#soft dom Hob Gadling

[notallsandmen]

1889 soft dom Hob pointing sternly with a cigar is giving me Emotions

[notallsandmen]

It might be the history lecturer in me, but the idea of Hob being a doe-eyed, absolutely RUTHLESS grader just hits the soft dom bingo for me

So did anyone else pay attention to the paper hob was grading at the new inn? Because by God, that student is so fucked.

Dude got EVERY question wrong

[abyssalcryptid]

Always a good idea to sneak off during stuffy faculty events

click for better quality

[griombrioch]

Hi!!! Anon here who asked about your ao3 handle in regards to keeping up with your soft dom Hob!

I lost track of you for a bit on here (sad) but managed to track down your original soft dom Hob bit (yay!) and so now I’m caught back up on your writings!!! And I’m so happy about it!!

Okay thank you! Love ya!! Love your work!! Thank you for sharing it!!!

Omg thank you so much?? You're lovely <3

I actually have a little bit of touch-starved Dream that I wrote and couldn't find anywhere to fit it in, but I'll take the excuse to post it here for you, eh? I suppose this isn't explicitly soft dom hob, but I do imagine it in the same verse.

---

Were Hob a couple centuries younger and perhaps a bit less accustomed to having his privacy violated by the supernatural, he might have screamed at the sight of someone towering by his bed at three in the morning. Or reached for a weapon.

As it is though, Hob barely jerks as he wakes. 

“Dream?” he squints at the faint outline of his boyfriend against the dark of the bedroom. “... what’re you doing?”

A pause.

“I’m… tired.” 

He certainly looks it. For the physical embodiment of sleep, Dream looks utterly exhausted. More than usual. The space beneath his eyes is bruise-dark. Hob thinks his pupils look blown and dazed. He wonders what’s happened, why Dream hasn’t just come to him in his own realm and instead chose to wake him up in his flat. 

“I know,” he murmurs in lieu of asking. Hob’s spine cracks as he pushes the duvet back and sits up against the headboard. “Come here then, sweetheart.” 

Dream stares at him for a moment, borderline glaring, jaw set like he’s going to refuse - but Hob knows him well at this point. Dream wouldn’t have come if he did not want something. 

He’s proven correct when Dream finally, reluctantly approaches. His steps are quiet - he must have already removed his shoes, if he even came with them at all. His overcoat melts away as he plants a knee on the bed, like it had never been there at all. Hob reaches out to grasp his hip, and that’s apparently all the permission Dream needs before he’s climbing into his lap, folding spindly legs around Hob’s thighs, curling himself down, down, down until his forehead meets sturdy shoulder. 

Morpheus had once been so touch-starved that he’d shake when Hob so much as clasped his shoulder. It’s a ritual of theirs now, of sorts, to hold him in his lap and deliver bone-deep pressure. He has a lot of years to make up for, and Hob is grateful to be trusted with such a service. 

“There you go, love.” 

Dream whines.  

His back is tense and coiled, so Hob sets about fixing that. He kneads his fingers into the muscle at his waist first, coaxing the myofibers to slacken. He spends some time on his right shoulder, working out the knots under his scapula (idly, he wonders how the personification of dreams even acquires stress knots in the first place). Combs through his hair and tugs apart the tangles. 

“I..” Dream finally speaks, and Hob winces at how raw his voice sounds. Like he hasn’t used it in days. He tenses up like he’s trying to gear himself up to say something, but then deflates. “...I’m sorry I woke you.” 

Somehow asking for comfort makes his partner feel more vulnerable than some of their more questionable activities. Which. Still doesn’t make much sense to Hob, but he knows Dream well enough to know when to push and when to let him be.

“S’okay,” Hobs soothes with a hand on the back of his neck, teasing at the strands of hair there. “You’re allowed to just… have this, Dream. You know that? You don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me.”

Hob is stuck and the duvet is all twisted up into a useless lump and his achy knee is at an awkward angle, but that’s alright. Doesn’t even matter, not when Dream’s releasing a shuddering sigh and finally going boneless against his chest.

[notallsandmen]

Your enthusiasm for the 1889 soft dom Hob flogging fic WIP has been noted and duly appreciated ^^ ❤️

[delta-pavonis]

FINISHED: You create me against your lips Chapter 21

banner artwork by the superlative @teejaystumbles

Read on AO3: Chapter 21 my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me.

Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || In Progress Hellknight!Hob, Hellknight Hob, Alternate Universe, Dream is a little dark (as a treat), D/s, dom/sub, dom!Dream, sub!Hob, BDSM, anal sex, anal fingering, oral sex, deep throating, come swallowing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bathing, bath sex, biting, bite kink, painplay, breathplay, impact play, bloodplay, restraint, rimming, face fucking, subspace, breeding kink, discussion of mpreg, aftercare, eldritch Dream, Nightmare, Nightmare/Hob/Dream, spoilers for Seasons of Mists, spoilers for Brief Lives, spoilers for The Song of Orpheus, happy ending (eventually), a totally different take on Hob as a knight, additional warnings in author’s notes for each chapter

Hob cannot help the joyful laugh that rolls out of him as he reaches up to frame Dream’s face in his hands. “Eager, love?” It feels so good to be beneath Dream like this again that Hob is almost dizzy with it, and he offers no resistance when Dream dives in to reacquaint their tongues. "Mmm," Dream smiles a little as he pulls back, "No," he starts kissing along the bearded jawline, enjoying every inch as he makes his way to the spot beneath Hob's ear, to the soft patch of skin that will make Hob shiver so sweetly if he applies his teeth to it. "Eager. Would be. Never. Making it." Each phrase is savored and articulated slowly, separated by a kiss, drawing the sentence out. "To. The bed."

Read on AO3: Chapter 21 my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me.

[wordsinhaled]

July Kinkfest Day 1 "You have to tell me what you want." | Begging | Degradation (this is what happens when I see a prompt list in the middle of the night while listening to Depeche...)

I'm a sucker for gentle dom Hob showing Dream it's okay to want things <3

-

"Use your words, love, remember?" Hob says, with the same unwavering patience in his voice, the same hint of fondness that is always there when he addresses Dream. "You have to tell me what you want."

In the Dreaming, Dream thinks, he would not need to speak.

Indeed, before the day he brought this ache that festers in him to Hob Gadling's doorstep, Dream had never thought he should have to utter a single syllable to receive anything he required or desired. He could bend his realm to his whim with hardly a thought. It scarcely warranted contemplating that he could ever be left wanting.

And yet... he wants. How he wants... The curve of Hob's smile and the warmth of his kind word; the easy shelter of his touch and the knowledge of his freely-shared joy. The planes and angles and secrets of him, the realness of his body, so different from the insubstantial artifice of Dream's own. All these Dream craves, and more. He could be insatiable were it not for Hob, who has learned him as much as he can be learned, who reads him as easily as if he were any tome in Lucienne's library, laid open for Hob's pleasure.

"You know what I want," Dream says, because Hob does. Hob knows full well. Dream's presence in the Waking world, in Hob's flat, at this hour, on this day of the year—so clearly shirking his duty to the delegation even now arriving at the palace gates—means just one thing. That Dream kneels willingly on the plush rug in Hob's bedroom, statue-still and patient, enduring as only an Endless can be, as good as announces his every intent for the evening.

But in this, Hob demands his articulation. He insists on honesty, precise and painstaking and painful, and settles for nothing less. He outwaits all Dream's petulant silences, evasive metaphors, expertly-placed ellipses.

Hob makes a soft, considering noise now, one Dream has heard him make countless times while choosing between two readings to assign for his next lecture, or what questions to put to his students on an exam. An utterly innocuous sound, though tonight Hob is deliberating which punishment he will dole out if Dream continues to be insolent.

"All the same," Hob says, with agonizing finality. "You know I've got to hear you say it, don't you, Dream."

There is a part of Dream that wonders how far he can push. Will it at last earn him Hob's disappointment, if he stays quiet? If he cannot, or does not, voice what he wants—what he needs? The facet of Dream that molds dreamstuff past the beautiful to the grotesque, that froths in the waves at the shores of the nightmare sea, whispers that he should find out.

But there is another part of him that is louder despite his reluctance, when he is here at Hob's feet, the core of him worn weary and diaphanous with longing.

"I want..." Dream pauses, deliberating. "You. I want you." He has not quite bent the rules.

It is, after all, the truth Hob asks for, distilled down to its essence.

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: Symphony

Dreamling, One-Shot, Smut, Fem!Dream/Trans!Hob, 3000 words

For @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Wednesday 5th prompt: “Shapeshifter”), and also @dreamlingbingo (Prompt C3: Laughing During Sex)

This is also a sequel to another of my fics, Here and Now and Always, although you don't necessarily need to have read it to enjoy this one.

...

Summary: After a trying day, King Morpheus needs to relax and be somebody else for a while. And maybe have some mind-blowing sex while he’s at it.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional tags: fantasy AU, king Dream, prince consort Hob, PWP, Smut, Shapeshifter Dream, Trans Hob, Genderfluid Dream, Female Dream, body worship, oral sex, vaginal sex, strap-on, laughing during sex, service top Hob, pillow princess Dream, light dom/sub

...

“Well. That… certainly was something,” Hob sighs. He shuts the heavy, arched door behind him and locks it before striding over to Dream and helping him out of his mantle and crown.

“Indeed. Fae social customs can be. Vexing,” Dream replies wearily. They have just spent a long, tedious day in the throne room, negotiating a treaty with a delegation from Faerie. In a baffling turn of events, Lucifer Morningstar had abdicated the crown of Hell, forsaking their duty and ceding all of their territory to the Endless Kingdom. For weeks, King Morpheus has heard petitions from every kingdom, duchy, and palatinate in the land, all claiming rightful dominion over various portions of the empire. The Fae are only the latest in a continuous line of smarmy, unctuous diplomats seeking to curry favor with the king. It has been. Exhausting.

Hob hums in agreement as he hangs their regalia in the ornate ebony wardrobe. He has adapted superbly to his new role as Prince Consort and military advisor, and Dream swells with joy to see his beloved thriving. Hob’s confidence is quite arresting—upon seeing him hold his own against the beguiling Fae emissaries, it had taken all of Dream's self control not to drag his husband into the nearest cupboard and ravish him.

This, Dream knows, is the real Hob. The man he had met that night in the courtyard had been a mere shade of his true self. He had been… broken. As had Dream. But they are healing. Their jagged edges fit together so perfectly, and Dream feels. Whole. With Hob. And he has a strong suspicion that Hob feels the same. Though he would never dare say it, Dream is enormously grateful to his brother for absconding when he did; if Olethros had returned home with Hob at his side, Dream would have been destroyed by jealousy. He would have wasted away in his tower, alone, never having known this bliss.

“C’mere, sweeting,” Hob murmurs. “Have a rest, you look knackered.”

Dream wrinkles his nose at that, but allows Hob to lead him over to the plush settee by the fire. Hob has filled their chambers with many such creature comforts—small indulgences that Dream had denied himself for so long that he has forgotten why he had such disdain for them in the first place. Now, filled with soft rugs, colorful tapestries, and fragrant cut flowers, their apartments feel like a home rather than a prison. Or a tomb.

Hob settles beside Dream and pulls him into his arms, pressing a kiss to his temple and running a gentle hand down his back, whispering soothing words all the while. Dream feels a surge of tenderness that threatens to overwhelm him; Hob is so kind, so understanding of how taxing all of this is on Dream, and yet he does not judge or scorn him for his inadequacy. No, he only offers love and unwavering devotion. He is a wonder, and Dream is continually awed by the sheer immensity of his love for the man. Hob’s love is a glorious and humbling thing, and Dream feels the last vestiges of his composure draining away as he melts into his lover’s embrace.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Hob whispers. “It’s alright, my love. It’s over with. Just us now, eh?”

In the past, when Dream would find himself feeling overwrought like this, he would simply take on his feline form and find a quiet place to sequester himself until the feeling abated. Since taking Hob as his lover, however, Dream has found… other ways. Of finding relief.

Dream needs him. Now.

(Continue reading below or on ao3)

Without warning he seizes one of Hob’s hands, dragging it away from his waist and shoving it unceremoniously down the front of his breeches. Dream has already begun transforming himself, and he feels Hob’s lips curl into a smile against his neck as his fingers brush over the slick folds between his legs.

“Oh, my sweet Dream,” Hob croons, “you’re already so wet for me. So needy. Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” Dream breathes, her voice rich and sonorous, only slightly higher-pitched than she sounds in her masculine form.

Hob smiles down at her adoringly and strokes her cheek. “There’s my good girl. Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll give you what you need.” Dream has no doubt that he will. Hob always knows exactly what she needs, and he always delights in giving it to her. Since becoming lovers, they have experimented with practically every possible permutation of bodily configurations, power dynamics, objects of pleasure, and the like; no other lover has known Dream, has understood her so well as Hob. They have an unspoken understanding of what Dream is asking, what she needs when she takes on her feminine form.

Hob withdraws his fingers from between Dream’s legs and grips her waist firmly, hauling her up and steering her towards the bed. In her usual form, Dream is slightly taller than Hob, but now she must tilt her head up to meet his gaze. It is… strangely comforting. Being this delicate, cherished creature. Knowing that she is at Hob’s mercy, and trusting him to treat her gently.

He lowers her onto the silken coverlet and undresses her with swift, nimble fingers, kissing every inch of moon-white skin as it is revealed. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, wide-eyed and reverent.

Dream preens under his attention, basking in Hob’s hungry gaze as he brushes aside her long, sable locks, fanning them out on the pillow and dipping his head to meet her lips. He licks into her mouth, assertive but not forceful, and she opens for him with a low, eager moan. He trails soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck, nipping at her collarbone before resting his lips worshipfully over her heart, between the snowy peaks of her breasts. He sucks a pebbled, rosy nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and humming approvingly.

Dream keens and writhes—she is so deliciously sensitive in this form—and Hob stills her with strong, sword-calloused hands on the supple curves of her hips. He explores her body as if tasting her for the first time, leisurely kissing his way down toward the patch of raven-colored hair around her wet, throbbing cunt. She whimpers and goes boneless in his hold, lost to the sensation and unaware of anything but the exquisite prickle of her husband’s beard against her tender flesh as he maps her out with lips and tongue.

“Good girl. So beautiful,” he repeats, running the tip of his shapely nose along her leaking slit. She gasps sharply, biting back a cry of pleasure. “It’s alright, love. I want to hear you. All the lovely little noises you make, it’s like a private symphony, just for me.”

“Then. You had better start. Conducting,” Dream replies breathlessly as she seizes a handful of her lover’s hair and presses his face to her sex.

Hob lets out a muffled laugh and sets about his task with gusto, laving his tongue over her clit and slurping noisily as he licks into her entrance. Dream rewards him with a dulcet moan, and he glides his hand lightly (too lightly) around her delicate, glistening folds before probing inside with two blunt fingers, crooking them and stroking that sweet spot within. A silky, mellifluous wail escapes from her throat unbidden, harmonizing with Hob’s low groans as she tugs on his hair. She reaches her peak the moment Hob wraps his lips around her clit and sucks it into his mouth, all the while continuing to work his fingers in and out of her dripping, quaking hole.

Her wails become helpless mewls as Hob growls ravenously, replacing his fingers with his tongue and guzzling down the hot flood of spend that gushes from her cunt. His hands snake underneath her, grasping the soft flesh of her arse and pulling her closer still, burying his face in her sex and working her through one climax, then another, without giving her a moment’s reprieve from his wonderful, relentless mouth.

She screams a high, warbling aria as she comes a third time, and it’s both ecstasy and agony. She clutches his hair tighter and drags his head upwards, peering down at the dazed grin on his come-drenched face. Hob’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs contently as she loosens her grip and runs her fingers gently through his sweat-damp hair, then brings her hand down to stroke his cheek and massage the milky fluid into his beard.

“Hob,” Dream pants hoarsely when she has caught her breath enough to speak. Hob only hums absently in response. “Fuck me,” she commands.

“Yes, my queen,” Hob murmurs, and Dream feels another aftershock of pleasure coursing through her at those words.

Hob places a soft kiss to her inner thigh before rising from between her legs and finally removing his tunic and breeches. Dream’s mouth floods with saliva at the sight of her husband’s cunt—a glimpse of velvety lips, darker and meatier than her own and gleaming with arousal, peeking from behind a lush thicket of umber curls. A rivulet of slick trickles through the dense hair on his inner thigh, and Dream whimpers at the knowledge that Hob is so wet just from seeing to her pleasure.

She watches, riveted, as Hob bends over the large chest at the foot of the bed and retrieves the necessary items: a soft black leather harness, to which he attaches an intricately carved phallus made of bone. It is quite a work of art—curved and rippled, inlaid with silver and studded with small, polished rubies. Dream has commissioned several such objects, which they both enjoy frequently, and she smiles to herself as she recalls the night she presented them to Hob, apprehensive about how he might react. Affection swells in her breast at the memory of his dear face, so awed and astonished at the treasures laid out before him. He had wanted to try them all immediately, and so they had. Repeatedly, and in a variety of ways. “And to think I had to make do with carrots,” he had said afterwards, sending Dream into a riot of laughter. No other lover has made Dream laugh the way Hob does, especially not while making love. It ought to be embarrassing, but Hob has never expressed anything but joy at hearing Dream’s ugly, wheezing laugh. It is… freeing. Knowing that she need not conceal the euphoria that she feels in Hob’s presence.

Hob buckles himself into the harness, coats the dildo with a palmful of oil, and gingerly climbs atop his lover, hooking her long, white legs over his broad shoulders. “Ready?” he asks. She nods, a pleading whine escaping from her chest as the cool, blunt head of the polished bone brushes against her entrance. Hob’s smile is impossibly warm and soft as he caresses her cheek and pushes in slowly until his hips are flush with hers, the smooth leather of the harness sliding pleasantly against her bare skin. He settles into a steady rhythm, unhurried yet deep and intense, striking that sensitive spot inside with every thrust and dragging her gradually towards a shattering crescendo.

“Such a good girl,” Hob purrs, his voice low and rasping. “So beautiful. You take my cock so well, my love. So perfect.”

“Hob—Hob—Hob—!” is all she can say in reply, little staccato sighs set to the measured tempo of her lover pounding into the tight, clutching heat of her cunt.

“You’re doing so well, sweeting,” Hob beams, reaching between them to stroke her clit. “Now come for me.”

Dream complies eagerly, howling in vibrato as her body sings in ecstasy. Her walls spasm and clench around the bumps and grooves of the toy buried in her cunt, and she feels a rush of hot spend seeping out and down her thigh. Her mouth drops open and she screws her eyes shut as dazzling constellations burst into being behind her eyelids. She is floating in the black velvet abyss of the night sky, weightless and ethereal, only distantly aware of the shrieks and moans that pour from her mouth as Hob wrings the music of her pleasure from her body.

The noises grow deeper, and as her muscles tense she feels the cushiony flesh of her hips and breasts retract, vanishing into the lithe, sinewy planes of her torso. Oh. She—he—has… lost control. Of his form. He has… never transformed himself inadvertently. Has never succumbed so fully to his body’s wants as to. Lose composure. Like this.

He suddenly feels painfully aware of himself—his lanky limbs still wrapped around Hob, who is still plastered to his front, the leather straps of the harness digging into his skin, his hole still fluttering and grasping around the solid length of bone. A wave of shame threatens to wash over him, and he wants to hide, to disappear, but then—

“Look at you,” Hob breathes, his honey-warm eyes sparkling with wonder and adoration. “So bloody beautiful. Love seeing you lose control like this.” Dream’s eyes well up and oh gods now is not the time, but his sobs are muffled by the welcoming warmth of Hob’s mouth. Hob kisses him deeply, drinking down his cries and running a strong, soothing hand down his flank. “Hey, it’s alright love. It’s—hello, what’s this now?”

Dream’s head snaps up, his eyes trailing to where Hob’s gaze is fixated. It would seem that Dream is still… between forms. At the moment. His clit is engorged, about the length of his little finger, erect and throbbing like a cock. The dizzying shame encroaches once more, but then retreats as Hob grins with wide-eyed fascination at the discovery, tracing a gentle finger over the swollen head and eliciting a feeble whine from Dream.

“What a gorgeous little cock you’ve made for me,” Hob coos. “Gonna have to get this in my mouth.” He starts to pull out, untangling Dream’s limbs from himself, and Dream makes a weak noise of protest. “Shh-shh, it’s alright, sweeting. Just a moment, love, I’ll be right back.”

Hob rises from the bed and unbuckles the harness, stepping out of it and detaching the dildo before crawling back between Dream’s legs, toy in hand. “Look at what a beautiful mess you’ve made, darling,” Hob murmurs, swirling his tongue around the spend-soaked dildo and taking it into his mouth, making a show of licking it clean. Dream is propped up on his elbows, watching his lover with rapt attention. A quavering whimper escapes him as Hob takes it deep into his throat and gives Dream a cheeky wink, then pulls it out with a loud, wet pop.

Dream’s cunt is aching and his prick is pulsing with need—he has had too much, and yet he needs more. He wants to tell Hob to cease his teasing and make good on his promise, but words fail him. Hob glides the toy over his raw, sore folds, drawing a hiss of exquisite pleasure-pain from Dream.

“Look at your sweet little cunt,” Hob sighs. “Wish you could see how wrecked you look. All red and puffy and dripping with come.” He eases the toy back inside, and Dream sobs from the overstimulation. “I know, my love, I know. It’s a lot. But you’re doing so well. You can come one more time for me, can’t you?” Dream nods vigorously, beyond the capacity to speak, and Hob smiles at him proudly. “There’s my sweet Dream. Just let go and let me take care of you, darling.”

Hob lowers his face to Dream’s sex and takes his twitching cock into his mouth, moaning decadently. He slurps and suckles at it, humming in satisfaction as if it’s the most delicious thing he has ever tasted, all the while working the carven bone in and out of his open, sopping wet hole. Dream keens breathlessly, his entire body screaming in blissful agony.

He peers down the expansive bed to see that Hob is now on elbows and knees—his plump, furred arse is pushed upwards and he is fingering himself furiously with his free hand while he continues to fuck Dream with the dildo and suck on his prick, rolling it between his lips and flicking his tongue over the head. With that, Dream’s orgasm overtakes him, a sweeping grand finale to the symphony the two lovers have played tonight.

“Hob!” he wails and clutches at the sheets, his cock throbbing on Hob’s tongue as a gush of spend oozes from his ruined cunt.

Hob groans, eases the toy out, and lets Dream’s cock slip free from his mouth, a string of saliva trailing from his swollen lips. His thighs tremble as he fingers his own cunt, the wet squelch audible now that Dream’s ears have stopped ringing, and Dream feels another ripple of arousal as he watches. He is too exhausted to move, but he considers asking Hob to sit on his face. Before he can speak, though, Hob comes with a guttural roar and collapses onto the bed.

He sighs and rests his cheek on Dream’s thigh, smiling up at him hazily. He is panting and red-faced and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. He looks… indescribably beautiful, in this moment. Dream wants to tell him so, but his face breaks into a wide grin and he instead finds himself. Laughing. Hob’s eyes widen in astonishment before crinkling into a fond smirk. Dream cannot stop the harsh, creaking cackles of pure joy that bubble forth from his chest uncontrollably. Hob soon joins him, his soft giggles and guffaws mingling with Dream’s croaks and snorts.

“What’s so funny then, eh?” Hob asks as he crawls up the bed and wraps Dream in his arms. “Have I got something on my face?”

“That. Would be an understatement.” Dream smiles, wiping the spend from Hob’s chin with a corner of the bed sheet. He lunges in for a kiss and purrs contentedly as he tastes himself on his husband’s lips. “I am simply. Happy. You are too good to me, my Hob,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against his husband’s.

Hob beams at him and winks roguishly. “Only as good as you deserve, sweet Dream.”

...

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[valiantstarlights]

tumblr fics masterlist ✨️

My AUs are growing by the day, so here's me trying to list them all in one place. I hope you enjoy reading them! 😊

Fics, fanarts, playlists, etc. inspired by my writing are most welcome. 🙏 Tag me! I would love to see them.

Due to the entire AI scraping thing going on, my fics in AO3 can now only be viewed by registered users. I apologize for the inconvenience. 🙇‍♀️

Last updated: September 15, 2023.

--

AU List

101 Dalmatians Meet Cute AU - Dream's dog is a purebred named Jessamy (very calm, very regal), and Hob's dog is a mutt named Matthew (excitable and energetic).

Art by designtheendless

Android Corinthian AU - (Hobrintheus) Dream and Hob are husbands who bought a sex android (Corinthian) for them to use.

Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) AU - featuring Hob as a demon butler, and Dream as a monsterfucker nobleman.

Canon Divergence

Enlightenment - Hob takes Dream's words in 1889 to heart, and realizes that he has never had a single friend in his entire life.

The origin story of monsterfucker Hob Gadling

Recently recovered amnesiac Hob and currently amnesiac Dream inspired by beholdme's prompt. 🔥? 😂!

Chef Hob AU - Hob is a chef who owns a food truck selling authentic Indian food, and Dream is someone who doesn't really eat well. (He had a bad breakup a year ago and it caused him to eat less. He's trying to eat better with his siblings' help.)

Food by carnelianmeluha

Dungeons and Dragons AU - The Endless siblings and Hob playing DND. Details about their characters, that kind of thing.

Fae Dream and Vampire Hob AU - Fae!Dream runs away from home in the middle of winter and has no choice but to shelter in a castle. Coincidentally, Vampire!Hob lives there.

Hamilton AU - 1789 Albany NY. Hob has amnesia and is going by Capt. Gideon "Leon" Roberts. Dream is masquerading as a rich foreign lord named Mr. Thomas Murphy to better keep an eye on him. (Also an American Gods crossover.)

The Feeling of Freedom (AO3 link)

Keep Me in Comfort For All My Days (AO3 link)

Mermaid AUs

Little Mermaid AU - Dream is the king of Atlantis, Orpheus is his only son who is all about that land stuff, and Hob is a (human) thief being transported with other convicts to a penal colony.

Little Mermaid AU ft. Human Hob and Merman-turned-mute-human Dream inspired by designtheendless's art. 🍬🤗

Teacher Hob and Merfolk Performer Dream AU inspired by (OP: cosmic--static's prompt. 🍬!

Personal Trainer Dream AU - Dream is a personal trainer trying to be professional while being horny on main for his newest trainee, Professor Robert Gadling. (Except he's not trying very hard, and Hob also thinks he's super hot.)

Priest Hob and Demon Dream AU inspired by alexxuun's art.

June 7 episode 💀! 🔥? (Kyrie Eleison on AO3)

December 24 episode 💀! 🔥! (Offertory on AO3)

Shadow and Bone AU - Dream is the (sad wet cat) Darkling and Hob is the (soft dom) Sun Summoner. There are two versions of this AU: one where Dream is in the position of power, and one where Hob is.

Show x Comic Swap AU - Basically Comic!Dream x Show!Hob, Comic!Hob x Show!Dream, and other variations. inspired by alexxun's art.

The angsty version 😭! (The Burning House on AO3)

The spicy+happy(?) version 🔥! 💀! (The Gilded Cage on AO3)

The actual happy ending 🤗🍬 (Fidelity on AO3)

The Truth Can't Hurt You, It's Just Like The Dark (AO3 link)

Slice of Life

Professor Hob and Thirsty 24/7 Dream inspired notallsandmen's Kirby!Dream meme. 🔥! 😂?

Tiny Dream AU - Sometimes, when Dream is in the Waking World, he likes to be small. So he retreats into a Barbie doll house that he has since renovated into a Dream doll castle.

Playtime 🔥 (AO3 link)

Urban Fantasy Spy AU - Dream (half-eldritch being, tech officer) and Hob (full human with an immortality mutation, field agent) are co-workers working for The Agency, and they have a 600 year history of not liking each other.

Try to Hide Your Hand (AO3 link)

Vampire!Dream Soulmate AU (a.k.a Lord Dimitrescu!Dream AU) - History professor Hob Gadling wins an annual faculty raffle that enables him to take a 3 days, 2 nights trip to anywhere in the world, and he chooses to visit the little village of Dreaming somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Here at the Boundaries of Dream, All Shadow-Wrapped on AO3

Wedding Planner AU - Dream is getting married to Calliope, and the wedding planner is Hob, the one that got away.

--

events/commissions for charity

Dreamling Week 2023 by (OP: mr-sadman)

Day 1: Meowpheus - 5 Pictures of Dream as Meowpheus, and 1 Picture of Dream as Himself (AO3 link) [Canon Divergence] 🍬 😂

Day 2: Dragon - A New Beginning (AO3 link) [The Hobbit AU] 🍬 🤗

Day 3: Curiosity (killed the cat) - An All-Consuming Kind of Love (AO3 link) [Human AU, Professor!Hob/Student!Dream] 💀! 🔥!

Day 4: Fake Dating - Fidelity (AO3 link) [Show X Comic Swap AU, Show!Hob/Show!Dream] 😭 🤗

Day 5: Jealousy - The Feeling of Freedom (AO3 link) [Hamilton AU] 🍬 🤗

Day 6: Sick - In Sickness (AO3 link) [Canon Divergence] 🍬 😂

Day 7: AUs or Crossovers - Of Surviving (AO3 link) [The Hunger Games AU] 😭 🤗

Dreamling for Ukraine by (OP:dreamlingforukraine)

Try to Hide Your Hand (AO3 link) for seiya-starsniper

Keep Me in Comfort For All My Days (AO3 link) for bazzybelle

The Truth Can't Hurt You, It's Just Like The Dark (AO3 link) for hoblingtyrant

Sandmanniversary 2023 (OP: mr-sadman)

Day 1: Size Kink - Playtime (AO3 link) [Tiny!Dream AU] 🔥!

Day 2: Soulmates + Hunt - The Helpful Stranger (AO3 link) [Vampire!Dream Soulmate AU]

--

miscellaneous stuff

The Dreaming Loyalty Card

Chat Posts | Meme Edits | Speech Bubble Posts | Random Text Posts | The Sandman Text Posts | Visual Novel Posts

Lord Byron AU memes

[notallsandmen]

Of course, gentle dom Hob lives to birch serve!

THE ENGLISH VICE plssss xo @hardly-an-escape

Aah, I’m so excited to hear that!!

This one is still in early drafts, but I can share that we will see a Berkley horse make an appearance (invented by the madam and queen of flagellation Theresa Berkley in 1828).

This will also be the only time Dream ever uses underwear in any of my fics, because I cannot resist the idea of putting him in black silk bloomers

[serenailith]

fulfilled (ii)

for @dreamlingbingo​

Square: b3, backrub Rating: m Word Count: 1536 Ship(s): dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: alternate universe - canon divergence, bdsm, spanking, bottom!hob gadling, top!dream of the endless | morpheus, aftercare, established relationship, pre-determined kink negotiations, soft Summary:

Hob has a long day. Dream makes it better.

Link: on ao3 chapter 2/2 masterlist

Hob curls into the weight at his side, the bare skin cool against his, and lets out a shuddering sigh. His arse still stings from the spanking, and his nerves are live wires stringing through his being. His muscles protest any movement, an ache created from helping the Gladstones and then from holding himself so still while Dream smacked his buttocks. But Hob… He’s more satisfied than he’s been in a long while.

It’s been weeks since Dream has come by in the Waking, and, though he says the Dreaming is hardly different, their sex life leaves a small part of Hob desiring more. He wants the bruises left behind, the shallow scratch marks down his back and across his chest, the indentations of sharp, nightmarish teeth that come this close to breaking skin. He wants those to linger in his immortal skin, but they are gone before he even wakes.

It’s disappointing, but he will take that secret to his grave. He will never do anything to make Dream feel as if he’s lacking in any department.

Because he isn’t. Not really. Dream is attentive—far more attentive than any mortal Hob has ever been with—and he gives just as much as, if not more than, he takes. He is considerate of Hob’s limitations and never needs told twice as to whether or not something is on the table. Dream has learnt so well what makes Hob tick, and tick Hob does under the care and touch of the Endless being.

So no, Hob will do all he can to make sure Dream knows how much he means to Hob, how much their time together means.

“Are you well?” Dream murmurs after a long while, during which Hob floats at the edge of consciousness.

“Perfect.” Hob exhales slowly, deeply, and tilts his head to press his lips to Dream’s clavicle. The sharp jut of bone used to worry Hob until he found out that Dream isn’t human. “Thank you.”

“Of course, dear heart.”

“You… You always know exactly what I need,” Hob breathes, hoping Dream can hear the underlying love—the need for Dream, even outside of the bedroom. Hob needs Dream as much as he needs air, as much as he loves living. “You make me feel amazing. Every time.”

“I am glad.”

And indeed, there is a lightness to Dream’s voice that wasn’t there just seconds ago. Where there had been tight concern is now something slightly resembling smugness. Hob keeps his eyes closed even as his mind slowly begins working again.

He’s read about Dom-drop before. Where they worried so much about whether they hurt their subs, that there is a negative physical reaction. Where they struggled with guilt. Hob used to wonder, in the beginning, if Dream ever felt that way, if he ever hated himself for causing Hob any amount of pain—consensual and well-negotiated or not.

Hob hadn’t asked, however. Instead, he merely took into consideration all the advice he could find online on how to assure Dream he was doing a marvellous job as a Dom. That he takes care of Hob just like Hob needs. That the exquisite torture Dream puts him through is very, very, very happily received. Neither of them has mentioned it, but Hob has noticed a subtle change in Dream.

Dream shifts until there is space between them, space Hob doesn’t want, but then a hand pulls onto his shoulder until he is sprawled on his stomach. He moves to protest when Dream straddles the back of his thighs—there is no possible way he can handle more right now—but his words die into a groan when Dream’s palms press into the tense muscles in his lower back.

Hob melts beneath Dream’s touch, the gentle pressure kneading out the knots and tension. Once he’s putty under Dream’s palms, Dream softens his touch and moves more slowly, tenderly. It becomes more a back rub than a massage, but Hob finds no fault in it. Between the sex and this, there is hardly any strain left in his body.

“Sleep, my love,” Dream rumbles, and Hob has no hope of arguing.

He’s asleep before Dream even finishes speaking.

[griombrioch]

on pride and safewords

Hob had informed him of safewords. Dream remembers being particularly vocal about how primitive he found the concept. Still, agreeing to such an asinine request had been Hob’s only requirement of him, and so he’d done it.

It is perhaps the intensity of his opinions which Dream regrets the most now.

Hob is teasing him, wickedly, all fleeting touches and breathless praises and a honey-dipped tongue. And Dream likes it. He likes when Hob takes on this position for him. He likes their arrangement.

But at some point the teasing becomes not enough. Not enough touch, distressingly little. Where Hob’s fingers do whisper against his skin, his mind filters it away until he can feel nothing at all. Like he is floating away, but he knows not where. Unmoored and lost.

At some point, or perhaps all at once, Dream realizes that he is cold. His skin feels like ice where it is bared. His fingers are numb.

The last time he felt cold had been in the depths of a cellar, locked away in a glass and metal cage. Denied touch and clothes and dignity for over one hundred years.

Hob must be speaking still, but Dream can’t hear his lover anymore, even when he tries to focus. This, too, distresses him. Immensely so. Enough that it forces him to break the habits of his own stone-like pride.

He's cold and freezing and trapped and helpless and he hurts and-

It only takes one word to make it all stop. Dream can’t even hear his own whisper, but Hob must somehow catch the broken syllables because his wrists are immediately held by strong fingers. He is tugged up into strong arms that fold him in tight. A firm kiss is pressed to his temple. His clammy skin is covered with a duvet - a good, heavy one that seems to have been made with the purpose of forcing his mind back into his body.

“Come back to me, love, you’re alright,” he finally hears distantly, murmured soft against his parietal bone. A warm hand pets down his spine - Dream feels as Hob’s fingers catch on each bump of vertebrae. A reminder of the here and the now.

He is in the flat above the New Inn. Hob Gadling’s flat. Hob Gadling who somehow, impossibly, loves him enough to fulfill his needs and yet still ask him to stay for dinner afterwards. Who does not mind his selfishness for affection and instead counters with his own.

Hob Gadling who is not Roderick Burgess. Who has pointedly never practiced magic. Who does not trap people - entities or otherwise - away in basements. Hob Gadling who is so extraordinarily human.

The world falls back into colour. He breathes. It is only now that Dream realizes he is shaking, big, heaving tremors that wrack through his shoulders and down his spine.

“That’s it. You’re okay, honey.”

“I…apologise, I..” he stutters through an explanation, only to discover he doesn’t have one that doesn’t make him feel small and ridiculous and stupid. “I. I thought. I…felt-”

“No, enough of that,” Hob chides and between the two of them it is somehow Dream who feels chastised. Hob smooths his hair away from his forehead, and he sighs out in relief at the gesture. “You did just perfect, Dream. Just like I asked you to do if it got to be too much, yeah?”

Even now, even after he’s disrupted their ritual, Hob’s praise washes over him and spreads like sun-melted butter underneath his skin. It eases away the cold in his bones, in his soul.

“Next time I’ll make sure we're always touching,” Hob says as he leans back and tucks Dream underneath his arm. “That’s what happened, wasn’t it, sweetheart? That’s what bothered you?”

Dream hesitates. Then, still in the pliable calm that Hob is heinously skilled at pulling out of him, nods. It feels like a confession, and he pushes his nose farther against Hob’s shoulder like he wants to climb inside of his skin. It cuts off his breathing, but that is no matter to him.

“That’s an easy fix, love,” Hob squeezes him close, tight enough to ward away any thought of solitude and amateurs named Roderick Burgess.

[notallsandmen]

wip word search game

Tagged by @issylra ❤️

Words: red, sleep, soft, fall, blanket

Blanket — from The English Vice, Hob’s POV

His stranger is still soaked to the bone, and Hob wonders whether he could manage to sneak up on him and wrap a blanket around the man before he smites Hob.

Red - from The English Vice, Hob’s POV

The patterns of rosy lashes and rows covering his stranger’s pale back are as red as opium poppy fields, Hob thinks, as the hazy softness envelops them both.

Fall — from The English Vice, Dream’s POV

And Hob irreverently praises him for his fall — cruelly beautiful, insolently honest, achingly vulnerable Hob, letting Dream shatter again and again and promising to cherish him no matter what constellations the pieces fall into, promising to treasure even the pieces too fractured to ever be mended. The brief freedom to not have to matter, and to be loved anyway.

Sleep — from chapter 3 of License my roving hands

For the first time, Hob hears Dream’s voice rough with sleep. Hob knows he is blushing furiously, but he doesn’t care, and lets the possessive pride swells up through him. Because he did that — he got Dream to sleep, to rest, to take a moment to himself. That really shouldn’t make Hob achingly hard, but he’s earned his vices.

Soft — from An experiment in Tribology

Dream’s sigh ripples through him, melting away from and melting into Hob’s touches, an unsteady ebb and flow of warm-wet and buttery-soft skin.

New words: touch, skin, light, hands, warm Bonus honkzone classics (if you feel like it): swan-like, gold, tsunami, frantic

- don't want to tag too many people so everyone who wants to do it gets different words!

@beatnikfreakiswriting @chaosheadspace @beholdme @ml-nolan

[delta-pavonis]

Fic Update: You create me against your lips Chapter 13

banner artwork by the superlative @teejaystumbles

Chapter 13: when you're feeling reckless

Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || In Progress Hellknight!Hob, Hellknight Hob, Alternate Universe, Dream is a little dark (as a treat), D/s, dom/sub, BDSM, anal sex, anal fingering, breeding kink, bathing, bath sex, biting, bite kink, painplay, breathplay, restraint, rimming, cowgirl position, wall sex, subspace, floriography, Victorian flower language, fantasizing about partner with different genitalia, fantasizing about double penetration, eldritch Dream, spoilers for Seasons of Mists, happy ending (eventually), will be gentle dom!Dream, sub!Hob, a totally different take on Hob as a knight

"You forget I am a novelist, Hob. Who may or may not have happened to fall down a week-long rabbit hole about Victorian floriography while trying to craft a two-page scene in a 300-page book." She conjures a single blossom in her palm and tucks it behind Hob's ear. Her voice drops into a petal-soft whisper. "Moonflower, for dreaming of love."

Still reeling a little, he pulls the flower out and cradles it carefully, like it might break, or try to bite him. "Don't these only bloom at night?"

Rose's smile turns soft. "Anything can happen in dreams."

[griombrioch]

Soft Dom Hob Hours

“What do you want?”

“Hob.” 

“You have to use your words, my love.” 

“What?” Dream spits out, about a hair’s breadth away from baring his teeth like a weapon. Is it not enough that he’s shown up uninvited in his friend’s home? That he’s disrobed for Hob, despite the discomfort his bare skin brings? That he’s dropped himself into this human’s lap as a desperate, scrabbling thing? He’s made himself most desirable for Robert Gadling and yet the man is staring at him, inquisitive, hands settled steady on Dream’s waist but moving no farther. 

“I’m the Lord of Dreams. And Nightmares. And you need me to tell you?” Dream knows he’s being cruel to belittle Hob’s intelligence, but the self reflection does nothing to calm the clawing emptiness inside of him. He somehow feels too much and also nothing at all. The dreamers are screaming inside of his head but they still feel so far away. Like he’s cut off from himself but he still knows that he’s bleeding out. 

It is agony. 

“My subjects know me better than you, clearly,” he sneers, “Perhaps I should return then. Take from them what you will not give to me.”

“That’s nice,” Hob says, passive as ever, like they’re having a conversation about one of his students or the objectively correct way to brew Irish Breakfast. But he’s leaning in close so that Dream can smell the toothpaste off his breath. It is infuriating. “But we are not in The Dreaming, and I am not your subject. Use your words. What do you want?” 

He doesn’t have to tell his subjects what he wants, what he needs. They are part of him. His needs are simply met. Dream is not accustomed to needing to explain himself. Having to do so is crude and basic and primitive.

Dreams glares and opens his mouth and is suddenly very, very concerned that he doesn’t actually know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t have the words. He just knows that he needs. He needs something to fill the empty hole that Roderick and Alex Burgess left behind when they took and took and took from him.

 He needs Hob to do it. It has to be him. 

“I want…” Dream trails off, and suddenly breathing feels like too laborious of a task, but his chest heaves anyway. He’s starting to lose control of this chosen physical form. His edges are blurring. What does he want? He is the Prince of Stories. Where are the words to describe what he needs from this human? “I…I want..I-” 

“Easy, easy, love,” he hears Hob say, impossibly gentle in his ear. “You’re okay. You’re doing so well, see?”

Hob is not one of his subjects. Hob is human and imperfect and so, so infuriatingly patient. Why can he not be as other humans and take what he pleases? 

“You can have anything you want, sweetheart.” Hob presses a kiss to the shell of his ear and Dream tells himself that the keening sound between them is not coming from his own mouth. “Anything at all. That isn’t the problem here.”

He wants. So much. Too much. He can’t possibly ask it of Hob. He can’t. He needs to go. Leave now before he makes more mistakes and ruins this man-

“You are not stealing anything, Dream. Stop punishing yourself,” the touch of lips is replaced with just the barest hint of teeth. “Have you forgotten? This is mine and mine alone to give you freely. But you must tell me what it is you need.” 

“I need…” Dream takes a stuttering, ragged breath that he doesn’t need for life preservation but rather to calm down. “You. To touch me.”

“Good. And?” Hob fingers run across the plane of Dream’s ribs, teasing the sensitive troughs and valleys of his bones.

“I need you to hold me down. Make me. Make me work for it.”

“That’s it, love.” Dream shivers and his skin heats up at the praise. It is humiliating to be praised by this human and yet, he craves more of it. Oh, how he craves. “And you’re going to tell me when it’s too much, yes?” 

He nods. 

Hob drops his hands and pulls away. “Your words, Dream.” 

“Yes,” Dreams gasps out then, and it comes easier this time, his mind slipping to an undefined somewhere - where Roderick Burgess is nothing but a distant memory and he doesn’t hurt because Hob is here and Hob will not hurt him. This he knows to be true. “I will tell you. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

“Please, I-”

“Hush,” Hob cuts him off with a rough kiss, a complete contrast to the murmur he’s still speaking with. When they part, Dream feels the calluses of his fingers where they grip his chin. “You need not beg, my King. Not for this. Never for this.”

[4typercent]

That's literally the only thing I don't like about Hobsie, that he's a smoker..

He is SMOKIN tho!!

@airlocksandaviaries 1889 HOB!!! 💖🤤

1889 soft dom Hob pointing sternly with a cigar is giving me Emotions