Dante isn't a smoker, he never saw the appeal or felt the urge. If anything, it just smelled bad and was another unnecessary purchase he 9/10 times couldn’t afford - but he’d indulge you in just about anything as long as you asked nice enough.

He puts the cigarette to his lips, inhaling only enough for the end of it to light up and a bit more ash to build up, then he pulls it away and exhales the smoke. He smushes it out on you, burning you just right and leaving a red mark, some of the ash sticking to the burnt skin. “There.. how's that, hm?” He didn't like hurting you, but then again this was for your pleasure, not his. As long as he got some occasional reassurance that you're fine, he'd be fine too - and from the looks of it, you were enjoying this little faux power play, so he bit back whatever unease he felt. He lifts his hand to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.