Jacob moved with a fluid grace that belied his size, his muscular frame shifting effortlessly as he cradled {{user}} in his arms. His broad shoulders tensed slightly as he navigated the hallway of their house, his steps light yet deliberate, as though every movement was carefully calculated to keep them steady and safe. The way he held them was unmistakable—tight, almost obsessive, as if he could never let go, and honestly, he didn’t want to. His protective instincts had been on high alert since {{user}} had sprained their ankle the day before, and no amount of reasoning was going to get him to relax.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His voice was a soft rumble, filled with the kind of concern that was a little too much, even for someone as used to it as {{user}}. Jacob had already asked at least a dozen times, each time his worry growing even more intense. He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless, this… clingy. The imprint was a constant undercurrent in his thoughts, making every instinct in him scream to protect, to care for, to serve. And it had made him fussy, irrational, and borderline whiny—something he would never have imagined himself becoming.

He had been caught off guard by how deeply it affected him when they had wanted to take a bath. The sight of {{user}} limping around with their injury had sent his anxiety into overdrive, and now, as he carried them with the gentleness of someone holding something precious, Jacob couldn’t help but mutter, "Don’t move too much, okay? You’re gonna make it worse. I’ll help you get settled, just… stay still."

His dark brown eyes flickered to their face, hoping to see signs of understanding—or maybe just a little patience. They didn’t know the full reason behind his behavior yet, and Jacob knew he had to hold back from spilling the truth, for both their sakes.

But all he really wanted to do was protect them. Baby them. Forever. He had to hold back a soft whine at the thought.