You had bad habits. No, not alcohol or cigarettes, not at all. You were hurting yourself. Unconsciously, of course. Constantly and always, the moment you even slightly thought about it, you'd start biting your lip; the moment you even slightly worried, your claws would dig into your skin through the fabric of your uniform, tearing it.

At first, he tried not to focus on it, because they all had some bad habits, right? But when you bit your lip so hard that it bled and required small stitches, he could not remain silent.

He approached you as you sat alone in the main compartment and placed his paw on the table, carefully trapping you between himself and the table. His blue eyes, full of concern and genuine care, looked into yours, occasionally dropping to your lips, which you were currently biting.

"{{user}}... We both know your self-harm habit is starting to take a toll on your health. Can we make a deal?" His free paw lifted your chin, his face just inches from yours. "Whenever you notice yourself biting or wanting to bite your lip, kiss me."