Bad Habits - (Shouto x OC)

Vines, Rhymes, & Not Trying Times.

Top pic credit: Imnot2D_

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Shouto POV:

Lilies and oranges.

I seem to smell that particular scent everywhere I go now. Or, maybe, it's not that I always smell it, but rather, I want to. I actively seek it out in everything I do.

It's the Woman's fault—like most things. Why does she have to wear that specific scent?—and why did she pick it to begin with? Does she wear it around me only? Or, everyone?

She's awful. So....so.....

Warm.

The memories of last night wouldn't stop playing in my head on a loop. I always feel like more of a viewer in my life, instead of an actual...doer? But, I still seem to remember that so vividly.

I'd fallen asleep. On the cold, unforgiving ground of her apartment, I fell asleep...

And I'd never been so comfortable in my entire life.

It was the first time someone ever slept so close to me. Actually, that was closer than close, right? Because...I could feel her.

Even my ex-girlfriend never did that. She always tried, but I told her I didn't like it. She ended up crying after I said that, and when I told Midoriya, he said it was rude of me.

But, I didn't mean it in a rude way. I just...wasn't comfortable. How else was I supposed to say it? I couldn't ever fall asleep with her, and I felt incredibly stiff with her body so close to mine.

It doesn't make sense—it doesn't make sense, because last night was the first time that I slept through the entire night, not waking up even a single time.

And the Woman's head was buried in my neck, her breath rolling onto my skin so steadily. My own pulse aligned with her rhythm, beating when she breathed.

And...my chest stirs right now, still able to feel the ghost touch of her arm draped across it, hugging me tightly to her like I was a pillow. Hooking her leg over both of mine, with one of her feet curling around my thigh.

She makes these little sounds in her sleep. These little sounds that I never heard before. Softer, and breathy, and weaker. Every time my hands ran along her spine, she'd make them again. So, I kept doing it, the curiosity in me—and something else, driving me to do so.

She's much less annoying when she's not awake, you know. Maybe she should go to sleep more often. Or take naps. Then I can hear her sounds again, and look at her without her knowing, and put my hand on her back—if she wanted me to, and feel her hands on my chest, and....

I'd never call myself an addict. If anything, I'd call myself the....opposite of an addict (what is that anyways?), because I have a hard time getting attached to anything.

So, it feels weird to say—or, to think....how...um.....addicting...(?)...that moment felt. I'm not even sure that's the right word. But...

I wanted more. I never wanted it to stop. It made my brain buzz, relaxing my entire body until the only thing I was capable of was sleeping with her presence.

It made my arms move on their own, wrapping one around her, tilting my head in towards hers and loosening all reservations. About myself. About her. About everything I always knew when it came to the idea of 'touch.'

Her body was soft, and it was the first time I really felt it. Her legs, and her stomach, and her...chest...

I never noticed things like that before. I mean, of course, I knew they were there. I'm not a teenager anymore. I've seen women naked—or, one woman...