#Get snuggly

[frankiecatphotography]

Male Cardinal Plush Fleece Throw Blanket - on SALE!!

[intotheelliwoods]

I got.. so huggy and cuddly with this one oops.

Takes place very shortly after the last update!

Masterpost

[prahacat]

first snow

[domwitch]

Touch starved catboy who can't go 10 minutes without rubbing up against you 🐱❤️

[butch-himbo-king]

any other short kings out there with the step stool for when she needs a Really Good Hug?

[sergle]

Hi, Miss Sergle, how is Mr. Toby and Mr. Hugo doing?

Funny you should ask!!!!

they're a little chilly, I think!

[guinevereslancelot]

"i got up early today to experience the peace and beauty of God's creation" <- implication: i got up early to watch the sunrise

reality: i woke up at a reasonable hour to stay in bed and snuggle my cat <3

[spid3r-trans]

so I have an au idea:

punkflower tangled au

a/n: had to work out some details w this one sorry it took longer! i really couldn’t get my head wrapped around like a fantasy setting for this so it’s kind of different. i hope it’s ok!

~

Miles is different from the others. He knows that. He’s an anomaly— that’s what he’s been told for as long as he can remember. He knows that he has to stay here, in this place, because if he doesn’t the entire thread of the universe could start to unravel.

People would die. So he stays put.

Hobie is different from the others. He’s more stubborn, more curious, and far less likely to follow orders. So when he hears a rumor about a boy in a tower, well, it’s only second nature to want to find out the truth for himself.

The gravity-defying, sleek structure that sits in the center of Nueva York is a mystery to most onlookers. Rumors of twisting elevators, endless hallways, and secret rooms pass in hushed whispers between lips — and Hobie knows they’re all true.

He’s sneaking through those very halls now, sticking to the shadows, keeping his head down. Being here is supposed to be a privilege, an honor, a tribute to his abilities. It’s all bullshit. He just needs to prove it.

In the outside world, talks about what they really do at the facility are common. Speculations, accusations, doubts — Hobie often spearheads such conversations himself. There’s something undeniably suspicious about conducting and preserving the events of the entire multiverse based on the theories of one man.

Hobie was never meant to overhear the high-spirited A.I. talking to the leader of the operation. He was never meant to hack into the security archives and pinpoint the exact location they spoke of— and he most certainly was never supposed to make his way there. Still, the heavy echo of his boots reverberates as he makes his way down the empty hall.

Deep within the confines of the building that houses the society, Hobie comes to a vast, empty room. Automatic lights click on when he enters, making him squint at the sight before him. A strange metallic structure juts abruptly from the floor, rising high into the air and doming at the top.

It’s a tower.

Of all the outlandish rumors he heard, Hobie had hoped this one was a myth.

—

Fuck. His head hurts. Hobie slowly regains consciousness, starting to move his hand to feel what must be a massive lump forming on his forehead — only to realize that he can’t. He’s tied to a chair and his web-shooters are gone.

Panic doesn’t have a chance to set in before his spider sense — which has decided to work now — goes off, and a figure emerges from the shadows.

A boy, apprehensive and wielding a frying pan glowers at Hobie from across the room.

“Who are you?” He asks, “And how did you find me?”

—

Miles needed convincing. It’s not easy to leave a place when you’re told the entire multiverse could collapse and it would be your fault— but Miles wants to go.

Hobie is convincing. He tells Miles in his silly accent about what’s really out there. About the experiences Miles can still have— he wants Miles to come with him.

Sneaking out of the facility is no easy task. Hobie almost wonders if it was worth it, if he did the right thing — but when they stumble into one of the few spots left in Nueva York where nature thrives, Miles smiles.

And in that brief moment, Hobie knows.

Send an army, let the entire multiverse collapse — he’ll be by Miles’ side.

[sashayed]

I must say, I've been following you since your butter the cat saga, and I was just thinking about Elly today. I love her I hope she knows this and also I will politely smother her with love from afar

Oh, thank you bud. She loves you too! POV you are hanging out and her lil ears are squished against the window bc she wants to be right next to u

[mysticcomfort]

Just Florian wishing you a happy vore day~

[cold-neon-ocean]

This wip has been sitting around for a while bit I felt like dropping it bc I was thinking about them being cozy ;; (feat. dialogue I forgot to post elsewhere so it's a special treat lol)

[heich0e]

bf!suguru very heavy on my mind atm

[joelsgreys]

anyway

can we keep talking about lux please i’m obsessed

did you see her poses jesus fucking christ

[kedreeva]

Bug's pen, complete with a dozy Bug on her minky blanket.

[in-tua-deep]

Great news: womble is Babie

[valeriianz]

had thoughts about Dream being able to sleep, how soft and human he would look. for your consideration:

Hob announced his arrival from work with a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and leaned into the door as he opened it and stepped into his flat. He dropped his keys in the little bowl and toed off his shoes. He had just shrugged off his messenger bag when he noticed a pair of large black boots in the living room, stark against his off-white rug. They were about a meter apart, like they’d been kicked off or tossed aside without a second thought.

With one brow raised, eyes scrupulous, Hob deposited his bag on the couch and bent down to pick up first one boot, then the other, tucking them together and neatly placing them on the wooden floor next to a bookshelf.

“Dream?” Hob called out, straightening up and casting his gaze upon the room. It wasn’t like Dream, when he paid surprise visits, to not immediately be within eyesight of the door, let alone leave his shoes haphazardly on the carpet.

Hob’s eyes landed on the entryway of the hall, spotting Dream’s thick, long coat in a heap on the center of the floor. Worry began to creep in as Hob slowly stepped up to Dream’s mystical coat, his pulse thrumming under his skin. He stooped down, grabbing it by the collar and brushing it off with his other hand. The material felt luxurious in Hob’s hands, soft like cashmere or shahtoosh, but also durable– something akin to wool or even canvas. Hob’s fingers caressed the fabric, feeling the lip of the tall collar between his thumb and fingers. 

Gently folding the coat over one arm, Hob continued down the hall, stepping softly, carefully. 

Hob’s bedroom door was open, the rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window and lit up the entryway, revealing more dark clothes in a jumble leading into the room.

Swallowing, lips parting, Hob bent down once more to collect Dream’s t-shirt, his pants and, following the line of mayhem, his socks, taking them all into his arms. Hob wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he finally straightened up and turned, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Hob almost dropped all the clothes he had spent carefully collecting, his mouth going dry. 

There was a considerable, person-sized lump in Hob’s bed, buried under his thick gray comforter. The only indication that it was indeed Dream laying in Hob’s bed, was the mane of wild dark hair poking out from the mass of linens.

Hob took a step forward, then another, crushing the pile of clothes to his chest as he walked around the bed, his gaze transfixed to the top of Dream’s head– a smattering of black ink spilled on his white pillow. He held his breath as he finally came to face Dream, the only part of him sticking out was his nose and eyes, Dream’s impossibly long lashes draped down, threatening to brush the tops of his cheeks.

Hob felt his jaw drop, lips parting in wonder at this ethereal creature in his bed.

Dream was sleeping.

Or… it looked like he was sleeping. The shape of him steadily rose and fell, imitating breath that Hob knew Dream didn’t need. Hob didn’t think Dream needed sleep, either… or was even capable of it. Was Dream sick? Had he been injured?

Hob quietly deposited the bundle of clothes into a wicker chair in the corner of his room, turning back to Dream and leaning over him, slowly pressing one hand into the mattress next to him, and bringing the other up to lay it against Dream’s forehead.

Hob immediately felt foolish, of course Dream didn’t get sick, he’d nearly beaten it into Hob by now, how Endless never fall ill (not in the way humans do, apparently), but Dream did actually feel quite warm. Hob moved his hand from underneath Dream’s soft fringe, grazing his fingers down the side of his head, brushing the shell of his ear, cheekbone, and across his pointed nose, unable to get any further with the blanket folded up tight around half his face.

With his heart lighter than it’d felt in a long time, Hob couldn’t resist carefully hooking his fingers around the edge of the comforter, leaning in close as he pulled it down to expose Dream’s lips and chin. He looked softer, like this– human and vulnerable. There’s a trust here, Hob knows, his chest tightening, as his knuckles caress down the line of Dream’s jaw, free of blemishes and marble smooth. Hob swallowed again, his eyes flicking down in unrestricted interest at the line of Dream’s concealed body, cocooned in creamy grays. He looked back up, focusing on plush lips that are too red for Dream’s alabaster skin, like they’d been bitten.

Hob’s own teeth pull on his bottom lip, moving his hand to press a thumb against that mouth, barely touching, like a paint brush, dragging it from corner to corner.

“What are you doing?”

Hob huffed a surprised laugh, but didn’t remove his hand. Dream’s voice was lower than usual, thick, and rumbly, pulled from a deep slumber.

“Checking your temperature,” Hob answered in a whisper. His breath caught in his throat as Dream’s eyelids fluttered open, crystal blue eyes focusing right on him.

Christ almighty, he was gorgeous. Hob still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he was allowed to see this, to be regarded by such beauty, such a divine entity. That he could call Dream his, and be confident in the knowledge that he was Dream’s, too. Hob felt himself begin to shake, his thumb was still at Dream’s lips, which had parted slightly when he’d spoken, his hot breath hitting Hob and causing something both carnal and pure to race through his blood, something devotional.

“You’re quite warm,” Hob tried again. Dream hadn’t spoken, only watched him, like he was waiting for something.

“Yes,” Dream’s voice ran over Hob in that velvety way of his; a warm tide crashing over him and lifting Hob up.

“I was seeking warmth. You weren’t home, and I know how pleasant you are after a long rest.”

“Pleasant?” Hob’s lips curled in a smile, distractedly pressing his thumb a little harder against Dream’s bottom lip.

“Tepid.” Dreams amended, parting his lips and allowing Hob’s thumb access.

Hob gasped softly as Dream bit down, his eyes blazing now, the black of his iris growing so there was no more blue. Hob hummed, his fingers curled around Dream’s chin, tilting it up.

There’s a tongue that swipes the tip of his thumb and Hob knows he’s lost, feigning nonchalance was never his strong suit when it came to this entity in his bed. His heart crashes against his ribs and Hob’s sure Dream can hear it, can hear the desire there.

A bare arm slips out from the pile of gray and latches onto Hob’s bicep, pulling him down. Hob goes along with a smile, getting one knee up on the bed, then the other, dislodging his fingers from Dream’s face to steady himself.

They lift the comforter together, allowing Hob to crawl in next to Dream. The shock of the sudden temperature hike against Dream’s bare skin makes Hob’s breath catch, desperately wishing he’d taken his clothes off first.

“Christ, Dream it’s like a furnace under here.” He’s never felt Dream radiate so much heat before. He truly was learning something new about this man– Endless, every day.

Dream’s long arm pulls the blanket back down, going around Hob’s middle and tucking it under him, coaxing Hob to be flush against his sinew body, usually firm with restrained strength, now soft from sleep. Dream’s chin tilts down, lips brushing Hob’s forehead.

“Could be hotter,” he murmurs, lips traveling down, his sharp nose nudging against Hob’s face, encouraging him to meet him evenly.

Hob is already panting, he’s sure he’s already sweating too, but he meets Dream’s mouth eagerly, pressing hard, getting his hand back on his face to cup Dream’s jaw.

“Well,” Hob pants as Dream wetly breaks the kiss, pressing his lips instead up Hob’s face and into his hairline. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this today.”

Dream hums, the sound reverberating down his body and tickling Hob’s senses. 

“I’m pleased I can still surprise you.”