#velvet voice & violent hands ♡

[luv-lock]

we need eve and alien!reader smut so baddd ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

CW. NSFW, yandere!reader, wlw, aggressive oral, overstimulation, choking.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft hum of ambient light filtering through the clouds outside the window. You sat perched on the bed like a queen, long limbs sprawled in lazy confidence, watching Eve pace the room with that signature scowl and arms crossed like she was trying to hold herself together.

She was frustrated. Again.

“You don’t listen to anyone,” Eve snapped, stopping mid-step, pink eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t understand boundaries. You—!”

You tilted your head slowly, like you always did when she got like this. Curious. Patient. Just a little amused.

“You angry?” you asked, voice smooth and low, like honey poured over a blade. “You want me... far?”

Eve froze, eyes narrowing, face flushing. “Don’t twist this! I’m serious!”

You rose to your feet in one fluid motion, the fabric of your loose shirt falling off one shoulder. Eve's breath caught. You closed the space between you slowly, hips swaying in that inhuman, seductive grace that made everything feel like a hunt.

“Eve...” you purred, circling her. “Why you always red when I close?”

“I’m not red!” she protested, but her voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just—!”

You slipped behind her, arms curling gently around her waist, pulling her back into your chest. Your lips brushed the shell of her ear as you whispered, “Liar.”

Eve shivered.

You moved one hand up to rest over her heart, the other trailing down her waist. Her breathing hitched.

“You say no,” you whispered, “but body says yes.”

“I—” Her voice was breathless now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want I stop?” you murmured, voice all velvet and smoke.

Silence.

Then a weak, “No.”

A smirk spread across your lips. You turned her around and kissed her—slow at first, tasting her hesitation, then deeper, hungrier, tongue pushing past her lips with a kind of wild, invasive passion. She whimpered into your mouth, knees nearly giving out as you held her steady. You pulled back just enough to whisper:

“You soft. Sweet. I don’t want stop touching you, Eve.”

Her hands fisted in your shirt.

“Then don’t,” she whispered, eyes glazed, lips parted.

“You mine?”

She didn’t answer at first.

Then she mumbled, “Yeah... I’m yours, alien freak.”

You grinned like a predator, kissed her cheek, and curled protectively around her.

Eve’s voice was long gone — shredded hours ago — leaving only those raw, cracked little sobs that couldn’t even form words anymore.

You were still perched on her face like some starved beast, hips grinding in frantic, wet circles, that inhuman snarl tearing from your throat every time she so much as twitched her swollen lips against your cunt.

"More," you growled, fangs bared, the muscles in your thighs trembling as you shoved her deeper, suffocating against the plush mound of your pussy. Your claws left crescent-shaped dents in the headboard as you forced yourself down harder — riding her face with violent, animalistic need. "Guh— deeper. Lick."

Eve’s hands clawed weakly at your thighs, her face a mess of slick and spit, red hair matted to her flushed, tear-streaked cheeks. She was trying to push, trying to get air — but you didn’t care. Your cunt clenched too tight around her tongue, throbbing as another gush spilled, messy and hot, all over her nose and chin.

Her eyes rolled, glazed and fluttering, lashes soaked. Her body jolted once under you, chest arching like she was going to pass out.

And fuck — that just made you grind down harder.

"Mine," you snarled, voice guttural now, pupils blown wide like some feral thing. Your hips slapped down with a brutal smack, smearing more of your slick against her face as you rode her mouth like a rutting animal. "I said— mine, Eve."

Your claws grabbed fistfuls of her hair, yanking her face tighter against your dripping core. Her nose bumped against your swollen clit just right, and your back arched with a sharp, broken cry — vision blurring at the edges as you squirted again, flooding her mouth.

Eve’s body convulsed. Hands went slack.

"Ohhh," you hissed, body trembling. "You're sleep now? Hahh— pretty Eve... so pathetic now…"

But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Your hips were moving on their own now, chasing that raw, desperate friction as your swollen folds ground against her mouth, her chin, her slack tongue. Each roll made filthy, wet squelches fill the room, slick pouring down her throat while she lay helpless, body twitching under you.

"Your place is right here." Your voice cracked into a dark, shuddering moan, drool dripping from your open mouth as you fucked her face like a woman possessed. "You're mine. No running away now."

Your hips stuttered. Vision went white.

And with one last violent slam of your pussy against her face, you came again — harder than before, screaming as your slick gushed out in thick spurts, soaking her completely.

The bed creaked. Your claws tore holes in the sheets.

And as you finally slumped forward, panting over her limp form, you growled softly into her ear — voice hoarse but smug:

"...Told you. You stay red when I'm close."

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[lottiesdolly]

perfect

♡ bucky barnes x reader

↳ dark!bucky (non-con/kidnapping/restraints)

You were supposed to be a message. A warning. Or maybe just leverage, nothing more.

That’s what they told him when they brought you in. Blindfolded. Hands bound. Knees bruised from the chopper floor. You didn’t scream, but you didn’t fight like a soldier either, which made you a different kind of target. The kind that interested him for all the wrong reasons.

He watches you now, sitting on the edge of a plush leather bed that doesn't fit the brutality of the place. Safehouse, they said. But it’s a cage made of velvet, and he’s the lock.

Your hands are still bound, this time with black leather cuffs instead of zip ties. Your legs are free, but you haven’t tried running. Not since he showed you what his metal hand could do with just one warning grip around your throat.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says from across the room, voice low, scraped rough from disuse. “You scared?”

You don’t answer. Not right away.

He crosses the space in seconds.

Fingers, warm ones, grip your chin and tilt your face up. His human hand. That surprises you. The metal one hovers, deliberate, just out of reach. A promise and a threat all at once.

“I like it when you don’t lie,” he murmurs, studying your lips. “But I don’t like it when you keep secrets.”

His mouth crashes against yours with no warning. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. But it’s not careless either. He’s focused.

You gasp, and he uses it, tongue sliding past your lips, hand tightening around your jaw until you whimper. That sound? That’s what does it.

He groans low, almost like it’s pulled from his chest without permission, and shoves you back onto the mattress. You hit it hard, bouncing slightly, cuffs biting into your wrists as your arms twist above you.

“Stay." One word. No room for argument.

He unzips the tactical vest and shrugs it off, metal arm gleaming under the low lighting. Your thighs clench involuntarily, and he sees it. Of course he sees it.

“You’re afraid.” He climbs over you, his weight caging you in. “But you’re still wet.”

You don’t confirm it. You don’t have to.

His gloved hand moves to your waistband, slow and savoring. He then yanks everything down in one rough pull. You gasp again, this time in real fear, but something else too.

“You know what they told me to do with you?” he whispers against your ear, lips brushing your skin. “They said I could break you. They didn’t say how.”

His fingers are inside you before you can answer. Thick, cold metal pushing in deep, curling, hitting that spot that makes you cry out, shocked at how fast your body betrays you.

He laughs.

“You’ll come for me,” he says. “Even if I have to take it from you.”

He doesn’t move like a man. He moves like something designed. His metal fingers curl inside you again, stroking with a rhythm that feels too good, too perfect to be accidental.

You bite your lip to stifle the noise, but he sees that too. He sees everything.

“You want to be good?” he murmurs, lips dragging along your neck, slow and deliberate. “Then don’t hide it from me.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. Icy, unreadable. But underneath it? Something cracks. Something hungry.

His fingers withdraw, glistening, and he spreads them in front of your face like a trophy. “Look at that,” he says. “You’re soaking.”

You don’t answer.

So he presses those same wet fingers to your mouth.

“Suck.”

It’s not a request.

Your lips part, slow, trembling, and he watches, riveted, as you obey. The taste of yourself hits your tongue, and something in him snaps. Not violent. Not loud. Just a shift in the air. A sudden tension that makes your pulse thrum against your throat like a war drum.

In one fluid motion, he flips you onto your stomach. The cuffs twist, biting into your wrists behind your back as he yanks your hips up. Your cheek presses into the mattress, breath coming in fast, shallow bursts.

“Hold still,” he growls, lining himself up behind you.

You don’t even realize he’s freed himself until you feel the blunt, hard heat of him pressing against your entrance. No warning. No buildup. Just the threat of being filled by something unrelenting.

“You ready for me?” he breathes, voice full of cruel amusement. “Doesn’t matter.”

And then he’s inside you. All the way.

You scream. Not from pain, but from how deep he is, how full he makes you feel. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. His hands grip your hips, metal and flesh, and he drives into you like you belong to him.

Every thrust is sharp, and possessive.

“You feel that?” he snarls against your shoulder.

Your body arches, straining against the cuffs. He reaches around with his flesh hand and presses hard against your clit, circling mercilessly in time with his thrusts. Your back bows. Your mouth opens on a sob.

“Come,” he orders.

You fight it. You want to keep it from him, but he knows your body better than you do. He finds the angle that makes you see stars, and when you clench around him, his groan sounds almost human.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls. “Good girl. Take it.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a detonation, hot, raw, all-consuming. Your vision whites out.

And he keeps going.

He fucks you through it, chasing his own end, hips slamming into yours with increasing desperation. When he finally comes, it’s with a ragged moan and a brutal thrust so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.

You collapse beneath him, wrists still bound, legs trembling.

For a long moment, the room is silent, just your breath and his.

Softly, he leans down, brushing your hair away from your cheek.

“You survived,” he whispers, voice not quite cold anymore.

The cuffs are still tight behind your back, cutting into tender skin, but you don’t say a word. You wouldn’t even know what to say. Your body’s limp beneath him, used, wrecked, thoroughly claimed, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, he isn’t moving. He’s simply still.

Heavy on top of you, chest rising and falling against your back, the warmth of his human skin strange in contrast to the chill of the metal arm still curled around your hip. He breathes like he hasn’t in years. Like something just woke up inside him.

You flinch slightly when he shifts, bracing yourself for more, but instead of taking you again, he slowly, carefully, pulls out, a hiss slipping from his teeth at the sensitivity.

You expect him to get up. To zip up, walk out, leave you dripping and broken on satin sheets. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he rolls you gently onto your back, eyes flicking over your face. You’re flushed. Sweaty. Lips swollen. And when your gaze meets his, you expect to see that empty determined look he donned at the beginning, but it's not there. Gone.

It’s him. Not just the captor, him.

“…You’re shaking,” he says roughly, like the words feel foreign in his mouth.

You don’t respond. You’re not sure you trust your voice.

With a sigh that sounds too close to regret, he sits up, grabs something from the floor, his black undershirt, and wipes between your thighs with a tenderness you didn’t expect. He’s still rough, but there’s a care there now. A pause. Like he’s seeing the aftermath too.

Still no apology. You doubt he’s even capable of that yet. But then he does something that makes your stomach twist.

He leans over you again, eyes locked on yours, and gently unbuckles the cuffs. Your arms fall forward with a dull ache. You expect him to retreat. But his hand cups your cheek instead.

“I wasn’t supposed to want you,” he says quietly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

You could laugh. Or cry.

Instead, you just whisper, “But you do.”

His jaw flexes, and then he lowers his mouth to yours. Not like before. No teeth. No bruising. Just something close to human.

“I don’t know what that means yet,” he admits, pulling back an inch, lips brushing yours. “But I’m not done with you.”

He stands, tugs his pants back up, but keeps his gaze on you like he’s daring you to disappear.

“I’m going to get you something to drink. If you try to run…”a pause and he begins to smirk. “…you won’t get far. But I’ll be gentle when I catch you.”

Then he’s gone. Just like that.

And you’re left there, naked, and sore, wondering what the hell just shifted between captor and captive.

And why, deep down, you want him to come back.

[kingdomhate]

Ani making cinnamon rolls with us 🤭😋 fluffy fluff ofc 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

a\n: Ugh yes Aggyyyy PERFECT.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸₊˚🎶⊹♡✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸₊˚⊹♡🎶⭐🎙📻✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸✩

The leaves littered the radiant of Coruscant in vibrant colors such as orange, yellow and red as fall took over the lively city. The wind lashed violently across the city, deflecting the countless droplets of rain against windows, buildings and whatever lay in the path of nature's wraith.

During this, as many other people did, you and Anakin seeked comfort in your warm, comfy palace of a home. As you both sat, nestled on one of your velvet sofas, curled up in each others arms as you absentmindedly twisted and combed your fingers through Anakin's honey brown hair, the two of you close to dozing off.

"Angel.." Anakin whispered, kissing the shell of your ear, his gravelly voice sent a delicious shiver vibrating through your spine as you let out a little hm of acknowledgement. "Are you hungry?" His thumb caressed your knuckles as he intertwined your fingers. "Yes. What did you have in mind, Ani?" You ask lazily, your eyes were closed due to the sheer comfort and warmth of just being cuddled up like this.

"Something warm. What about some pastries?" At this, you perk up, interest piqued. "Sure! Let me see what we have." You move to the kitchen, gazing in the pantry, and scanning to see what baked goods you can use. Your eyes fall on cinnamon rolls, and you had recalled vividly when you had bought the pastry.

Immediately, you took the can into your hand, gazing at the instructions for baking; mixing dough, shaping the rolls, baking, cooling and frosting, easy enough. Anakin walked into the kitchen, as you began getting them ready and preheating the oven. Ani helped you mix the dough, and you both took turns with a specific role.

Finally, as the freshly baked goods came out of the oven steaming, Ani offered to take them and you happily let him, setting the pan down to cool off. Once they were cool enough to add your own little toppings and whatnot, you both took time to frost the first batch and however many ones you decided to make after that. Now ever since that day Ani is far more keen on staying home with you to bake.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸₊˚🎶⊹♡✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸₊˚⊹♡🎶⭐🎙📻✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸✩

[pretty-princess-peach]

Who's your Daddy?

Word Count: 2200~

Summary: Thanksgiving with your parents goes awry when your father shows why you tried to keep you and your boyfriend away from him for so long.

Rating: Hurt/Comfort ♡

Warnings: Abusive father, yelling, degradation (not in a fun way)

Ever since you had begun dating your boyfriend, you dreaded the thought of him meeting your parents, or, well, parent. Your father had always been a little… rough, and loud… ever since you were a kid.

For almost a year, you had managed to evade the inevitable. However, after so much nagging from your mom(and a bit from your boyfriend), you reluctantly agreed to spend Thanksgiving dinner with them.

As the two of you were getting ready, Tōji seemed more excited than he should have been. He had no idea what he was getting into. You could hear him rummaging through his collection of suits, hidden deep inside of the closet.

“Hey, babe!” Tōji called, the sound muffled by clothes. “How formal is ‘too formal’?*”

You sighed, scrolling through photos on your phone. “I dunno. I don’t think it matters much.” Your lack of enthusiasm seemed to catch him off-guard.

He poked his head out of the closet, looking at you with concern before relaxing his gaze. “Soooo…” His mouth widened into a mischievous grin before pulling a suit out of the closet. “How about this?”

You looked over, immediately breaking out into laughter. Not only was your boyfriend wiggling his eyebrows violently, but in his hand was a bright blue crushed velvet suit, one that was only used for a couple’s Halloween costume you roped him into.

“I thought you wanted my parents to like you,” you choked, struggling to suppress your laughter. He only pouted in return, clearly defeated. With an overexaggerated sigh, he reluctantly returned the suit to the closet.

After that, the two of you finished getting dressed and headed out to the car. Tōji opened the door for you as you got in, closing it before walking around to the driver’s side.

The drive was long. The only sounds were the stereo and the low hum of the engine, occasionally joined by small talk. The conversations were trivial, not relating to the impending dinner at all. It helped you relax, to be honest, and that was probably Tōji’s plan. He could tell you were nervous. He just didn’t know why.

The hour passed too soon, and before you knew it, your boyfriend was pulling into the driveway of your parents' small suburban home. You couldn't help but stare blankly at the illuminated windows, absent-mindedly picking at your nail beds. You jumped at the feeling of Tōji laying his hand over yours.

Snapping out of your gaze, you looked over to him. "Hm?" You inquired softly, fearing you had missed something he said.

“You gonna be alright, kid?” His voice was softer than usual, his brows knit together in concern.

You urgently nodded your head. “Mhm, I’m OK. It’s not like we can go back now anyway.” Tōji didn’t seem to be buying your act.

“You know, kid, we can always turn back if you can’t handle this.”

He was interrupted as your parents stepped out onto the porch. You pulled away from your boyfriend, opening the car door as he turned off the ignition.

You waved to your mother, doing your best to mimic her smile as you dodged the gaze of your father. Tōji followed closely behind you as you walked up to your parents. “It’s so good to see you! How long has it been?” 

You met your mother’s welcoming embrace, chuckling at her eager attitude. “I’ve missed you too, mom.”

As you pulled away from your mother, you were quickly drawn into your father’s arms. You managed to keep your composure, struggling not to shrink into yourself at his touch.

“Is this your boyfriend?! How did you snag a specimen like him?!” Your mother’s sudden burst allowed you to finally let go of your father and step away.

“Oh, yeah!” You had forgotten to introduce Tōji. How silly of you. “Mom, this is Tōji. Tōji, this is my mom.”

Tōji gently took hold of your mother’s hand before bringing it to his lips. Her face was so red. You worried she might have a heart attack.

When you looked to your father’s eyes, his gaze was locked on Tōji. You knew he was angry, but surprisingly, when Tōji turned to him, he smiled. They exchanged a firm handshake before you all followed your mother inside.

Your mom ushered you to the kitchen. Tōji offered to help as well, but he was quickly dismissed and sent to the living room with your dad.

The food was nearly ready, but your mom had asked for your help with decorating the cake. You had been the one to send her the recipe, but she was clueless as to how to decorate it as beautifully as you.

It didn't take long to make the icing, and after putting it in a piping bag, you decorated the blank cake with elegant, even swirls of white. Once you had finished with the icing, you added a few finishing touches.

“Perfect,” your mother commented from behind you, making you jump. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing special, really.” You chuckled anxiously.

“Nonsense.” She waved her hand. “Now, since that’s finished, could you set the table for me, please?”

“Yeah, of course!” you nodded, walking over to the kitchen cupboards. The plates clattered as you gathered a stack of four before turning your attention to the cutlery drawer. With everything in hand, you made your way towards the dining room table.

Because of the close proximity to the living room, you were able to make out a lot more of the conversation than you could before. You heard Tōji laugh in response to some comment from your father. They seemed to be getting along.

You slowly made your way around the table, gently laying the plates at each spot, arranging the knives and forks on either side.

You suppose you should be happy. It’s good to have your boyfriend get along with your parent, right? Then why does it feel so wrong…?

On your way to the fourth spot at the table, you failed to notice a crease in the rug below you. Naturally, your foot got caught while you were trying to eavesdrop. The fourth plate slipped from your hand, shattering on the floor. Things seemed to move almost in slow motion as you fell forward, nearly landing on top of it.

A shout erupted from the living room, heavy steps rapidly approaching. You could barely get to your knees before your father was standing above you, fuming.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” You flinched at his words. “YOU'RE BREAKING THE SHIT I PAY FOR?!”

You stared down at the shattered fragments before you, frozen in place.

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I FUCKING TALK TO YOU!”

You flinched again, hesitantly turning your head with tears silently running down your cheeks.

“ARE YOU REALLY CRYING RIGHT NOW?! AND QUIT FLINCHING! I’M NOT GOING TO FUCKING HURT YOU!”

You couldn’t even look at Tōji as he stood behind your father. You didn’t want to risk making him more mad. Besides, this was your fault. You were careless and broke the plate, right?

“IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE AFRAID OF ME, I’LL GIVE YOU A FUCKING REASON TO BE-” Your father was cut off as a large hand grabbed onto his shoulder, pushing him to the side.

Tōji walked over to you before kneeling down. He looked angry too… Was he mad at you? He took your hands in his, carefully looking them over. “Are you hurt?” his voice was quiet, but it was scary… like he was seconds away from snapping.

You shook your head. “No… I’m ok.” Your voice barely rose louder than a whisper.

“Good.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your father’s voice made you shudder. His voice was dripping with malice.

“I’m taking care of my family,” Tōji explained, his voice eerily calm. Any hint of pleasantries had vanished, leaving a dangerous, imposing aura in its place.

“Your family?” your father scoffed. “That little bitch needs to be put in her place.”

Tōji ignored your father’s words, looking into your eyes with a gentle gaze. “Go wait in the car for me, okay, sweetheart?” His voice sounded soft, but as he gently kissed your forehead, you could tell he was holding something back. “I’ll be out there soon.”

You weren’t sure whether you should listen to him, but you didn’t want to see what would happen if he did snap. With Tōji standing between you and your dad, you rose to your feet, hurrying to the door before your father had the chance to chase you. 

It wasn’t until you closed the car door that you realised you had forgotten your jacket inside, but you didn’t want to risk going back in. Maybe you could ask Tōji to grab it for you.

You lost track of time as you waited for your boyfriend, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. You were picking at your nails until the front door finally opened.

To your surprise, your father was nowhere to be seen. You watched as Tōji said something to your mother before he stepped outside, your forgotten jacket tucked under his arm.

He got in the driver’s seat and passed the jacket to you. “I thought you might need this, kid.” You noticed him rubbing his knuckles before he put his seatbelt on.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. “What happened? Are you hurt?” You reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

He sighed before bringing one of his hands to your cheek. “I’m alright, kid. Don’t worry.” He solidified his remark with a quick kiss on your lips. As he pulled away, you both leaned back in your seats.

Tōji started the car, backing out of the driveway before beginning the long drive back home. He rested a firm hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry about tonight.” His voice was gentle. You’d never heard him apologise like this before. “I shouldn’t have bugged you to do this. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m the one who dropped the plate.” Your gaze dropped to your legs. “I made him mad...”

“Princess, please don’t talk like that.” Tōji sighed, getting quiet as he stared at the road. The silence was thick, though, luckily, it didn’t last long.

“Hey,” Tōji started, “y’know, since we left before dinner…” You looked at him with wide eyes, patiently waiting for him to finish. “Whaddya say we grab something on the way?”

You nodded eagerly. “That would be really nice.”

“Yeah? Do you have anything in min-”

“McDonald’s.” You cut him off. He almost seemed startled, but he quickly laughed it off.

“Alright, McDonald’s it is.”

Tōji pulled off of the highway at the first sight of those glorious golden arches, the bright yellow light a promise to salvation and warm, comforting, fast food. He pulled into the drive thru, and to your convenience, there was no line.

“Hello! Welcome to McDonald’s! What can I get you today?” the cheery voice said over the speaker.

“Uh, yeah, can I get uh… a big mac meal with large fries?”

“Alright! And what would you like for the drink?” the worker asked.

“A black coffee, please.” You had to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “And can I also get a 10 nugget meal with a large fries and a coke?” You were nearly bouncing with excitement.

“For sure! Will that be everything?”

“Yep.” 

After the worker read out the total, Tōji drove up to the window to pay, then proceeded to the next window to collect the food. He passed the glorious bag of warm goodness to you, and before long, the two of you were on the road again.

The food was everything you needed, and it helped melt away the problems that happened earlier in the night. In fact, it helped you relax so much that you actually had trouble staying awake, and you fell asleep for most of the drive back.

When the car finally stopped, you didn’t care to open your eyes. You were far too comfy to be bothered with anything else. Though barely aware of your surroundings, you heard a car door open and shut, soon followed by the sound of a car door opening beside you.

You felt strong, warm arms wrap around you, lifting you out of your very comfy place in the seat. Still refusing to open your eyes, you could only whine in protest.

“I know, princess, but we have to get you to a real bed.” The voice was calm, comforting. Things felt so safe.

There was no way to tell how long you were in those arms, but before you knew it, you were being disturbed once more. Although, this time, you were being put down onto an inconveniently cold, squishy surface. You whined again, even as something was draped over your body.

You continued to wiggle in protest, trying to locate the oh so comfy source of heat. Soon, you felt a dip in the area beside you. Without hesitation, you started reaching over, and when your arms met a bare, warm surface, they latched on. 

You tried to get closer, and to your delight, you felt the warmth wrap around you. Everything felt so comfy. You were safe, and now there was nothing else to disrupt it. You finally gave in to sleep, feeling a sense of security within the strong warmth guarding you.