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five-and-dimes · 10 months

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Undisclosed Desires

"I have written smut." "You fucked up a perfectly good sex scene is what you've done. Look at it. It's got hurt/comfort."

When they get together, it comes out that Dream has never been on the receiving end of oral sex before. Hob decides to fix that immediately.

Ao3

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It had been over six hundred years, and Hob still felt like this was happening so fast.

Granted, most of those years had been a one-sided friendship, a rigid dance where he was constantly held at arm's length and then farther after losing his temper in his desperation for connection. He spent a hundred years holding on to hope and then another thirty-three hanging on by sheer stubbornness. He did not live for his stranger, but that did not stop him from missing him.

And then he’d returned and it was like the floodgates opened.

On a random Thursday, not in June, not on the 7th, not in a year ending with ‘89’, his Stranger walked in and apologized. Called him a friend. Hob had spent the first half hour in a calm kind of bliss, a feeling as though he had exhaled for the first time in thirty-three years, finally able to breathe again. He learned his stranger’s name, and then he said it any chance he got. And then they were meeting once a month, twice a month, once a week, and Dream was explaining in a monotone voice why he was so tired, so thin, why he had missed their meeting, and then Hob was hugging him and Dream wasn’t pushing him away.

So yes. Six hundred some odd years was a long time to get together, but truthfully Hob was really only counting the past six months, and yeah some people would call that reasonable but right now, with Dream’s tongue in his mouth, it felt fast .

It wasn’t particularly late, but they had moved from their table in the New Inn to Hob’s flat upstairs once the dinner rush started pouring in. Dream wasn’t one for crowds, and Hob wasn’t one for making Dream uncomfortable. So they had ascended the steps, Hob feeling a slight buzz from too many pints and too few chips, and Dream a silent shadow behind him. Dream humors him and removes his shoes when asked, and even surprises him by slipping off his coat as well. He is still fully covered, a long sleeved black t-shirt revealed beneath the coat, but it is still significant to see him with one less layer shielding him, after everything he’s been through.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from him, the silence stretching as he looks his friend up and down. When he reaches his eyes, he realizes that Dream is staring at his mouth.

Hob has no idea who moves first, but suddenly they are crashing together like the tides. Dream has his hands on Hob’s shoulders, bony fingers twitching like he’s trying not to cling to him, while Hob winds one hand through his wild black hair and curls the other around his lower back, pulling their bodies flush together. The kiss itself starts clumsy, noses bumping together and teeth clacking as they scramble to arrange themselves as close together as they can.

When they are both finally satisfied with the solid press of their chests and hips, they manage to smooth the slide of the lips together, and Dream takes advantage of Hob’s need to gasp for breath to slip his tongue into his mouth. Hob takes a step back, and Dream follows without granting a centimeter of space between them, fingers curling a little tighter as though afraid Hob is trying to leave. But he has nothing to fear, as Hob guides them farther into the living room. He moves his hands to cup Dream’s arse as he drops onto the sofa, grips at his hips and thighs until he has Dream straddling his waist.

Dream brings his hands up to cup Hob’s face as they part. Seated as they are, Hob has to tip his head back to catch Dream’s mouth, biting at his lower lip until he can feel a low moan reverberate through where their chests are pressed together.

“Hob…”

Hearing his name in that deep, breathless voice somehow makes everything so much more real. He has to take a moment to just stare half-lidded up at the gorgeous figure in his lap. Dream's hair is even messier than usual, and there’s a bit of color coming to his cheeks. His lips are dark and slightly swollen, and the look in his eyes can only be described as hungry .

He feels like he should say something- maybe slow things down, or clarify what exactly they’re doing, or just ‘I love you I love you I love you’- but before he gets a chance, Dream is pulling away from him. He has a split second of that old insecurity, the ache of an old wound as he thinks that he’s pushed too far and now Dream is leaving. Only a second though.

Then Dream is sinking to his knees in front of him.

If he could die he’s pretty sure he would have. “Fuck, dream…” His voice cracks embarrassingly, and there’s not enough blood above his waist to say anything more intelligent than that.

Especially not when Dream smirks up at him and runs his hands over Hob’s thighs, letting his thumbs ghost torturously close to his zipper, “Is this alright, Hob Gadling?”

It’s not fair that Dream’s voice is still so even and smooth. Hob lets his head drop back against the back of the couch, letting out a long groan, “Fuck, yes, please -”

That’s all the encouragement Dream needs as he elegantly pops the button of his jeans open, sliding the zipper down. It is a miracle Hob doesn’t come the second long, cold fingers wrap around him, pulling his cock free, but it does destroy any self restraint as he starts babbling before Dream finishes the first stroke.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so gorgeous, how is this happening, how am I so lucky, wanted you for so long-”

He nearly screams when Dream leans forward to lick daintily at the precum beading at the head of his dick. He gives a soft hum of satisfaction, and then he meets Hob’s eyes and takes him into his mouth.

“OooooohmyfuckingGod-” There is no way this is real. But when he runs his hand through Dream’s hair it feels more real than anything he’s experienced in his centuries of life. Dream starts at a slow pace, sinking down and up steadily while Hob’s rambling becomes rapidly incomprehensible.

At some point, as he pulls back, he presses his tongue hard against the underside of his cock at the same time as one hand slips into his pants to palm at his balls. Hob keens, and his hand tightens in Dream’s hair unintentionally, holding him in place as his hips thrust upwards mindlessly. Dream lets out a choked, wounded noise as he hits the back of his throat, wincing slightly before quickly smoothing his expression.

Hob releases his hair immediately, gasping out through the sensation, breathless but still full of guilt, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Dream pulls back, lips red and shiny with spit, and blinks up at Hob in confusion, “It’s fine. You need not concern yourself with me.”

Hob opens his mouth to say ‘sex is all about concerning yourself with the other person’, but all that comes out is a long moan as Dream swallows him back down without hesitation. His thighs tense with the effort of keeping himself still, and he brings a hand up to pet Dream’s hair, careful not to grip or tug. Dream hums around him, runs his hands up Hob’s trembling thighs and presses his thumbs into his hip bones.

At some point, Hob realizes he has closed his eyes. He can feel his climax approaching embarrassingly rapidly, and he pulls his hands away, digs his fingers into the couch to prevent himself from gripping Dream. When he opens his eyes, he looks down and sees Dream gazing up at him through long, glistening eyelashes as he sinks down until his nose is pressed against the hair on his belly and that’s it for Hob. His head falls back against the couch, crying out loud enough to vaguely worry about getting a noise complaint, and he thinks he sees stars as he comes hard down Dream’s throat, shuddering as Dream swallows him through it.

When he finally catches his breath, Dream is still kneeling before him, licking swollen lips and waiting patiently for Hob’s brain to come back online.

“Fuck,” Hob let’s out a breathy laugh, slipping his sensitive cock back into his briefs but leaving his jeans undone. Reaching down, he rests a hand on Dream’s cheek, “Come ‘ere, Love.”

He pulls Dream back up onto his lap, but when he leans in to kiss him Dream stops him with a hand on his chest, frowning slightly. “I had you in my mouth,” he says as an explanation.

Hob only smirks deviously, “Exactly.” He grips the back of Dream’s neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft hairs at his nape, and pulls him forward firmly, kissing him deeply and licking into his mouth when he gasps in surprise.

When he is forced to pause for breath, he grins. “I taste good on you.”

Dream blushes so prettily, eyes wide with something like awe. With Dream straddling him like this, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his hips, Hob can see the way the front of Dream’s skin tight jeans are straining, the outline of his arousal making Hob’s mouth water. Head cleared slightly from his orgasm and suddenly impatient, Hob wraps his arms around Dream’s back and swings him around until he is stretched out on the couch with Hob hovering above him.

With a small, surprised smile on his face, Dream tilts his head, curious like a bird, “Planning to fuck me already, Hob Gadling?”

Hob’s cock makes a valiant effort at stirring when he hears the word “fuck” in Dream’s smooth, deep voice, but ultimately he has to laugh, “My refractory period’s not that good, I’m afraid,” he runs his hands down Dream’s sides, feeling the peaks and valleys of his ribcage through his shirt as he smirks, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t return the favor.”

The smile drops from Dream’s face, and his brow furrows questioningly, “You need not. There is no obligation to reciprocate.”

“I know,” Hob smiled, kissing Dream’s cheek, “but I want to.”

When he pulls back, Dream only looks more confused, “But. You do not have to.”

Now it’s Hob’s turn to be confused, raising an eyebrow, “So you said.”

Dream nods slowly, “So you. Do not have to. Do that.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that,” Hob huffed, “And I appreciate you not wanting to pressure me or whatever, but I want to.”

“It would… bring you pleasure?”

“I mean, yeah? In a sense…” Hob trailed off, narrowing his eyes as he tried to piece together what was going on in Dream’s head. “Do you… not enjoy oral?”

That would make sense, not everyone enjoyed everything, and regardless of the familiar, hard shape he had seen pressing against Dream’s jeans, that didn’t change that he wasn’t actually human. Maybe he needed something different.

For a long moment, Dream stared unblinkingly just over his shoulder. Hob didn’t rush him, and eventually he answered slowly, “I do not know.”

When he looked back, Hob was sending him a questioning look, and so he reluctantly elaborated, “I have. Done this for others. But never. Experienced. Receiving it myself.”

“You’re shitting me.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, the pure shock of it barreling through his filter. Dream stiffens below him, something like hurt in his eyes as he purses his lips and moves to stand.

“Perhaps I should go-”

“ No! ”

Dream somehow manages to tense even more at Hob’s exclamation, and Hob is quick to run soothing hands down his arms, trying to coax him back to softness, “I’m sorry, don’t leave, please. I shouldn’t have said that, I was just…” he allows himself a huff of laughter, “Honestly I’m shocked. I can’t fathom anyone getting you into their bed and not begging to get their mouth on you.”

A blush spreads across Dream’s face, even as his expression remains stoic, and it’s so endearing that Hob can’t help but bring a hand up to stroke one gently flushed cheek bone. He can practically see the wheels turning in Dream’s head, and so he lets him take his time to choose his words.

Eventually, he lowers his gaze and says, “That is not… what I am for.”

Hob tilted his head and frowned, “'For'?”

Nodding, Dream continues, still not meeting Hob’s eyes, “I am. A fantasy. A vessel for other people’s pleasure. And while I do find enjoyment in doing these things for you, that is not the point of it. It is not… about me. It's for you. I. Am for you."

Sometimes Dream does this. Explains something casually, stoically, as if it doesn’t matter. As if he doesn't matter. As if his words don’t slice Hob’s heart to the quick.

Slowly, Hob cups Dream's face in his hands, tilting his face up to look at him before leaning down to kiss him softly. Dream sighs into his mouth, and manages to relax ever so slightly as Hob pulls just far enough apart to speak against his lips.

“You're not a vessel , you’re my friend . And I don’t want to scare you off, but you’re also the love of my very long life. You’re not ‘for’ anything, not to me. I want to make you feel good too, because I love you, and you deserve to feel good."

He can feel the way Dream wants to argue, so he kisses him again, stroking his thumbs across the cold, smooth skin of his jaw. "I want these to be things I do with you, not to you.”

Dream's frowns, brow furrowed and looking at Hob as if he has handed him some nonsensical puzzle. He brings one elegant hand up to run through Hob's hair, sliding until he can rest his icy fingers on the back of Hob's neck.

"I enjoyed bringing you pleasure."

"I believe you," Hob nodded, "and I'm glad. So maybe you can understand how I would enjoy bringing you pleasure?" His voice tilts teasingly, raising his eyebrows pointedly, and he is rewarded with a quirk of Dream’s lips.

He leans down to kiss the corner of that tentative smile, "We don't have to. But I would be honored to be the one allowed to bring you pleasure for once."

A shuddering breath escapes Dream, Hob feels it as he nuzzles against his cheek. They’re both still tangled up together, Hob letting just a bit of his weight press Dream down into the worn couch cushions. He knows what he wants, but in truth, Hob would be over the moon even if Dream asks that they spend their night doing nothing more than this.

"....Okay."

Hob tries very hard to reign in his enthusiasm, but he still probably sits up just a little too fast, grinning in excitement, “Okay? You sure?”

Dream nods, cheeks coloring again and avoiding Hob’s eager gaze, “Yes. I… Yes.”

There is still an air of uncertainty to him. A nervousness that makes him seem almost young, and Hob just wants to take care of him. To give him every good thing this world has to offer.

“Come on,” he gives him one last peck on the lips before tugging him up to stand, “you’re not having your first time on my shitty, thrift store couch.”

“‘First time’?” Dream snorted. His haughty tone was betrayed by the vice grip he had on Hob’s hand, “I am no virgin, Hob Gadling.”

“Virginity is a construct,” Hob winked, leading them into his bedroom, keeping the lights dim, “I just mean that this is your first time experiencing this particular sex act, and so I want to make it as perfect as my human self possibly can.”

A big part of that, he doesn’t say out loud, means making Dream comfortable, which he has come to learn is not something that comes easily to him. And he doesn’t blame him- he’s got the entirety of humanity’s unconscious held within him, and he was very recently very terribly hurt. He understood why Dream struggled to relax, he did. But still. He wanted to be a safe place for him, a harbor where he could rest and be taken care of.

It’s with this in mind that he kisses Dream’s knuckles before guiding him to lay on the bed, pushing aside the crumpled sheets that he hadn’t made in the morning and moving his pillows to cushion Dream's head and neck. It feels like arranging a mannequin, every inch of Dream’s body coiled and tense, keeping himself perfectly still wherever Hob places him.

Even when Hob crawls on top of him, holding his weight carefully on his forearms and slotting one knee between Dream’s thighs, Dream remains unmoving, looking up at Hob with a deliberately neutral gaze.

Not exactly ideal. But they’ve got time.

“This position does not seem conducive to your goal.”

Dream’s tone is almost condescending, but it doesn’t hide the way his entire body feels like he’s bracing for something.

“My ‘goal’? You mean my most honored task of focusing on you and making you feel good?” Hob grins teasingly, stroking Dream’s clenched jaw and leaning down to capture his lips before he can argue.

The kiss starts soft and slow. Dream seems to like kissing, doesn’t seem to overthink it too much, and all he wants right now is to bleed some of the tension from his frame. To get him out of his own head. It takes a few minutes of just petting Dream’s face and sucking gently on his lower lip before Dream finally hesitantly raises his hands from the mattress, resting them shyly on Hob’s waist.

It’s a stark contrast to the Dream of earlier, confident and bold, and Hob wants nothing more than to reward his participation, to encourage him to reach for what he wants. Bracing himself more steadily, he presses the knee between Dream’s legs against his crotch, deepening the kiss when Dream gasps into his mouth. He can feel the hard press of him as Dream unconsciously grinds down against his thigh, just for a moment, before he catches himself and stills again.

Hob breaks away to begin mouthing down the pale length of his throat, nipping at his skin as he murmurs, “Come on, now.” He pushes his leg more firmly against him, sliding his hands around Dream’s lower back to rock him against his thigh, “Let go for me, Love.”

Dream’s fingers curl into his shirt, and Hob sucks at the spot on his throat where he can feel his breath catch. Running his fingers just under the hem of his shirt, Hob can feel that some of the tension has left him, and he kneads at the skin of his waist and hips, pressing his fingers into the coiled muscles until they release under his ministrations. He feels more than hears a deep whine in Dream’s chest when he slides a hand up to twist at his nipples.

“That’s it,” he grins against his skin as he moves to bite at Dream’s earlobe, relishing in the way it makes his whine pitch higher.

He is so focused on leaving a mark on the inhuman skin behind Dream's ear that he almost misses the hand sneaking down to palm at his crotch, where he’s managed to get half hard without his noticing. That said, he is alerted to the touch by his own gasping breath, and he’s quick to wrap a hand around Dream's pale, cold wrist and pin it into the mattress before he gets too distracted.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolds, leaning back to raise an eyebrow, "it's your turn, remember?"

The being below him pouts, furrowing his brows in frustration, "But. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing."

Dream shifted below him, a tinge of genuine distress coloring his expression, "That hardly seems fair."

"Hmf. Funny…” Hob drawled, snagging Dream’s other wrist and pinning his hands on either side of his head, pressing them into the mattress as he leaned down to whisper against his ear, “you didn't have a problem with me sitting back and doing nothing while you sucked my brain out through my prick."

He can feel Dream shiver below him, and when he responds his voice is a little weaker, "You speak. Very familiarly with me."

Hob laughs, "I am very familiar with you." Dream huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. Possibly because of the way his chest hitches when Hob returns to his task of marking up his neck and massaging his arse through his jeans.

"Relax,” Hob whispers, “Just relax."

This time it is less of a shiver and more of a full body shudder, a long moan escaping Dream as his back arches just slightly, searching for more friction. Hob begins a slow descent down his body, grazing his teeth across his collar bones and pressing a wet kiss to the hollow of his throat. He kisses down his chest, pushing up his shirt just enough to kiss at his stomach. Hob wants nothing more than for them to press together with nothing between them, just skin on skin. But he remembers the way Dream’s voice had wavered when he described his captivity in Fawney Rig, and tonight does not feel like the night to push at that boundary.

Comfortable. He wants Dream comfortable.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also want to rile him up a bit.

Biting at the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, Hob situated himself between Dream’s legs, his chin brushing against the bulge there, “I’ve been drooling for you since 1395.”

Dream tries to bite off his groan, but Hob can still feel the way his thighs tremble on either side of his body, and when he glances up he sees Dream’s hands clutching at the bedsheets, head thrown back and panting.

Hob grinned deviously, maneuvering Dream until his legs are resting over his shoulders. "The second I saw you, heard your voice… God your voice just drips with sex, I wanted to get on my knees then and there. Wanted to rinse out the taste of shitty ale with the taste of you."

“Hob-”

He got the impression that Dream was trying to sound affronted, but ultimately he slapped a hand over his own mouth when the word came out thin and needy. Hob tutted, and reached to pull the offending hand down, placing it on the back of his own head.

“Let me hear you, baby.”

Even grinding his teeth together couldn’t silence his whine as Hob finally got Dream’s jeans open. After so long getting him worked up, Dream couldn’t help but exhale a shuddering breath as his prick was finally released from the restrictive denim.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Hob swallowed thickly. Dream’s fingers spasmed in his hair, not quite gripping. “You can tug a little, it’s okay,” he sucked a mark on the space where his thigh creased, feeling Dream’s hips stutter as his cock brushed the scruff on Hob’s cheek, “I like it, promise.”

He moaned as Dream got his hair in a proper grip, not painful, but there. Satisfied with the purple mark blooming on his pelvis, Hob finally turned his attention to the long, flushed cock in front of him.

A soft whimper escaped Dream as Hob’s breath ghosted over the sensitive flesh, voice soft and desperate and lost as he offered one last time, "You don't-.... You don't have to-..."

"I want ."

And with that, Hob couldn’t hold back anymore, sinking down in one smooth movement, a firm grip on Dream’s hips keeping him pressed into the bed even as he cried out and clenched both hands loosely in Hob’s hair. Hob himself couldn’t help but moan loudly around Dream’s prick, feeling his own arousal spike at finally getting to taste the strange, salty sweetness of him.

Dream’s voice cracks as Hob pulls back to swirl his tongue around the head, “Hob, Hob, Hob-!” and he can feel his legs trembling violently around his shoulders. Gripping his arse firmly, Hob sank down again, pulling Dream closer until he feels him bump against the back of his throat, and then he swallows.

The sound Dream makes can only be described as a wail, and his hand scramble for purchase around Hob’s shoulders, desperately seeking an anchor as Hob hollows his cheeks and picks up the pace. Hob finds himself rutting against the mattress, his cock throbbing and aching for stimulation.

“Hob,” his name comes out on a sob, “I- ahhhhh, Hob I will not last, I’m, I’m-”

In all honesty he’s lasted longer than Hob expected, so now he simply hums encouragingly around him as he lowers himself one last time to take Dream as deep as he can go. He can feel the way Dream’s muscles tense, his knees locking around Hob’s head as he comes with a long, drawn out cry, and when he finally reaches a hand between his own legs, it only takes a few frantic rubs before Hob is coming in his underwear right along with him. Hob swallows around Dream’s orgasm, milking him dry until his whimpers border on pain from overstimulation.

Pulling off of him, Hob takes a few deep, gasping breaths, feeling full and floaty and satisfied. Looking up, he falls even more in love as he watches Dream’s body melt into the mattress. He is still panting, and his shirt sticks to his chest from sweat. There are little purple and red marks on his neck and hip, his softening cock shiny with Hob’s spit, and he looks boneless and soft in the dim lighting.

Tucking him gently back into his underwear, Hob ignores the sticky discomfort in his pants in favor of crawling up the bed to cover Dream with his body. Hovering over him, he sees Dream has his eyes closed as he catches his breath, and fresh tear tracks are running down his face. Frowning, Hob brings his hands up to wipe at the tears with his thumbs.

"Hey…Are you alright?" He whispers.

Dream nods without hesitation, and Hob lets out a sigh of relief. After a few more deep breaths, Dream opens his eyes, gazing up at Hob and looking almost embarrassed.

"I… I have done this for others. I know the experience from dreams. I… understood what it would feel like. But it was still… a lot."

Hob doesn't think right now is the best time to explain touch-starvation to Dream, so he simply hums sympathetically, kissing the corners of his eyes gently, "That makes sense. Knowing something and feeling something are very different experiences."

“Indeed,” Dream huffed.

After a moment of hesitation, Hob quietly asks, “...Good, though?”

Dream’s laugh is a soft thing, but his smile is genuine as he blinks up at Hob fondly, “Yes. Very.” He pauses before adding, “...Thank you.”

Chuckling, Hob couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss him, “Nothing to thank me for, Love.” For a long moment they stay pressed together from lips to thighs, relaxed and loose and sated. When they pull apart, Dream smirks

“I taste good on you.”

Hob lets out a barking laugh, his cheeks coloring as he ducks his head against Dream’s neck, “Oh, someone learns quick I see.”

Dream smirked, petting his hair, and his every touch seemed to radiate affection. Unfortunately, they eventually have to disentangle so that Hob can clean himself up, a revelation that has Dream staring at him, wide eyed and confused.

“You…? But I didn’t…?”

He cuts him off with a kiss, “Don’t overthink it.” It’s an impossible request, but Dream at least seems content enough post orgasm to let it go for now. Before Hob leaves the bed, he takes a moment to catch Dream's eye, whispering a quick plea, “Stay?”

Dream gazes at him in wonder, looking at Hob as though he has performed some great feat of magic, “Yes. Please.”

It is hard to break away long enough to change, but eventually Hob reluctantly manages it, fixing himself up in record time, and when he returns to bed Dream has swapped his jeans for dream-soft joggers. Hob straightens the sheets, and Dream curls into his side, resting his head over Hob's heartbeat. He is still soft, still relaxed, still here.

All things considered, Hob thinks it might be his favorite part of the night.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #nsft #I can't believe this was the fandom that finally got me to try writing smut #and I STILL had to add some h/c #what am I doing with my life #(answer: my best)

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signiorbenedickofpadua · 8 months

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Anachronistic Greetings

by SigniorBenedickofPadua — Read on AO3

Pairing: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Rating: Mature Words: 2900 Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Accidental Kissing, Professor Hob Gadling, First Kiss, Getting Together, Dream Sex, Middle English. Counter Sex, or counter-foreplay to be precise, Accidental Confession, Daydreaming, Feelings Revealed by Daydreaming

Summary:

Hob is sleep deprived. That's fine, it happens, he's used to it. It's just that when you're 600-something the centuries can start to blend together a bit when you're tired. Enough so, apparently, that when Dream pops by for a visit, Hob's muddled brain decides to greet him with a "Salve!" and a kiss on the lips like it's still 1389 and he's greeting any old friend and not the cosmic being he's secretly in love with in the year of our Lord 2023. It's a good thing Dream is understanding. Very understanding.

Hob stared down at the kitchen table he was sitting at, resting his head in his hands as he absently followed the pattern of the wood grain with unseeing eyes, mind occupied with thoughts of absolutely nothing at all. He could have been sitting there for anything between seconds and hours for all he knew when he suddenly blinked and realised that he had entered the kitchen to get something to eat. Probably. He was fairly sure he hadn’t eaten yet.

He shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it and come back to the then and there. He had just gotten home from work, and he was going to have dinner. Right. Yes. Only problem was he hadn’t quite got to that point before spacing out and forgetting what he was doing due to the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He’d had to stay up late marking essays, after which his brain had just refused to shut off and stop thinking about Middle English syntax for long enough for him to fall asleep.

Actually, come to think of it, that was two nights ago. Had he been awake all of last night too? He thought he might have been, having been too tired to fall asleep because the human body was bloody stupid like that. He attributed the fact that he hadn’t simply collapsed in front of his students while lecturing to his experience marching for days without proper rest back when he was constantly fighting for or against one Plantagenet king or another. But just because his body had kept going through the day didn’t mean his brain had followed at the same pace.

He felt a little bad for his students, to be honest, because he doubted his lectures had been up to his usual standards. At one point, if he remembered correctly, he had slipped into Middle French for several sentences before realising it, and, while talking about how the printing press had contributed to standardising the vocabulary of the English language, he was pretty sure he had used the pronouns “I” and “we” a few too many times to be entirely advisable for someone who was keen on keeping their immortality a secret.

He blinked again. Food. Right. He’d gotten distracted thinking about why he was distracted in the first place. Maybe he should just give up and go straight to bed, to catch up. Or maybe he’d better stay awake and go to bed at a normal time so as not to fuck up his sleep schedule even more by going to sleep at five in the afternoon. Hm. Dinner first. Then decisions.

He had just gotten up from his chair with the intention of opening the fridge to see what his options were when he heard a knock on his front door. Seconds later, he heard it opening. Hob instinctively reached for a sword which no longer hung at his hip before realising that a burglar probably wouldn’t bother knocking before breaking in, and that he had, in fact, forgotten to lock the door behind him when he got home.

The door closed behind his visitor, and he heard a familiar voice call, “Hob?”

Ah, of course. Who else would just waltz into his flat without waiting to be let in? He supposed he should be grateful Dream had learned to knock at all instead of just travelling by sand straight to Hob’s living room as he had often done back when the two of them had first started spending time together outside their centennial appointments. A wide smile spread across his face as he made his way into the hallway and laid eyes on his old friend. Sleep deprivation or not, Dream was always welcome.

“Salve, my freend,” he greeted him, laying his hands on Dream’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes to reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. “Wel y-mette.” He turned and headed back towards the kitchen. “I was just going to figure out dinner. Can I get you anything?”

There was no response, but Hob hadn’t really expected much of one. Asking Dream if he wanted something to eat or drink was mostly just a habitual courtesy — he knew he rarely indulged in such things in the waking world. He opened the fridge and looked over its contents with his own needs in mind as he waited for Dream to catch up and join him in the kitchen, which took longer than expected. Settling on some leftover stew, he removed the tupperware from the fridge and wandered over to the breadbox on the counter, cursing when he realised he was out of trencher bread. Wait. No. Why the fuck would he use a trencher? He had plates nowadays. Christ, he needed to sleep.

“Is this style of greeting coming back into fashion?” he heard Dream ask from the doorway, and he tore his eyes from the breadbox he had been blindly staring at for just a bit too long to look up at his friend.

“Hm? What greeting?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “You do not usually kiss me when I enter your home.”

If Hob’s brain had been moving slowly before, now it froze completely. “Kiss? I didn’t—” His short-term memory finally caught up with him and he felt suddenly faint. “Oh, God… I’m— Fuck, I’m sorry, Dream.” The ice-cold fear that had gripped his heart was somewhat lessened by the fact that Dream looked mildly amused rather than offended, and he buried his rapidly flushing face in his hands. “Christ, I didn’t mean to— Sorry, I’m really out of it today and I think my brain has been stuck in the wrong century the entire day. I was going for a friendly greeting and apparently chose something that would’ve been appropriate six hundred years ago — before, you know, kissing on the mouth like that had the, uh, intimate connotations it has today.”

“I am aware of the greeting customs of humans, past and present,” Dream said, and when Hob dared to look up again, he could see the corner of his friend’s mouth twitch slightly, “I was merely taken aback by the anachronism.”

Hob took that as confirmation that he was forgiven for his slip-up, and he allowed himself a slightly nervous chuckle to lighten the mood, trying very hard to push back the thought that he had actually kissed Dream. He now knew what those lips felt like against his own, after having fantasised about it for ages. And this is how he found out? Through an absent-mindedly archaic greeting that was over in a second? Fucking hell, Gadling, get a grip. He needed to invest in sleeping pills after this, to prevent anything like it to ever happen again.

“Well, still. Sorry. Wouldn’t have been appropriate even if this had been the 14th century, would it? We’re hardly equals — you know, with you being a literal king and all. Someone like me should have kissed the hem of your coat, or the ground at your feet, or something like that.”

Dream took a step closer to where Hob was leaning back against the counter. “You are not my subject, Hob Gadling. You are my friend. I would rather have you kiss me like an equal.”

And wasn’t that a thought? Hob tried to remind himself that Dream’s words were on the subject of platonic greetings in a historical context, but he was finding it very, very hard not to imagine him saying the same thing in a modern context — as an invitation. His eyes dropped down to Dream’s plump lips, which looked so much softer when turned up in fond amusement than when pursed in annoyance or fury. Quite against his conscious efforts not to, he recalled the way they had parted slightly in surprise when he had covered them with his own and how they had not been as cool as he had previously imagined them, but pleasantly warm and lush. He imagined they would feel even more so if Dream initiated a kiss instead of being surprised by one. Especially if he abandoned the platonic pretence and kissed Hob the way he had dreamt of for far longer than he cared to admit.

Dream’s lips moved, saying something that Hob didn’t quite register, but which at least made him realise that he had been staring rather rudely.

“Hm?” he said again, tearing his eyes away to meet Dream’s. They were darker and closer to him than they had been before. “Sorry, what?”

“You are sleep deprived,” Dream stated simply.

“How did you know?”

“I am Dream of the Endless. I know.” He stepped even closer to Hob, almost crowding him against the counter. “And, being half asleep as you are, your daydreams are far more vivid and harder to ignore than usual.”

“What— Oh.” Oh no… “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No need to apologise,” Dream murmured. He was practically hovering over Hob at this point. “Unless…you did not mean it?”

His nose brushed lightly against Hob’s, and Hob forgot how to breathe. “Mean what?” he managed to squeeze out, dizzy with proximity to his oldest friend.

This close he could smell him. He could feel Dream’s breath (which he did not strictly need) dance over his lips when he spoke again, a low rumble which reverberated through Hob’s entire body and lit a fire in his belly.

“Do you wish me to stop?” Dream clarified, and there could be no question as to his meaning. Not when his body made contact with Hob’s, pressing him up against the counter, gently but insistently.

“No,” Hob breathed, half suspecting that he had, in fact, fallen asleep at the kitchen table and that this was a dream. But he had been friends with Dream long enough to be able to tell the difference between dreaming and waking, as well as how to tell if his friend was actually there in his dreams. As unlikely as this was, his feet were firmly planted in the Waking, even if his mind was at risk of straying dangerously close to the Dreaming in his current state. “No, I don’t.”

“Very well.” Dream’s voice was halfway between a purr and a growl as he surged forward, closing the remaining distance to slot their lips and bodies together.

Hob had been right. There was a world of difference between giving Dream a little peck on the mouth and being kissed by him in earnest. To say that sparks flew would be an understatement. It was more akin to being consumed but a wildfire, burning hot and fierce. Gone was the reserved stiffness his friend often exhibited in public. Now he sank his hands into Hob’s hair with passionate abandon and licked into his mouth like a man dying of thirst hoping to catch every last drop of water in his cup. He pressed himself close to Hob, slipping a knee between his legs and rolling his hips experimentally, obviously pleased when it wrung a moan out of Hob.

Hob’s hands flew up to Dream’s hips, finding their way beneath his stupid, elegant coat which he still hadn’t removed. He clutched at the fabric of his shirt, using it to pull his friend even closer, marvelling at the solidity of his thin body as he splayed a hand over his ribs and moved it in a caress around to his back. He could count every knob in his spine by touch, yes, but the muscles surrounding it were strong and firm and they danced beneath his hand as Dream reached down and lifted Hob onto the countertop like he weighed absolutely nothing — and fuck, if that wasn’t a turn on…

Hob retaliated by wrapping his legs around Dream’s lithe form and groaned when his friend rutted up against him. He was reasonably sure that Dream must have made himself taller than he’d been a moment ago for their groins to still be at the same height, but he had a hard time focusing on that when it felt so damn good to have Dream’s obvious erection rub against his own, even through far too many layers of clothes.

“Fuck, Dream…” he gasped when Dream, a good while later, broke the kiss to instead mouth at the side of his neck, then up to nip at a sensitive earlobe, all while slipping his hands under the hem of his shirt to palm at longing skin. “Are you… Ah! Do you want to take this to the bedroom?”

He was proud of himself for managing the question without his voice trembling. Despite the fact that Dream had initiated this whole thing and was clearly as excited about it as Hob was, he still felt the half-irrational fear that any sudden moves or potentially offending propositions might send his friend running like he had the last time Hob had dared presume too much.

Dream hummed against the spot where Hob’s ear connected to his jaw and dragged his fingernails lightly down his back, sending a shiver down his spine. “A sensible idea. You are weary and need to rest.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Nevertheless, I think perhaps you ought to get some sleep. I can feel you yearning for the Dreaming, in mind and body alike.”

“For its ruler, maybe. I may be a bit tired, but I’d rather continue this than try and fail to go to sleep right now.”

He would never admit it, but a pang of anxiety shot through him at the thought of interrupting this at this point. He needed them to see it through, and to talk about it afterwards to figure out what the hell it meant. If they stopped now, if Dream left… Would they have the courage to bring it up the next time they saw each other, or would they dance around it for a few more centuries? He wasn’t sure he could bear that.

Dream pulled back enough to meet Hob’s eyes. His lips were red and puffy and sported an amused smile. “Hob, I shall join you in the Dreaming, naturally. I too am quite keen to finish what we have started.” He punctuated this with a roll of his hips which chased Hob’s fears away to make room for arousal. “As for falling asleep — there are certain benefits to keeping the King of Dreams as one’s lover. It will not prove an obstacle.”

Hob hardly heard anything he said after the word lover, which bounced around in his head like an intoxicating echo. “Well, then… Bringe me to bedde, louer myn,” he murmured, lifting a hand to push a strand of Dream’s wild hair behind his ear. It was just as soft as it looked.

His lover smiled and whispered, “Slepe, thanne, my biloued.”

Dream bent his head to place a gentle kiss on Hob’s forehead, and suddenly it was nigh on impossible to keep his eyes open. The last thing Hob was conscious of before sleep claimed him was his head slumping forward to rest on Dream’s shoulder. Then everything went dark and fuzzy.

***

When Hob next opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. He found himself in a room he did not recognise, but he knew it belonged to the Palace of the Dreaming. It was unclear whether he knew it because he recognised the stone the walls were built from, or the style of the lofty stained-glass windows, or because of the way you just knew things sometimes when you dreamt, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was that he was lucid, that he was in a bed, that he was naked beneath the sheets, and that Dream stood before him by the side of the bed, dressed only in a diaphanous black robe which was seemingly woven from pure shadow.

“Hello, Hob,” Dream rumbled, voice impossibly deep and sonorous here in his natural habitat. His eyes gleamed with starlight as he looked down at Hob.

“Please tell me I’m not currently asleep in a heap on my kitchen floor,” was what Hob managed to say after suppressing the urge to just whine and rip that horribly teasing robe off of Dream’s body.

“Of course not. I carried you to bed. The point was to ensure you got some restful sleep, which the floor is hardly suited for.”

“Oh, that’s the point of this, is it?” Hob asked with a breathless laugh, running his eyes down the neckline of the robe, which plunged dangerously low.

Dream smirked. “Among other things.” He placed a knee on the bed, and then, in an unnaturally smooth movement, he was seated across Hob’s hips, their bodies separated only by the gossamer fabric of the robe and the silky satin of the sheets.

“And what were those, again? Would you care to remind me?” Hob teased, reaching out to slide his hands up slim but powerful thighs.

“It would be my pleasure.”

That night, as Hob would later reflect, put every wet dream he’d had in his very long life to shame. The next morning, he woke up well-rested but starving, with a distinctly uncomfortable situation in his pants and a tupperware container full of spoiled stew waiting for him in the kitchen. That didn’t matter much, however, when he also woke up to find the King of Dreams in his bed.

#The Sandman fanfic #Dreamling fanfic #The Sandman #Dreamling #One-shot #my fic #Can you BELIEVE that I actually wrote something under 10k?#I certainly can't #It's a bit disorienting tbh

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cuubism · 2 years

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some uhhhhh dreamling smut that got a litttttle more kinky than originally intended 😳

necessary background: this is from me and @magnusbae insane and stupid au wherein dream starts coming around the university and hob's students assume he's hob's sugar baby cuz like he doesn't work? he's always wearing really nice clothes? hob pays for everything? how did hob pull this hot goth anyway? and dream does absolutely nothing to disabuse them of this notion, if anything he cleverly and carefully encourages the idea because fuck it, he loves a good story. he is the king of stories after all. hob gets in on it later

secondary less important background is dream spending his free time around the university making art and sculptures and stuff because he is a CREATOR even in the waking world. and of course his sculptures are amazing.

ANYWAY

---

“Professor Gadling, might I have a word?”

That voice never ceased to make Hob stutter where he stood, no matter how often he heard it, how often it whispered endearments and worse in his ear. If anything, he was more affected the longer things went on.

He turned, chalk still held in his hand from where he’d been writing on the board.

Dream lounged in the doorway, hip pressed against the doorframe, hands casually in his pockets. And he was wearing—

Holy God, Hob was going to die and then come back to life and then kill him.

Hob first noticed that he was not wearing a shirt, unless the strings of jewels – rubies? diamonds? – draped over his chest counted. They glimmered sharply even under the weak classroom lights. Dream was kept modest, barely, by a long silk blazer that narrowed his shoulders and cut low to the upper thigh.

Thank fuck he was wearing regular pants, at least, ankle-length black slacks, and— were those fucking loafers? The other day, a student had made a comment – rather inappropriate, Hob really should reprimand them, not that he would ever get around to it – about Hob being some kind of Victorian maiden bowled over by the sight of an exposed ankle, and Dream had apparently taken this as a personal bet, for he was not wearing socks, either.

And the smirk on his face was like fire.

“Um,” Hob said, managing with great effort not to collapse on the spot. He glanced at the clock. “You know what? There’s only ten minutes left of class anyway. Why don’t you all go home early; I’ll send out the lecture notes and we’ll pick this up next week.”

None of the students seemed upset to get out early, but they were tittering amongst themselves, looking between Hob and Dream. This was becoming a problem. In a mere one semester, Dream had turned Hob’s university reputation from good-natured modest professor to deranged sex fiend.

That was what Hob got for loving the Prince of Stories, for he could never resist a good one, even if it was at Hob’s peril.

When the students had gone, Hob took Dream’s hand and dragged him down the hall. “My office. Now.”

“Oh dear,” Dream mused as he was yanked down the hallway and into Hob’s office. That smirk still hadn’t left his face. “I am in trouble.”

As soon as they were inside and the door was very firmly locked, Hob pressed Dream up against it with a hand around the base of his throat. “Are you trying to kill me, love?”

Dream leaned into Hob’s hand. His eyes were burning. “I would bring you as close to death as I could and then pull you back.”

“You’re managing it.” Hob released him, pinning him by his waist instead – his bare waist, mother of Christ – and kissing his throat, his collarbone, his sternum over the draped jewels. Dream leaned his head back against the door, sighing like a wanting creature now satiated. “You should be classified as a public hazard.”

“I would like to be your hazard,” said Dream, as Hob mouthed his way down his stomach. The jewels swung and glimmered unnaturally bright against his skin, crimson and shining like fresh love marks. Hob knelt to nip above the waistband of his slacks, tangling a hand in the dangling chain and tugging so it pulled on the back of Dream’s neck.

Dream arched his back against the door, petting at Hob’s hair like Hob had done something particularly pleasing to his majesty.

“I suppose this is exactly what you planned?” Hob gasped, wrapping his hands around the backs of his thighs.

“Perhaps.”

“Menace.” Hob tugged at his slacks and managed to unbutton them with his teeth. “You ruin me. Never stop.”

“I was not planning on it.”

Hob lurched to his feet again, pulling him forward by the bejeweled chain. “Come.”

Dream did as Hob bade, but the way a tiger might perform on a leash – easily escaping with one swipe of its claws. He let Hob push him up onto his desk and crowd between his legs. Hob had to push one of Dream’s ridiculous sculptures out of the way to do it, and was careful not to let it fall.

“Let it smash,” Dream murmured into his mouth as Hob kissed and bit at his lips. “I will make another.”

“I’m not going to break one of your sculptures, Michelangelo.” Hob huffed. “That would be sacrilege.”

“I make them not for the finished product, but for the experience of using my hands.”

Hob slipped his hands under Dream’s blazer. The fabric was incredibly soft, but not as soft as his skin. “The experience of using your hands, hm?”

Dream’s lips curved up against his. “Mmhmm.”

He tugged Hob’s shirt from his waistband, pressing those strong, delicate hands to Hob’s back, holding him close.

“You know,” Hob murmured against his ear, mapping Dream’s stomach with his fingertips, smooth skin punctuated by jewels, “I believe I vastly underestimated the experience of loving such a dedicated, skillful artist.”

“Are you saying that you like my hands, Hob Gadling?” Dream asked, and used those hands to unzip his jeans, slipping one in to wrap around him, never once looking away from Hob’s face. The tips of his fingers were always a bit cold, but Hob liked the way they warmed against his skin.

He struggled to regain his breath. “In so many words.”

Dream looked so superior. “Good.”

“I’ll show you good, you nightmare,” Hob muttered, and tangled a hand in his hair, tipping his head back. Dream still just looked down at him from under his lashes, muscles straining.

“You shall?”

“I’d take you home and lay you out and show you if I thought we would get that far.”

“Worry not, this—” Dream wrapped the glimmering chains around his hand until they cut into the skin in white lines— “can always make a reappearance.”

“It had better.”

Hob finally got his own hand around Dream, wrapping his other arm around his back to hold him close, and Dream twined his legs around Hob’s back. This pressed them close enough that they were essentially just grinding against each other, barely managing anything more precise. Hob ravaged his mouth, giving in to the sheer power of Dream in these clothes, and Dream only urged him on, biting at his lip.

Heat raged through Hob’s body. He found the strings of jewels again and twisted them around his fist, pulling so they went taught around Dream’s neck like a choker.

Dream’s breath stuttered and tripped over itself and then they both came, one on top of the other. Dream’s legs tightened around Hob’s back. He panted into Hob’s mouth.

When they’d caught their breath, Hob held his face between his hands and kissed him, light kisses on his forehead, cheek, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, the tenderness deserving of such an exquisite creature, and Dream smiled.

He collapsed back onto Hob’s desk, arms draped languidly above his head, jacket falling open on his naked chest. His mouth was ruined, and there were hickeys already starting to settle on his neck and stomach, but he didn’t seem to mind. He closed his eyes, humming. They had just come, and Hob still wanted him with a violence. If anything, it was worse.

“We shall have to do this again,” Dream murmured, voice barely more than a gravelly hum.

Hob sat down in his desk chair, running his fingers through his hair as Dream sprawled before him like some kind of hunter’s catch. “What, ruining my reputation with my students?”

“Among other things.”

“Nightmarish, you are,” Hob said fondly.

Dream tipped his face into Hob’s hand. “Hmm. Yes.”

#magnusbae and i have gotten a LITTLE OBSESSED with dream's fashion and with JEWELRY IN PARTICULAR #also come talk to us about Nightmare as a pet name ok #magnusbae #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #smut #undernegotiated kink #uh #choking kink #can't believe i'm having to put that tag on something god help me #my writing #the. uh.#sugar baby au #?#silly rabbit au

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hardly-an-escape · 4 months

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Fluffbruary Day 7

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Dream/Hob • rated G • potatoes | blue | glass

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and Hob Gadling is monologuing about potatoes.

“Mind you, they were a novelty at first. Potatoes were exotic. They grew them in botanical gardens – those who didn’t think them New World poison, that is. And now? Find me a pub in London that doesn’t sell chips or crisps or fancy pommes frites. Bloody amazing.”

He pops a chip in his mouth and leans back again.

“And I’ve read – take this with a grain of salt, but – I’ve read that you can survive on a diet of only potatoes, provided you have a source of…”

Dream smiles.

prompt list!

#dreamling #my writing #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #the sandman #I too have strong feelings about potatoes #can't believe I've actually done a full week of these!#100 words

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lucienne-thee-librarian · 9 days

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Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly that's not the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

#thessaly #wanda the sandman #hob gadling #I could've cried sexism!!! Problematic Male vs Female Characters except 1) I don't actually think that's the main reason *here*#2) there are WAY better examples of that particular double standard in this fandom #also i can admit when I'm a bit of a hypocrite or was.#i used to dip my toes into the dreamling stuff too early on #but idk. It just got too sour seeing ppl whitewash (lol I know I'm a comedian)#what he did over and over. And I genuinely had started to wonder #if the show hadn't included that particular crime and I'd just imagined it from the comics because #my memory is shit sometimes and I guess I was naive. I *wanted* to believe someone would talk aboutit #if it had made it in. but ultimately i went back and checked and no #and seeing how the whole fandom behaving affected my non-white mutuals some of whom...#like these are my friends man or ppl I just respect and I can't just. Ignore their feelings and their pov #and act like they werent making points or it doesn't matter #like it's all just fun and games for everyone on the same terms. And seeing how easy it was #for everyone to ignore was so unsettling. I couldn't keep pretending it was just fiction and didn't affect anyone real #Call me a bully a t3rf apologist (fuck you and for the record. no)#a puritan or a Fancop (actually stop comparing #people disagreeing with you online to what cops do. For fucks sake you just make it look like nothing is really real to you outside fandom)#whatever man. Whatever helps you sleep. I'm just gonna block you #if you're clearly sticking your fingers in your ears. engaging with you is a waste of time and energy then #Hell I have sympathy for anyone who doesn't like thessaly #especially trans fans. Especially rn. But lbr that sympathy for a lot of the white trans/queer fans only goes one way!!!#never gets extended to anyone else's issues. Like THATSthe issue. And it's shitty!#(sorry this post is not about me in the confessional lol that's why I put this at the bottom #I just had feelings to get out and yes its my blog but i didn't want to clog the airways)

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greenwood-witch · 2 years

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500 Years of Dream of the Endless. The complete collection of Lord Morpheus through the days of yore.

MMM

#sandman #tom sturridge #neil gaiman #dream of the endless #dreamling #prince of stories #sandman netflix #nagel #okay it's not nagel #because it's me #but of course we can all see patrick nagel is one of my favourite artists #this was a challenge #believe it or not #to do such minimal shading #but I still can't get this guy out of my head #morpheus #lord morpheus

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justnerdystuffs · 2 years

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Okay SO! Headcanon time!

Imagine if at some point after 1889 Hob runs into Corithian and they hit it off. Y'know. As Corinthian does. And so after a veeeery good time, he reveals hos eyes which stuns Hob so much he doesn't do anything and Corinthian kills him.

Or well. He would have, if not for Hob's specific situation.

Queue Hob coming back to life and just basically going 'What the fuck just happened' except Corinthian is Gone.

And then. Like. Plot stuff happens. Corinthian is remade at some point, at which point he runs into Dream and Hob, either in the Dreaming or the waking. And he looks at this human and goes.

'Wait. What. I killed you! I know I did!' and Hob 'Death is a mug's game' Gadling looks at him and goes 'It didn't stick' and queue Dream losing his shit and Corithian gets unmade again in that second.

So Hob tries to convince him to bring the dude back because 'It didn't last! I'm fine!' and Dream being all 'It's the principle of the thing!' and Hob is just smug cause now Dream is being all protective of him

Anyway he does end up bringing Corinthian back and Matthew can't for the life of him figure out why

#Uhh this was thought of as #Dreamling #But I mean it could also be #Hob/Corinthian #I'm aware that this is crack but it feels like believeable crack given the actual plot #Uhhh I can't tell if #sandman spoilers #Is needed but its there to be safe

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questing-wulfstan · 1 year

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#écrimûre : a masterpost of Mûre's fanfictions for The Sandman

+ What is a comb worth to a King ?

Dreamling | Teen And Up | 1377 words | Canon Compliant “... well, I would have expected the King of Dreams and Nightmares to have bed hair but you don’t actually sleep, do you ? How is it, your hair is as tangled as if you did ー and did not comb for several nights ? And how does it not look remotely the part ?”

+ Of dormice and teapots

Dreamling | Gen | 2391 words | Alternate Universe Hob Gadling used to not be so fond of dormice indeed; yet somehow or other and irremediably since he had started cohabitating with a creature who likewise relishes burrowing in paper, it has become his term of endearment of choice. There is much more than his sole typing cadence to Dream’s similarity with the small animal, after all. an ad lib of @nicolodigenovas's Reassurance

+ Of the manifold devices through which stories are told

Dreamling | Teen And Up | 2514 words | Canon Compliant #Hob wanders in the library of the Dreaming the night that follows his 1489 meeting with Dream #Dream has to deal with it In which a raven contemptuously picks on a worm and finds out there is more to his love for books than burrowing in their paper.

+ On the ductility of the constituent matter of bodies : an essay by Robert Gadling, PhD

Dreamling | Explicit | 2451 words | Canon Compliant Dream of the Endless is Shaper of Form, among a multitude. His own form above any other, for reasons diverse and counting pleasure among their number. Robert Gadling is a privileged witness of the phenomenon. an expansion of my ad lib on @lenreli Morphussy drabble

+ An EPIPHANY of POPPIES upon the BATTLEFIELD, or Robert Gadling and Delirium of the Endless' Adventures through No Man's Land

Gen | Explicit | Graphic Depictions of Violence | 27k words | Hob Gadling rescues Dream of the Endless from the Fishbowl April 1940, On a French battlefield, Hob Gadling doubts his will to persevere in being alive for the second time of his existence. He swallows morphine in the hope to soothe his horror-scarified mind, and summons a mirage of the stranger who occupied his thoughts as the patron of his immortality. In a Japanese psychiatric ward, Delirium of the Endless is alerted by Dream's irruption in her realm, who she found missing when she sought his company on her quest for the Prodigal. Disappointment overcomes her as she finds it was but an image of her brother conjured by a mortal, and so it does Hob when her eruption dismisses the vision. Delirium will not resign herself to her exponential loss of brothers however, neither will Hob Gadling withhold his aid from any entity in distress, whether the stranger or his younger sister ; they just might hold the might to liberate Morpheus between their four hands … written on the occasion of the @endlessbigbang 2023, with brilliant showstopping spectacular cover and illustration by the talented incredible amazing @mock-arts

#netflix the sandman #the sandman #dreamling week #dreamling week 2023 #dreamling #hobmurphy #écrimûre #can't believe I had to be told to do that #and I hadn't thought of it on my own #so finally all my fics in the same post !!#very easy to find !!#very easy to enjoy !!#very easy to reblog !!#Ꮚ•ꈊ•Ꮚ

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ml-nolan · 2 months

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Announcements—more chapters available for freeeeee + Patreon changes

A) Sorry I didn't have time to post about the new chapter this week because I actually have paid writing work again (yay)! BUT if you were waiting, Chapter 17: Your Best Self is live!

B) Kindle Vella just made a new rule where, instead of giving free access to the first three chapters, they give access to the first TEN. So, for the sake of fairness, I'm now giving free access to the first ten chapters on Patreon as well.

C) For the sake of my mental health, I'm going to be waiting to start writing and posting You're The Most chapters again until STBMU is finished, probably by the beginning of summer. I also am pausing audio posts for the top tier unless I find myself with a little breather from other life responsibilities—access to older posts remain available for that tier (which is now $10 instead of $15).

Thank you frandz! And I hope if you feel like taking a peek at Zack and Marcus's story, this will encourage you to do so. 💜🖤💜🖤💜

#gay romance #mm romance #queer romance #Kindle Vella #writers on patreon #M.L. Nolan #Someone to Build Me Up #I can't believe it's not Dreamling

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valiantstarlights · 10 months

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[Six Sentence Sunday/WIP Wednesday]

Tagged by: @bazzybelle 💅

I don't know what the rules are, except maybe to post on either a Wednesday or a Sunday, and it has to have at least 6 sentences? 👀 (please correct me if I'm wrong 😂)

Anyway, here are some sentences from the Dreamling Tiny!Dream AU ✨️ I wrote instead of sleeping, after someone on discord shared a photo of the BDSM Barbie kit.

Tagging: @lostelfwriting , @karalynlovescake , @janimoon , and @mallory-x . Any one of you could have stopped me, but you didn't! 😭 And I know I said it had 1.6k words, but that was before. It has gotten even longer now. 😂

"Hob."

"Just a minute, darling," Hob says distractedly. He's currently uploading his students' grades, and it's a task that he has difficulty with (due to the university's crap online grading system), so he is justified in ignoring Dream for just one measly minute.

A truly heart-wrenching sigh sounds from behind him, and Hob, despite himself, turns to look.

Dream's floating doll castle, which had originally been the dollhouse of a New Inn employee's child that they have recently outgrown, is in its usual place in the corner of his study. The black banners are still flying in an unseen wind, the highest tower is still where the rookery is, and Hob can't really tell right now if Dream has changed anything about the exterior, except--

Oh.

That's new.

Usually, the interior of the doll house ("Doll castle," Dream had insisted), shows only a single room. The room where Dream currently is. Hob doesn't quite know how it works, if it rotates, or if it has a bigger-on-the-inside technology like the TARDIS. (Hob doesn't say that to Dream, though, because he has enough daddy issues.)

Well, the room where Dream is at right now is a room Hob has never seen before.

Oh, he's seen the library, the gardens, and even the swimming pool, but this is the first time he's seeing the sex dungeon.

#tiny dream AU #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #tag game #ah fuck #i can't believe you've done this #(she says to herself)

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bonkpossum · 2 years

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[But tonight I still dream of you]

Dream dates, am I right folks?

#I also think Hob would be the kinda guy to own band merch pajamas #and just like goofy limited edition stuff or such cause hey #you only live once #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #my art #can't believe gaiman punked me again with the immortal once a century date queer people

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five-and-dimes · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence on the winner for every vote it received. Reblog the finished poll with the new sentences written.

Tags not necessary; do this when you're ready to write.

While the poll ends tomorrow I'll be posting my snippet of the winner on Friday cause of life commitments lol

#the sandman #my writing #all of these are dreamling btw lol #also didn't include the wip I'm hoping to finish next cause I'm already frantically working on it lol #I can't believe I can't write a paragraph of summary in each poll option how rude

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jack-the-fool · 2 years

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Matthew sees Dream and Hob interact one (1) time and suddenly won't stop humming Jenny by the Studio Killers

#he's 'helping'#the sandman #dreamling #'I can't help it! it's just so catchy boss!'#'........clearly.......'#sandman matthew #sandman dream #sandman hob #matthew fully does not believe it when people talk about dreams previous torrid love affairs #he's just like 'him? that guy? the one who won't acknowledge his crush on the immortal history professor who totally likes him too?'#'love the guy but DAMN he couldn't charm his way out of a damp paper bag. people call him dumbass on the reg and they're RIGHT'#then dream gets over himself and starts romancing hob properly and matthew is forced to admit he gets it now #jack.txt

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whisperprime · 2 years

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Hob isn’t certain what Dream has cooked up in that pretty little head of his when it comes to theories about what happened, but he can tell this response wasn’t even on his list.

“2189?”

He sounds carefully reserved. The fact that he doesn't outright disbelieve such a thing might be possible leaves the once mortal human with some serious questions.

But those are for a later time.

Right now, Hob nods. He had long since decided that if questioned about this, he would tell as much of the truth as he felt he could. He would explain the meeting with The Other Man, the seal, maybe even where and how he’d spent those 106 years.

He would not share that Dream had been the being who'd been originally summoned. Nor would he mention Dream’s death. There was no point in either. One hadn’t happened in this timeline. One hadn’t happened yet and dwelling on it would do no good. So.

Hob presses his hands into his thighs to still them. “I was sitting in The New Inn when a stranger approached me.” He smiles, some true amusement leaking in. “Seems to be the story of my life.”

Dream has narrowed his eyes at him, searching his face for any tells that this is all a fabrication. He won’t find one because Hob is all too serious. “In the year 2189?” When he finds no lie, that at the least the story teller believes this all to be true, Dream leans forward. “Are you proposing you've time traveled?”

The immortal human wishes he were more into science fiction, because this was already a bit over his head and trying to explain this to someone else feels like a task. He can still barely believe it all. And he lived it. “Sort of? He called it ‘destroying a timeline’?”

“He?”

Hob spreads his hands out, a bit helpless here. "Did I mention that story is filled with mysterious strangers who often fail to mention their names?"

His friend ignores the slight, raising his hand, but it seems more to stop himself from continuing this particular thread of inquiry. "I interrupted. Please begin again from this 'New Inn'."

Hearing the name of what had become such a dear place to them both said without shread warmth or recognition hurt like swallowing shards of glass. One felt like it had lodged in place in his chest and Hob has to resist the urge to rub at it.

"I initially told him I wanted to be alone, but then he knew my name - my real name," Hob still remembers the chill of hearing his name on the lips of someone other than his friend, especially at a time no one was supposed to know it. "He said it was important, so I gave him a chance. Better to know if I was going to have trouble and needed to leave, you know?"

Dream give a curt nod, showing he understands.

Hob swallows and wishes he'd remembered to bring a drink with him. "Then he started talking about how he shouldn't have existed, but did? And it was because of the premature end of the universe or something?" He pauses, then scoffs. His eyes drops to the table as he tries to remember as much of the encounter as he could. Wishes he'd understood what was said more. "I thought he was nuts, honestly, especially when he started talking about time travel, but. Well." He shrugs, again. "He had a compelling arguement."

Dream considers this. Hob is a little surprised he is even entertaining all of this. "What did he want you to change?"

Hob considers his options. "Have you heard of a Gabriel Richards?"

His friend gets a bit of a far away look to him and Hob wonders how well the whole knowing everyone thing actually works. It takes a moment or two, but Dream comes back with, "He is known for discovering gialium. His daughter discovered how to use it as a cleaner, more safe energy source to any previous resource."

"Huh." Hob has never heard of 'gialium' before, but a safer energy resource is always good. He isn't certain how this element not being discovered could possibly lead to the end of the universe, but then The Other Man had said it was a chain reaction sort of thing. He gestured to Dream to indicate that this was the answer and added, "He said Richards was supposed to do something but didn't. Now he has."

Dream raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look satisfied with this at all.

"Look, I don't know how to prove it any of this-" He breaks off, because he does know how to prove it. He's just unsure how this version of his friend will respond to such a Knowing if simply calling him lonely had been enough to send him running. When he hadn't had every bit of solitude he could ask for until it choked him before he came back.

"I've seen Death," Hob says, quotes. Can see Dream recognizing the reference and waiting to see where he's taking this.

Sees when he decides to bite. "Oh?"

Hob stares off just to the right of him, the memory still bright in his mind in the way a beloved photo that has been looked at time and again is remembered. He can still hear the laughter of his friends, even if he can't remember their faces. Still remembers this beautiful stranger, dressed all in black save his insanely large ruby, approaching their table. Remembers him glancing at someone, although by the time Hob had thought to look, they'd been gone.

"She was there with you the day we met." Hob catches the slight flicker of surprise out of the corner of his eye. Knows he's caught him this time. "It was her doing that granted me this long life. Her and your bet over if I would give up on this life if I had enough to drown in it." His eyes flicker back to meet Dream's eyes. Says, albeit not unkindly, "She was the one who bet I wouldn't."

Dream takes the hit. Accepts it and nods in acquiescence. He had indeed lost that bet. Several times over. Had only asked at the time of their parting those last few times because it had become part of their ritual.

Hob takes the victory and let's go of it along any pride he may have gained in it. "I met her a couple more times in that other timeline." He's unsure, but he thinks he might see some like alarm flash in those blue eyes, but it's gone before he can be sure. "Once at one of those horrid Ren Fests and again while she was mortal?" Hob pauses, wonders, "Is that something you all do? She made it sound like it was just a thing she does."

Dream leans back on the couch. He clearly finds that subject to be one he has difficulty with, going by how he sounds like he is choosing his words carefully. "Every one hundred years, for one day, she allows a part of her to become mortal and then meets it like any other mortal being. To better understand them when she comes to meet them."

That clocks with what she'd said. Figures she couldn't have just explained it like that. Or maybe she had and Hob and been a little too wigged out by spending time with a mortal Death of the Endless (or a part of her) to catch it. Either way.

Hob shifts, braces himself as if he were about to walk into a storm. "I know you're her little brother."

His friend-who-isn't-his-friend stares back at him out of eyes that were no longer blue, but rather as dark as the night sky, light only by galaxies no human has ever seen. "You would claim to known me, Hob Gadling?" Hob hears the words, you dare, from that night in 1889 as they lay between them, unspoken, but a heavy weight regardless. Did Hob dare to claim he knew any creature such as this one?

Yes. Hob dared. He'd dared that night and every day he'd held to his hope with near blind faith where perhaps he should not have.

"Aye, I know you." Hob meets that gaze, holds it, and names him, "Dream of the Endless."

Dream shudders, lightly, at the sound of his true name. All doubt has vanished from his expression, but what has it cost Hob to play this card?

Part 9

#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my fic #title: carry you back into the light #decided to break it off here #the next part might be short as a result #so much for this being nothing more than a summary #thought of death taking up the once a century meetings with hob #then she decided it would be in totally random #and left field ways #that and her spending one of her mortal days #with a very confused hob amused me #so in it went #maybe i'll write that story one day #dreamling #can't believe i forgot that tag

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