#dream of the endless x hob gadling

[dailydreamling]

Canon Divergence

My Stranger, My Dream by SigniorBenedickofPadua  (Words: 67,154)

Warning: Non-Graphic Violence

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Roderick Burgess' spell does not summon Death, but someone who has been touched by Death. Hob Gadling ends up in his cellar instead of Dream.

Canon Divergence

your body is an anchor by Ark (Words: 6,792 )

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

"The love of your life," Dream says softly. "That is quite a declaration to make, Hob Gadling, when one considers how many lives you've lived, and how many still await you."

Canon Divergence

in my mind's eye (i create someone i could love endlessly) by youcanseethecosmos (Words: 21,740)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Because home isn’t a place – not for Hob Gadling. It’s quiet conversations and purple and pink galaxies within starlit eyes. It’s glow-in-the-dark stickers and running around barefoot in the rain. It’s stubborn excuses, heated arguments, and the dip in the mattress with whispers of "I’m sorry" through the old creaky bed springs. It’s lifting the blanket and feeling a grounding warmth curl into your chest and letting it stay there long after the morning sun has risen.

It’s jet black hair, gangly limbs, and pale skin. Home is the person who’s holding onto him like a lifeline. Because Hob likes to think Dream sees this as home too – sees Hob as home.

Canon Divergence

A Waking Nightmare by KydrogenDragon (Words: 17,303)

Warning: Implied/Referenced Drug Use

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob has started hallucinating his Stranger for the past seventy-odd years. When his Stranger actually turns up, he thinks it's another hallucination. Shenanigans ensue to get the pair on the same page.

Canon Divergence

fly me to the moon by apocryphal (Words: 11,857) 

Warning: Ambiguous Slash, Panic Attacks, PTSD

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream discovers that after being locked in a cage for a century, it turns out he's contracted the mortal affliction known as claustrophobia. Inconvenient. He enlists Hob to help him resolve this issue ASAP. Obviously, that goes well.

See below for more recommendations!

Canon Divergence

Metaphysics by Quilling (Words: 3,199)

Warning: Dubious Morality, Canon and Historically Typical Violence

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

In order to perfect humanity’s own dark mirror, one needs not look for evil or greed. In the true heart of darkness lies a sort of ambiguity. Hob taught him that.

Canon Divergence

In Waking Dreams by cuubism (Words: 49,309)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

In 1389, Hob married a man in his dreams, a lover conjured only by his imagination -- or so he thought. Five hundred years later, a mysterious ransom letter has Hob questioning everything he knew about his dream husband, who coincidentally disappeared from his dreams seventy years ago.

Several miles away, trapped in a glass bowl, said husband is really regretting letting his marriage be only a story in dreams.

Canon Divergence

the shape this light could take by bacondoughnut (Words: 12,617)

Warning: PTSD, Emotional Baggage, Trauma

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

In Hob's defense, he doesn't think anyone in the history of people keeping fish as pets has ever been so offended by a standard glass fishbowl.

Canon Divergence

Dream of a thousand kisses by fellshish (Words: 6,335)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream wants his reunion with Hob to go perfectly after their big fight so he visits Hob’s dreams to rehearse the moment. During one of those practice dreams, Hob suddenly kisses him.

Alternate Universe - Post The Kindly Ones

Beautiful, Strange and New by Moorishflower (Words: 223,030)

Warning: References to The Kindly Ones, Suicidal Thoughts

Pairings: Dream of the Endless | Daniel/Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus

On a bright and unforgiving Sunday morning, Hob Gadling, having attended the Wake of his best friend, opens his kitchen door to find...his best friend. Changed. Alive. Human, and carried in the arms of the being intended to replace him. Given one month to decide if life is worth living, Hob and Daniel attempt to convince Morpheus of his worth at the same time as all three of them navigate their feelings for each other.

Alternate Universe - Overture

Forgotten Preludes by Astrophel_Hireath (Words: 6,438)

Warning: Bittersweet, Memory Loss

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“Fuck it,” Hob mutters, a series of complex emotions tumbling across his face in quick succession to each other - too fast for Dream to log. Fingers tap compulsively at Hob’s side, fidgeting in deep conflict. “I definitely won’t remember any of this?”

Dream’s brows slant. “No.”

"Perfect.” Hob says, only somewhat hysterically, before closing the distance between them in three purposeful steps.

Hob’s Students Fics

WTF is Gadling's Deal, Anyway? (Assorted Theories) by JustJReally (Words: 13,915)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Five theories Professor Gadling's students came up with to explain His Whole Deal (and one time he told them the truth). In which Morpheus is mistaken for a student, Hob is mistaken for many things, and no one is good at spying.

Hob’s Students Fics

Quarantine Debacles by Picture_Yourself (Words: 3,964)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

An examination of what exactly would occur if one were to take an oblivious anthropomorphic personification of dreams, a rant-prone history teacher and a Zoom call filled with queer students and toss them all into one metaphorical room.

Canon Divergence

A Dream interrupted by ColorMeHappy (Words: 30,763)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Meeting Dream had gone from once a century occurrence to every six months, to just every month, then to around once a week, a change of pace Hob would be eternally grateful for, if only people stopped bloody interrupting them.

(Five times someone in Hob's life interrupts him and Dream's meetings (dates) and one time it's someone Dream knows.)

Human AU

would you let me know?/ I could make some time if you wanted by BeatnikFreak (Words: 150,934)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dr Hob Gadling's been assigned a new colleague to co-teach his second year class, Dr Dream Oneiros, who is both utterly beautiful and completely unable to act like, y'know, a human being. But Hob's nothing if not indefatigable, especially when faced with a fascinating man who probably needs to talk about his feelings more, and who listens to every stupid thing he says like it's the most profound poetry.

Human AU

On Broken Wings by Konstadt (Words: 57,191)

Warning: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

An AU where they meet on the university campus and Hob gets more than he bargained for when he decides to be a good person

Human AU

Let Me Down Easy by sanyumi (Words: 21,747)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“... Mr. Gadling will be your photographer today.” Hob hears Morpheus’ shoes scuff and halt on the wooden floor before he turns around, taking a deep breath and holding it as he finally meets Morpheus’ eyes for the first time in five years. Christ, Morpheus looks at him like he’s staring at a ghost. It almost makes Hob laugh.

“Hello,” Hob croaks. He knows this is the part he usually shakes hands with his model, but he doesn’t move his hand. He doesn’t want to touch Morpheus.

Canon Divergence

wouldn't you like to see something strange? by rainbow_shine (Words: 3,629)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream looked exactly the same as always. Yes, his coat was longer and his eyes were darker, but that was it. There was absolutely nothing that would indicate that his friend was disguised as something even remotely scary. Hob would even go as far as to say that Dream looked cute. He didn't know why no one else seemed to share his opinion.

Soulmate AU

Passing Stranger! (You Do Not Know How Longingly I Look Upon You) by WyvernQuill (Words: 25,112)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob has known that Dream is his mildly star-crossed soulmate since their first meeting in 1389, but believes they have a mutual understanding not to acknowledge it; Dream, meanwhile, was under the impression that the Endless have no soulmates whatsoever, up until their sixth meeting in 1889. Finding out they're wrong comes as a bit of a shock to both of them.

Retire Dream AU

Next to Nothing by Cheshyr (Words: 6,056)

Warning: Angst with a Happy Ending, Insecurity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream knew that retiring from Endlessness to live a human life with Hob Gading wouldn't be easy. He wasn't expecting Hob to laugh at him so much though. (In which there are misunderstandings, Dream hides things he shouldn't, and being human is hard.)

Omega Verse AU

lover, be good to me by CinnamonCake (Words: 100,265)

Warning: Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream de Endless was suppose to be his family’s most prized jewel, but when he is taken, he loses the last thing the world considered valuable about him. Broken down to his core, he does not expect anyone to want him again. Until Robert Gadling walks into his life

#dreamling fic #dreamling fanfic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dailydreamling #masterpost #ao3 fanfic #hobmurphy #fic rec #DailyDreamling Fic Recs #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling

[rosaren2498]

Desires Fulfilled

Sequel to 'Desperate Desires'

WARNINGS/TAGS: MINORS DNI, 18+, SMUT, Prostate Milking, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Excessive Use of Pet Names, Color System, Service Top Hob Gadling, Gentle Dom Hob Gadling, Bottom Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Loves Hob Gadling, Needy Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, AftercareDream of the Endless | Morpheus Has A Praise Kink

People on AO3 were crying out for a sequel, so I wrote one. Enjoy, or don't seeing as few people on here enjoyed the first one.

Also, I don't know if creampies are just for vaginal sex. If they aren't, then that's one of the warnings!

---

Hob's morning has been a mix of confusion, hope, and distraction. And it all started thanks to his forgetfulness.

When he decides to take a shower, he forgets to grab a set of clothes. When he walks out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist due to the aforementioned forgetting of clothes, he walks straight into Morpheus, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. He automatically reaches out to prevent his dearest friend from meeting the floor and his towel drops. Morpheus is fine, of course, but Hob notices the way he stares. A ruddy flush spreads across his pale cheeks and his pretty blue eyes darken. Hob, who has a lecture at the university to get to that morning, doesn't have much time to examine the reaction. He decides they will talk after his lecture, gets dressed, and then leaves. He spends the entire half-hour lecture trying not to think about the look in his friend's eyes, trying not to hope, trying not to be distracted with inappropriate thoughts. He fails and goes about the lecture with a damn semi; thankfully, no one notices.

By the time he gets home, the flat is silent. He figures Morpheus is asleep - he isn't exactly a morning person and naps are frequent since his retirement - so Hob stays as quiet as possible while he goes about putting his things away; he stops when he suddenly hears it. He frowns, slowly making his way to the open bedroom door. He's pretty sure he just heard a groan; is Morpheus having another nightmare? He freezes when he gets to the doorway and looks inside the room.

Morpheus is on his knees, on their bed, with three fingers buried in his pretty, pink hole and a fist around his cock; the bottle of lube from the nightstand lays to the side, discarded. Hob's mouth goes dry and he gets a little lightheaded from how quickly all the blood in his body rushes south; he's never gotten hard so quickly. He shouldn't be watching this. Just as the thought crosses his mind, Morpheus whines his name and it takes every ounce of his - not insignificant - self-control not to stalk over and replace Morpheus' fingers with his own; he hadn't been wrong about the look in his eyes after all. He can't help but palm himself through his pants as he watches Morpheus work himself over; he's so desperate that he's practically gagging for it and Hob never thought he'd see it.

Hob's hips jerk against his will, bucking into his own hand when Morpheus slips a fourth finger into his hole, crying out; his hole is the exact same shade of pink as his lips, and Hob will never be able to unsee it. When Morpheus cums abruptly, he shouts Hob's name but doesn't stop until he's absolutely shaking from the overstimulation and Hob wants. When Morpheus collapses on his side, wiping his fingers on the sheets, Hob finally speaks.

"Oh, love... You could have just asked."

Morpheus' head snaps to the door, eyes wide, and he chokes on air at whatever he sees on Hob's face; Hob can't deny that it makes him feel just a little bit of pride.

"I would've taken such good care of you."

Hob's cock is straining against his pants - he's never been so hard in his life. When Morpheus only whimpers in response, he makes his way over to the bed, working his shirt open, letting it slide off his shoulders and fall straight to the floor.

"I thought we were going to have to talk about this morning, but just look at you." Hob's eyes greedily rove over Morpheus' body and he doesn't even try to bite back a groan when he sees Morpheus' cock twitch at the attention, despite him having just cum. "So desperate for it that you didn't even bother closing the door." He kicks off his shoes and sits on the edge of the bed, forcing himself to meet Morpheus' eyes. "We're going to use the color system. Green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. Alright?"

Morpheus blinks slowly, a bit dazed, before nodding.

Hob shakes his head though. "Need you to say it, love. Is that okay?"

Morpheus' voice is even deeper than usual - and fuck, he didn't even know that was possible - when he speaks. "Yes."

Hob groans deep in his chest, licking his lips. "Good. That's good. We can stop at any time, you just have to say 'red'. Now, can I touch you?"

A full-body shudder wracks Morpheus' lean frame. "Yes."

With consent given, Hob doesn't hesitate any longer, gently pushing Morpheus onto his back before reaching out and taking Morpheus' rapidly hardening cock in hand, causing him to whine. "You're so fucking beautiful, love. You have no idea how long I've wanted this." He strokes Morpheus' cock slowly, greatly enjoying the whimpers and moans he lets out; he has to be feeling the overstimulation, but he seems to be enjoying it.

"Hob, please."

Hob groans again, using his free hand to work at the fly of his pants, quickly shoving them down his legs before climbing onto the bed. His breath hitches when Morpheus spreads his thighs and he kneels between his legs, stroking his cock faster and watching his face avidly. "So pretty, love. Tell me what you want."

Morpheus whines, hips bucking to fuck his cock into Hob's hand. "Your fingers. Inside me." He shudders at the deep moan Hob lets out.

"Yeah? Want my fingers buried inside you, baby?" When Morpheus nods rapidly, Hob scrambles for the lube, coating his fingers and immediately pushing two inside; even having had four of his own fingers inside, Morpheus' pretty pink hole is still tight. "Were your fingers not enough sweetling? Couldn't quite reach your prostate, could you?" Hob makes sure to push his fingers deep, smirking when Morpheus' back arches off the bed with a half-choked cry. "There you go. Is that what you needed, love?"

He's not expecting a coherent answer as he works the two fingers in and out, easily finding and pressing repeatedly against Morpheus' prostate, merciless even as he writhes under Hob. When he's loose enough, Hob rubs a third finger against his rim but doesn't slip it in just yet. "Color?"

Morpheus bucks his hips, gasping. "Green."

"Good boy." Morpheus whines, cock twitching in his grasp at the praise. Hob slips the third finger in, his own cock throbbing. "So needy, aren't you baby? So desperate to be filled. You're so fucking perfect for me." He can't resist any longer and he leans down, taking Morpheus' pierced nipple in his mouth as he pushes his fingers firmly against his prostate. He revels in the way Morpheus cries out, cock throbbing in his hand. Hob swipes his thumb over the pink head, spreading the mess of precum as he sucks on the piercing, causing Morpheus to writhe; he can feel Morpheus' hole beginning to flutter around his fingers and knows he's close. His own cock aches, but he ignores it in favor of lightly tugging at the piercing with his teeth, feeling more than a little smug when Morpheus' back arches as he cries out Hob's name, spilling all over his hand.

"That's it, baby, there you go. Such a good boy for me, aren't you?" He stills his hand but continues rubbing at Morpheus' prostate, dragging out his orgasm even as he brings his hand to his mouth; he can't help groaning as he licks up every drop of Morpheus' spend. "So good."

Morpheus' eyes are filling with tears now, but he makes no indication that he wants Hob to stop just yet, so Hob slips a fourth finger inside him, pressing harshly against his prostate over and over; he wants Morpheus to cum for the stimulation to his prostate alone. Morpheus is full-on sobbing now, writhing and whining Hob's name on repeat so prettily like it's the only thing he can say. Hob is starting to get a little worried he might cum without ever touching himself; Morpheus is just so fucking pretty when he's this desperate and needy. He's imagined this a million times over the course of six centuries, but he'd never imagined Morpheus to be this... wanton.

"Come on, baby boy. You can cum for me again, can't you? Just like this?"

Morpheus sobs his name and squirms beneath him, bucking his hips. He seems just as affected by Hob's continuous use of pet names and praise as much as the physical pleasure he's being subjected to. "Hob."

Hob uses his free hand to play with his pierced nipple, pinching, rolling, and tweaking it relentlessly. "That's it, love. Be a good boy and cum for me." Hob watches fervently as Morpheus throws his head back in a silent cry as he cums again. Hob finally gives his prostate a rest, though his fingers continue to thrust lazily in and out of his wet hole, the sound obscene. When Morpheus finally comes down enough to speak, Hob leans in close, lips just barely grazing his. "Color?"

Morpheus hiccups and lets out a choked whine. "Green."

Hob kisses him gently, sweetly, pouring every ounce of love he feels for this impossible man into it. Morpheus moans and opens up beautifully, allowing Hob to slip his tongue into his mouth. He keeps the kiss slow, almost lazy, just like the movement of his fingers, until Morpheus is squirming against him again. When he pulls back to allow them to breathe, Morpheus chases after him, and Hob smiles.

"Please."

Hob shudders at the heat and utter desperation in his voice. "Please what, love? Can't give you what you want if you don't tell me."

Morpheus whimpers, clenching around Hob's fingers, voice breathless. "Inside him."

Hob's cock throbs and he curses under his breath, dropping his forehead to Morpheus' shoulder. "You want my cock inside you, sweetling?"

"Please."

Hob trembles and slowly removes his fingers, Morpheus mewls at the emptiness. Hob grabs the bottle of lube once more, liberally coating his cock before shifting so he's resting between Morpheus' eagerly spread legs. His cockhead rests against Morpheus' greedy hole, but he doesn't push in yet; he meets Morpheus' black gaze, sure that his own is just as dark. "You sure, love? We don't have to do this."

Morpheus wraps his legs around Hob's waist, trying to pull him in. "Please, Hob, please. Need it."

Hob swears and nods quickly before he slowly pushes in. Morpheus' back arches off the bed again, his head thrown back as he wails at the delicious stretch; oh, he knew Hob would stretch him good, but the reality is far better; it's perfect. Hob stops only when his hips meet Morpheus' ass, nearly growling at the way his hole clutches at Hob's cock like it never wants to let go. "Fuck, love. Even after all that, you're still so fucking tight. Feel so good, baby boy." He shudders at Morpheus' answering whine, gritting his teeth to keep from ending this too early. "Color?"

Morpheus blinks dazedly up at him, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. He sucks in a breath that sounds more like another sob, but he manages to gasp out his answer. "Green."

Hob moans and ducks down, capturing Morpheus' lips in a heated, messy, kiss. He slowly pulls out until only the head of his cock is still in, then - as he tangles their tongues together - he thrusts back in, swallowing the absolutely filthy noise Morpheus makes. He sets a steady but slow rhythm, fucking Morpheus deep with every thrust, groaning into the kiss; he only pulls back when he knows they both need to breathe. He places a hand on Morpheus' hip to keep him in place as he begins thrusting harder, grinding deep inside him, though he keeps the pace achingly slow.

He watches Morpheus' face, committing the dazed and debauched look to memory as he gradually chases his own high while still being utterly determined to make Morpheus cum at least one more time; Morpheus is an absolutely beautiful mess, sobbing incoherently and trembling beneath him. Each hard, deep thrust of his hips forces another wanton noise from his mouth; it takes the last of Hob's self-control not to fuck into him like a damn animal with the noises he's making. Instead, he works on leaving hickeys and little love bites all over his chest and pretty, pale throat; each nip and suck draws another lewd noise from Morpheus. Hob shifts the angle of his thrusts just enough that the next time he buries his cock deep inside, he hits Morpheus' prostate; he knows he's found it by the way nails dig into his back and Morpheus cries his name. As Hob works on leaving a ring of hickeys around Morpheus' throat, he fucks into his prostate over and over, just as merciless as he was with his fingers. He wants Morpheus to cum, wants to feel his hole flutter and squeeze around his cock, wants to feel the muscles of his abdomen clench and tighten beneath him; he's so close and he knows that feeling all of it will set him off. He pulls away from Morpheus' throat, looking down into his face and groaning at his expression.

"Fuck, baby boy. Look at you. Are you close again? You gonna be a good boy and cum for me again? One more time love, just once more."

Morpheus sobs, thrashing in place, though he's clearly not trying to pull away; not that there is anywhere for him to go with Hob's body pressing down into his. "I-I can't, Hob, please."

"Yes, you can baby. One more, just one more." Hob thrusts just a little faster, still making sure his cock is hitting Morpheus' prostate dead-on. "Come on, love. You can do it. Cum for me, please? Want to feel you clench around my cock."

Morpheus goes rigid under Hob, hole clenching and fluttering erratically as he's swept away by a tsunami of pure bliss, wave after wave of pleasure crashing in him. His eyes roll back into his head as his vision whites out; he's only dimly aware of the fact that he shouts.

Hob swears at the tight clutch of Morpheus' hole and tries to pull out, but Morpheus' legs are locked tight around his waist and he doesn't have much of a choice; his control isn't that good. He gives his own shout of Morpheus' name as his orgasm rips through him, stars exploding behind his closed eyes as he paints the inside of MOrpheus' slick with cum, giving a few thrusts to ride out their orgasms before he stills completely. He's panting like he's run a marathon and he's fairly certain he's never cum so hard in his, incredibly long, life. He manages to stop himself from collapsing on top of Morpheus only by rolling them so they're on their sides, keeping Morpheus pressed close to him. Hob gently rubs Morpheus' side with one hand, running the other through his hair as gentle praise spills from his mouth, grounding Morpheus and bringing him back to coherency. When his eyes finally flutter open again, Hob gives him a soft smile. "Hey, love. Back with me?"

Morpheus meets his gaze, still looking fairly dazed - and utterly wrecked - but he manages a brief nod, snuggling closer.

Hob laughs softly but doesn't resist the insistent cuddling. "You did so good, love. You were so good for me."

Morpheus shivers at the praise, whimpering softly and Hob gently shushes him. Hob presses a soft kiss to the top of Morpheus' head, still threading his fingers through his hair. A few minutes later, Hob gives a quiet sigh.

"Gonna need to get up, love. Gotta clean you up and make sure you drink something before you fall asleep."

Morpheus mumbles grumpily, burrowing deeper into Hob, but he only laughs again.

"You don't need to move until I get you a glass of water."

He presses another kiss to the top of Morpheus' head and then reluctantly begins to pull away; he freezes when Morpheus makes a noise that is definitely a whine, but nothing like the ones he'd been making just moments before. Hob immediately turns back to him, cupping his face and gently shushing him when he sees the tears lining his lashes. "Shhh, it's okay love. I gotta clean you up. We made quite a mess and if you fall asleep like that, you're going to wake up feeling sticky and gross. I also really need to get you a glass of water; you came several times and you're, no doubt, quite dehydrated at this point. Aftercare is important, love; let me take care of you?"

Morpheus blinks slowly at him before reluctantly nodding.

Hob gives him a gentle smile, kissing him lovingly. "I'll be right back, sweetling, I promise."

He pulls away and gets the glass of water first, then wets one of his softest flannels before making his way back to the bedroom; he sets the glass on the nightstand and uses the damp rag to tenderly clean Morpheus and then himself. When they're both sufficiently clean, he helps Morpheus sit up enough to drink the water and is happy when he manages to drink the whole thing. He makes sure to grab an old blanket to cover the mess on the bed - he'll do the laundry later - before laying back down. He doesn't even have time to offer before Morpheus is clinging to him; Hob's heart melts as he gathers his oldest friend - oldest love - into his arms, holding him tight against him. He brushes Morpheus' hair out of his eyes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Sleep, love. You must be exhausted after all of that."

Morpheus makes an agreeing noise, more of a sleepy hum than anything else, eyes already closed. Hob's heart gives a twinge in his chest as he covers them both with the blanket that isn't covering their mess, allowing his own eyes to close. They'll definitely need to talk whenever they wake, but that's for later. For now, the love of his life is in his bed, cradled in his arms, and damn it if Hob isn't going to act like the greedy bastard that he is and take full advantage of it for as long as he can.

#Dream of the Endless #morpheus #hob gadling #The Sandman #Dream of the Endless x Hob Gadling #Morpheus x Hob Gadling #centennial husbands #dreamling #retired dream au

[serenailith]

just wishing

for @dreamlingbingo

Square: d1, cybersex Rating: e Word Count: 7275 Ship(s): dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: alternate universe - human, overworked uni student!hob, sex cam worker!dream, sex work is real work, so much filth in this, dirty talk, sex toys, blowjobs, anal sex, gratuitous use of the word ‘beautiful’ Summary:

Hob never knew a simple weblink could change his entire life.

Link: on ao3 masterlist

Hob sighs and stares at the blinking cursor. It mocks him; really, it does. Each blink seems to say “You should be writing. You’re wasting time, Gadling.” And… It’s true. He should be writing. This paper won’t write itself, and if he doesn’t get it submitted by midnight, he’ll fail Medieval Literature, and then where will he be?

Slamming his laptop shut, he follows the action with slamming his forehead against his desk. His roommate scoffs and throws a licorice rope at his back.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s worse. I haven’t been able to think a single thought that’s original.”

“Shouldn’t have looked at examples of past papers,” Matthew says, and Hob can hear the shrug in the American’s voice. “But anyway, I’m goin’ out. Got my eye on a real good-looking girl, and I think I might actually have a chance.”

Matthew drops the package of licorice on Hob’s desk, claps a hand on his shoulder, and wishes him well on his way out of their room. Hob waits until the door has clicked closed before smacking his forehead against his desk once again.

His cellphone dings beside his head, and Hob glowers at the device before unlocking it. It’s only a text from his mum, asking how his paper is coming along. He sighs and lies, tells her it is going incredibly well and will probably be his best one yet.

Once she is sufficiently mollified and has chided him for being awake so late, as if she isn’t awake just as late, she makes him swear to go to bed then signs her last text “Love, Mum xx”. Hob’s heart aches at the words. It’s been three weeks since he’s been home; work and schooling have taken up all of his time. He hates it—loathes, really—that he can’t see his family as often as he’d like, but he needs the money and he needs the education. So he resigns himself to reality and focuses on what needs to be done rather than the hopes he has that he can’t make come true.

Opening his laptop, Hob turns his attention back to his essay and struggles through the next three hundred and fifty words. It’s eerily similar to what he thinks pulling teeth might be like, and he can’t stop the sigh of relief when his cellphone vibrates once more.

Matthew: Not coming back tonight. Score! Dont do anything i wouldnt do. And make sure u clean ur mess ;)

Hob snorts and exits the message thread. Matthew is a crass bastard, but he’s grown on Hob like lichen on a tree. He’s a half-decent roommate and a better friend besides.

It gets the better of him, the silence of the room only broken by the occasional click of keys and the more frequent huff of annoyance. Hob wishes he could do what Matthew is—out drinking at a pub, evidently going home with someone—but no, Hob is forcing himself to focus on his studies.

Unfortunately, his attention span grows shorter while his frustration grows higher. Hob finally slams his laptop closed and groans, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes. He lets out a long, steady stream of curse words until his head feels less like it’ll explode then breathes out slowly. Right. That’s enough for tonight.

Hob sighs and reaches for his cellphone. Maybe someone will be free for an hour or two. Three of his usual bedmates turn him down, citing their own studies, and the fourth doesn’t bother saying ‘no’. All he does is send a link. Hob frowns and stares at the letters.

On one hand, trusting unknown links is a bad idea. On the other, he trusts Malachi rather well. Unless Malachi was hacked…

Hob opens his laptop and types in the web address before he can overthink it more. The page takes a few seconds to load, but when it does, Hob nearly clicks out of the tab. As it is, he shoots a furtive look over his shoulder as if expecting Matthew to linger there as he normally does. But the room is empty. Matthew isn’t here.

Hob swallows harshly, squeezing his eyes closed, then turns back to the laptop. The page is still up, still set to what’s very obviously a porno site, and a banner is plastered over a video container, the words “Join now!” in a rather tasteful font. A box in the corner bears numbers, the counter rising steadily in droves. There’s no indication of what kind of porno Malachi sent, but—

Hob clicks the banner and swallows down his shame as he enters his credit card information. One try can’t hurt, right? The page reloads, and the banner is gone now. He watches as the camera suddenly flares to life a minute later and brings into focus a man against a dark background. Pinpricks of white litter the wall behind him, a veritable night sky brought to Earth and made touchable. But it’s the man who captures Hob’s attention most.

The man is gorgeous—mussed black hair, pale skin, and eyes so incredibly blue even through the screen. His kissable lips quirk into a small smile at whatever he sees on his end, and Hob realises he’s probably approving of the viewer count, which is well into the hundreds by now. The man’s gaze darts to his camera, and the breath is punched from Hob’s lungs at how it seems as if the man is looking at him, not the other viewers.

Perhaps that’s part of the ruse.

Shaking his head, Hob swallows thickly and reminds himself that this is the man’s job. He blows out a breath and closes his eyes. This is so stupid, he thinks. Why is he doing something like this? Sure, he’s been without sex for months, but is cybersex really going to make a difference? After all, it’s his own hand with or without the man currently stripping on-screen.

And what a beautiful sight. wetdream slowly, carefully pushes the straps of his lacy teddy from his shoulders; his gaze remains firmly on the camera, lips curving slightly as he lets the lingerie fall out of sight. His hands toy with the edge of his underwear, the lace accentuating the sharp lines of his hips. He teases, but he doesn’t remove them.

Someone posts Take them off, sweetheart, let us see what’s underneath. The man on-screen shakes his head, though he does push the hem down an inch, just enough to show off the slightest hint of a patch of black hair.

Hob inhales sharply at the sight. It’s nothing major, nothing revealing, but it’s enough to send heat through his blood. He slides a finger over the laptop’s trackpad, tapping it once the cursor hovers over the chat-box, and hesitates.

hobgoblin: you’re beautiful

As soon as he sends the message, he slaps a hand over his face. God, he’s a right idiot, isn’t he? No one wants to hear that, especially not when they’re working. But the man on the screen is reading the message, and he doesn’t look angry or uncomfortable. In fact, he looks… pleased? There’s a tint of pink to his cheeks, and Hob revels in the sight even as messages come pouring in, calling him a moron.

He ignores them and focuses on the man now on his knees in the middle of a bed. His legs are spread, the fabric of his underwear clearly straining against the stretch, and Hob’s mouth goes dry as the man undulates his hips. Though thin, wetdream has a great body. He’s lithe, beautiful, and almost ethereal as he practically fucks the air.

Hob can’t stop himself: He stands enough to shove down his joggers then takes himself in hand. He strokes slowly, reclining in his seat as much as possible, and watches wetdream finally—finally—remove his underwear. He turns his back to the camera, looks over his shoulder, and Hob groans at the sparkle between the man’s arsecheeks.

Wish that was my cock, someone writes, and Hob scowls before hiding the chat-box. It’s easier this way, easier to pretend he isn’t pathetic watching a sex worker perform for hundreds of other people. He can pretend it’s a private thing, as if he and wetdream are…

No, that’s stupid. Creepy, even.

So Hob forces aside those thoughts and watches wetdream remove the plug, reaching for something out of view. When he turns back to the camera, Hob sees the rather impressive dildo in his hand. And an equally impressive dick.

Hob stuffs his fist into his mouth and squeezes the root of his cock, anything to drag this out. Anything to keep watching wetdream fucking himself with the toy while nearly nine hundred people watch. There’s no sound, so Hob shamefully lets himself imagine what noises are falling from wetdream’s lips as he rolls his hips and takes the dildo in further. Would he let out breathy little sighs, or deep moans that tremble in his throat? Would he murmur his lover’s name, give directions in a love-laden voice?

Hob comes too quickly but doesn’t move to clean up. Not until wetdream has come all over his own belly with twitching thighs and a blissed-out smile on his face.

The feed ends with wetdream’s face inches from the camera, a soft smile on his lips, and Hob rushing to rearrange his budget.

Thankfully, Matthew has found a young woman who doesn’t mind his… interesting mannerisms, so the next evening, he leaves the room immediately after his last class of the day. Hob waits for ten minutes to be sure his roommate is gone before he darts for his laptop and brings up the website again. He skims through the listings, trying to find—

There. wetdream.

He hurriedly clicks on “Join now!”

As he sits in his chair, counting the seconds until the cam starts, Hob realises he should feel ashamed for this. Not for supporting a sex worker. No, that would be stupid. Sex work is real work, and he’ll knock the lights out of anyone who says otherwise. No, he should feel ashamed for how desperate he’s acting. He’s had sex before. Hell, he’s even sexted before. This is only new in that it’s a complete stranger he’s watching. It’s almost like a porn video. No desperation needed.

But he’s never seen anyone in a porno look this beautiful, he thinks when wetdream comes into view. He’s wearing a corset and stockings, garters, and his eyes are rimmed with a thin line of black. His hair is still the same wild mess as it was last night, and Hob wonders if the strands are soft, would they feel like silk between his fingers?

He calls wetdream beautiful again just to see that subtle flush to his cheeks.

It takes two weeks before Hob has the courage to search the pricing tab of the website. He grimaces to himself at the cost listed. He can’t afford it, not if he wants to continue this thing called existing. Or at the very least, feeding himself. Sighing, he slumps in his seat and runs a hand over his face.

What is he even thinking? He’s already spent far too much on wetdream’s live-cams as it is. The only time he hasn’t spent money on the site is when wetdream isn’t listed. Which… hasn’t been often. Maybe three nights out of twelve.

“Fuck it, Matthew owes me a meal or two,” he grumbles before clicking on the link to apply for a private showing.

He only has to wait two hours for the email confirmation that payment has gone through and wetdream has availability for the following Saturday evening, a one-hour window from nine to ten. Hob sends back a message agreeing to the time then immediately begins planning on how to get Matthew out of the room for that hour. It should be simple enough—if his current girlfriend hasn’t broken up with him, she’ll keep him distracted. If she has, the promise of an opportunity to find another one might be sufficient.

Hob swallows and presses his fingertips to his eyelids. He’s being foolish, but damned if he can find it in him to change.

Three days has never felt so long. Hob could swear more than seventy-two hours has passed since he got the email, but nope. He’s gone from Wednesday night to Saturday, and nothing more.

As he’d predicted, Matthew is easy to get out of the room. Hob tells him about the secluded little courtyard on the other side of campus that he knows hardly anyone knows of, hints that maybe Matthew’s girlfriend would like to watch the stars for a while. Matthew is all too eager to disappear ten minutes before nine, and Hob lets out a breath of relief.

He hurries to log in on the website with the passcode the admins emailed him, and the page loads almost instantly. The feed is dark, disconnected. Hob chews on the edge of a fingernail as he watches the minutes tick past. Finally, at two minutes past nine o’clock, the video flickers to life.

wetdream wears what he wore the first time Hob ever watched his live-cam. The lacy teddy is just as Hob remembers it: dark as pitch, contrasting so beautifully to such pale skin, barely reaching a few inches past his hips. His underwear hardly conceals his half-hard cock. Hob wonders if wetdream was stroking himself in preparation.

Hob realises belatedly that he has no idea how this works. He hadn’t exactly asked the admins of the site, and there wasn’t anything listed in the FAQs. He bites down on his lower lip and lets his fingers tap out a message in the chat-box: What do I do?

wetdream’s head cocks as he reads the message, then he lets out what Hob can only imagine is a huff of laughter. Hob’s cheeks flare with heat, and he very nearly clicks out of the tab. Only the thought that he’d paid so much for this stops him. He doesn’t want to waste that amount of money. So he resigns himself to being a laughingstock—maybe wetdream will tell all his friends about the bloody idiot who can’t work a private sex show to save his life.

wetdream: Just tell me what you want me to do. I am all yours.

Hob… Hob can do that. He can tell wetdream what to do. But, then, the question remains: What the fuck does Hob want to see? He swallows and double-checks that Matthew hasn’t come back, that the door is still locked, then faces his laptop again.

hobgoblin: take off your top. i want to see you

wetdream does without hesitation; his fingers trail along his exposed skin, hook around the straps of his teddy, and he gazes directly into the camera as he pushes the straps down. The teddy slides down his lithe body until it vanishes from view. Hob blows out a breath at the expanse of smooth pale skin, the flat planes of muscle, the almost dainty lines carved to form this body. wetdream presses the tips of long fingers to his chin as he waits, and Hob could cry with how beautiful this man is.

He tells wetdream to remove his underwear, to get on the bed, to touch himself. wetdream moves quickly yet sensuously, stripping and leaving the camera where it is but bringing a tablet with him. Clearly, it’s meant so he can keep up with the chat. So he can obey Hob’s orders and fulfil his desires.

Once he’s situated on his knees in the middle of his bed, wetdream wraps a slender hand around his cock and gives it one long, slow stroke. Hob watches wetdream drag his nails down his bare chest, lines of pink left in their wake, before the hand splays over a sharp hipbone, dips down to fondle himself. wetdream’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and Hob hesitantly types out another message.

hobgoblin: i want to see you open yourself up.

wetdream’s gaze darts to the tablet, a brow twitching, then he moves. When he comes back on-screen, he holds a bottle of lubricant. Hob watches with a dry mouth as wetdream coats his fingers. He turns until he’s side-on to the camera, lowers his chest so it rests on the mattress, and reaches behind himself. His lashes flutter closed, knees spreading slightly wider, and his wrist flexes as he clearly pushes his finger in further. He turns his head toward the camera, eyes opening to slits, and his lips curve the barest amount in the corners. His mouth drops open as his knuckles shift beneath his skin.

hobgoblin: just like that. you’re beautiful like this, did you know that? hobgoblin: so beautiful. hobgoblin: fuck yourself with your fingers for me, love.

Hob moans when wetdream does as commanded. He wishes he could be there, could hear what sounds spill from this man’s lips, could be the one opening him up until he’s begging for Hob’s cock. Hob doesn’t hesitate: He shoves down the band of his pyjama bottoms and takes himself firmly in hand. It’s harder to type one-handed, but he does it anyway.

hobgoblin: let me see your arse. let me see you nice and open.

wetdream moves again until he’s reclining against an impressive amount of pillows, legs spread, and Hob nearly swallows his tongue at the sight. He really, truly is open; it would be so easy to just push inside and fuck wetdream senseless. After a moment, wetdream’s fingers dive back into himself. The tablet still rests beside him, and he occasionally glances at the screen.

hobgoblin: do you wish it was me there? instead of just your fingers. do you wish it was my cock splitting you open? because i do.

wetdream nods, first slowly then more vigorously. Hob types out faster, love, that’s it, and God, does wetdream obey so beautifully. He obeys when Hob tells him to stroke himself, and Hob’s hand moves more quickly as wetdream fucks up into his own fist then back onto his fingers.

Can I come? wetdream mouths after a moment, eyes darkened and thighs trembling, and Hob has a helluva time typing yes.

“Come for me,” he groans though wetdream can’t hear, but that doesn’t matter: Ropes of cum stripe along wetdream’s belly only seconds later as his head falls back to expose his throat. Hob wants to bite it, to leave his mark so wetdream would never forget him.

The mental image is enough to send Hob over the edge himself.

hobgoblin: gorgeous

wetdream gives a shaky smile as he lies against his pillows, and Hob reaches for a tissue from the box beside him. To his surprise, he sees a message when he looks back at the screen.

wetdream: Do you want me to taste myself? hobgoblin: if you want to? i don’t have much of a preference in either direction.

That might change, he thinks as wetdream swipes a finger through the mess on his stomach. Hob’s heart skips a beat when wetdream sucks the cum from his fingertip, tongue wrapping around the digit as he stares into the camera as if challenging Hob. Hob’s cock gives a valiant twitch, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

He glances at the clock—it’s only been half an hour, and he’s already spent.

wetdream: You still have thirty-two minutes left. Is there anything else you would like? hobgoblin: no, you were wonderful. i enjoyed myself

wetdream grins before visibly tamping down on it. Shaking his head, he taps at the screen of his tablet.

wetdream: I am glad. wetdream: I enjoyed myself, as well. hobgoblin: thank you for a great time. good night, beautiful

wetdream comes closer to the camera, smiles once more, then the screen goes to the landing page. Hob slumps in his seat and runs his clean hand over his face. Well, that was… something.

There’s a partial refund on his credit card the next morning.

Unfortunately for Hob, the private show spawns something like an addiction. There’s an undeniably impossible-to-resist quality about wetdream that Hob can’t quite explain, not even to himself, so he doesn’t try. He merely adjusts his budget more and more, picking up extra shifts as often as he can to afford living expenses and the live-cams. As long as they don’t interfere with wetdream’s showings. He’s noticed a pattern to the cams, so he tries to schedule his life around them. It isn’t always possible to make it to one—he has to miss a handful over the next two months, between working and Matthew being in the room—but he tries.

He always makes sure to tell wetdream how beautiful he is.

Three months after Malachi sent the link, the term is over, and Hob is heading back home for the summer. His mum has been pestering him about it, and he’s missed his family fiercely. He hadn’t known just how much wetdream’s cams had been affecting his life until he checked the calendar just last week and realised he had only been back home twice a month since the cams started.

“Robbie!”

Hob grins and envelops his mother in a tight hug. She squeezes him once before stepping back. Frowning, Elizabeth runs her thumbs under his eyes.

“I’m fine, Mum.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.”

No, I’m stupidly infatuated with a sex worker and can’t stop thinking about him. “You know how school is,” he says with a shrug before grabbing his bag. “Dad at home?”

He settles into his childhood bedroom with ease. It’s gone through some significant changes over the years. No longer filled with posters of cartoon characters or Formula 1 cars or toys meant for a seven-year-old little boy, the room suits him well enough now. He sets his bag on the floor by the wardrobe then sits on the bed.

He’s just begun thinking about wetdream—again—when a small form slams into his side. Hob chuckles as he pushes at his little sister’s shoulder until she backs away. Maggie beams before hugging him. Hob closes his eyes as he holds her close.

At only eleven years old, Margaret is the baby of the four children. She should be a spoiled princess, but she’s rather well-rounded and down to Earth. At the very least, there is little that Hob can complain about that isn’t typical younger sibling behaviour.

He presses a kiss to Maggie’s hair before releasing her. “What are you doing home already? Don’t you have school?”

“Mum said I can get out early today since you were coming home. Besides, it’s the last day anyway. We never do anything on the last day.”

“Fair enough.”

Hob sighs and stares at his sister. Her blonde hair has been plaited today, and her hazel eyes sparkle with delight as she sits beside him on his bed, grinning. There’s a small stain of chocolate on the collar of her uniform jumper.

Her gaze slides around the room before alighting on the guitar leaning against the far wall. “Oh, can you please play Black Bird?”

“Which version?”

“From the movie!”

Hob laughs and nods. If his baby sister wants a song, a song she will get. So once the instrument is in hand, he quickly wipes off the dust, tunes the strings, then begins to play.

Before he knows it, three weeks have gone by. He’s found a job in the library, so he spends his days helping patrons find books and makes small talk with everyone. It’s a lot like his job in the university bookstore but less stressful. He doesn’t have fellow students yelling at him because they’re late for class or the books are too expensive.

Hob’s favourite thing about being home, however, is spending time with his family. Fourteen-year-old Maxwell, Nicolette and Andrew at seventeen, and of course, Maggie. His parents. Even his neighbours who never really liked him but now think he’s an exemplary young man for attending uni and holding down a ‘respectable’ job.

‘Respectable’. What makes a job respectable, Hob wonders. Perhaps it’s that he’s not stripping or whoring himself out. Or running a cam service.

Cam service.

Hob swears to himself, startling his family at the dinner table. His mother admonishes him for his language, despite the fact that the twins curse just as often as he does, and Max and Maggie have heard far worse. But he doesn’t care. He’d completely forgotten. How?

He forces himself to eat his dinner at a normal pace, even helps clean up as an apology to his mum for swearing around his siblings. As soon as she shoos him away, Hob nearly sprints up the stairs to his old bedroom.

It’s Friday which means, if he’s held to the pattern, wetdream has a showing tonight. Right about… now, actually. Hob hurries to log into his account and skims the listings until he finds the name of the correct live-cam. Blowing out a breath of relief that his card hasn’t been declined, he locks his bedroom door then sits on his bed, leaning against the wall.

The video is dark still, and Hob chews on his thumbnail as he wonders what wetdream could possibly be doing to prepare. He’s already growing hard just with the mental images of all the possibilities. He could be stroking himself until he’s erect, opening himself up for a plug to keep him ready for toys.

Hob’s thoughts stutter as the feed begins. wetdream sits on his bed already, legs crossed and showing off the high heels and stockings he wears. The sheer, black corset he’s donned accentuates the straight lines of his body, and it would look awkward on anyone else. But on him, Hob thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

hobgoblin: hello beautiful

Hob has never witnessed anyone truly lighting up like this, not outside of Maggie on Christmas morning when their parents had given her a guinea pig. But wetdream does now. He doesn’t smile, his expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in his eyes that gives away his delight. Hob’s chest fills with a warmth he can’t describe. He’s the reason wetdream is so happy right now. He has to be.

Something about wetdream’s room is different. It takes Hob a moment to place it: He’s moved his bed. He’s moved his bed to make room for the silver pole in the centre of the room. A shiver slides down Hob’s spine at the thought of what’s to come.

Hob doesn’t send any messages while he watches wetdream work. And work wetdream does. He doesn’t strip this time, not really, but that’s fine. He’s gorgeous regardless as he undulates his hips against the pole, as he spins and nearly hovers off the floor, held firmly up by his thighs against the metal. Hob hides the chat-box when someone says it could be their pole that wetdream works.

Hob nearly comes to the sight of blue eyes staring directly into the camera and a kissable lower lip caught between teeth as wetdream plunges his hand between waist and lacy underwear. As he pulls his cock free. As he strokes himself teasingly, like he wants to put on one helluva show, and maybe he does. Hob lets himself imagine that it’s all for him. He comes a split second after wetdream does.

wetdream licks cum from his hand, and Hob wishes it was him doing it.

He’s just hovered over the X to close out of the tab, feed gone dark once more, when a chat-box pops up in the bottom of his screen.

wetdream: Tomorrow night, midnight. hobgoblin: ?? wetdream: You will see.

Hob raises a brow even as no further messages come in. Deciding to not ask more questions, he closes the tab and reaches for the tissues on his nightstand. He feels like a teenager again, going through puberty and too many tissues to be inconspicuous. He huffs out a laugh as he tosses the tissues into the bin under his desk.

━━━━━━━━━

It’s ten to midnight, and Hob is already logged in. Waiting. His heart races in his chest, and his palms have gone clammy. He repeatedly wipes them on his bare thighs; no point in wearing bottoms, is there, when he’s just going to shove them down in minutes?

A chat-box appears with two minutes to spare. All it contains is an invite link. There is no host information, just a site bot doing the work. Hob knows, though. He knows, so he clicks Accept without hesitation.

He isn’t disappointed: wetdream appears within seconds. The pole is nowhere to be found now, and the bed is back in its original position. He’s wearing the heels again, and Hob stifles a groan low in his throat at how they make wetdream’s legs look even longer. Other than the shoes, he’s completely nude. Hob watches him tap at the screen of his tablet as he settles in on the bed.

wetdream: I get one free credit to give per month. I chose you. hobgoblin: i’m flattered. thank you. wetdream: I have a request of you tonight, if you are amenable to that? hobgoblin: anything, beautiful wetdream: Tell me what you would do to me were you to be here. Tell me what you want of me. hobgoblin: gladly. lie back and let me see you. hobgoblin: god, you’re fucking beautiful. you listen so well.

Hob doesn’t mind that wetdream’s attention isn’t on him, it’s on the messages coming in on the tablet, as Hob tells every dirty fantasy he’s carried with him over the last four months. He’d kiss wetdream until they were both breathless, unable to speak. He’d suck wetdream’s cock until he was coming down Hob’s throat. Hob would bring wetdream to his knees and fuck his mouth before coming all over his face. He’d bend the gorgeous, perfect man over the nearest surface, open him up so slowly and gently, then fuck him until they were too exhausted to move anymore. He’d fuck him with the points of wetdream’s heels digging into his back, leaving bruises to remind Hob of their union.

Or maybe, maybe, Hob would let wetdream fuck him into the mattress. He has a feeling the man is hiding some serious strength in that slender body of his.

hobgoblin: play with your arse, love, beautiful one. come when you want, i’m watching.

wetdream nods rapidly, hand nearly a blur as he jerks himself off. He clenches his teeth, eyes squeezing closed, then his release is spilling free over his fist and abdomen. Some even manages to reach his chest.

It takes Hob an embarrassingly short amount of time to come after that.

You have a way with words, wetdream messages once he’s cleaned himself up, something he’s never done on camera before.

hobgoblin: only for you wetdream: You stayed away for quite some time. I hope all is well?

And is that… That’s apprehension, nervousness, on wetdream’s face. Hob groans at that before typing out yeah, everything is fine. sorry to make you worry. Something twists in wetdream’s expression, and he scowls at the screen.

wetdream: I did not worry. I was merely curious. wetdream: Have a good night, hobgoblin. hobgoblin: it’s hob.

The video cuts out but not before Hob sees wetdream mouthing his name to himself. Hob wipes away his mess then crawls into bed.

There is no live-cam the next week or the next. There is no live-cam until Hob is back at uni, six weeks after the free private show.

Hob still calls wetdream beautiful, but wetdream doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.

It’s almost Christmas by the time anything changes. Matthew refuses to leave the room, moping about being so far from home during the holidays, and Hob takes pity on the young man. He invites Matthew to spend Christmas with the Gadling family. Matthew grins and accepts cheerily; any sense of melancholy is gone now, as if a demon banished by an exorcism.

Andrew protests but finally concedes to giving up his room for Matthew, to sharing a bed with Maxwell. Hob, thankfully, gets his room to himself still. It’s bad enough sharing a room as a grown adult, but to share a bed? He’d rather sleep outside in the snow.

Hob waits until the others are in bed before locking his door and opening his laptop. He highly doubts wetdream would be hosting a showing tonight, so near to Christmas, but he wants to check anyway. A site bot has sent another message: Happy Christmas followed by a link.

Hob clicks.

wetdream: You were right. I was… concerned. I grew accustomed to you being in the viewer list, to your messages calling me beautiful.

Hob grins, shaking his head, and types back: you’re forgiven, beautiful.

wetdream: I thought perhaps I could show my remorse by giving you an early Christmas present. hobgoblin: far be it from me to turn down a gift ;)

wetdream smiles on camera, a shy little thing, before sitting back in his seat, showing more than just his head. He’s wearing a red negligee with a ribbon wrapped around his throat, tied in a bow beneath his chin. He chews on his bottom lip, and Hob realises with a start he’s wearing lipstick. Not much, just enough to give more colour, and he’s never wanted to kiss wetdream this much before.

His cock stirs, and he has to agree with the sentiment. This is—

hobgoblin: you are absolutely stunning, love, darling dream come true wetdream: Thank you, but just Dream is acceptable.

Dream. Fucking Hell, of course he’d want to be called Dream. And what a dream he is. Hob pinches himself to make sure this is real, that this is wetdream—Dream—baring himself as a present for Hob.

hobgoblin: it suits you. can i ask you to show me more of you?

Dream—God, fucking Dream—dips his chin and stands. The camera fills with the spread of sheer red and a half-hard cock in a thatch of black hair, then Dream steps back. Hob nods in approval at what he sees, the most perfect present he’s ever received, and types out a request for Dream to surprise him tonight. He wants to know how Dream would please him, by his own choices.

Dream obeys because he always does. He opens himself up, fucks himself on the dildo from before, as he types out a wish that it was Hob filling him. That it was Hob who was stroking his dick and that Hob would leave bruises on his skin to remind him of everything wonderful. He promises he gives the best blowjobs of anyone he knows—he should know, there was a competition involved. He’d make Hob so happy if Hob were there.

hobgoblin: come for me, love. god, i’ve missed seeing you like this. just for me, aren’t you?

Dream taps something, then “Only for you” comes through Hob’s speakers, a low whine of a voice that sends a shiver down Hob’s spine. Breathless pants, and a broken “Only for you, Hob.”

Hob comes at the sound of his name falling from such beautiful, kissable lips.

“Dream, fuck, Dream,” Hob groans, cum dripping down his fist, and he watches as Dream reaches his own climax on-screen.

He hesitates as Dream cleans up, as Dream approaches the computer once more. Throwing caution to the wind, he hurriedly types his phone number into the chat-box and bites down on the edge of his thumbnail as Dream reads the message. His eyes widen, gaze darting to the camera, and Hob can hear the quickening of his breath.

“Hob…”

hobgoblin: you don’t have to use it. just wanted you to have it just in case you wanted to. happy early christmas, dream of mine.

Dream closes out of the live-cam without response.

━━━━━━━━━

Unknown Number: Are you busy?

Hob stares at the text. It’s Christmas morning, and he’s meant to be downstairs right now. But he has a feeling he knows who’s texting him two days after he gave them the number in the first place.

Hob: Not if this is who I think it is.

The maybe-mysterious texter sends back a photograph of a very familiar body. Hob’s gaze trails along the well-known stature, the valleys and curves of muscle and the fine delicacy of bones. He’s just lined his camera up to take a picture of his own when someone knocks on the door.

“C’mon, Robbie, Mum won’t let us open presents until you come down!”

“I’ll be right there, Mags.”

“You better, or I’m throwing all yours in the fireplace.”

Her footsteps stomp back down the stairs, and Hob laughs quietly before typing out a message.

Hob: Happy Christmas, Dream. I, unfortunately, have a little sister who’s threatening the very survival of my gifts if I don’t get downstairs now. Luckily, she can’t take you from me, can she? 😉 Dream: No. She cannot. Happy Christmas, Hob.

Somehow, his parents have scrounged up gifts for Matthew. Hob has a feeling they were originally meant to be for him, but he’s willing to give up a few presents if it means making his friend happy and feel included. After presents have been put away, there comes breakfast, and Matthew fits in perfectly. He’s on his best behaviour which is a side to him Hob never thought he’d see.

All in all, it’s a pleasant time that only exacerbates the buzzing joy in his veins that comes from having Dream.

He knows it isn’t real. That Dream doesn’t truly care for him. That Dream saying he was only Hob’s was meant to make Hob feel special, to make him willing to pay more money. But goddamn it, Hob wants to hold onto the charade just a while longer. He’ll face reality soon enough. Now is not the time.

He eventually sends a photo of himself to Dream. Might as well let the man see who he’s been giving free private shows to. Might as well show him what he’s getting if only he knew.

Two weeks after the start of term finds Hob roaming around the campus. He’s been attending this university for two years, and there is still so much he doesn’t know about it. Once his face is sufficiently, painfully numb, he ducks into the campus coffeeshop and joins the queue. He needs caffeine and heat. Now.

He turns with his latte in hand, coming to a stop at the sight of two people at the corner table. One is a dark-skinned woman with gold wire-rimmed glasses, wearing an impeccable peacoat and trousers. The other…

The other is clearly Dream.

Hob would recognise that hair anywhere. The pale skin, the blue eyes shining in the weak January sunlight. The woman glances over, frowns, then says something. Dream’s lips tug down, and he turns his head to follow her gaze. His eyes widen when they land on Hob. His lips move, but Hob can’t understand what he’s saying.

Hob approaches the table slowly, carefully, as if the earth will open up and swallow him whole. Instead, he reaches the table without issue, and he smiles down at Dream.

“Hi.”

Dream lets out a soft sigh, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before he glances at his friend. “Lucienne, I’m afraid I must go.”

“Oh. Of course. I’ll phone you later.”

Dream merely nods, rising to his feet, and Hob moves aside so he can pass. Once outside and halfway down the block, Dream turns to him and opens his mouth. No words come, not for a long moment, then Hob interrupts.

“You’re more beautiful in person.”

Dream exhales sharply, fists the lapels of Hob’s jacket, and pushes him against the brick wall of a building. Hob barely gets out a sound of surprise before Dream is kissing him. Heat floods Hob’s veins, his skin, his entire being as he focuses on the taste of coffee and mint and Dream, oh fuck, is this really happening? He wraps his arms around Dream’s waist, tugs him in closer, and yes. This is real.

“I have been wanting to do that since Christmas,” Dream admits when he pulls away.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you.” He pauses, leans forward to kiss Dream once more. “Come back to mine?”

Dream nods and lets Hob lead him away.

Thankfully, Matthew is at class by the time Hob unlocks the door. He shuts it quickly behind Dream, pinning the man between body and wood, and kisses him again. And again. He makes quick work of unbuttoning Dream’s long coat, of sliding his hand along the hard plane of Dream’s abdomen, to wrap around his hip.

“What do you want me to do?” Dream whispers, and Hob nips at his bottom lip. “Hob…”

“Let me see you, love. I need to see you.”

Dream doesn’t bother putting on a show as he strips down to nothing, leaving his clothes in a pile at his feet. Hob groans and drops to his knees, presses a soft kiss to the head of Dream’s cock. Beautiful, he whispers before taking it in his mouth.

Dream shouts, hand immediately burying in Hob’s hair, and that’s all it takes. Hob sucks and licks and swirls his tongue around the head, takes Dream in all the way to the root until his nose is buried in coarse hair. Swallows around the cock in the back of his throat until Dream comes with a bitten-off cry and quivering thighs.

Opening Dream up is a fucking glorious gift from Heaven. He whines so wonderfully, shoves down onto Hob’s fingers with wanton moans, obeys when Hob tells him to roll onto his belly. Arse on display, Dream shudders as Hob runs a hand along his flank, lets out a broken sound when Hob pushes in. And Hob could die with that sound. He does as he promised so long ago: He fucks Dream in alternating patterns, rough countered by tender, until Dream is panting and Hob’s arms tremble from holding himself up.

Someone knocks on the door. Matthew’s voice calls for Hob, “I forgot my key, open up.”

“Go the fuck away,” Hob grits out, sliding his hand beneath Dream’s body to grasp onto his cock.

Hob comes first, out of breath and satisfied as he spills into Dream with abandon. He presses a soft kiss to Dream’s shoulder, bites down on the smooth skin.

“Come for me, my dream. Let me feel you.”

Dream’s breath comes out in a shuddering sob, and he thrusts forward into Hob’s tight grip over and over, moving between fist to cock then back again. Hob bites down harder, soothing the spot with his tongue.

“Come,” he all but growls into the skin.

Dream does.

Hob pulls Dream to the side once he’s finished, holds him close out of the mess he’s made, and Dream exhales shakily. Hob runs a gentle hand along Dream’s stomach and kisses the curve of his neck.

“I know this is a bit backwards,” he murmurs as soon as he catches his breath again, “but have dinner with me.”

Dream hums in response, nodding slowly, and Hob realises he’s fallen asleep when there comes the sound of soft snores. Deciding class can wait for another day, he burrows his face into the back of Dream’s neck and lets himself drift away. He can deal with Matthew later.

(Matthew retaliates by telling Hob’s mother all about her son’s new boyfriend.)

#the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dream x hob #dreamling #my writing #dreamling bingo

[karmaisntab]

“My beloved.” He breathes in, and when he exhales, his breath is but a warm dance across his skin. An embrace that only two lovers can share- and that is what they are, Hob thinks. Lovers. Such an inane concept. And yet, it fits them perfectly. The immortal human and the Dream of the Endless. A word so simple that described two not-so-simple beings and their relationship with one another perfectly.

It was an inhale. And an exhale. It was a breath, and Hob instantly knew that his Dream was at ease- as he should be. Black cloth dawned their intertwined forms, as they lay upon the bed, and where the sun’s rays shone through the curtains, they ended up caressing Morpheus’ face. Eyes closed, relaxed. The picture of perfection, in Hob’s expert opinion.

He felt like nothing could touch them. And perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he was right, but either way, that didn’t matter. He would remember this moment for the next hundred years, and after. For as long as he had a conscience, he would know this moment.

“My Dream.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling ficlet #fluff #pure fluff #i’m so soft for them #morpheus #dream the sandman #the sandman #hob gadling the sandman #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dreamling fluff #morpheus x hob #morpheus x hob gadling #dchgbkhnkygerkknj #not beta read #i only looked over this once #this is all you’re getting lol

[babylonfelldown]

I, for once, love a good homoerotic fall out of friendship

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra x alicent #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #theon x robb #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #the sandman #morpheus x hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #merlin bbc #morgana x gwen

[lu-inlondon]

Imagine, if you will, the year 1984.

It's a fairly normal year compared to what's been going on in the last of them. People are killing each other en masse and it feels like the end of the world is upon them, but Hob's lived through a few of those already and he's sure they'll keep on spinning.

He's back in London after an extended period in continental Europe and one faked death. (It's easier now, coming back to London. He just has to change the borough he lives in. There are so many people, he just turns into another vaguely familiar face in the crowd for those who knew him.)

Five years to go, then it's time to meet his Stranger again.

He's working at a bank. It's not his favourite job, but he's charming - always has been - and surprisingly good with numbers, which is all it takes for him to be successful enough to not have to worry about the next couple of years. There's a residential flat building he bought two identities ago that he manages on the side, renting himself a room as well.

Hob's comfortable. And at the same time, vibrating out of his skin.

Their 1889 meeting had been a disaster. He'd been overly confident and paid the price for it. If more was yet to come, remained to be seen, but it gnawed on him. He would live, sure, but losing his Stranger because of something he said nearly one hundred years ago drove him mad.

And then there were the songs.

Hob wasn't sure why, but so much of the music playing on the radio reminded him of his Stranger, that oftentimes, all he could do was turn it off.

How can I just let you walk away? Just let you leave without a trace

It was by far the worst he'd heard yet because it described just what had happened.

Because he had let his Stranger leave in the pouring rain. He had made no attempt to follow him, to catch up to him and explain what he'd meant. And just like in the centuries before that, he'd been gone, nowhere to be found.

After the song came out in March, Hob's radio was turned off near permanently. He didn't even go to see the film, which didn't sound too bad if he was being honest. But the thought alone to hear the song-

1989 came and went, his Stranger was still gone and the White Horse was closing. Hob had fought - for as long as he could - but there was nothing he could do. The new development had promised too much to the borough, some local middle-class guy insisting that it was a historic landmark stood no chance.

Buying a new venue for them to meet had sounded like a smart idea at the time. He didn't know when - or if - his Stranger would finally show, but Hob needed to be here when he finally did.

It didn't much feel like a good idea any longer when he stood in what would eventually be the taproom, surrounded by nothing but peeling wallpaper and dirty old floorboards.

So take a look at me now, oh there's just an empty space And there's nothin' left here to remind me Just the memory of your face

He couldn't even imagine his Stranger here, not really. He'd only ever seen him at the White Horse or in his dreams and after so many years, the memory was hazy.

The only person who knew the most important things about him, lost to time as everyone else.

It hurt more than he thought it would. Hurt longer, too.

Hob poured his soul into the new pub. He's got the money to have other people do the dirty work, but it felt wrong. It felt as if he had to be the one to do this, do remove the rest of decade-old flowery wallpaper, to rip out the creaking floorboards, to tear down walls. He had to be the one to build the new bar, stain the wood to be just the right warm colour to make this homey.

If he put his very being into this, maybe his stranger would come back.

Slowly, it took shape. There's still much missing but if Hob's got one thing, it's time. He quit his job at the bank, and spend nearly all his time at The New Inn. The name isn't really creative, but it doesn't have to be. It's meant to be a clear sign for his Stranger, flashing brightly to make him find his way back to Hob.

When it's done and there's nothing left to do, Hob sits down on a barstool and listens.

It's empty, quiet. Outside he can hear the rain prattle against the window, cars driving along the road, a mum calling for her kid, but the pub's empty. It's just Hob like it's been for a good while now.

Maybe it's better this way. At least he doesn't have to explain why he sits at his own bar, stone-cold sober and crying.

I wish, I could just make you turn around Turn around and see me cry

The years go on, as they always do. Time stops for no one, not even two immortals.

Hob stays in London, as risky as it may be. He manages the New Inn for a while before he moves to the other side of town, starting a degree because it's been a while since he spent time getting a proper education. The thought of teaching history is crazy at first - an inside joke he tells himself - but at some point, it feels right. So he keeps at it.

It's a bit like the inn, he supposes. His Stranger is gone and with him his connection to his past. He's floating through time untethered, so he's trying to put down anchors: the new pub, teaching, a flat to live in for more than a dozen years.

It's different. But it's nice.

His bartenders are either old people, short of their retirement, or students. Neither of them stays around long enough to catch onto the fact that he hasn't aged a day since he met them. It's his one rule for people he regularly interacts with and slowly it lessens the worry that he'll be found out again.

He switches universities, gets new colleagues, slowly loses touch with the old ones and clings to the material he teaches.

He loves it, no doubt, but sometimes when he's still down at the pub grading papers when everyone's already asleep in their beds, he stares at the empty room. Decades have passed and there's still no sign of his stranger.

Hob closes a hand around his glass, stares into the rest of amber liquid that has taken on the room's temperature hours ago. He won't drink it anymore, but it's the best thing he's got to talk to. Talking about his day to an empty pint isn't the same as telling his Stranger about the last hundred years, but it's a start. If anything, he's just transferring all to his memory so when he comes back - because Hob is sure he'll see his Stranger again - he won't miss any of the important details.

But to wait for you, is all I can do and that's what I've got to face Take a good look at me now, 'cos I'll still be standin' here And you coming back to me is against all odds It's the chance I've gotta take

#writing tag: the sandman #my stuff #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dream x hob #my 80's playlist is kicking my ass #Against All Odds by Phil Collins #<- this one in particular #it fits them so well I literally started to cry while doing the dishes #ficlet #songfic #Also I do not like song fics I hate that I have about 200 ideas for them tho #I had feeling and now I'm sharing them #dreamling playlist ficlets

[amphetamine-keen]

Hob rescues dream AU where their first words to one another are "You are no Devil" and Dream responds "and you are not Jewish."

is this anything?

#dreamling #the sandman #hob x dream #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #I've seen that it's polite not to tag the individual characters bc some people just want non dreamling content #so I'm mot gonna tag anyone on their own.

[keelywolfe]

Ficlet: Language Barrier

Summary: Hob always did have a soft heart, whether it was for kittens or anthropomorphic personifications. 

Tags: Established relationship, domestic fluff

Also on AO3

~~*~~

The cement was cold at this time of the morning. Hob didn’t let it bother him and sat on the step anyway, his coffee cup steaming in his hand as he waited more or less patiently for the kitten he’d been after for the past week to come closer.

He’d first seen the little fella through the kitchen window, stalking what might have been a cricket out in the garden. An unremarkable little tabby, too small to be on his own, by Hob’s reckoning, too skinny and grubby. Poor thing was sure to starve or end up dead in the street and Hob’s soft heart wasn’t having it.

Progress was being made. His first offering of tuna had been ignored until he went inside and it could be freely gobbled without witness. A couple days of that, then they'd moved on to the pricy cat food he’d bought being devoured in the middle of the garden while he sat on the steps.

Today, the dish was at the bottom step and Hob sat waiting as the kitten peered out from the shrubbery. He sipped his coffee, trying to appear as nonchalant and unmenacing as a large human could be to a tiny kitten. If he could get the little beggar to trust him a mite, he could get him inside where it was safe from dogs and cars, all the things in the world that were waiting menacingly right around the corner.

“What are you doing?”

It took everything Hob had not to jump out of his skin, and damn certain people for popping in and out of the world whenever they bloody well pleased. Just because Hob couldn’t die from a heart attack didn’t mean he wanted to playact one every other day.

He turned only enough to see Dream, not wanting to make any sudden movements that might scare off the kitten. But not looking simply wasn’t on, not even for kitten appropriation purposes. It still chuffed him too much to see Dream in his house. Especially now, standing in his pale bare feet and those skinny jeans of his, so relaxed and easy here, so different than those first button-up and over starched years.

Besides, Hob wasn’t above admitting he had an appreciation for a well-turned ankle and Dream’s were damn fine.  

“Shhh, don’t scare ‘im,” Hob said, low, tipping his head towards the shrub. “Been feeding him for a week. Poor little guy seems like he’s all alone.”

“Indeed.” Before Hob could protest, Dream crouched and held out a hand. The sound he made, a sort of ‘mrrrph!’ wasn’t one Hob associated with humans, but considering the source, he wasn’t entirely surprised.

More surprising was the kitten immediately vacating the shrubbery to run to him, bypassing even the canned tuna feast to nuzzle Dream’s hand with a contented little meep.

Well, wasn’t that a kick in the pants.

Hob sighed. “Can you at least tell him he can come in the house if he wants? It’s warmer and I’ve a nice soft blanket he can try.”

Dream gently picked up the kitten and let the little brat settle into the curve of his arm. Hob couldn’t be certain, but he thought it might be the both of them purring contentedly. “Stalker of the Wilds says she would be agreeable to that arrangement.”

“Right, then.” Hob gathered up the saucer of food and his coffee and headed in, Dream and the kitten at his heels.

Next time there was a beast living in the wilds of his garden, he’d be sure to bring in the cat whisperer first and save some time. And if he got to listen to Dream speaking in his little kitty voice in the process? Hob would call that a worthy reward for splurging on the good cat treats.

-fin 

#dreamling #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #keelywolfe #the sandman

[kittttycakes]

those prompt things were made for Hob I swear???????? ok so either "I didn't know you wore glasses and I'm thinking normal and platonic thoughts about you right now I swear" (who's wearing glasses? Who knows, many possibilities!

OR

"you bought me a SWORD? OH MAN IM GONNA BE SO DANGEROUS" because... REASONS

thank you for allowing me to spread the gospel of "glasses make everyone hotter" and it isn't just because I myself am a confirmed glasses wearer I swear

Hob nearly drops his cup when he sees him, hand gripping convulsively at the cardboard in an overcorrection that almost sees him with coffee down his arm. He has seen Morpheus in more stages and types of dress and undress than he can easily recall, robes and coats in materials no human hands save his own have ever touched, but he fears this may be his undoing. 

Get ahold of yourself, he tells himself sternly. There’s nothing unusual. Nothing to see here. You can and will be normal about this. 

When Morpheus draws closer, his brow furrows slightly, searching Hob’s face. “Are you well?”

“Am I—yes. Yes, well,” he says. He starts to say more, stops, and drinks his coffee instead for something to do, nearly scorching his tongue. It is, he must admit, a very good approximation of what he and his colleagues wear every day, albeit in a more monochrome color scheme than he would usually see. There’s still something so very him about it all that Hob knows he would be able to pick him out of a crowd of a hundred, a thousand, but he can’t stop staring at his face. 

“Do you like them?” Morpheus asks, falling into step beside him, as perceptive as he always is, now, when it comes to Hob. On anyone else, the tone would be infuriatingly casual, but Hob knows he’s enjoying this. He’s done it on purpose, the menace, and when Hob had told him he was welcome to drop in on him any time, even at the university, he hadn’t envisioned this. He hadn’t realized Morpheus would try to blend in. 

The glasses he’s chosen are a bit thicker framed than Hob’s own reading glasses, and they suit his face immensely, drawing attention to his eyes and giving him an air of scholarly intensity that Hob finds entirely appealing. He looks a bit like the sort of visiting professor that he wouldn’t mind being trapped in conversation with at the annual faculty dinner, no matter what topic he’d sunk his teeth into and refused to let go of, because listening to him would give Hob the unparalleled opportunity to simply look at him and to listen to the rise and fall of his voice. 

Hob aims for casual and falls somewhat short. “They’re new, I haven’t ever seen you wear those before.” 

“I chose them especially for the occasion.”

He was wrong. This wasn’t blending in, this was specifically targeted at him. He stops to let them both into his office, immediately closing the door behind them, dropping his bag and coffee and hoping they both land near and on the desk, respectively, and backing Morpheus up against the door. “Well, you certainly have my attention. Is that what you wanted?” 

Morpheus smiles slightly, terribly smug. Hob badly wants to kiss that look off of his face. “You do like them, then.” 

“You’re keeping those on. I’ve got plans,” he says, leaning in to kiss him, thanking a god he has not believed in for a good few centuries that he thought of going to work early that morning. The essays can wait. This is far more important.

#ask prompt #beloved mutuals #morpheus x hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dreamling #kittycakes writes #I am also going to do the second one so uh keep an eye out for that one later #it'll be a little tiny baby blub but I need hob with a sword and i need it now

[dailydreamling]

Canon Divergence

Helianthus by jamais_vu0 (Words: 2,389)

Warning: Referenced dehuminization of a non-human character

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Months after he releases Dream of the Endless from his cage, Paul McGuire has a chance encounter that teaches him a few things about Fawney Rig's former prisoner.

Canon Divergence

Des Kaisers Neue Kleider by WyvernQuill (Words: 1,572)

Warning: Unresolved Sexual Tension

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob was not ashamed to admit that he'd simply stood there and stared for a small eternity; he himself wearing one of his lovelier fancy suits from the early 1800s, dreamed up to be in perfect condition, and Dream… Dream was wearing a black tablecloth. A black tablecloth that, despite very much being voluminous enough to cover, well, a TABLE, did not manage to conceal much of Dream's body to passing onlookers.

Canon Divergence

Ich have y-don al myn youth (all my youth I have loved) by ScribeofArda (Words: 6,877)

Warning: none

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Dream glances up at him and Hob can see his face soften, in that way where his expression barely changes but Hob can see everything behind it. “You have an attentive audience, my love,” he says. “Please continue.”

Canon Divergence

Midnight in Bloom by CeruleanHeart (Words: 14,389)

Warning: Hanahaki/Sex Pollen hybrid, Altered Mental States, Implied/Referenced Mind Control

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

A peculiar species of flowers is spreading in the Dreaming, maddening its residents and threatening to overtake the realm.

When Morpheus himself falls under their spell his only option is to confront all the desires for an old friend he’s had long buried within his heart before his own passion can consume him.

Canon Divergence

Make your interest known by sb_essebi (Words: 2,429) 

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Perhaps, in another universe, in the year 1589, Dream of the Endless left the Dreaming carrying a single red rose, intending to court Hob Gadling. Perhaps, sensing Hob's daydreams about his wife, Dream changed his mind and threw the rose to the ground.

In this universe, in the year 1589, Dream of the Endless still leaves the Dreaming carrying a single rose. Fortunately, in this universe, things go rather differently.

See below for more recommendations!

Canon Divergence

| don't look back | by TypicalNerd98 (Words: 15,090)

Warning: Mentions of War, Grief/Mourning

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“You and Dream will leave, but you shall do so without a guide, no one will give you directions, no one will address you, no one will lay their eyes upon you. You will be on your own, Robert Gadling. Much like beautiful Orpheus was. As for Dream… he will follow after you, but you cannot look back at him or you’ll sentence both of you for eternity of damnation. Only once you pass over to the Dreaming, will you be free of my rules.”

Hob frowned, not knowing what to make of Lucifer’s proposal, so he uttered the one question that seemed the most pressing among the others “But how will I know that you held up your end of the deal? How can I be sure that Dream will be with me?”

Lucifer’s bright smile transformed into a grin, as they proudly stated “You can’t. That’s why it’s going to be so interesting, Robert Gadling.”

Canon Divergence

A Certain Point of View by Konstadt (Words: 6,795)

Warning: Canonical Character Death, Past Character Death, Requited Unrequited Love

Pairings: Dream of the Endless | Daniel/Hob Gadling. Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream's heart aches for the love he had, his poorly thought out solution is to watch Hob Gadling from afar to try to soothe the pain - with the opposite effect. Hob has extremely complicated feelings for the beautiful young man who is both so alike and so opposite to the one he loved and lost. Both men pine for what they lost and seek solace in each other, neither have a full understanding of what that means until it happens. A story of misunderstandings and how a burden shared is a burden halved.

Canon Divergence

a lucky break(out) by cuubism (Words: 9,892)

Warning: none

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Hob acquires a familiar ruby at an antiquities sale. Said ruby summons something else into his home as well.

Mercy by Blissymbolics (Words: 598)

Warning: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream comes and goes as he pleases. He appears once every few weeks, satisfies himself with wordless, earth-shattering sex, then disappears in the morning while Hob is still buttering his toast. Hob accepts him every time. No matter what time of night; no matter what responsibilities await him the next morning; he welcomes the King of Dreams into his bed and pleasures him the way only a mortal mouth can.

Canon Divergence

Sunday Meetings by Avelera (Words: 8,306)

Warning: none

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

A happier take on The Sandman comic issue, “Sunday Mourning” from “The Wake”, aka “Hob Gadling goes to the Ren Faire (and hates every second of it)”

Thirty years ago, Hob promised his now ex-girlfriend, Gwen, that they would stay friends and that they would meet every few years at the Ren Faire to catch up. This was despite the fact that Hob hates Ren Faires to the very depths of his soul. This time, Dream goes with him.

Fishbowl Rescue Fic

By the Laws of Magic by Lenore (Words: 32,125)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

It’s 1959, and Hob Gadling is working at a London auction house, amazing his colleagues with his uncanny knowledge of art and artifacts from the 14th century on. When he gets the assignment to catalogue a family library at a place called Fawney Rig, he looks forward to a working vacation in the country. What he finds is a house with a preternatural chill where odd disturbances happen daily, an ornate carved door with a secret clearly hidden behind it, and visions of his mysterious stranger every time he turns around.

Fishbowl Rescue Fic

Into Darkness and Howling (I'll Keep Him From Drowning) by TinyButFierce (Words: 6,157)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

It was beginning to sound like Roderick Burgess had something or someone trapped in his basement. Hob was starting to wonder if he should do something about that.

Retire Dream AU

My heart’s ailment  by martybaker (Words: 891)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream gets sick for the first time since becoming human

Retire Dream AU

This Dream Is Over (Another Has Begun) by SigniorBenedickofPadua (Words: 115,429)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Weak, confused, and distressingly human, he consents to being taken back to Hob's home to be cared for until he can regain his strength. When he falls asleep that night (which he should never have had need for), he finally finds his way back to his palace, only to find someone else sitting on his throne, wearing his ruby, and claiming his name as her own — Dream of the Endless.

Retire Dream AU

New Stranger by softestpunk (Words: 20,709)

Warning: Unhealthy Codependency

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

It’s been three months since Hob Gadling attended the funeral of his oldest friend when he walks into the basement café of a bookshop on Tottenham Court Road and sees him behind the counter.

A story about not knowing what you've got 'til it's gone, second chances, the power of love, and holding hands.

Matthew’s POV Fics

Get a Room by TheCosmicMushroom (Words: 1,099)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling were without a doubt, completely and unequivocally disgusting. Matthew watches over a Dreamling date. Much to his chagrin.

Matthew’s POV Fics

Quoth the Raven by Anonymous (Words: 2,651)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Matthew had decided he was going to murder Hob Gadling.

Matthew’s POV Fics

The Apocalypse Is Nigh! by cuubism (Words: 4,881)

Warning: none

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Morpheus is dating a human. A mortal (as far as Matthew knows). Which means when he dies, the Dreaming will be kaput! Just utter annihilation! But luckily Matthew has a plan.

Human AU

Five Stars by Dira Sudis (Words: 3,532)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream E. tipped well—absurdly well, sometimes, which was probably because Hob actually obeyed all the notes about things like Do not buy apples without sending a picture of them, I will tell you which I want and No other brand is an acceptable substitute on items like Sainsbury's own-brand custard creams. He would order half a dozen of the exact same frozen meal every week for months, then switch to a different one and be just as obsessed with it. There was only one kind of honey he would accept in one size jar. Hob knew

Human AU 

You're the One I Need by Moorishflower (Words: 39,086)

Warning: Past Suicidal Thoughts, Depression

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Divorced novelist and aging goth Dream Nickson agrees to accompany his sister Delirium on a cross-country journey to Greece, partially to seek out their estranged brother and partially to deliver his son, Orpheus, back to his waiting mother. When their car breaks down before they've even managed to leave England they receive unexpected help from hobby farmer Hob Gadling, whose cheer and kindness mask tragedies of his own.

Trapped by mechanical failure and a sudden storm, Dream now must deal with his trauma, his past, and feelings he'd thought he would never experience again, all in the course of a single day and night spent with a handsome stranger.

Regency AU - Omega Verse 

A Dream for a Viscount by Starsniper (Words: 11,500)

Warning: None

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Morpheus "Dream" Endless is a stubborn omega who does not want to be a stay at home omega raising children. He meets his match one night in the form of one Viscount Robert Gadling.

#DailyDreamling Fic Recs #masterpost #dreamling fic #dreamling fanfic #hob gadling #dreamling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #hobmurphy #dream x hob #Fic Rec #ao3 fanfic #fic rec list

[aralezinspace]

Behold

~AO3~ Dreamling, suggestive

Kinktober prompt: Human Furniture

Kinktober masterlist

Hob had watched Dream pace in front of his throne for around fifteen minutes before he stopped in front of his husband and grumbled, “There is something I would ask of you.”

“Anything,” Hob replied immediately, holding Dream’s hands in his. Dream heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping and weariness settling in his bones. Alarm bells immediately went off in Hob’s mind- whatever was happening was weighing him down heavily, enough that he was asking his consort for help. It would certainly explain his moodiness the past few days.

“Hey,” Hob urged gently, trying not to let his worry show as he tilted Dream’s head up with a gentle touch, forcing his husband to meet his eyes. “I’m here, love. Whatever you need.”

Dream collapsed into his throne, looking more worn out than Hob had seen him in a while. “A delegation from the Hallowed Mountains will be paying a visit tomorrow.” He swallowed with a grimace, forcing down his distaste at the prospect. “Small battalions have been moving closer and closer to our borders, but not close enough to be a declaration of war. Their king has been an ever growing thorn in my side.” He paused; Hob was sure he was grinding his teeth.

Dream’s next words were bitten out, growled: “I need. To send a message.” The barest hint of an almost evil smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Hob felt his mouth go dry as Dream purred the details of his request. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, his vision grew fuzzy at the edges as his blood fell from his brain to his cock. Oh, it would send a message alright. And they would both enjoy it immensely.

~~

The next morning in the throne room, Hob couldn’t keep himself from staring; it was a monumental effort just to keep his mouth from hanging open like a dumb fish. A shudder went down his spine, and it wasn’t just from the breeze wafting over his naked skin.

The monarch of the Dreaming was clearly taking this seriously- he had dressed himself in a flowing shirt and pants the same black as the bottom of the ocean, probably made of bottom-of-the-ocean too. It moved and rippled like water across his lean frame, churning and softly writhing. A silver chain of office hung about his shoulders, each link forged from stardust and snow. From the chain hung a blood red ruby the size of Hob’s palm- not the ruby, but one made to look like it in every aspect.

His cloak was fastened at the hollow of his throat, the flames at the base bringing out the flickers of stars captured in the fabric. His helm rested on the arm of the throne, glimmering like the day it was made. It was an understated and yet very clear display of his power and authority, his right to rule. His beauty magnified with the power rolling off him in waves was a clear warning to back down, or face the consequences.

Hob was beyond powerless to even think of disobeying Dream’s command of “Now, my love. They are almost here.” He eased himself into his throne, an imperious flick of his hand pointing to the space at his feet Hob was to occupy. The human crashed to his knees, joints protesting the sudden contact with the cold stone floor. “My king,” he breathed, pressing a reverent yet obscene kiss to Dream’s knuckles, tongue briefly darting out to taste skin. It may have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn he saw Dream’s cock twitch under his loose pants.

Hob arranged himself on all fours at Dream’s feet, his half hard cock just peeking out from between his thighs. His hair had come loose, and hung in curtains around his face. He took a deep breath when he felt the hard heels of Dream’s boots dig into the flesh just to the side of his spine. He settled into his muscles, making minute adjustments to his position. Lucienne announced their guests, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Hob lost track of time in the floaty haze of his mind. The drone of the delegates’ voices and Dream’s rumbling responses melded together into white noise, punctuated by the slow, steady beating of his heart, pierced by the sharp pain of Dream’s boots digging into his back. He would surely have a bruise; maybe Dream would kiss it better once the delegation left.

He barely noticed the ache in his wrists and knees, nor the tremors in his shoulders when his muscles began to protest holding the same position for so long. Every now and then, Dream shifted his feet, using his toes and heels to nudge Hob into a better position. A light tap to the hinge of his elbow, and he fell to his forearms with a soft grunt. The movement and radiating aches in his bones made him shiver. From this position, the visiting delegation could clearly see the deep and purpling indents in his back from his sovereign's boots, could see through the curtain of his hair to the blissed out smile on his face. He was helping Dream send a message: that Morpheus’ power was absolute. That he could order his consort to serve as a footstool, and said consort would obey gladly. He held dominion over every inch of his realm, and it willingly submitted to him.

Hob wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt the weight of Dream’s feet vanish, startling him out of his meditative reverie. Dream gently pulled him up into his lap, ghosting his fingers over the deeply bruised welts in Hob’s back and murmuring praise. Hob shuddered and closed his eyes, drifting off with a content smile. Later, when Hob was present again, he’d tell him how the delegation had received their message and left with their tails between their legs. Later.

#the Sandman #dreamling #kinktober 2023 #morpheus x hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling

[serenailith]

shut up (and go to sleep)

for @dreamlingbingo

Square: a4, bed sharing Rating: e Word Count: 2678 Ship(s): dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: friends to lovers, frottage, masturbation, overhearing things that shouldn’t be overheard, hob gadling loves dream of the endless | morpheus Summary:

Hob... Well, Hob didn't expect this, but he can't find it in himself to regret a damned thing.

Link: on ao3

masterlist

note: this was supposed to be cute and fluffy. these idiots had other ideas.

Hob sighs and stumbles through the front door. The day has been long, tiresome, and far too frustrating. First, he is pretty certain he failed his presentation, mostly because his group didn’t do their portion of the work, leaving him to scramble to get it done overnight by himself. Then his shift at the coffeeshop had gone over, which meant he was late for his date with Joey—Joey who waited over an hour only to tell Hob the relationship was over. Joey who’d been Hob’s first partner since arriving at uni two years ago, his first partner since Eleanor. He’d been so surprised by the sudden turn of events that he’d missed the bus, so he had to walk home.

Now, his feet are killing him, his back is burning under the strain of carrying his bag, and he can’t stop coughing from all the cigarettes he’d smoked on the way.

He reaches for the light switch, flicks it, and sighs when no lights come on. Of course. He’d meant to pay the electricity bill last week, but he hadn’t had the money at the time. Hob scrubs a hand over his face and drops his bag to the floor. The floor creaks beneath his feet as he stumbles his way through the dark to the bathroom. He needs to shower then go to sleep.

No electricity means no hot water, so Hob shivers his way through getting clean. He hurriedly dries himself off before wrapping a towel around his waist. His bedroom is lit dimly by the streetlamps, and he uses the orange glow to find a pair of boxers. After tugging them on, he sighs, runs a hand through his damp hair, then turns on his heel.

“Go away.”

Hob huffs and shoves ineffectually at Dream’s shoulder once more. “Budge up, you arse.”

“You have a bed, Gadling.”

“Dream. Please.”

Dream sighs, then the bedframe squeaks as he shifts over. Hob slides in beneath the comforter, shuddering in the sudden burst of warmth, and presses even closer to his best friend. Dream doesn’t hesitate; he lifts an arm and drapes it over Hob’s waist. Hob squeezes his eyes closed and listens to Dream’s breathing, slow, steady, even. Comforting, really.

“Joey dumped me,” Hob admits quietly after a long handful of minutes.

“Joey is a wanker,” Dream mumbles back. “You always deserved better than him.”

“Yeah?”

Dream lets out a soft hum as his fingers ghost along Hob’s spine. “Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone who will tell you to shut up and go to sleep.”

“That’s—”

“Hob. Shut up and go to sleep.”

Hob laughs, a quiet thing, and knows Dream is smiling, too.

They’ve been friends since their first year at uni; they’d been assigned the same dormitory room, and they got on like oil and water. It took them two months before they learnt to communicate in ways they’d understand each other. As soon as they did, though, they became inseparable. At the very least, Hob needed Dream.

He rolls over onto his other side so his back is pressed to Dream’s front, tugs the blanket more securely around them, and falls asleep quickly.

When he wakes, it’s to an empty bed and a sticky note stuck to his forehead. Dream’s spidery handwriting tells Hob he’s gone to pay the electricity bill—Do not worry, I only took enough from the box for this. And your cigarettes. Hob curses and lets his head drop back to the pillow that smells like Dream.

Dream, who allows Hob to crawl into his bed and sleep curled up against him. Dream, who listens to all of Hob’s complaints and encourages him to take risks, go after what he wants. Dream, who commiserates when Hob fails at something and plies the man with plenty of ale and whisky when the ice cream doesn’t work. Dream, who now owes Hob cigarettes and will never complain when it’s Hob’s turn to owe.

Hob buries his face into the fabric and breathes in.

God, he’s pathetic.

It’s a week later that Dream crawls into Hob’s bed stinking of whisky and smoke. Hob knows what this means. With a sigh, he tugs until Dream sprawls atop him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Hob’s hips and arms curled between them. Hob pets gently at Dream’s hair and murmurs apologies. Dinner with his family always sends Dream home a mess.

“Hob…”

“Yes, Dream?”

“Am I truly unlovable? Am I too fucked up?”

Hob grits his teeth at the questions. How dare they make Dream feel so insignificant, so unworthy? He wraps his arms around Dream and pulls him closer, until it feels as if his ribs are opening to make space for the man. As if his heart is tearing itself in half to allow Dream to burrow and make a home there.

“You listen to me. Are you listening? Not just hearing me, because any fool can do that, but I need you to actually listen.”

“I am listening,” Dream mutters, words muffled by the breadth of Hob’s chest.

“Good. You are not unlovable. You’re fucked up, yes, but who amongst us isn’t? And with the family you have, I’m surprised you’re not worse off. But you are you, and you are amazing. Lovely and funny and so damn wonderful. You are lovable beyond words. You are so much more than what your parents have led you to believe.”

“Do you love me?”

“Oh, Dream, of course.”

“No,” Dream growls as he struggles out of Hob’s hold. He sits up, swaying slightly, and Hob grips tightly to his hips to hold him steady. “No, do you love me?”

“Dream—”

Dream stares down at him with wide grey-blue eyes. His hair lies flat about his face, and his pale skin is made paler in the moonlight coming through the window. His voice shatters as he whispers, “Hob, please tell me you love me.”

“C’mere, love.”

Dream lets out a broken sound, all sharp angles and rough edges, and he lists to the side to curl up against Hob. Hob stifles his sigh and holds a very intoxicated Dream as he snores softly.

Hob loathes Dream’s parents. His siblings. All but Del and Thana. They make Dream feel inferior, lesser, and he doesn’t deserve it. Dream is one of the greatest people Hob will ever know. His loyalty knows no bounds. He listens to whatever Hob says with a single-minded intensity that Hob has yet to see in anyone else, and his mind works in wondrous, beautiful ways.

“Oh, love, if I could change things… I would tell you.”

Hob falls asleep clinging to Dream in an effort to put back all his broken parts.

They don’t speak of it the next day. Hob wonders if Dream even remembers the conversation. Judging by the way he storms about the flat gathering up his art supplies, Hob is going to guess ‘no’, that Dream only remembers the disaster of a dinner and nothing that was said after he came home. It hurts, honestly, for the conversation to go unspoken. Hob can imagine all the words they could speak, all the different directions the conversation could go, but he will never know reality.

Dream doesn’t say a word as Hob makes coffee, as he readies for class, as he leaves the flat.

He’s halfway to the bus stop when he realises he’s forgotten his book—the one in which he’d tucked his essay over mediaeval literature. And his work uniform. Sighing, he hefts his bag further onto his back and pivots on his heel. The walk back to the flat seems to take even longer, and his legs grow heavier and slower with each step. Dream’s temper has always been rough to handle, but after last night…

Hob unlocks the door and slips through quietly. There is no need to disturb Dream while he works; it is usually cause for pointed sighs as Dream cleans up his supplies and puts away the work.

“I cannot work with interruptions,” he always says even as Hob apologises profusely.

He never holds it against Hob, no, and he certainly doesn’t mean to guilt-trip Hob. Hob just… feels guilty, anyway.

Dream isn’t in the living room when Hob looks up. His easel is, his palette is, even his cellphone is—and that gives Hob pause. Dream hates the thing, says it’s merely a vessel for vapid social media for which he has no time nor desire to engage in. Thana must have texted, then. Hob sets his bag down and makes his way toward his bedroom, coming to a stop in the hallway.

He listens more closely, and yes, he’s heard his name. Breathless moans and the faint squeak of a bedframe.

Hob swallows thickly before hurrying to his room. In his rush, he manages to knock over the standing lamp by his door, but he ignores the cracking noise of the shade as he scoops up his book. Down he goes as he trips over a pair of pyjama bottoms he’d left on his floor this morning. He scrambles to his feet and all but sprints toward the front door.

“Hob?” Dream calls from his bedroom.

Hob doesn’t say a word as he wrenches open the door and bolts outside.

He can’t pay attention to the lecture. His laptop screen stays blank even as the professor stresses the importance of the lesson. He barely refrains from scalding himself multiple times at work. Customers have to repeat themselves as they order until the manager puts him on drink-making detail. It hardly goes any better.

All he can hear, all he can think about, is the way Dream had said his name. Hob has heard his name fall from Dream’s lips too many times to count, but never has it sounded the way it did this morning. Hob has never heard Dream sound like that at all, rich and sensuous yet airy, as if he hadn’t managed to drag in enough oxygen. Just the memory sparks something deep inside of Hob.

Oh. Oh, no.

It was bound to happen, Hob thinks, as he clutches his bag to his side on the bus ride home. He’d had a crush on Dream in the beginning, even when all they did was misunderstand each other and argue. But that had gone away. Or so Hob thought. How could it be rearing its ugly head now, two years later?

Suppose hearing your best friend say your name while, what?, touching himself? Yeah, that might do it.

Hob shivers at the thought.

It’s nearing midnight, and he can’t sleep. He keeps hearing his name, keeps hearing Dream’s voice so molten in his ears, and it’s making life difficult. Hob knows it’s inappropriate, but… He imagines what it was like for Dream. What he’d done to himself. What had he fantasised about?

Hob steadfastly refuses to touch himself, instead rolling over to find a comfortable position.

It doesn’t work.

He stands outside Dream’s door minutes later, hesitating in a way he never had before. But he’d also never overheard his best friend jerking himself off to thoughts of him. Hob’s cock twitches, and he grits his teeth and tries to think of anything other than Dream.

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

Hob jolts and nearly falls on his face. His hand grips the doorframe as he steadies himself, then he swallows harshly before stepping into the room. Dream wears only his pyjama bottoms, his narrow torso on display. A trail of dark hair leads to the waistband of his bottoms. He has one hand tucked under his head, the other resting on his chest. He breathes steadily, a counterpoint to the rapid-fire breaths Hob is drawing in.

Hob slides in between the sheets and keeps as much distance between them as he possibly can. Dream frowns and pushes himself up onto one elbow.

“Hob?”

Hob squeezes his eyes closed and buries his face into the pillow even as he admits he heard Dream earlier that morning, he knows. Dream remains silent for a long moment. Too silent. Hob turns his head to see the flush that fills Dream’s face and extends halfway down his chest. Dream drops to lie on his back once more and stares at the ceiling.

“I—I am sorry,” he finally whispers. “I know it’s. Wrong. I should not have…”

“How long?” Hob whispers back.

“Weeks. Months.”

Hob hesitates—God, when will he stop hesitating? It’s only Dream, after all, but this… This will change things even more.

He shifts closer, reaches with one hand, and turns Dream’s head. Dream’s brows furrow, his lips parting, and Hob kisses him.

It’s slow, searching, seeking the truth and giving it back in turns. Dream remains immobile, only for a second, then he’s kissing back. With a soft groan, Hob tilts his head and licks into Dream’s mouth, tastes toothpaste and cinnamon tea. Dream throws a leg over his waist, squirming until he can straddle Hob.

“Show me,” Hob pants out as Dream mouths at his throat. “Show me how you touched yourself. Tell me what you thought of.”

Dream nods vigorously and scrambles to shove down the waistband of his pyjamas. Hob moves to recline against the wall and groans aloud at the sight, at the coarse black hair, at the cock Dream takes in his hand. His movements are slow despite the lust darkening his eyes, strokes so deliberate as to tease. He shifts to get more comfortable, and Hob moans at the pressure against his own dick.

“Tell me, love. Tell me.”

Dream huffs out a laugh and braces himself with one hand on Hob’s hip. “I thought—I thought of you. Touching me, holding me in your hand. Your skin would be, it was warm,” he says softly, and Hob trails a hand along Dream’s thigh. “Warm like that. You would stroke my—my cock and whisper praise, because you always praise me, and do you know how that feels, Hob?”

“Good?” Hob ventures, and Dream shakes his head.

“It is the most wondrous thing in my life. You are. And I thought of your hand on my cock and your other pressing into me. Like this.”

And Hob nearly comes when Dream reaches behind himself. It’s an awkward angle, even Hob can see that, one that stretches and strains at the muscles in Dream’s abdomen. He doesn’t seem to mind: He only moans and lifts his arse. Hob grips at his hips tightly, fights against the urge to take over. This is Dream’s show; he’s only a captive audience.

Dream’s hand speeds up as he whimpers, “You’d fuck me then, I thought of that. I imagined how you would feel inside of me. Hob, please. Please.”

Hob can’t deny himself the pleasure any longer—he sucks on his fingers before shoving his hand down the back of Dream’s bottoms. Dream cries out when Hob presses against his hole, and Hob carefully pushes inside. The way is dry, must be uncomfortable, but Dream lets his head fall back and exhales a sharp moan. Hob can’t get the proper angle, can’t reach deep enough, but Dream rocks his hips between his fist and Hob’s touch.

His release coats Hob’s T-shirt moments later. Hob tugs him down by the hips, until his cock nestles perfectly between Dream’s arsecheeks, and he ruts up against his best friend—fuck, this is his best friend, and it’s more amazing than Hob ever let himself imagine, it’s what he wanted way back when they first met and all he’s wanted today, and his hips move of their own accord. Quickly, roughly, until he comes in his boxers with a groan of Dream’s name.

Dream collapses beside him and immediately curls into his side. “Should we… talk about this?” he asks hesitantly once he’s caught his breath again; his voice shakes in a way Hob hasn’t heard in so long.

“Tomorrow,” Hob promises before yawning.

“Hob—”

“Dream. Shut up and go to sleep.”

#the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dream x hob #dreamling #my writing #dreamling bingo #dreamling bingo round 2

[i-love-all-books]

rich in sorrows & therefore in mercy

Dreamling | Rated General | No Archive Warnings Apply | Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, some introspection for dream, as a treat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, lots of pining, Fluff, oh and pining, Idiots in Love, Some Plot, but mostly to further the Pining, have i mentioned the pining

Summary: There are a thousand words on the tip of Hob’s tongue—where have you been and why didn’t you come and I love you and I’m sorry. Only two accompany his smile as it rises to his lips. “You’re late.”

His stranger’s smile is brighter than anything. “It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it’s impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

~

Or, a first meeting in the New Inn, and then a good many more. Ft. conversations about loss and the nature of humanity, Hob learning about Dream and Dream learning a good deal from Hob, and two idiots in love.

A/N: 6 chapters posted so far, with more on the way!

Read it on AO3.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #the sandman #fic #my fic

[karmaisntab]

What should I be doing? Ineffable May. What have I been doing? The Sandman fanart. At least they’re both written by Neil Gaiman lol

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dream the sandman #morpheus #morpheus the sandman #morpheus fanart #fanart #digital fanart #wings au #the sandman wings au #dreamling #> target audience #hob x morpheus #morpheus x hob gadling #dream #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dream of the endless fanart #dream x hob gadling #au #I mean I should also be doing revision #but alas #morpheus x hob #they are too powerful your honour #fvhfbkhnkjj #digital art #digital artwork #completed #for the first time in forever #lol

[babylonfelldown]

Someone please edit Hob Gadling with right where you left me by Taylor Swift, please someone has to do it

That was the only thing in my mind as I saw the end of ep 6,

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #morpheus x hob gadling #the sandman 6x1 #fellas is it gay #is it gay to meet an immortal being that granted you immortality every hundred years? #is it gay to have a fight with said immortal being when you suggest that you're friends after 5 dates #IS IT GAY TO BUY THE PUB YOU TWO MET AT WHEN IT IS IN DANGER OF DEMOLITION? #is it gay to build a new place where you two can meet just in the hopes of the guy showing up again #and naming it after said hope #tell me folks #is it gay? #(head full) #(many thoughts)