesn't want to, it's not like he has a whole lot of life-hands-on-experience for this. It's never been his goal and so it amplifies itself in the only way it can for him: Aggression. The only way he can show frustration at something is to turn the tables and yet even as he's pushing forward to reverse their positions and not have himself be up against the counter, instead putting the shorter man there... He already knows it will do nothing.
"Cut the bullshit. For someone who wants me to stay, you're really pissing me off." In itself it is its own admission and his hand tightens, only lightly cutting off access to air. Dito has him fucking nailed. He won't kill him because he does want to know what makes him tick. "Your uses aren't linked to innuendo filled dick jokes in the lobby. If you want to stay in bronze that's a quick way to let the plat players know you're a loser. So what is your use? If you have an answer that doesn't use stupidity and innuendo, go ahead." Tomura loosens his hand, letting it drop from Dito's throat. "Show me."
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"Thought I showed you quite a few of my uses when we were dancing together in the graveyard," Dito tells him. "But fine-- I'll speak a little more plainly. I'm suggesting a partnership, my good lord Wraith. You show me a good time as far as carnage and mayhem goes, and my spear is yours to do with as you wish. And that's not a double entendre."
Almost idly, he suddenly tightens his grip around Shigaraki's wrist, lifting the other man's hand so that two of his fingers are lightly touching his lips. There is still no fear in the disciple's expression, even though he's perfectly aware of what the white-haired man could do to him at any moment.
"Unless you want it to be," Dito finishes before briefly taking Shigaraki's fingers into his mouth, curling his tongue around the digits with a smug chuckle.
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He allows the movement of his hand, allows the manipulation of fingers to his lips and maybe he's giving himself away, but as a habit, he moves his thumb. Less chance of mishaps when he's still very obviously considering all this. The answer is a simple answer. "Maybe." To which? He's not saying right away. "I'm better than her to take advantage of that, you know." That and he'd get pegged
figurativelyright away as someone who didn't know what he was doing aside the obvious things."I'm not a nice man, but I don't like her. So I won't be her. If you want to watch me kill things, I'll call you when I go out to do it." He hasn't moved his fingers away, though, his temptation is high. "You wouldn't be half bad if you didn't let your dick do the talking." Says the man still very dangerously close who is trying to make his decision on what he wants to do. Walk away or advance.
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Dito flicks his gaze upwards to Shigaraki's. Though that rakish devil-may-care smirk is still present on his face, his eyes are serious. He draws Shigaraki's fingers a few inches away from his mouth. "You can tell me to fuck off, you know. I'm not her either. I'm an asshole, but I'm not a fucking asshole. Know what I mean?"
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