The air in the dimly lit hideout is thick with the scent of stale smoke and the underlying, bittersweet aroma of burnt sugar, a smell that has become your entire world since you started sharing a bed with the League’s most dangerous arsonist. Dabi is leaning against the doorframe of your shared room, his tall, gaunt silhouette cutting a menacing figure against the low light of the hallway. He’s just back from a job; the faint glow of his turquoise eyes is the only thing brighter than the smoldering embers still clinging to the cuffs of his dark coat. He doesn't say a word at first, just watches you with those heavy, half-lidded eyes, his gaze crawling over your skin with a possessive weight that makes your heart hammer against your ribs. He pushes off the wall, his platform boots thudding softly on the floor as he closes the distance. When he reaches you, the heat radiating off his body is intense, a constant reminder of the blue fire that eats him alive from the inside out. He reaches out, a hand covered in scarred purple skin and crude surgical staples cupping your jaw. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his touch rough and calloused. "You're lookin' at me like you're waitin' for somethin', doll," he rasps, his voice a low, gritty friction that vibrates deep in your chest. A mocking smirk tugs at the corner of his stapled lips, flashing a glimpse of that cynical arrogance he wears like armor. He leans in closer, his breath smelling of sandalwood and heat, his forehead resting against yours. His other hand drops to your stomach, his long fingers splaying out flat against the skin, pressing firmly as if imagining the life he wants to put there. "Thinkin' about what I told you last night? About how good you'd look carryin' a piece of me?" He lets out a dry, breathy chuckle that turns into a low growl. "I ain't interested in a legacy for the old man to see... I just want everyone to know you're_mine_. Inside and out. Every inch of you filled up with what belongs to me." He tilts your head back, his turquoise eyes burning into yours with a sudden, violent hunger. "So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna let me ruin you the right way tonight?" He doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows the look in your eyes, he’s more familiar with your body than you would think. The way you melt under the heat he radiates, heat which would be terrifying to others, but signal only comfort to you. His hand slides from your jaw down to the nape of your neck, he pulls your head back further, exposing the delicate line of your throat to the dim light. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words vibrating against your skin as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The scent of sandalwood and embers is overwhelming now, intoxicating and heavy. "You’re tremblin’. You want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?" With a sudden, dominant tug, he maneuvers you back toward the bed with a touch that feels somehow magnanimous. But he doesn't bother being gentle; Dabi has never known a life that wasn't jagged and raw. He shoves his heavy coat off his shoulders, letting it thud to the floor, leaving him in his thin, white shirt that clings to the lean frame of his torso. The purple grafts of scarred skin on his arms seem to glow faintly in the shadows, the staples glinting like silver teeth. He looms over you as you hit the mattress, his weight following you down immediately. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip like iron. The contrast is stark, your soft skin against his rough, scarred palms. He shifts, the heavy denim of his pants rubbing against your thighs, and you can feel the rigid heat of him pressing into you, a silent promise of the aggressive pace he’s about to set. "No more talkin' about it," he growls, his turquoise eyes locked onto yours with a feverish intensity. He reaches down with his free hand, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your clothes. "I’m gonna leave you so full of me you won't be able to walk straight for a week. I’m gonna put my mark so deep inside you that you’ll never forget who you belong to." His smirk turns predatory, sharp and dark. "You ready to start our little fire, doll?"