#hob x corinthian

[athymelyreply]

*banging pots and pans* HOBRINTHIAN TIME, COME GET YOUR HOBRINTHIAN HERE

[seiya-starsniper]

Uh, if you do want *another* prompt to get you to 200k (I know I already sent one) number 28 from the Smutty fic list is just sooo Hobrinthian. Just saying. ;)

28. A puts a blade by B's throat, be it seriously or as a joke/teasing. B's reaction is…enthusiastic || AO3 Link Here

SPOFSDOKFS the best part about this is that I am always writing some variation of this prompt for this ship. And I love that get to do it again for my birthday celebration 💖💖 hope you enjoy friend!!!

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“I am searching for some wayward creations of mine,” Dream tells Hob late in the evening of their reunion meeting. “They departed for your world when I was captured, and I worry they are causing irreparable damage.”

Hob nods solemnly, taking another sip from his near empty pint of beer. He waves a server down to refill their drinks, and Dream accepts his refilled glass of wine graciously. It is the first time Hob has ever seen him actually consume whatever was put in front of him. His friend must be under a lot of stress indeed.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks. “Not sure I know how to identify a dream or a nightmare, but I’ve been around a while. Just tell me what to look for, yeah?”

Dream considers the offer, then begins to tell Hob about his missing Arcana.

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After a few phone calls, a twelve hour flight, and nearly three weeks of following a trail of bodies, Hob finds himself face to face with the last of Dream’s missing creations. 

Well, technically they’re face to face. If one ignored the fact that Hob’s mouth was currently pressed up against the Corinthian’s. 

Hob had tracked the Nightmare to a gay nightclub in the Southern region of the United States, figuring out relatively quickly that the Nightmare had a type. He had, at first, thought the Corinthian had held some sort of prejudice, but when he stepped in to stop the Nightmare mid-murder, Hob realized very quickly that the blond just liked to play with his food.

Hob, of course, had gotten stabbed first in the abdomen, and then in the thigh for all his troubles, and somewhere in the scuffle he’d knocked the Nightmare’s glasses off his face and smashed them under his foot. When the Corinthian realized that Hob wasn’t surprised by the look of him, and that he wouldn’t die from something as simple as a stab wound, the blond had taken a decidedly different interest in him.  

It's not quite a kiss between them, it's more teeth (and there are so many teeth) than tongue, and there is nothing gentle about the way Hob slams the blond into the brick wall behind him. He can feel the cool steel of a second knife at his throat, which only makes Hob's blood run hotter. The first one is still buried in his thigh, the pain long forgotten in favor of Hob’s rapidly hardening cock.

“You’re not like the others,” the Corinthian growls into his mouth. His teeth bite down hard on Hob’s bottom lip, drawing blood, and Hob hisses before he slams the blond’s back harder into the wall. “You’re something older, something that can’t die.”

“Bingo, darling,” Hob pants, before he bites down on the Nightmare’s neck and runs his tongue along the same strip of skin. “Your creator’s been looking for you. You’ve been a bad boy over here in the States.”

“You can tell Dream to fuck right off,” the Corinthian snarls, pushing back against Hob’s body, but not quite pushing the immortal off. Hob knows the blond could propel him across to the other side of the alleyway if he really wanted, he’s only human after all, and the beautiful beast in his arms is so much more than that. Hob laughs as he feels the blade against his neck draw blood. He’s surprised he isn’t dizzy from the blood loss yet. 

“Can’t do that pet,” Hob purrs as he moves a hand down to the Corinthian’s trousers, still unbuttoned from his previous encounter before Hob arrived. The blond is just as hard as he is, and Hob wants to kneel at the Nightmare’s feet and get his mouth on his cock. Probably not the greatest idea given the circumstances. “You need to go back to where you came from. Would it help if I said please?”  

“I'm. Not. Ahhhh,” the Corinthian moans as Hob’s hand wraps around his cock. It’s a good size, thick and heavy in his palm. “Going back,” the nightmare finishes. His hips are thrusting into Hob’s hand now, and Hob chuckles at the eagerness.

“You sure I can't convince you?” Hob whispers into his ear, squeezing just hard enough to wring out another breathless moan. Hob ruts his own still covered cock against the Nightmare’s thigh. “I’m sure I could ask for leniency if you’re a good boy for me.”

“No fucking shot,” the Corinthian says, grinning ferally from all three of his mouths. Hob grins back with all of his teeth.

“Didn’t think so,” he replies, before he does something bold and kisses one of the Corinthian’s eye mouths. The Nightmare gasps and goes rigid beneath him. Hob worries for a brief second that he’s gravely misstepped, but then the tiny mouth opens up to him and purrs. 

Hob comes in his pants. It doesn’t take long before he’s able to finish stroking the Corinthian to completion, and then they’re quiet for a few moments, breathing heavily, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat and sex.  

Then a thumb is pressed into Hob's eye-socket, and he screams as the Corinthian slashes his throat too fast for Hob to react. The Nightmare then yanks his other knife out of Hob’s thigh and stabs him again and again and again. Hob’s vision goes dark as his body finally gives into the blood loss and exhaustion.

Hob wakes up some unknown amount of time later in the alleyway of the nightclub, bloodied and with one eye missing. He curses at himself for his carelessness. The Corinthian could be anywhere by now. Hob really hopes Dream isn’t tracking his progress through dreams because it was going to be bloody difficult to explain to his friend that he decided to fuck instead of catch his most problematic creation. 

Then again, Dream hadn’t warned Hob about how attractive the Corinthian was going to be, so really it’s the Endless’s fault that Hob thought with his cock first.  

Hob gets a call from a blocked phone number two days later and knows immediately who it is. He hasn’t given the phone number of this burner phone to anyone. 

“I know who you are, Hob Gadling,” the Corinthian’s American accent purrs into his phone. 

Hob laughs. “Did you enjoy your meal then, darling?” he asks knowing exactly what’s happened to his missing eyeball. His body has already grown back its replacement, and it hurt like a goddamn bitch the entire time.  

He hears the Corinthian chuckle on the other line and Hob tries to imagine where the blond is right now, if he’s lazily lying in bed, or calling him from a payphone as he drives off to God knows where.  

“I'm going to hunt you down and take the other eye,” the Corinthian promises him. “How long does it take for one of those to grow back for you?” 

“Meet me in London and find out?” Hob asks, already knowing the answer. 

“I have a better idea,” the Corinthian replies. There's a convention in a few days and wouldn’t you know, I’ve been invited to be the guest of honor.”

“Have you now?” Hob asks, already pulling out a pen and paper. “And what’s this, some sort of serial killer convention?”

“Something like that,” the Corinthian replies, chuckling darkly. “You should come. It'll be a bloody good time.”

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 17 - happy hour and frottage

(Hobrinthian. Warnings: dubcon, sex while one person is drunk)

Hob’s eyes are heavy lidded, cheeks flushed. His skin looks like he's radiating heat from every pore, and the Corinthian is more than a little hungry for that heat.

He should probably have a problem with how drunk Hob is right now, but Lord Morpheus didn't build him with that kind of moral compass. Dream himself probably couldn't resist such a pretty sight, especially if that pretty sight happened to be in his lap. Rutting an impressive bulge against his stomach.

Hob obviously wants, and the Corinthian wouldn't be so cruel as to deny him. The poor lamb is almost breathless with it.

"Cori." He slurs. "Please. More, c'mon."

The Corinthian hushes him, soothing him with a kiss that quickly turns sloppy. Hob obviously isn't at peak performance right now, but he's still an absolute delight. The Corinthian squeezes his cock tightly through his jeans, and Hob makes a lovely appreciative noise. His head tilts back and the Corinthian leans in, scraping his teeth right along the jut of a tendon.

"Mmphfuck." Hob says. He's got a fist full of the Corinthian’s hair and he pulls with a surprising degree of strength. "I need…"

He doesn't seem to know quite what he needs. Adorable, really. He settles on humping against the Corinthian’s own erection where it tents his perfect cream coloured slacks. Uncoordinated, but very much sure in his determination to get off. The Corinthian grasps a handful of plentiful ass and squeezes, just for the delight of hearing Hob whine for him.

“Wanna cum.” Hob whispers to him, as though confiding a secret. He thrusts forward again, this time managing a proper grind against the Corinthian’s hip. He makes a wanton sound and looks up pleadingly. His eyes are wide and blurry with too much booze, but somehow it’s such a good look on him. The Corinthian wants those eyes to stay right where they are, for now.

He takes Hob by the waist and moves him like a ragdoll, so that their clothed cocks are rubbing together. Hob makes a delighted gasping sound, chokes out a mouthful of “yes, yes, yes”. The Corinthian kisses him and he still doesn’t stop trying to articulate his pleasure, speaking against the Corinthian’s lips in a way that is somehow devastatingly erotic.

And then he cums, without warning. His grip goes tight on the Corinthian’s hair, and his body tightens up. He makes a wet, gasping sound and his eyes finally spill over with tears. He looks like he’s just had the best sex of his life, rather than some drunken frotting.

A matter of perspective, the Corinthian supposes. He licks all the way across Hob’s cheek to the corner of his left eye, where the tears are collecting. The taste is immaculate. And Hob is just looking at him, with his mouth half open and his eyes half shut.

“Your turn.” He says. And he isn’t slurring at all.

[densewentz]

Cutie Mark

Day 24 was MLP which tbh I just shoved into a blender with some inspiration from @amielot's Centaur AU and my own Dreamling Kidfic AU to make this abomination! I've decided the Corinthian is an outcast teenage satyr who doesn't know how to ask for affection from Hob and Dream so he torments them instead. Kian thinks he's big brother Shaped.

[remusslovno]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt II sandman but i've never watched or read it

It's happening again I'm being kidnapped again there's no hope left for me god I'm so in love with Dream he's such a cutiepie uh right this post okay. I'm uh the Good Omens Mascot and I'm losing my mind here have part two based on whatever I have understood from y'all's replies to my first post.

It's Neil's baby and a lot of amazing artists are involved. One of whom made Dream look like a gooey pile of sad adorableness in volume 1.

Dream is a sad wet lonely repressed cat of a man. No I do not have one type.

There's this dude whom I think is named the Corinthian. He's a dream (but not Dream) and he can see things.

His eyes are mouths and his teeth are apparently Very White and any dental hygienist would orgasm at the sight.

Dream was kept prisoner for a century. Where? I don't fucking know. Why? I don't fucking know. How? Er there was some kind of. Glass (?) case.

There's a sleeping sickness while he's gone coz things got weird.

His raven is killed by someone and maybe he should have forgiven him but he could not.

Something happens at the end of Volume 7 that people need to recover from.

There's someone with glasses who keeps telling Dream stuff and they're Very Important and I have no fucking clue who they are.

There's someone named Freddie and people are feral for him and I don't know who he is.

Dream is just constantly on the verge of tears. Always. Just fucking always. Poor baby.

Sandman more like Sadman amirite.

He thinks everything ever is his fault. Mood.

EVERYONE KEEPS REASSURING ME THERE IS NO CANONICAL INCEST BUT APPARENTLY BOTH DREAM AND DESIRE HAVE SEXUAL TENSION WITH EVERYONE INCLUDING THEIR FAMILY AND EACH OTHER AND THEY ARE SIBLINGS AND AAAAAAAAA.

The family is Endless btw and I don't know what that means but they are.

Dream has a boyfriend (long distance? idk they keep meeting each other every 100 years) named after a cooking stove who calls Dream out for being lonely and Dream doesn't like that and they fight and then they go into the rain etc etc.

Hob is immortal because he does not want to die and he is convinced that humans only die because they uh think there's no other option. It's giving just think positive thoughts.

Dream almost stands him up but then doesn't some bar is moved.

There are keys to Hell and Dream doesn't know what to do with them.

There are tools and they make you weak.

Desire has all the genders.

I am apparently exactly like Delirium.

Dream is a sad wet cat at one point and then he turns into a shadowy being with cute bright eyes.

Dream is fucking pretty in every single fucking century like oh my fuckING GOD I AM SO GAY

Tom Sturridge (?) is Dream's actor and he has chemistry with everyone on screen apparently which leads to incest vibes

There's some kind of fucking Grape Incest scene

Despair is played by Mrs Sandwich

Death is kind and cuddles a dead baby at one point

It's gay but I do not know HOW it is gay but I am assured it is Gay

Er. Feel free to correct me.

[bakerstreethound]

Once a Dream, Twice the Nightmare

Relationship: Hobrintheus x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, praising, fingering (afab receiving), forceful OC male character who is a creep, mentions of workplace harassment, implied stalking, gentle Morpheus, loving Hob, mentions of killing, blood, knives, and dismemberment, lowkey knife play discovery kink appears, everyone is enraptured by Corinthian, makeout sessions, and consensual polyamory

Summary: Going on a date proves to be difficult, especially when it is from a guy at your office who cannot take a hint that you do not like him nor that you don't want to go out with him. Morpheus convinces you not to go and instead enjoy time with him and the two other people who care about you more than anything in the world. Needless to say, you lose yourself to them and indulge in their ministrations.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: Hello lovelies, this came about from a request by my lovely wife @roguelov for my 5-year Tumblr anniversary. My six-year anniversary has passed, but better late than never. I had a lot of fun writing this request and Hob has become one of my favorites. I cannot resist writing for Hob, Corinthian, and Morpheus with a reader. I hope you enjoy it (I am so proud of this one!!). Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Dating was not your strong suit, so why you bothered adding mascara and eyeliner to your face for a final flare was beyond you. One last check you admired your flowy dress that sat just above your knees and was perfectly stretchy and comfortable.

You offered a half smile to the reflection in the mirror, sticking your hand in the pockets and giving a twirl. Pockets in dresses are rare, so when you first put the dress on you had doubts, not wanting to get too hopeful. They are different from your usual style, but this dress was made for you.

Carefully you smooth out the loose strands of your hair that fell from their bobby pin prison, dabbed on one more drop of lipstick on your lips, giving yourself a satisfactory nod. It wasn’t every day you put yourself together in such a manner, preferring comfortable clothes devoid of flowy dresses and skirts. There is a first time for everything, you think. 

Your phone pinged, breaking you from your thoughts. You know it is likely from Jordan, your co-worker who insisted on taking you to a sushi place. You tried to drop countless hints you had no desire to go or eat sushi and every time it was brought up in conversation it was redirected. You wanted to tear out your hair in frustration, so why wouldn’t he take the hint? 

“Darling, you shouldn’t go on that date. He does not respect you and is a fool. No one, no mortal deserves the likes of you,” a silky smooth voice drifts from the shadows. Goosebumps form along your arms at his appearance, as usual.

Out of the three of your roommates, Morpheus was the most elusive, dropping by at inconvenient times. Being friends with Hob, forever the immortal mortal, and Corinthian, one of Morpheus’s art projects was the least of your worries. 

You definitely could not turn down the rent either, as you desperately needed a place to live while pilfering through job applications. So far, a year or two had passed and you got a steady one, where you had the misfortune to meet Jordan, the nuisance and bane of your existence.

You felt so foolish now accepting his offer, not knowing he was asking you on a date until it was too late and his texts became suggestive and eerie. Men and their twisted words. You wished you could be rid of him and that stupid sushi place.

You turn towards Morpheus, acknowledging his presence as you fiddle with the necklace you added to your ensemble. “Well, I wish I could but Jordan is a pain in the ass and he won’t relent unless I join. If I appear and go on this date, then he’ll leave me alone for good.” 

“Oh, darling, that is not the case. He’s using you and harassing you both at work and during your off hours. No person acts in such a manner. Best leave us to handle it.” 

“Handle what?” a warm voice you’d come to cherish many a night inquired. Hob leaned against your doorframe, a small smile gracing his features. You have lost count of the times you lost yourself in those warm brown eyes. 

Turning from your thoughts you sighed as your phone pined five more times on your nightstand. “It’s nothing, an annoying co-worker who asked me on a date that I did not know was a date, and he never specified it was.

He twisted his words and I eventually caved since he was so insistent and I thought accepting it would make me get rid of him. Hell, I am such a fool and Jordan is a creep.” You take a breath, noting the concerned raised brow Hob gave to Morpheus who stood in the shadows, ever stoic. “You were right, Morpheus. I can’t go. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“You could block him,” Hob offered, coming to you to wrap you in a hug. His embrace strengthened your resolve and you looked to Morpheus. 

You sighed, leaning into Hob’s warmth. “I will do that, but I work with him at least three times a week and once he drops by my cubicle he will not take the hint no matter how insistent I get.” 

“We could send Corinthian after him. That is an idea.”

Morpheus came closer, standing before you at his full height, his hair a rumpled mess that you did not notice when he was cloaked in shadows. “I would call for him if you wish.” He stroked your cheek gently and you leaned into him, the coldness of his touch a wonderful contrast to Hob’s warm embrace from behind. 

“I don’t want to go,” you whispered, hating how you melted, hating how much your heart raced at the thought, hating how you’d face Jordan at work in three days. 

“Don’t go on the date,” Morpheus commanded.

Your phone pinged again and your heart seized, but Hob held you tighter determined to keep you steady. “Morpheus, why?” Your eyes widened at the set of his jaw, pure determination in his eyes, not willing to let you run from him. 

“Say it.” 

“Why?”  

“You know why,” Morpheus’s voice was soft, yet dangerously low, a silken melody in the space between and you want to lose yourself to his coldness, to Hob’s warmth. How did you not realize sooner they were who you wanted all along? No one else could or would ever compare. 

“Because I want you. I want Hob. I want so much more in this life than to be harassed and taken advantage of by that creep Jordan. I have never felt so safe, so cared for than with you, even Corinthian.” Your heart ached at your confession, realizing the truth in your words, the pure honesty, the desire behind it all. 

Before you could utter another word, Morpheus’ lips meet yours in a soft, determined kiss and you lose yourself to the cold, the fire inside your heart burning free. Hob grunted from behind you, soft warm lips pressed upon your neck, making you melt all the more.

You wouldn’t question how you got here, but you are thankful for them both, saving you from what could have been a precarious situation. You lose yourself then, with Hob biting your neck, passion, and desire brimming between the three of you, nothing could have been more perfect in that moment. 

They continue in their conquest, determined to turn your mind from the disastrous date that could have been and you’re grateful for them, the distraction, the new feelings between you all surfacing. You would not have imagined this happening to you with one, let alone two people you’ve come to admire throughout the years you spent together.

A soft moan passed from your lips as Morpheus slid his hands over your sides, a shower of goosebumps cascading down your arms in the wake of his touch. Hob groaned, pulling you tighter against him, feeling the weight of his desire along your lower back, sending heat to your core in anticipation.

Never had you expected to feel desire or passion for anyone in this lifetime or the next, and you wanted none but them. 

You sighed again as Morpheus’s hands wandered to your breasts, cupping them gently through the fabric of your dress. Hob followed in kind, sweeping his hands under your dress to tease the fabric of your undergarment with his index finger and tracing the apex of your thighs, a delicious agony. To no avail you squirmed against them both, nowhere to go but remain in this moment in time with them.

The buzzing of your phone faded into the background, drowned out by your panting and moans the men coaxed from your lips. Soon enough they had you a writhing mess for them on the bed, sandwiched between them in the throes of bliss and you kissed them in turn, determined to savor every moment, not wanting to let go. 

“So pretty for us to undress, yeah?” Hob cooed, working you with his fingers, coaxing your release from you as Morpheus toyed with your breasts, nipping and suckling, adding to your pleasure. 

“My darling, you’re a sight to behold, so lovely for us,” Morpheus’s voice drank you in, enveloping you in your soul and mind. 

You could do nothing but whimper at the feeling, everything too much yet not enough, body ignited, yet somehow wanting, no, craving more of them and their touches. “Please, Morpheus, yes. Hell, H-hob right there,” you groan, coaxing your lovers on. “I swear I’m going to fuck the next person that walks through that door.” 

“You have us, my love,” Hob whispered huskily, pressing his length against you, evidence of his want and desire.

Your hand grasped onto him with ease, relishing his head tossing back in bliss, the broken moan falling from his lips. Morpheus looked up in awe, his black eyes narrowing, admiring the display before kissing you on the lips gently. 

“I know, Hob but-” you shuddered, as a flash of white passed by your door. 

A deep chuckle resounded in your room followed by a southern drawl. “Well well, what am I missing out on? What did I hear my dear say, Morpheus? Surely they did not mean that. You and Hob are pleasuring them into oblivion already from the looks of it.” Corinthian smirked, his pristine white suit covered in blood.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, smirking as he pushed his signature sunglasses up on his nose before stalking around the bed to get a better view. You let out a soft moan at the sight. 

“Awe darlin’ look at you so pretty for them. So pretty for us.” Corinthian smirked, tilting your chin up with the tip of his knife. “Such pretty eyes. And Jordan will never look at you again or that sushi place.” 

You shuddered at his words, another wave of desire coursing through you. This other being, the creation of Morpheus had killed for you, showering you with such an act of devotion you’re not sure you could ever repay.

“My sweet, you’re so wet for us,” Hob murmured, dragging a finger along your thighs up to your slit, teasing you just so. 

“Looks like they have a penchant for my knives, is that it?” Corinthian’s smirk widened as he added a hint of pressure to the blade he pressed along your neck. 

You choked back another groan, overstimulated by the touches of your lovers, paired with the sound of Corinthian’s seductive voice, cold metal at your throat.

The bed creaked as Hob and Morpheus shifted slightly pulling you to the middle of the bed, keeping you between them, Hob on the left, Morpheus to your right. All of your eyes were focused on the Corinthian after he gently kissed you on the neck where he teased you with his knife.

You continued to admire the new addition to your party. 

The full-length mirror next adjacent to the dresser offered more of a view as Corinthian reverently took off his coat, placing it on your vanity chair, taking off his knife shoulder holsters, and setting the red stained knives on a pristine white towel. You would complain about the towel later, but you and your lovers are too enraptured by the creation of Morpheus to care.

You cannot deny Morpheus’s tastes, or Corinthian’s eye for fashion, the white button-down shirt accentuating his skin, carved of marble, honed and fashioned in the sands of the shoreline.

Carefully rolling up the sleeves up to his forearms, he took another white towel from your vanity, dipped it into the basin of water, and slowly, reverently, cleaned off his knives. 

The precision and the intention are all practiced methods, a ritual, even. 

A ritual that enraptured you and your lovers.

Corinthian set the clean knives on another plush white towel, placing a kiss on each of their hilts, before turning to meet your gaze through his dark signature glasses. 

“Well well, you three have been patient. Is this all for me?” He drawled. 

Hob smirked, kissing your neck, continuing in his prior conquest of teasing your clit to which you immediately squirmed, holding back a groan. 

“Such pretty sounds, my sweet,” Morpheus murmured as Corinthian walked over to the bed, nestling into his creator’s embrace. You were grateful Morpheus had insisted on a large bed, one that he could adjust in any manner he chose.

For a moment you were sure the four of you would break the bed or struggle for room, but now that all of you are on it, it is comfortable, safe, and warm. 

Warm like Hob’s insistent fingers to which you spread your legs further, welcoming him in, arching into his chest as he smiled at you, murmuring encouragement.

It did not take long for Morpheus and Corinthian to partake as well, them rotating between using their tongues and fingers upon you, driving you made and over the edge. Soon enough you pulled each of them in for a kiss, groaning your thanks to them for a wonderful evening, one you are sure not to forget. 

Hob cast a gentle smile your way, kissing your hand, before dragging his tongue along it, his ministrations continuing to your fingers. You raised a questioning brow, as did you other two lovers who were quickly enraptured once more with each other and their tongues. 

Hob shrugged nonchalantly as his tongue threaded nimbly between your fingers, sending surges of heat along your spine and you hope and pray that it is not obvious the vice he already had you in for the second, maybe even third, time that evening.

Taking his sweet time, he does not break contact as he takes your index finger in his mouth, tongue dancing with confidence before he adds in another finger. You are almost lost at the feeling paired with his eye contact.

The act alone was erotic, sparking your mind but watching him riled you further. You had to look away, you had to. Until Morpheus wrapped around behind you, grasping you, pressing his chest up against you. 

He strokes his hands down your arms, sending goosebumps in their wake. “Let Hob work, love. You can be good for us, right?” 

Corinthian grumbled as he shuffled closer, slumping behind Morpheus, ever the clinger and in want of a hug. He compromises by resting his head on Morpheus’s shoulder. 

You sighed in the agony of Hob’s ministrations, ashamed that something so small could rile you up, having you in a chokehold. “I can be good sometimes. If and only if it happens only for you three.” You smirk, noting Morpheus’ excitement pressing against your lower back. 

So this is riling him up, too. 

“What if I said I wanted to watch you and Corinthian makeout?” You mutter in your throes of it all, your brain becoming mush, spewing your desires, the darker impulses. 

Corinthian raises a brow and Morpheus bridges the gap between them lips and bodies colliding as one. You lose them in a flurry of black and white entranced by them, by Hob, pressing his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. You fall into Hob, into the cacophony of affection and desire, enjoying the whispers, groans, and moans that befell the four of you. 

Slowly, and oh so lovingly they tend to you and each other, your body trembling once you’re completely spent, your heart thrumming in your chest as Hob sinks into you, moaning low all while Corinthian and Morpheus watch, utterly enthralled as you come apart for Hob. 

Once you’re all spent, Hob licked the remaining remnants of the combined mess of their desire on your stomach, groaning all the while. 

“You’re all devastatingly pretty. How lucky am I to have you,” you whisper to the now empty room, lit by a single black candle and yellow flame. 

You heard them all shuffle in the darkness, heading to clean themselves up and Morpheus nuzzled up next to you and you felt a coolness between your thighs, registering the cloth he used to gently clean you off.

You smiled in the dark at the gesture. All three of them were so good to you and completely yours. All of you they could not imagine for more and they adored you and would continue to all until the hours of the night, where dreams and nightmares collided.

They would meet you there time and time again, always there, holding you and never letting go.  

******

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: The Sandman (comics vs TV show)

Sample Size: 1,301 (comics); 4,048 (TV show)

Source: AO3

NOTE: Do not compare colors between charts

[highlyillogicalandroid]

Reblogging because I need that sweet sweet serotonin that only fic comments can provide

Have a Hobrinthian update, my pretties!

[killocal]

Nightmare is good at lying

[fowjiyo]

Characters Sandman as text posts

[seiya-starsniper]

Sunflower for Hobrinthian 🌻

Ok so I wasn’t sure if you wanted dwarf sunflower (how many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?) or tall sunflower (I’d never ask for your help, but…) so I went with the second one because angst is my friend 🔥🔥🔥

Flower Prompt Game!

Also using this for my Vampire square in @monsterfucktoberbingo

—-------------------------

There’s a storm raging outside. The kind that rattles windows and uproots trees from their very foundations. It’s the kind of storm no sane man would ever attempt to brave on level ground, let alone on the steep climb to the lone cliffside cottage overlooking the sea. 

Which is why when Hob Gadling hears a furious knock on his door, he grabs the holy water and his pistol loaded with silver bullets before he walks to answer.

“For fuck’s sake Hobsie, I’m not here to eat you,” Cori glowers at him when Hob opens the door. Hob thinks the vampire would look a lot more menacing if he weren’t so soaked. As it was, he just looked like a drowned rat. An unfairly attractive, still stunningly gorgeous drowned rat. Hob wants to slam the door in the blond’s face just for that. 

“Corinthian,” Hob growls, positioning his body directly in the doorway to block the other from coming in. Not that it mattered. Hob had rescinded his invitation to his home when Cori had walked out on him—on them—almost twenty years ago. 

“I need your help,” Cori says before Hob can ask any further questions. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Hob notices the blond is not alone. Draped along his shoulders is a second figure clad all in black, with a familiar shock of black hair. 

“Is that—?” Hob gasps, dread starting to pool deep in his gut. 

“You know that I’d never ask for your help with something like this unless it was dire,” Cori answers solemnly. “He's lost too much blood. I couldn’t—he’s—there was nowhere else to go.”

Well fuck.

“Come in then,” Hob says, stepping aside and hoping he’s not going to regret whatever’s about to happen tonight. “Both of you.”

Cori flies past him in a superhuman blur, dripping water all over the entryway and down the hall to Hob’s living room. Hob sighs deeply and shuts the door, bracing himself against the frame for a few moments. So much for a quiet night in with a book.

When he eventually makes his way to the living room, he finds Cori nervously hovering over Dream, who is sprawled out and unconscious on the couch. Hob feels a flash of deja vu as he remembers the last time he had the sire and fledgling pair in his house. Back then their roles had been reversed though, Cori had been the injured one sitting on the couch and Dream had been furious instead of worried. It had been one of the defining moments in his relationship with the blond. And not for the better.

“What the hell happened to him?” Hob asks, rolling up his sleeve and bracing himself for what he needs to do. Dream’s even paler than normal, and there’s burns on his skin that could’ve only come from being bound in silver chains. 

“Hunter,” Cori growls, anger clear in his voice. “Seemed to think Dream could bring his dead son back to life despite the bastard being in the ground for almost a year. Took me almost six days to find him.”

Hob clicks his tongue and doesn’t ask if it really took Cori six days to find Dream, or if it took him six days to even notice Dream was missing. Dream had always had a habit of running off on his own, and it led to a lot of abandonment issues that Hob had tried his best to address, but it was hard to be objective when your oldest friend was also your lover’s maker. Former lover, Hob had to remind himself. Cori had given up on them the last time Hob had found himself involved in one of their sire/fledgling spats. 

“Anyone I need to be avoiding, then?” Hob asks, trying to shake himself of his melancholy thoughts. He kneels down next to Dream and holds his wrist over the vampire’s mouth. He looks over at Cori, the request clear. The vampire nods and kneels next to Hob, before running his nail across Hob's wrist in a clean line. Hob hisses under his breath at the initial pain, but it eventually subsides as his blood begins to drip onto Dream’s lips.

“Not anymore,” Cori says, after a few moments of quiet. “I made sure to kill Roderick Burgess and all his stupid followers on the way out when I got Dream.”

Ah, the Order of Mysteries then. That made sense. Hob had spent the better part of the century trying to avoid them as well. There was certainly no shortage of men looking to cheat death and that little cult was one of them. It didn’t surprise Hob that they would think of using vampire blood to resurrect the dead. Hob himself had been chasing immortality centuries ago before he’d had the good fortune to rescue the lady Death herself by accident. He’s one of the only immortals he knows that didn’t have to sacrifice some great thing or commit an unforgivable act to be able to live forever. 

Which of course made him the ideal candidate for an emergency like this one. Dream and Cori have fed from him before in small amounts, but this was going to require so much more than he’d ever given before. 

“You’re lucky I’ve been eating quite heartily these last few weeks,” Hob says as he flexes his wrist to drip more blood onto Dream’s still unconscious body. 

Come on, mate, he silently pleads. Don’t leave us just yet.

As if hearing him from beyond the veil, Dream’s eyes snap open and in moments his mouth is affixed to the open wound, inhaling the blood as if he’d never had it before. 

“There you are, my friend,” Hob murmurs reassuringly. “Old Hobsie’s got you, take everything you need.”

Dream’s striking blue eyes meet his only for a moment, and then snap shut once more as the vampire devotes the rest of his energy to feeding on Hob. 

Hob doesn’t know how long Dream drinks for, but it’s long enough that he eventually begins to feel woozy, and he’s on the verge of passing out right on top of Dream when Cori yanks his wrist away from his sire’s mouth. 

Hob can barely make out the sounds of an argument, which means that Dream’s regained consciousness. That's good, at least. But before his brain can begin to try decipher what exactly is being said above his head, Hob finds himself lifted up and carried to his bedroom.

“You bloody idiot, you always give too much,” Cori grumbles as he tucks the immortal into bed.

“Still was never enough for you,” Hob mumbles sleepily, the filter on his brain completely gone now. He’s so tired now. He’s going to have a bloody headache in the morning and it’s going to be awful, and Cori is going to leave him again. 

“No, we’re not—I’’m not going anywhere Hob,” Cori says. “I promise.” 

It’s the last thing Hob remembers before sleep overtakes him entirely.

[gabessquishytum]

In the Tunnel of Love… (Fun Boy Three)

I think a lot about the Corinthian showing up at the White Horse in 1989. If Dream isn’t around to enjoy Hob’s company, why shouldn’t a certain nightmare have a little fun with him instead?

[windsweptinred]

January 5th, Headcanuary prompt: Pet (Dreamling and Corinthiel)

The New Inn always seemed to be a beacon for the local feline population. It was begrudgingly accepted by the regulars, that their after work pint or weekend tipple would always be shared with one of London's many resident moggies.

Until recently, the pubs offical cat had been a large, jet black creature by the name of Murphy. Standoffish and haughty, but a beautiful animal. Often seen trailing after Robbie, the pub landlord. Or occasionally conceding to let visiting children pet his long furr, or tug at his ears and tail with regal exasperation.

Sadly, in the summer just passed Murphy had seemingly vanished. In his place however came the landlords new husband, Morpheus. A striking man, just as dark and unsocial as Murphy, but as similarly kind in his own way. And oh, it couldn't be missed how much Robbie glowed in his presence. How his smile lit his eyes, how he laughed freer and louder and how their beloved inkeep looked for all the world like a man so contented, he desired for nothing. As such, the loss of Murphy in exchange for Morpheus was eventually accepted as a worthy one.

It was in the following September that a new cat graced the doorway of the New Inn. A young little critter, barely passed its kitten years, with an immaculate white coat and vibrant green eyes. Friendly and curious, it would greet each patron in turn, accepting pats and all manner of affectionate nicknames from Snowy to Casper. Untill the daughter of the pubs chef declared him Dandelion, or Danny for short and it had stuck.

Unlike his predecessor, Danny would sit amongst the pub patrons, listening to their chatter with an enraptured expression. Or play with the younger visitors, bounding after them with an identical, youthful glee. But most often he'd be seen chasing the heels of the Morpheus, weaving between his black clad ankles and pawing his thighs for constant attention and affection. They made mismatched pair, Danny's bright, white furr against Morpheus's all black attire. But they never seemed happier then when they were together. Danny curled about Morpheus's shoulders, batting playfully at his wild locks as the other watched on indulgently.

As the Christmas season arrived, so too did what was generally assumed to be Danny's owner. An undeniably handsome blond with a natural charisma, that immediately endeared him to customers and bar staff alike. His strange obbsession with sunglasses in the depths of British winter notwithstanding. It was accepted that this must indeed by Danny's owner, for whenever this rakish fellow graced the inn with his presence, neither cat nor man could be torn asunder. Together they'd haul themselves up in this corner or that. Danny curled blissfully in the blondes lap, or held possessively against his chest. The man, seemingly euphoric with the undeivded attention and decidedly foreboding if anoyone dared come between them. Much to the evident amusement of Robbie and the chagrin Morpheus.

Unlike so many of its counterparts, the New Inn stayed closed over the New Year. But if any of its customers had chanced a peek through its windows at the strike of midnight, they'd have seen the hearth lit and a table close by, original designed for two and a little too small for four, occupied by two couples. To one side Robbie and Morpheus, cheeks ruddy with with wine and leaning into each other with a loving ease. And on the other, that same tall, blond accompanied by an angelic looking young man, pale haired and bright eyed. Clasping at each other with all the adoration of new love. Four glasses raised in a toast to happy endings and new beginnings.

[thethreeeyed-raven]

first meeting

make me feel masterlist

navigation | warnings : none? | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss , @fangsp1der-2099

“Miss Y/n!”

One of your maids entered your bedroom and had drawn the curtains. You sat up tiredly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and shielding them from the bright sun when you opened them to look at the woman.

“Yes, Prudence?” You asked her groggily.

She gave you a small smile, placing the fresh clean clothes she had folded in her arm on the chair in front of your dresser. “Your mother wants you downstairs as soon as you're ready. Your sister, the Duchess, is here for a visit.”

You sighed, already knowing what the visit was for.

“Finally! The diamond is awake!” Violet beamed with glee, taking your hands in hers and leading you to sit next to Daphne.

“Mama, I’ve just opened my eyes.”

Violet shook her head. “No my dear, you should be excited. You're the diamond of the season!”

“Unfortunately.” You whispered under your breath, causing you to receive a whack on the arm from Daphne.

“You know, I actually quite enjoyed my time as the season’s diamond, it was wonderful!” She exclaimed cheerfully.

You rolled your eyes with exasperation. “Yes, only because you got a loving husband out of it.”

“And so will you,” Daphne took your hands in hers, squeezing them with reassurance. “You just have to try.”

But I don’t want to get married…

Morpheus awoke with a light knock on the door.

If it was any other time, he wouldn’t have heard it. But he had been awake for hours. He hadn’t slept properly in a few days, only getting a couple of hours in.

“My lord?” He heard one of his most trusted maids say through the door.

��Yes, Lucienne?” He said exhaustedly.

“Your sister, Death, is here. Would you like me to tell her-”

Morpheus cut her off, suddenly wide awake now. “No. Tell her I shall be only a few moments.”

He rose from the bed, changing into a white dress shirt, and a pair of black trousers. The shirt was half buttoned because he couldn’t be bothered.

“Death.”

Death rose from her seat on the plush black couch, giving her dear brother a smile. “Dream, I have been waiting for you.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” Morpheus suddenly felt guilty.

She embraced him in a tight hug before sitting back down, patting the space next to her.

“It’s been too long my dear brother, how have you been?”

Morpheus sighed, he hated having to tell people things about him. “Okay, I suppose.”

Death frowned, but shrugged it off. “So, I saw you the other night at the announcement ball. You were talking with the Viscount Bridgerton.”

“Indeed I was, though I did not notice you there. Were you lurking in the shadows?”

He smirked and Death chuckled. “Like you wish you were doing?”

They both shook their heads and the laughter ceased.

“Talking of the Bridgertons, one of their ladies has yet again been named the Diamond of the Season.” Death tilted her head. “Have you spoken to her yet? You are good friends with her brother.”

“Anthony and I are simply good acquaintances, I don’t-”

“Do friends.” Death shook her head and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “But perhaps you should put yourself out there, maybe try and catch Miss Bridgerton’s attention.”

“I don’t want to catch anyone's attention. I’m fine as I am, alone.”

You had decided that balls and galas were now the bane of your existence.

Anthony stood off to the side with Kate, Daphne and Simon. All of them watching as you would be bombarded with men asking for a dance, or asking if you wanted a drink.

“No thank you.” You rejected once again.

You walked up the the four with an angry look. “Could you please do something about these animals? They won’t leave me alone!”

“Well you are the seasons diamond, men are going to be throwing themselves at your feet.” Kate responded sympathetically.

“Well can they throw themselves out of the window instead?!” You whisper-shouted.

Anthony have you a pointed look, getting ready to scold you until Simon interrupted him.

“Ah look who it is! Lord Morpheus.” Simon reached in for a handshake.

Morpheus reciprocated. “Good evening gentlemen, Duchess, Viscountess, and the splendid Diamond. You haven’t happened to have seen my sister have you?”

Anthony shook his head. “We haven’t, why do you ask?”

Morpheus sighed and leaned in a bit so no one else but your little group could hear. “She’s saying I need to get myself on the market, she’s been watching me all night.”

The whole time he spoke you couldn’t stop looking at him. You watched the way his jawline move as he uttered secret words and the way his eyes shone slightly in amusement.

You swallowed nervously, hoping no one else noticed your ogling, but of course, Kate and Daphne notice everything.

“Well Miss Diamond of the Season here was just saying how she would like all of the men to throw themselves out of the window instead of at her feet.” Kate chuckled slightly.

Your cheeks reddened when Morpheus turned to look at you. And then you gave him a sheepish smile.

He huffed in amusement at the remark, flashing you a smirk. “I can’t say you’re wrong.”

Why did you like the way his voice sounded? Why was he holding eye contact so intensely with you? 

“My dear guests.”

Once again, the interaction was cut short by another one of the Queen’s speeches.

“As you know, this is a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season.”

All eyes diverted to you for a few seconds before their attention went back to the Queen.

“So today, I have decided that the Diamond shall have a dance.”

Your eyes widened and Anthony laughed under his breath.

“I’m glad you find my suffering funny brother.” You glared at him from the corner of your eye.

“Come to the centre please, Miss Bridgerton.” The Queen beckoned you with her order and her hand.

You slowly made your way to the centre of the ballroom.

“The Diamond shall have a dance to celebrate their achievement, and they shall have their own choice of man to share this dance with.”

The Queen stood confidently with a smile, waiting impatiently for you to choose.

You looked desperately towards Anthony and your eyes frantically looked around the room.

You didn’t want to dance with any of these men, in fact you didn’t want to dance at all!

Morpheus’ eyes danced around the room, finding his sister.

Death looked at him and then nodded in your direction, clearly telling him that he should make himself known.

He simply looked away trying to ignore her, when his eyes locked with yours.

You raised your brows, silently asking him if you could dance with him.

He nodded once, letting you know that it was okay.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and stalked towards Morpheus apprehensively.

“Might I share a dance with you my lord?”

[just-french-me-up]

damn that Dreamling Anastasia AU sure writes itself

in my head

but still!