TheResearcher
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Summary
In which the Lord of Dreams makes some impulsive decisions at least once a century, Hob Gadling is bad at getting him to talk but good at getting him into bed and a promise that was never meant to be said will be broken...
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This is a story about forgiveness, and the kind of love that makes you a better person(ification).- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 69,769
- Chapters:
- 12/12
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 671
- Kudos:
- 1,561
- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by TheResearcher
17 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
”... I could take you as a dog, or conjure you a second lover,...” Dream muses, obviously quite taken with his own suggestions as he spins stories, decidedly proud of his own creative imagination, and Hob bites his lips and hisses with need, watching him shift and change.
“I want you as you are. As you want to be,” Hob huffs out, overwhelmed, and Dream stops, his features slipping back into his impassive, normal expression, haughty, square jaw and glinting cat-eyes.
He shrugs, briefly arches his eyebrows, and leans down to unceremoniously take Hob into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Hob swears, and wonders, if despite his immortality, he maybe won’t survive the night.
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After dealing with Lady Johanna's thugs, Hob makes an even bolder decision that brings him closer to his Stranger.
Bookmarked by TheResearcher
17 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
His Stranger reaches forward and Hob's entire body tenses in anticipation.
He hears a soft thud behind him and realises that his Stranger had placed his wineglass back on the table, and now the only thing separating them is Hob's own glass, forgotten and held awkwardly between them.
"You do not even know who I am," his Stranger says softly, taking the glass from Hob's unresisting fingers and placing it on the table. "And yet…" he trails off, eyes roaming down Hob's body and back up to his face.
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Lord Morpheus' Orchestra of Tragedies and Lullabies by virgodream
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022)
30 Oct 2022
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"How?" The question escaped his lips quicker than he'd expected. Truth was, he was in desperate need of something, anything, to pass the time. To fill a void he wasn't willing to admit existed within him. How could something endless miss a piece?
"I could grant him his wish."
How she knew that was exactly what he needed to hear was beyond him, and he felt something grow inside him, a spark of excitement, like children playing games in the dark after bedtime. Even in his usual nonchalance, Dream was unable to pretend this wasn't very much to his liking. "Do that, and he'll be begging for death within a century, I assure you."
Bookmarked by TheResearcher
16 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
As he hurried up the stairs of his palace, the buzzing electricity of his physical body seemed to have left some sort of neural memory on him, which should be impossible, as granting immortality to anyone out of pure amusement should be impossible.
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Dream nonsense by notallsandmen (notallmaenads)
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
28 Oct 2022
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I love the headcanon that Hob calls Dream “duck”. Adding to that, my own headcanon is that Hob calls him ”draumskrok” (“dream-nonsense”, in old Norse) when he is mildly annoyed with him. In essence, I wrote another fic but got derailed by the prospect of Hob heckling Dream in old Norse.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 437
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 32
- Kudos:
- 479
- Bookmarks:
- 49
- Hits:
- 1,931
Bookmarked by TheResearcher
16 Feb 2026
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A Lesson In Tribology by notallsandmen (notallmaenads) for BeatnikFreak, behold_me
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
08 Jan 2024
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Summary
Tribology: The science of friction, lubrication, and wear.
Or, the Hob Titty Fucking Dream fic
Bookmarked by TheResearcher
15 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Oi, Pillow Prince of Stories — you could be on top, for once, since you’re not as affected by the heat as I am.”
The way Dream solemnly nods, resigning himself to his tragic fate, to again be saddled with the crushing duty of having to do any work in bed except for coming , was frankly so adorably melodramatic that the end of Hob’s sentence trailed out into a sputter.
“ Fine , fine, if you’re going to pout about it, I yield.”