Paul Lahote HQs

⋆·˚ ༘ * PAUL LAHOTE HEADCANNONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 childhood friends to lovers with paul

you were always his.

paul lahote has known you his entire life.

even as kids, he gravitated toward you, like some invisible force was always pulling him in your direction.

“you’re my best friend,” he told you when you were both seven, shoving a slightly crushed flower into your hands with a determined look. “forever.”

he didn’t know back then that he loved you—but he did. even before he understood what love was.

as you both grew up, paul started to notice things about you in ways that made his stomach tighten and his heart ache.

the way your hair caught the sunlight, the way your laugh echoed in his ribs, the way you touched his arm when you talked—fuck, it made his chest burn.

but you never looked at him the way he looked at you, and that killed him.

he forced himself to act normal, to hide the way his hands itched to touch you, the way his gaze lingered when you weren’t looking.

he would have given anything to be the one you turned to with soft, love-drunk eyes.

paul had to watch you date other guys. it nearly drove him insane.

he always put on a front—smirking, teasing you, acting like it didn’t gut him every time you mentioned some guy’s name.

“so, you and that asshole from school, huh?” he said one night, tossing a rock into the ocean, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “didn’t think you had such bad taste.”

“shut up, paul,” you laughed, nudging him playfully. but he didn’t laugh.

because it wasn’t funny to him. it was hell.

but he stayed quiet. because what if telling you the truth meant losing you completely?

he could have kept his feelings buried forever if it weren’t for the night he saw you crying over some idiot who didn’t deserve you.

you had come to his house, eyes red, voice shaky, looking so fucking sad, and something in him just snapped.

“tell me who it is,” he said, voice dark and dangerous. “i’ll kill him.”

“paul—”

“tell me.”

you shook your head, wiping your eyes. “it doesn’t matter.”

didn’t matter? no, fuck that. it mattered more than anything.

he exhaled hard, running a hand over his face before muttering, “you deserve better.”

you huffed a watery laugh. “yeah? like who? you?”

his jaw locked. “yeah,” he said quietly, his hands shaking. “like me.”

it happened fast.

one second, you were teasing him, and the next, he was cracking open in front of you.

“do you even know how fucking hard it is?” he burst out suddenly, voice raw, desperate. “loving you like this?”

your breath hitched. “paul—”

“no.” he shook his head, stepping closer. “you don’t get it. i’ve loved you since we were kids. and every single day, i’ve had to watch you, knowing i’m not the one you want.”

his hands balled into fists, his breathing uneven. “i thought i could live with that. thought i could be okay just being your friend. but i can’t, y/n, i fucking can’t.”

his voice broke on the last word, and suddenly, you realized—he wasn’t just frustrated. he was in agony.

you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear it until that moment.

until you saw the way he was looking at you—like he’d die if you didn’t love him back.

“say something,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

you swallowed hard. “i—i don’t know what to say.”

his breath shuddered. “then let me.”

and then his hands were on your face, gentle but desperate, pulling you in as if he had been starving for you his whole life.

the second your lips touched, it was over—all the years of yearning, all the nights spent lying awake thinking about what it would feel like to have you, hold you, be yours.

“god, finally” he groaned against your mouth, fingers gripping you like he’d never let go.

and he never would.

the kiss changed everything.

one second, paul was your best friend, and the next, he was your paul.

he didn’t let you go for a long time after that.

he held you so tight, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip even a little.

when you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted that,” he whispered, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

you let out a soft laugh, breathless. “i think i have some idea.”

“not funny.” his lips brushed yours again, barely there, but full of something achingly desperate. “i thought i was gonna go crazy wanting you like that.”

he didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

everything was the same, but also not.

paul still teased you like he always did, still tossed popcorn at you during movie nights, still wrestled you onto the couch playfully—

but now, when he pinned you down, his hands lingered. his lips brushed over your cheek before he let you go.

his eyes devoured you like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to look at you like this.

and, oh, god, the touches—

he was constantly touching you.

his hand on your thigh when you sat together. his fingers tracing your knuckles. his arms pulling you into his chest like it was second nature.

one night, you caught him just staring at you, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists.

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his face. “nothing.”

“paul.”

his eyes flicked to your lips, his entire body tensed, and then—

“i just really wanna kiss you again.”

paul had always been overprotective, but now? ten times worse.

if you so much as stumbled, he was there, hands gripping your arms, eyes full of pure panic.

“i’m fine, paul.”

“you almost died.”

“i tripped over a rock.”

“exactly.”

he hated the thought of anything happening to you. even the idea of losing you sent him into a downward spiral of pure terror.

one night, after a particularly bad nightmare, he woke up shaking, his arms around you too tight.

you stirred, sieepy. “paul?”

“just—just go back to sleep, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

but you didn’t miss the way his breath shuddered against your neck.

the next morning, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. when you finally pushed him on it, he sighed, rubbing his face.

“had a dream you were gone,” he admitted, voice quiet.

you softened instantly, reaching for him. he immediately pulled you in, burying his face in your neck.

“i can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice raw.

“you won’t.”

“promise me.” his grip on you tightened. “just—just promise me.”

paul was obsessed with you in a way he never tried to hide.

he could spend hours just watching you talk, completely mesmerized by every little thing you did.

“paul,” you teased one day. “you’re staring.”

“yeah?” his lips twitched. “and?”

“and it’s weird.”

he just grinned, reaching over to pull you onto his lap. “mm, you’ll get used to it, baby.”

he also loved reminding you that you were his.

if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, paul was right there, an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

“something you need?” he’d ask, voice low, deadly.

the guy would immediately back off, and paul would just smirk, satisfied, pressing a slow kiss to your neck.

“mine,” he’d murmur. “all mine.”

one night, you were lying on the beach together, his arms wrapped around you, the waves crashing in the distance.

you sighed, content. “crazy to think we were just kids running around here not that long ago.”

paul hummed, his fingers brushing over your arm absentmindedly. “not that crazy.”

“why?”

he exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “because i think i’ve been loving you since then.”

your heart stuttered. “paul—”

“no, i mean it.” he tightened his grip on you, his voice softer than usual. “i think… i think i’ve always been yours.”

you turned in his arms, looking up at him, your heart full.

“good,” you whispered, tracing a hand along his jaw. “because i’ve always been yours too.”

and paul just melted, pulling you into a slow, aching kiss—one that held years of longing, years of desperate, unspoken love finally set free.

paul isn’t subtle about how much he wants you to be his forever.

“you ever think about getting married?” he asks one night, his fingers tracing absent patterns over your skin.

“i—what?” you blink up at him, caught off guard.

his lips twitch, but his eyes are serious. “just wondering.”

you swallow hard. “do you?”

his jaw clenches for a second, like he’s fighting something deep.

“i think about you,” he says finally. “every day. every fucking second.”

he exhales softly, leaning in. “and i want all of it, y/n. i want you. forever.”

there was nothing that felt more natural than the way the universe had put you two together. and paul feels that every single every day.

so it’s not surprise he can’t hide his wish to be by your side.

it’s late, and paul is standing in the kitchen, watching you move around his space like you belong there.

and suddenly, he can’t take it anymore.

“move in with me.”

you freeze, blinking. “paul—”

“i mean it.” his voice is soft, but there’s something urgent underneath. “you already spend all your time here. just… stay.”

he steps forward, hands cradling your face. “stay with me,” he murmurs.

how could you say no to that?

paul lahote doesn’t just love you. he owns the feeling—deep in his bones, in every breath, in every look, in every single second he spends with you.

Being a writer is saying you're going to write and then doing literally anything else

Tehehe I'm getting married and all my stuff is DIY

Photo for Attention lol

I don’t think the main goal is mass deportation. I’m at work rn and will elaborate.

neocities guide - why you should build your own html website

do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again? try neocities!!

what is neocities?

neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words: "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

why should I make my own website?

web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!! building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.

what would I even put on a website?

the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !! here are some cool example sites to inspire you: recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content! space bar | local interstellar dive bar creature feature | halloween & monsters big gulp supreme peanutbuttaz | personal site dragodiluna linwood | personal site patho grove | personal site

getting started: neocities/html guide

sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics w3schools | html tutorials templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles

fun stuff to add to your site

want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe) gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers momg | gif gallery 99 gif shop | 3d gifs 123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages cbox | add a live chat box moon phases | track the phases of the moon gifypet | a little clickable page pet adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet tamaNOTchi | virtual pet crossword puzzle | daily crossword imood | track your mood neko | cute cat that chases your mouse pollcode | custom poll maker website hit counter | track how many visitors you have

web revival manifestos & communities

also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web! melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival? melonking manifesto | status cafe | share your current status nightfall city | online community onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance sadgrl internet manifesto | yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience

in conclusion

i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :) say hi to me on neocities

I love this so fuckin much omfg, I love Kurt 😭😭💕

Kinktober day 5

Kurt Wagner + Uniform Kink

Priest Kurt :3 Also talks of religious trauma.I know religious imagery hates to see me comin. Readers a visible mutant, inspired somewhat by Killer croc. Readers 8ft tall.

I know very little about catholic priests, the area I grew up was Lutheran. This also takes place at some point on Krakoa. This ended up being more story driven honestly, but I had fun writing it anyways. Not proofread, because I cant be bothered.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

You had a strained relationship with religion, even if your entire family had been true to the faith. You may have been too, years ago, before your mutation manifested. Back when you had been nothing but their darling son, their gift from whatever god they worshipped, after so many years of trying. The gift just seemed giving, as your parents had more kids after you, giving you siblings.

You didn’t have many good memories with them. You got to hold the first two that were born, even play with them, but then your mutation started. It started out as patches of dry skin, something that could be treated with thick ointments and long baths. They’d thought it was a skin disease back then, and it had been winter, so it was all blamed on the dry weather.

It was harder to deny when the scales started appearing, and when you woke up to your gums bleeding from your new teeth growing in. your sobbing had awoken your mother, who had screamed bloody murder when she saw you. There weren’t many memories of that night, or the next couple of years at that. The human mind worked in strange ways, and yours decided to supress that part of your childhood.

All you remembered were flashes of coldness, of being locked away in what could only have been the basement. Of the churches priests and whoever else they thought might “cure” you of your “disease”. You remembered your father yelling about what he must have done wrong to gain a demon like you as his child. You remembered the quiet whispers in the kitchen at night, that you only were able to hear because of your enchanted senses.

You remember how your mother whispered to your aunt, that this was her fault. That you were the result of an affair, so this had to be God punishing her for her sins. You heard how more siblings were born, how they were told to stay away from the basement no matter what, and punished hard if they even went near it. There wasn’t much entertainment down there, your so-called parents only leaving you with religious texts and whatever else they thought might “save” you.

There was no want inside you to get out, even after what must have been years. Your mutation meant you barely needed to eat, to drink, or sleep. Most of your time was simply spent, listening to your family. Because of that, you learned the same things your siblings did because they needed help with homework, or you got to keep up with the news on the radio. You had accepted it.

It was only when one of your youngest siblings discovered you that it all crumbled. She was young, as small as you had been the day your dry skin started appearing. You knew her name, having heard your mother sing her praises because she had always wanted a daughter. And she wasn’t afraid of you. She spoke to you, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, telling you about mass, about how God would love you anyways, even if you looked different, because he loved everyone.

But the good never lasts, and she was discovered by your not so shared father, and she was punished. Her screaming awoke something deep and feral inside you, a hatred you had never tapped into. Something that had you tearing your chains like they were made of sugar, your claws drawing deep gouges in the walls as you wrenched your way upstairs. The door split like paper under your giant clawed, scaley hand, the hand of a monster, a demon.

The noise you let out was like that of the demons of hell, something deep, snarling and terrifying. Your mother and fathers’ eyes widened in terror, your brothers, the two you got to hold, were terrified. The siblings that never knew you existed wet themselves or started crying in terror. And your sister. Your sweet. kind sister, was a curled-up bleeding ball on the floor, and yet she still smiled at you.

None of the family dared move as you picked her up, she was so small she fit in one of your giant clawed hands. You had never realized how big you were, but as you stared down at your parents with such hatred, it truly sank in. your father who had always seemed so big, as if he were God himself, trembled like a leaf because of you.

They didn’t stop you as you left, tearing the front door of its hinges with nothing but a small nudge, leaving it split in two in the front yard. It was night, and it was one of those white picket fence neighbourhoods, where you preached Gods love, but ignored how the neighbour beat their children bloody.

Having your sister die in your arms was what broke you, for a long time. You weren’t older than 20 at the time, you at least thought that was your age. And yet, you stood taller than any human man, broader and strong enough to tear buildings apart. And still you couldn’t save her. you wanted to rampage, to kill and destroy everyone and everything. But you knew your sister loved this place, even after they mistreated her so. So in the end you buried her somewhere nice, and left.

The brotherhood of mutants wasn’t a choice you thought much about taking. You were no hero, and by the time you learned about the x-men, there was already way too much blood on your hands and in your teeth. That was where you met Kurt, on the battlefield. At that point he was just an enemy, someone you could turn that deep burning rage against. Feed that blood thirsty demon in your chest, to make it quiet for a little while once more.

It took you years to learn more than that they were enemies, the x-men. Your pain must have been written on your face from the very start, even The Wolverine seemed to have a semblance of worry for you. But you didn’t care, you just needed to hurt somebody, and it was easy to run in the direction you were given and lose yourself to your demons.

There were times you would pray, times when you were alone and hurting more than normal. But it never felt like God answered. And why would he. You were a monster put on this earth to punish your mother for her sins, her very sins woven deep into your very being and fuelling you.

At some point you left the brotherhood. Even that wasn’t enough anymore to quiet your demons and pain. It had been years at that point, and Nightcrawler was still just an enemy who’d grown from a small annoying pipsqueak to a slightly bigger but even more annoying pipsqueak. That very furry blue elf had a knack for finding you, wherever you went.

Most of the time you assumed he wanted to fight, but Nightcrawler, Kurt, would just sit by you in his own contemplating silence. At times he talked, other times he was silent. Sometimes he sat close beside you, sometimes meters away. Him talking about his faith made your heart race, but knowing he too experienced pain because of his appearance helped, somewhat.

Time still passed, you still weren’t a good person. The x-men and mutant-kind settled down on Krakoa. You did not, at least not for a long time. You had settled down far away from everything, somewhere with a nice deep lake where you could sink to the bottom, and imagine you were in purgatory because you never thought you would go to heaven.

Of all people to drag you to Krakoa, you had never imagined it would be The Wolverine, Logan. He gave some big spiel about hating yourself ruining it all for you, trust him, he knew. At that point in your life, you didn’t care much, nothing mattered and everything was just a blur, the demon in your chest dormant and worthless.

Krakoa was nice, people even treated you kindly even after your time with the brotherhood. Your suffering must have been so obvious for them to just accept you with such open arms, thinking about it made you cringe. Kurt was still nice. He was older, had the starts of a moustache, and the garb of a priest.

Seeing the outfit made your pupils sharpen and your heart lurch, some deeply ingrained animal reaction. Hearing about the faith he ran, smoothed down some of your sharp scales, something that yes, had its roots in Catholicism, but was so much more accepting and kinder. The thought of being part of it made your mouth sour, but there was also no pressure from anywhere to join.

You and Kurt grew closer, over time. It was a slow and careful path, all your relationships on this island were. But Kurt was special, in the way he smiled, the way he smelled, the way you became so comfortable in his presence that he could sit on your shoulders. And the way you both grew so close, that it didn’t even fell like sin when he kissed you.

Kissing Kurt must have been what Adam and Eve felt when biting the apple, tempted by the snake to break the one rule they were given to follow. And yet, like Adam and Eve, you broke that rule anyways. Kurts’s fur wasn’t long, but it was soft to the touch, some areas longer than others and carrying a natural curl. The scent of sulphur and the incense he would use in his thurible, became what put the demon inside you to rest, for good.

And maybe Kurt was pavloving you a little. It wasn’t on purpose, you think. He would simply regularly wear his priest outfit, his alb, his chasuble, his stole and amice. And he would kiss you and taste like ambrosia, like something worth sinning for. Kurt would smell and taste so divine, and would touch you so lovingly. At times you were scared to touch, fearing you would hurt him too, but even then, Kurt taught you to trust yourself.

So, who could you truly blame for getting heated, whenever you got to watch Kurt dress himself. You didn’t have a tail like he did, but you did bury yourself in your giant shared bed and rumble deep in your chest like the reptile you shared features with. It seemed so sinful and sensual, even if it truly wasn’t his intention. To see how carefully Kurt draped fabric over his body, or how his tail would flick and make the light fabrics flutter. It made a whole never demon inside you yearn.

You didn’t want to dirty his outfit, shaming yourself for even thinking it. How sinful, how evil, how demonic. But it was yet another thing you sucked at hiding, to the point where the other x-men, your friends now, started making jokes that you churred whenever Kurt would flutter by in it.

You denied it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t planned out how to give you what you both wanted. Which was how you found yourself laying back against your many pillows, Kurt in nothing but his alb and prayer beads in your lap, his three fingered hands against your chest.

It still felt so terrifying to indulge in those wants, even as you dug your claws into the bed as Kurt so slowly rode you, his hips moving at a pace that had your toes curling. Anything he did would have most likely had that reaction, but his soft accented voice cooing loving words at you, only served to leave you feeling more melted on the insides.

It was embarrassing how fast you finished. But who could blame you. You never had much experience, hell, you could count on two hands how many times you had ever touched yourself. It was no surprise you would cum so quickly, Kurts’s tail thrashing from side to side as he was filled more than he imagined possible.

His kisses were still just as sweet, as he worked himself over the edge too, dirtying his alb and your scaley stomach. This moment, Kurts’s act of dirtying his uniform himself, seemed to have been the only sign you needed, after that it was free game. He was the apple and the snake at the same time, packaged in blue fur and yellow eyes, his tail curling in coy ways only you knew how to read.

Kurt could never hate it, instead almost preening with pride as you finally let yourself indulge. Fucking him on the altar was a fantasy he had carried for a while, and when you finally did it the blue furred mutant almost passed out from how hard he finished, having to dig his fangs into his stole to keep from wailing at the intensity.

You would never step foot back into religion again, never to the extent where you could call yourself someone of faith, and Kurt would never force you. But you did end up going to Kurts services, on rare occasions, but that was more because you were excited for what would happen afterwards, after everyone else left. There was a demon in your chest, born from your family’s sins, fed by your own and nurtured to destroy. But Kurt tamed it, brushed its fur and held it close. There was a demon, and it was his.

Can someone explain why Ao3 is on a waiting list for people to join it? No judgement, I was just curious cause I think I'd prefer to write there cause Wattpad is kinda eh for me. Plus last time I wrote on Wattpad it deleted two of my stories and I had no backups.

he had more thoughts

Tehehe I lied, Imma write more on my sweet babies Kora and Jarek <3, just a small note: I haven't given up on my other story of my human x orc, it's just on Haitus.

Jarek's POV

He couldn't believe that his little human was the owner of this store; the one that fed him so many nights on the cold streets. He was happy to know he'd be working here, it was surprising, this feeling; he hadn't felt this in so long.

"Okay guys, I need to go run some errands, so y'all can handle this." Kora said, there was an underlying of question, but Jarek could tell she truly trusted the two other men to handle everything. He followed her to the back of the store, and then to the car. "So you only hire Demi humans or what?" Jarek scoffs, trying to hide his excitement. "I hire people coming back into society after jail and prison. I've known those two men for a few years. One was in prison for beating the hit of a child predator and the other for gang-related activity. No, I won't tell you which." the little human chuckles.

As the duo pulled up to a warehouse, a trio came up, a girl, and two men. "Hello, Mrs. Rayne. Mr. Sotch, Mr. Blue." Jarek's sense of tension rose, and he got closer to his little human. If anyone was gonna hurt her, it was gonna be him making her scream in pleasure. "Ms. Kora, come with us. The shipment is in. You did order the blue correct?" the other petite woman asks, her voice being too high-pitched. "Yes, I did. I know you guys don't like me buying from you since I'm just a simple baker, but desperate actions make people do crazy things." Jarek could sense a lot more going down than what was being shown and he hated it. He followed Kora but checked out every surrounding as they went from room to room. The group finally came to a stop and the men stopped while the girls kept walking. "Human, am I supposed to stay?" Jarek reached his hand out for her hand, but she didn't allow him to grab it. "Yes, please. It'll only be a few minutes. Jarek stayed put, not liking that he couldn't go to make sure she was safe.

After about 20 minutes, the girls came back, Jarek couldn't smell any alarm or fear on Kora, so he didn't bother to look relieved. "Thank you for your services Mrs. Rayne, you'll see the money in the next hour. Come, let's go back home Jarek. He happily followed and waited to ask his questions in the car.

Kora's POV

She hated that she had to buy the guns. All in all, it was for a good reason. "So you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?" Jarek questioned, the poor thing was uneasy.

"Guns. I bought some guns. Look I don't wanna talk about it. No, I don't have them on me. The guns are for them to do with as they please." She stated quickly. Jarek had so many more questions but wasn't gonna keep pressing. They drove back home in silence, there wasn't much else to talk about.

She parked the car and went into the house, leaving Jarek to lock the car. Kora could hear his footsteps stop at her door, but he never opened it. She heard him retreat to his bedroom a few doors down, and she huffed letting herself fall back onto the bed. She would have to back to the store around 6:30 to lock up and register, the clock read 3:15. She wasn't sure what to do with her time now, maybe she should go pour herself a drink. Yeah, a whiskey over ice sounds good.

Kora headed to the kitchen, grabbed her whiskey cup, put ice and whiskey in it, and went to the backyard. She sat on the plush seat of the hanging egg chair and enjoyed the sound of birds and cars.

"Hey, princess. What you doing?" Jarek comes out, he changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a tight black shirt (Yupp I'm doing this for us) Kora could easily see the outlines of his boxers and oh Jesus, he was definitely a shower and not a grower. She felt her cheeks heat up realizing that he knew she was staring and liking what she saw.

"I see the clothes you bought are comfortable." she looks away, hoping that her pink-dusted cheeks show her buz more than being turned on. "Yeah, I haven't had new clothes that I didn't have to steal in years." Jareks sighs and sits on the patio couch across from her.

"Well I hope you know you're safe here, you don't need to run Jarek."

Jarek's POV

He was shocked at her words, it made him mildly uncomfortable. "Tsk, whatever you say human." he responded hiding the vulnerability. He knew she was telling the truth, but he couldn't, didn't want to depend on anyone again. He wasn't gonna let that happen. He seen her sigh, "I gotta go to the bakery and close up, I should be back by 7:30 at the latest, if I take any longer, come check on me. Also here's my number." Kora showed her phone, and on the screen was her name and number. He typed it in quick and let her get back to work, he'd rather go with her, but he decided looking through the house was better. As soon as her car left the driveway he went straight to her bedroom. As creepy as it was, he wanted something of hers that smelled like she did the night before. Sweet and desperate. What the fuck is he doing, he dropped her old underwear. Why can't he just simply say he needed her. He enjoyed the scent while it lasted.

UGH I need some more Seth clearwater or Paul Lahote x M!Reader 😫 I've read just about all I can on here and I NEED MORE ‼️

💓💓💓💓