#corinthian x you

[just-some-random-blogger]

The Dreaming Estate

Dream of the Endless x Gadling!Reader + Corinthian x Gadling!Reader

Summary: You inherit the Dreaming Estate from your recently deceased mother. She instructs you to perform a ritual for the house every month. One month, you fail to do so and receive a call from... The Dreaming Estate.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: alternate universe, fem!reader, mystery/thriller?/horror? themes, protectiveness, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: lmao if you like this thank @sloanexx for kinda pressuring me to finish this. cross-posted on ao3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @roguelov

12am. A full moon. The final day of the month. The phone begins to ring. Ring! Ring! Ring! No one answers. The ringing stops. It begins again. It rings until someone answers. You finally wake up. You roll over on the bed. Your lover clings onto you tighter. You grab your phone and answer the call from an unsaved contact, "hello?" His voice is deep and rich, "this is The Dreaming." It wakes you up, "w h a t ?" "This is The Dreaming." You pull your phone away. 12:05am. +1230XXXXX. "... who is this?" "The Dreaming." "The dreaming?" you sit up from the bed. "Yes." "What does that mea-" Goosebumps form when he calls your name, "Miss Gadling, you need to come home." "... who is this?" "The Dreaming." "As in the Dreaming Estate?" you sound panicked. "How are you calling me from the Dreaming? Who are you?" "I am The Dreaming." "..." "Come home."

"Baby, can you get me my coffee?" Cori points to the counter. I get his mug and the car keys, then hand him his drink.

"Thanks, sugar," he says, pulling his one earpod out as he turns from his laptop to me. He moves forward to give me a kiss and I knock the glasses off his face when I place my hand on his cheek.

I readjust his glasses as I pull away.

"Call me when you get there," Cori mutters as he turns back to his screen.

"I will," I head for the door and turn over my shoulder as I point, "make sure to take out the trash, okay?"

Cori puts the other earpod on and raises a thumb though he does not respond to me, "ah, yes, Mr. Takashi. We opened the branch in downtown New York about-"

The door closes.

I get to the parking and drive out of my apartment building, heading out of the city.

I grunt as I reach a red light, "fuck." This was going to be a long drive.

I can't fucking believe I was going to sacrifice my day off all because of that stupid prank call. I clench my jaw and turn to my bag in the passenger seat. I reach for the book in my bag, rubbing my finger on the browning pages.

It can't be because of this. And yet... I can't shake the feeling.

I drive when the light turns green.

"Relax," I mutter to myself, "the police didn't find anything," I take a left turn, "it was probably someone..." pulling a prank? But how did they get my number? How did they unlock the door? I swear I remember locking it when I left because my coat got stuck the last time.

"Fucking hell," I come to a halt when I am met with a bottle neck, "it's fucking Wednesday. Why is it so traffic?! Geez."

What if- I turn to the book in my bag again - it is because of this?

I take in a breath. Calm down. Forgetting to do the weird ritual last month has nothing to with this call.

And yet when I pull up to the Dreaming, parking just outside the gates, it's the first thing I want to do. I grip my handbag as I walk up the path to the front door. My phone was ringing Cori.

Though I knew the front door was open, I had the mansion's key in my hand. I turn the knob, finding it was, in fact, unlocked. I stuff my keys in my pocket.

Cori finally picks up, "hello?"

"I'm here at the estate," I retort as I step in. As nervous as I was to drive up here alone, I felt nothing while surveying the house. I didn't feel the creeps, didn't feel like an axe murderer was about to pop up. It just felt like home. After all, I grew up here. And although the land was large, it wasn't like I didn't have neighbors.

"Oh, that's good. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I walk into the grand foyer, looking at the large curved staircase that connected to the second floor landing. I look up at the high ceilings and the chandelier that cascaded down like shooting stars. I walk into the kitchen, "everything really just looks normal."

"Well, it better," Cori chuckles, "the police in the area better not play because all the residents there are rich fucking Karens."

I snort as I survey the marble counters and head for the fridge I knew was unplugged and empty. I open the door. Yep, still unplugged and empty. It would be funny had someone left a cake though... I think.

"I'm just gonna do the ritual and come back home."

"Okay, sugar. You still want to cook steak tonight? I can go to the supermarket to buy some stuff."

"Yeah," I place my bag on the counter, "can you buy some cake too?"

"The red velvet one from 15th?"

I look at the empty cake stand from across the room. Its glass was collecting dust, "no. Blueberry cheesecake. I'm feeling sentimental." My mom used to make the best blueberry cheesecake.

"Okay then. See you later, bunny."

"Mmm, bye. Love you."

"I love you too."

I huff as I place my phone down and pull out the book.

The voice of my mother rings in my head: We must love and protect the Dreaming because it loves and protects us. When a bunch of evil men tried to burn the house, Granny Lucy survived because the house saved her.

I clench my jaw as I flipped the pages. I huff as I get to the bookmarked page, "don't question it," I tell myself, "just- just- it's better not to be the one who breaks this weird generational chain-" I look around the room and find a chill run down my spine. I shake it off and look back at the page.

My thumb rubs the paper and my face tightens when I feel something wet on it. I smell my finger, "shit." My hand sanitizer got on the page.

"Fuck," I lean forward and try to wipe the paper. The ink smudges. "Fuuuuck."

I go through my bag but find no tissues. It's fine. It's fine. I kind of have the words memorized anyway. Let's just say this awful Latin hex-shit and be done with it. I take the book in my hand and read the words the way I always did.

For the most part, I don't need the book to know what to recite but then I reach the part where I smudged and, just my luck, I can't fucking remember what to say. I know I'm not supposed to stop- fuck- don't ask why, I'm just not- but a pit of dread bubbles in me over the idea of saying something wrong. I decide to omit the words that were smudged in the end.

I look around the kitchen when I finish.

I grab my bag and my book and check the other rooms.

I go to the living room, the washing room, the study, the library, the main bathroom, all five bedrooms, the garden backyard, the pool-- every place... but nothing. Nothing happened. The house was just the house. And, honestly, I felt nothing. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, so I go home.

Ring! Ring! Ring! Your eyes widen at the caller contact. "the dreaming guy". You instantly pick up, "hello?" "The incantation didn't work. I am still here." Your stomach drops, "what?" "Come home." You suck in a breath. He had to call during your lunch break. "I will wait for you in human form." Your heart drops. "What?" "I will wait for you to return to me in my human form." "..." "Unless the thought disturbs you." "..." "..." "..." "..." "... are you... Dream?" "I am." I shudder, "the Dreaming..." "I am also." Fuck.

I drive to the Dreaming Estate after work. I try calling Cori to tell him about it, but he didn't pick up. I don't blame him though. He was swamped at work. I mean I was too, which was why this was insane of me to do right now. I left him messages though. Hopefully, he'll call.

I pull up outside the gates again, but this time, I sit in the car, clenching the wheel. My body is unwilling to get out. Why? Because of him.

A dark figure walks over to me. He is tall, pale, and dark haired. My heart races as he nears. I check to see if my door is locked. It is.

As he gets closer and I can finally make out his face, I rack my brain, trying to think if I've seen him before. The longer I look, more I am convinced this is the first time I've seen him.

He stands in front of the gate; he opens it for me.

"Miss Gadling!" he calls, "would you like to drive inside?!""

That was definitely the caller.

I don't respond to him. I do nothing but stare at him.

"Will you stay in the car the whole time?!"

I stare at him for a moment. He stares right back at me. I undo my seatbelt and grab my bag. I peak my head out of the window. I don't know why, but I find myself asking, "what were the missing words in the ritual?!"

The man tilts his head. He leans on the metal grill. A wind blows his coat back, "in luce et tenebris!"

I pull out my book and look at the page. I examine the blotted area, "it does look like that."

"You cannot perform the incantation outside!" the man calls, "please, come in!"

My eyes dart up to him. I suck in a breath. This was probably the worst idea ever. I look at my phone. No calls or texts from Cori. I huff and step out of the car.

The man is pleased to see this.

I slowly walk over to him.

He smiles. It is warm. As I examine his expression, it feels free of malice. And though his aura did not feel eerie, I am skeptical of him.

He reaches a hand out to me, "would you like for me to carry your things?"

I clutch my bag to my chest as well as the book still in my hand, "I got it."

"Very well," he says, making way for me to enter.

I watch him as he closes the gate, I watch him as he motions to the front door, I watch him as he walks off first and leads me in, I watch as he opens the door to my home, I watch him as he peruses through like it was his.

"I apologize that was unable to prepare anything for you," he says.

I knit my brows, "what do you mean?"

"You have not stocked food in the kitchen. I was only able to gather some strawberries from the garden."

See, any sane person would have called the cops by now, if they had a moment of stupidity not to do it before arriving here. But the thing was, he took strawberries in the garden, which means he knew where the strawberries were. The strawberries were behind a hedge in the backyard; you would have to go over the hedge to see them.

"How do you know where the strawberries are?"

The man straightens, "I know where all things are in the estate."

"Pah. Everything?" I raise a brow.

"Everything," he nods.

I scoff, adjusting the straps of my bag on my shoulder, "then do you know where Grandpa Hob was buried?"

"He was not buried. His ashes were scattered in the garden."

My breath hitches. I take a step back.

The man merely looks at me.

He's- no... He must have... how could he have-

"Where is the garden gnome placed?" I find myself blurting.

"In the attic. Behind boxes."

I give him a look. Nah... he could have looked there. "What about my diary?"

"Which one?"

"What?"

"You have one diary stuck in the gutter by the pool, and you have one hidden in the floorboards in the bedroom that used to be yours."

My skin pricks with goosebumps. My heart is racing. I take more steps back. I gasp and jolt when the floor creeks.

"Please," he raises a hand, "do not be frightened. I know you and you know me," he steps forward, "I am the Dreaming."

"Stop!" I bark, raising a finger, "don't come any closer."

He stops.

I breathe heavily and bring the book to my hands, opening it. I look at the page where the ritual is. I begin to read it.

"It will not work."

I ignore him and continue to read.

"You spoke it once before. It will work only at the end of the month now."

I ignore him still and continue reading, making sure to add the part I was unable to say last time.

"Those were not the words."

"SHUT UP!" I snap and turn to him.

He stiffens and looks down, "apologies."

I huff and lean against the wall. The man looks up at me as I do this. I bring one hand behind me and use my nail to pick at the wall, "when I asked if you were Dream and you agreed, what were you agreeing to?"

The man fidgets then rolls his shoulders back, "this. My human form is Dream."

He even knew that. My uncles used to tell me that the house was sometimes a man called Dream. I take in his features, the curve of his nose, the gleam of his eyes. To be honest, I didn't know what Dream should look like, save for the fact he was apparently very strong. This man looked like a he could barely lift things with how scrawny he was.

"What does the ritual do?" I clutch the book in one arm.

"It binds my spirit to the house."

I give him a look, "so you're a spirit?"

"I am," he nods.

"So you're a ghost?"

"I am not. I am the Dreaming."

"But you said you were a spirit."

"I am the spirit of the Dreaming."

I straighten up and release a breath. I go through my bag and pull out a pen, "so if I do this," I chuck the pen at him, "it'll go through you-"

It his him on the cheek and he grunts. He rubs his cheek and gives me a look, "that was most disrespectful."

"... ... ... sorry."

Dream sighs, "all is well."

I chew on my lip and begin to pace around. My eyes never leave him once. His don't either. He watches me walk around him. He places his hands behind his back. I raise a brow, "why did you call me here then if I can't... bind you back?"

"You are my master," he tilts his head back, "my function is to serve you. I will fade if I have no function."

I stop in my tracks and furrow my brows, "what does that mean?"

"It means if my spirit fades and someone breaks in, nothing will stand in their way."

"So you saying you're the protector of the estate?"

"Indeed."

"I thought you were the estate?"

"Is it not instinctive to protect oneself?"

We stare at each other for a moment.

I am meant to question him some more, but then Dream turns around and looks outside of the window. He mutters lowly, "someone is trying to open the gate."

"What?" I run to the other window.

"He is calling your name."

I look outside and see the man, "it's Cori!"

Dream turns to me, "who?"

I turn to him, "did you lock the gate?"

"I am barring him out."

"What?!" I shake my head and make a face, "let him in!"

Dream furrows his brows at this. I give him a look. He relaxes his expression and sighs. I turn to the window when I hear the telltale creak of the gate. I then run out the door and meet Cori halfway.

The moment I'm close enough, I hug and kiss him.

Cori embraces and kisses me back. When he pulls away, he looks at me with worry, "I saw your texts. What happened? Did you call the police? Is someone-" he stops himself when he looks up.

I turn around and look where he was. There was Dream, staring back at us.

"Who the fuck is that?" Cori mutters as he grabs and pulls me behind him.

And I don't know why, I really don't know, but I retort, "he's the butler."

Cori turns to me, "what?"

I look at him, "turns out... we have a family butler and he-" I turn to Dream back to Cori, "-he's the one who called."

Cori shifts in his spot, "you mean he's the guy posing to be the fucking house?"

I shake my head, "no. It was a misunderstanding. I-"

"Greetings, sir."

The both of us turn to the dark haired man who was now in front of us. Cori raises a brow at him while looking him once over. He bows, eyes not leaving Cori as he does so, "I am Dream," he straightens up, "keeper of the estate, in servitude of Miss Gadling."

Cori chuckles, "Dream, huh? Funny you should say that," he extends a hand, "Corinthian Dream," he tilts a head towards me, "Miss Gadling's beau."

Dream stares at Cori's hand for a moment. He looks up at him when takes it, shaking it once before pulling away.

"Shall I prepare bedrooms for the two of you?" Dream asks, turning to me with a softer expression.

"Nah," Cori answers, "I just need you to explain this mess of a prank call and we'll be on our way," he places his hands in his pockets.

A dread builds in my stomach as I watch the two stare at each other. Dream's expression darkens. Cori's face hardens as he adjusts his shades.

Knowing him, I was getting nervous. "Cori," I tug at his arm.

He ignores me as Dream gives a pinched smile, "of course," he motions to the house, "shall we talk inside?"

Cori tilts his head and smirks, "sure thing, butler."

#the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman fluff #sandman x reader #dream smut #dream x reader #dream fanfic #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fluff #the sandman x reader #morpheus fluff #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x you #corinthian fanfic #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian fluff #dream of the endless #the sandman angst #the corinthian fanfic #the corinthian x reader #dream x you #morpheus x you

[lis-likes-fics]

Rhyme and Reason

Pairings: Corinthian x dream!Reader Word Count: 8.7k words Prompt: Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW, explicit descriptions of death/murder, torture, descriptions of blood, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), slight hair pulling, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, corruption kink, creampie, fucking in front of a dead body... A/N: There are only two left, guys! I might be able to do this! This took a minute to write cause ADHD is a bitch. But I finished and I hope you like it! Thank you and Happy Holidays!

The little party you find yourself in is just that, little. It takes place in a bar rented out by the set of hosts, a get together with maybe a little over twenty party-goers.

It took so long to find him.

When your lord Morpheus disappeared some fifty years ago, you and the rest of the Dreaming were left…confused. You thought that maybe it was a test? He wanted to see how loyal his creations really were to him, their king. Would they revolt the moment he no longer gave orders?

But, after the first two decades, you concluded that he was just…gone. And you, among many dreams, left as well.

You spent the next twenty years in the Waking world, searching the world aimlessly for something to inspire you.

When Dream still resided in his realm, you would sing for him. He dreamed up a dream of music and song and you became. He loved your songs, he was inspired by the music you made.

When you sat in Fiddler’s Green, you would sing about the butterflies fluttering through the breeze or the bees in their honeycombs. When you sat by the sandy beach, you would sing about the lap of the tides against the mouth of the sea. When you looked up at the skies, you would sing about the sun and moon, how they loved each other so.

On some nights where you danced in the heads of your mortal lords, he would be there, in the seat in the back, listening to you soothe the minds of frightened children or ease the thoughts of anguished men.

Morpheus loved your sweet music, your heavenly song. You reminded him of someone, someone he loved very much.

Much he knew nothing of how you longed for more than your kindly poetry and prose. You loved the gift he bestowed upon you, but you grew weary of your melodies of dancing birds and sugar cane.

He knew nothing of the way you gazed at the dark and twisted dreams that walked his realm, the way they strut, the way they smirk, the way they spin their fables and tricks and white lies. You wished you could sing in deviant keys, tales of wicked fantasies and depraved beasts.

How you longed for the voice of a siren, rather than the whistle of a songbird.

So you looked for inspiration. And you found it.

The humans were a new kind of nightmare. Yes, they had so much love and light and whatnot, but the depravity. The debauchery and sin you found among their kind, it was more than you could have dreamed of.

You didn't just want to sing their songs, you wanted to create them. You wanted to write your verses as they wrote theirs. You wanted to sing your tales and inspire the rest in the same way your sweet lyrics did.

But you didn't know how. You searched all over for someone to teach you, to show you how to take their sullied natures and adopt them into your own poesy.

Soon you realized that no man could teach you how to sing. You'd almost given up your pursuits of fulfillment until you heard of him; a dream you'd never met but had heard of so many times before in the sleeping realm, a nightmare so infamous and so curiously revered by your former lord. You'd heard it through the mouths of chattering men, then read it in the paper. A “man” whose deeds were so reminiscent of the devil, everyone had to know his name, to know who to protect themselves against.

The Corinthian.

He captured men and took their eyes. He made them see all the wonders of the world. And you wanted to sing them.

It took so long to find him.

You seduced and bribed and begged your way through every little turn in order to get to him. And now you're here with a drink in your hand and so many inspirations surrounding you in this little bar.

And he is beautiful.

It's things like him that inspire you to sing. He’s charming and tall and the sight of him, his dark glasses—which hold more truth than eyes could ever tell—frame his face as the golden rim adores his golden hair. You catch yourself staring too often, so enamored and enchanted by the symphony that he is.

But he'd noticed you too, in the moments where your eyes don't find his. Of course he had. He knows exactly who you are, the music of the Dreaming. He hears it in every little breath you take, the gentle lilt of your voice. You were spoken of with as much regard as he was, though in the more virtuous way rather than in the way of his own notoriety.

What an odd little creature. He'd heard so much about you, how sweet and gentle you were. How Dream would sit for hours and listen to you sing in the meadow. And here you were, surrounded by the darkest of creatures, unbothered but so curious.

How nice you would be to…play with for a while.

“Well, hello there.”

His voice seeps into your skin and has goosebumps rising along your body. You turn and look up at the Corinthian like he was a sight to behold. Your eyes are slightly widened with wonder, and you look like you'll get to your knees and begin praising him at any moment, as though he is some great saint.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying and failing to be subtle. “Hi.”

He leans his elbow on the bar, looking you up and down through the dark of his glasses. “What's your name, little thing?”

You scramble to organize your thoughts once more. He's scrambled them with just the sound of his voice. “Uhm,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you offer him your name.

He chuckles lightly, his charming smile curling over his lips as he shakes his head. “No, hah,” he mutters, “I meant your alias.” He turns a little as he motions to the people in the room, dark souls able to be free in the little space of this bar. “Everyone here has an alias. What's yours?”

“Mine?” You clear your throat. “Oh…” You hadn't thought about that. You rub your palm against your thigh, smoothing your dress over your legs nervously.

He thinks you're precious. He turns with a chuckle, looking around the room before gesturing with his head toward two men talking amongst themselves.

“You see him over there? On the right?” he asks. You nod, staring at the man as the Corinthian speaks. “That's the Extinguisher. He's a pyromaniac. He traps his victims in their own homes and covers them in gasoline. Burns it to the ground, starting with them.” The way he speaks is like music, and you get lost in it.

He stares at the wonder on your face, his lips twitching into a curious grin. “Him, there? He goes by the Boa Constrictor. Like the snake. He ties up his victims real nice and tight until their skin turns purple and numb. Then he…” he breathes a little laugh, “...ties a rope ‘round their necks and keeps it there…nice and tight, until they stop squirmin’.”

He expects you to pale, to see the fear light up in your little eyes. But you don't. You stare, hypnotized by his voice and his words.

“Wow,” you whisper. “What about her?”

He smiles wide, looking at the woman in question. “Oh, her?” He licks his bottom lip. “She comes in a pair, only the public doesn't know that. Actually, they think it's a man. She and her friend over there are known as the Tailor, but they call themselves the Seamstresses. You see, it's easier to be taken seriously as a man in this age, otherwise no one would bat an eye at their art.”

Your eyes twinkle with wonder. He doesn't think you realize it when you grab his arm, clutching it as you continue to listen, watching the two ladies talk. He leans nearer to you, speaking gently into your ear.

“They slice the limbs off their victims, nice and clean cuts, and stitch them back together after they've already bled out.” He tilts his head. “They're actually quite sweet.”

You sigh, almost like you're in a dream. “Woah.”

He turns his body back to you, and you realize your hand grasping him. You let him go, offering an apology through a small smile as you looked up at him. He watches it fade, the wonder returning as you take him in.

“If I had to guess who you were…” he says quietly, his voice a whisper as his eyes wander your face, “I'd say you were the Whisperer.”

You tilt your head, watching every little shift in his face as he speaks. He smirks, “Am I right?” You blink at him, moving to speak but unable to find the words. “The artist who sews the mouths of her victims shut so they can't speak,” he seems to lean in further, his voice getting softer and softer as your eyelids flutter. “Sings a little song to them as she…slits their throats wide open.”

You sigh, nearly folding under the weight of his gaze. You nod gently. “Y-yeah,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Yes, that's me.”

He smiles wide, leaning back to release you from the spell. You let out a breath at the distance, seeming to come back to yourself. “I admire your work,” he says. “That job you did up in Malibu was just…beautiful.”

You don't know where that is, but apparently this Whisperer did. You nod, “Thanks. Thank you.”

“In fact,” the tips of his fingers brushed your hand, turning it to hold in his palm, “I would love a demonstration. Up close and personal.”

You bring your other hand to graze the side of his palm. “Would you mind giving me the honor of witnessing it firsthand?”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. Firsthand… “Uh, I don't have…thread on me.”

He shrugs. “Well, I'm sure the Seamstresses wouldn't mind lending their tools. If we ask nicely anyway.”

“Well–”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “Just…one little show?” He shows a finger, grinning his charming grin.

So pliant to his word, you give in. “Okay.”

The proud grin he displays is wide and triumphant. “Well,” he says, “thank you very much.”

~

The Corinthian opens your door as you step out of the car, looking out over the large building lit up from the inside and crawling with people. He offers his hand, which you take gratefully as your stomach turns, anxiety and anticipation sharp in your gut. He gives you another charming smile.

You both walk inside, taking in the nightclub still in full swing. It's a Friday night, so there are plenty of people here looking to let loose after a long work day.

There's a small band on stage playing upbeat jazz, a singer performing for an enthused crowd. You know this song, you know every song.

The Corinthian’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him as he seems to glare at the bodies mingling with one another. It's possessive, like he'll cut the eyes out of anyone who so much as glances the wrong way at you. You lean into him.

He leans down to your ear, his smile returning as he speaks gently. “Who here sparks your interest?” he asks. “Who fits the bill?”

You look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A target.” He looks around the club, as though he's searching for someone who sparks his own interest. “Most artists have a pattern among their chosen…” he makes a gesture with his hand, trying to find the right word, “canvases.”

You like the way he speaks. It's poetic.

You lick your lips. “What's your pattern?”

“Oh, me?” He shrugs, looking over the crowd again. “I don't follow anything specific.” Tilting his head, he hums, “I suppose I do have a bit of male preference… but I'm not picky.”

“Ah,” you mutter.

“Well?” he wondered. “Anyone?”

You look around at all the people, dancing and sweating and talking. Eventually, your eyes land on a man. He's tall and lean, with black hair messy from dancing.

He reminds you of someone.

“Him.”

The Corinthian’s gaze finds the object of yours. A grin curls devilishly over his lips.

“Very nice.”

“So…” you look up at him, “What do I do?”

The urge to play with you is strong, like it's embedded in the tissue of his being. “You don't know?”

You nod quickly, trying to figure out what to say. You're supposed to be a professional.

“Well, uh, yeah, of course I know,” you clear your throat. “B-But what do you think I should do?”

He chuckles, turning you to face him as his hands cup your waist. He leans in, moving slowly as his lips brush your ear. He lowers his voice to a deep hum. “I always find that seduction works wonders.”

You nod gently as he pulls aways. His black shades stare into your eyes, dark and compelling. “Alright.”

He chuckles, jutting his chin out toward the man, your canvas. “Go on,” he bids. “Take him to the hotel a few blocks down. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Again, you nod. He knows best.

“Okay.”

He grazes his knuckles along your cheek, granting you one last grin before turning and leaving you to your own devices. You would be fine.

You turn toward the dark-haired man, taking in a deep breath before setting a small smile upon your lips. You begin walking over to him, sinking into the music to blend in with the crowd. Even as your hips sway and your face shifts into something more sultry, your hands tremble as the anxiety slips into your skin.

Stepping up behind him, you get his attention by placing a palm on his slim waist. He glances down at your hand and follows it up your wrist, your arm, your shoulder, up to your pretty face as his own smile spreads across his pink lips. “Hello,” you smile gently, leaning forward just enough to tilt your head back to look up at him.

He turns, enjoying the way your hands shift to stay at his sides, your thumbs feeling over the fabric of his shirt. He’s handsome, easily falling victim to your own charm as he lets you seduce him. His smile widens, though he doesn’t look predatory, like a lot of men you’ve come across among the years. He’s charming.

“Well, hello there.” He looks you up and down, and you take in the sight of his pale blue eyes as he does.

You just keep smiling, and it’s all you have to do for him to fall further and further for your charm. “Hi,” you lick your bottom lip.

Considerate of you, he places his hand on your shoulder and brushes it down your arm slowly until he slips it into your hand, holding one of them and setting his other hand onto your own waist. Yours eased to his shoulder, and soon you were holding one another as you danced on a slow tempo to the quick rhythmed music.

“How's a pretty girl like you doing on a night like this, hm?” he wonders, his voice warm and just as smiling as his lips.

You shrug a shoulder as though you're shy. “I'm doing alright,” you chuckle lightly, breathily. “Are you having fun?”

He hums. “Now that you're here? So much fun.” He watched you appreciatively, biting his lower lip and sighing. “You lookin’ to play with little ole me?”

You tilt your head gently. “Do you like to play?”

“Doll,” he chuckles, “I love to play.”

You giggle softly, and you watch him seem to almost melt at the sound of it. “You wanna play with me?” you lean in a little closer.

“Do I?”

You stand on your tiptoes so your lips brush his ear as you whisper, your words light and airy. “Why don't we go somewhere more private so we can…play?”

He sighs longingly. “Oh, I love the sound of that.”

You smile wide, pulling away from him as you keep your hands firmly clasped. “Well, come on then,” you say as you pull him gently toward the door. He walks with you, joining your side and exiting the club with you on his arm.

As you're walking out, his lead taking you in the direction of his car, you find yourself humming the song that had been playing inside under your breath. His gaze turns to you and he finds himself even further under your enchantment.

What a wonder you are… An angel from heaven.

He helps you into his car, shutting your door and rounding to the other side as he takes his seat as the driver. “So where are we going?” he asks, looking at you with anticipation seeping through every pore.

You smile, and he swears you speak like a melody as you say, “I've got a room down at the hotel.” You bring a hand to your face as you rest your fingers just under your chin. “We shouldn't be interrupted there.”

He grins. “Whatever you say, doll.”

~

He's been so sweet, much closer on the sweeter side of the men you've met since you first came to the mortal plane. Graham, he said his name was.

You nearly felt bad about what was going to happen to Graham…but you wouldn't be putting him to waste. No, you would be honoring him. He would inspire your songs, he would give life to them. That was an honor you felt befit him, an honor he deserved.

The hotel comes into view, and your stomach flips. Graham parks, opens your door like a gentleman, and then offers his hand as the both of you enter the building. You glance around as you walk, wondering what you're supposed to do now. He just said to meet him here…

You walk, tucked into his side as you try not to aimlessly wander. He stays close to you, almost dutifully, and you don't notice the way he gazes at your face.

You look up at him, an innocent—almost naïve—glow to your eyes that makes his smile grow. “You're beautiful, you know that?”

You hum lightly, smiling gently. Your gaze wanders from his and falls upon a conference room door, the window on the door reflecting something off its surface.

Your eyes catch on the silhouette of such a familiar man. You walk over, pulling Graham with you as you push the door open.

“Thought we were going up to your room, doll?” he wonders. You pull him into the dark conference room, glancing around for your new mentor and finding nothing but shadows.

You turn back to Graham, thinking on your feet as you give him a smile. “I…just couldn't wait that long,” you chuckle lightly. You step forward, your hands on his chest.

He smiles, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot and turning the lock as he looks down at you with a smile. “Sounds good to me,” he grins.

He holds your body close, wrapping you up in his arms. Your smile falls as he leans in closer, and when his lips brush yours, you can't help but push him away with the gentle push of your fingertips.

He seems concerned as he takes you in, holding his hands up enough to show he isn't going to hurt you. “What's the matter?”

In the corner of your eyes, you catch a shadow. Your gaze lands on the Corinthian, hidden in the dark space behind Graham with a finger held up to his curling lips, and your breath hitches in a small gasp.

You watch him silently, watching as his hands gesture toward the both of you. He just nods, urging you on.

You look back at Graham, his eyes still just as concerned as before. You remember to smile, stepping back toward him as you slowly set your hands on his shoulders. “Nothing,” you whisper. You kiss him, and he takes a moment to allow you space before his hands fall to your waist again. His lips are soft, comforting.

Tilting your head, your eyes creak open to see the Corinthian again. He smiles reassuringly, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. After receiving your confused look, he just gives another encouraging gesture. You figure, he knows best.

Pulling away again, you keep your hands on his shoulders. Graham opens his eyes, watching you smile up at him. “Close your eyes?” you ask gently.

He chuckles, amused, “Why?”

You bat your lashes, a subtle but rapid blink that makes him pliant to you. “Trust me?” Your voice is gentle and small, a whisper he has nor reason to doubt.

He just sighs and laughs, shaking his head as he brings hand to cover his eyes, peeking at you teasingly before hiding behind his palm again. You look to the Corinthian for more instruction.

He raises his finger to tap his throat. You watch his other hand come up, balling into a tight fist. He punches his palm soundlessly. And you understand.

You place your gaze upon Graham once more. His pretty face, his messy black hair, his pink lips, his closed eyes hiding pale blue rings around his pupils. You clench your fist, feeling the tightness in your fingers, the strain of the skin over your knuckles.

You take in a deep bracing breath, and he's still waiting patiently for you. Patient, gentle, good.

And you strike him hard in his throat, your fist colliding with his Adam’s apple as his eyes bulge from his skull. He tries to gasp at the sudden impact, the sound barely coming out in a painful wheeze as he raises his hands to his throat.

He looks at you, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His mouth is open wide as he gapes, trying so hard to speak, to breathe, to figure out why.

You hadn't even realized it when the Corinthian moved, his hands landing heavily over Graham’s shoulders as he wheezes and gasps, making the most dreadful sounds in an attempt to breathe.

“Hello, there,” he grins, Graham’s eyes finding him and bulging. When did he get there?

His gaping mouth tries to form a word, and the Corinthian tilts his head to hear it before chuckling lightly. “Don't try to speak. You'll find it hurts more.”

He pulls a chair from the large conference table and sits him roughly down onto it. Graham doesn't try to bolt, the door is locked and he isn't confident in his ability to get out of here with the Corinthian as your apparent partner. He tries to speak, to negotiate, but he can't get any sound past senseless croaks.

The Corinthian joins your side, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist as you stare at the man you'd doomed. Doomed. That's a nice word.

He opens up his jacket, reaching in an inside pocket as he pulls out the silver needle and red thread he'd procured from the Seamstresses.

“Now, beautiful,” he says, handing it over to you, “why don't you take this while I help you out a little?” You look at the tools he offers, blink a couple of times before picking it up.

His crooked finger brushes under your chin before he turns away toward your friend again. He rounds to another chair, which he pulls from its spot tucked at the table, a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before sitting in the seat. In the bag is rope, strong rope he uses to tie Graham to the chair as he kneels behind him.

You glance at the needle. “What do I do with it?”

He looks up at you as he wraps the rope around the back of the chair and his chest and ignores Graham’s struggles. He says it like it's obvious. “You'll sew his mouth shut.”

Graham struggles against the rope, but to no avail. The Corinthian makes a tight knot, looking at him with a warning in his tone. “I suggest you be nice and good for her or…” he smiles, his hands on his shoulders as his lips brush the shell of his ear, “I'll just have to intervene. And you don't want that.”

Graham goes completely still, sweating and crying now. The tears roll down his cheeks and he gives you a desperate look.

You realize your hands are shaking, like the first time you even stepped foot toward him.

“I…” you mutter, staring at the needle.

The Corinthian’s smile remains unchanged, encouraging. “Come on,” he says as he stands, walking over toward you once more. “Don't be shy.”

The anxiety curls in your stomach, shakes in your hands. You take a step back, turning to him timidly as you don't meet his eyes. “I'm… I'm not her,” you say, struggling to get the words out as the nerves eat away at you. “I lied… I'm not the Whisperer. I'm just…some dream… I'm just a dream.”

He laughs, and you watch him as the confusion sinks into the features of your face. Graham is out of both your minds as you stare at him.

“Well, I know that.” He chuckles, stepping into your space as he grabs your free hand, cradling it in his palm. “But you're not just any dream, are you? You're Aria. One of Morpheus’ special dreams, his little song.”

Irritation rises in your belly and you shake your head, stepping back and letting go of his hand. “I'm not Aria,” you bite. “Not anymore. I hate that name.”

He raises a brow. “Do you now?” His smirk is devilish. “Who are you then?”

You stare at him, offering the name you'd take thirty years ago when you left the Dreaming for the first time, your new name with its new rhythm and rhyme. The Corinthian repeats it back to you, tasting it on his tongue like honey.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, another step taking you away from him. “But I'm not the Whisperer.”

He shrugs. “‘Course you're not. I made her up.” You watch him, surprise in every crevice of your face. He reaches out and takes your hands, pulling you close again as he watches you, the look I'm his eyes almost predatory as he lowers his voice for you to hear. His words seep into your skin.

“But you want to be, don't you?” He smiles, “I can see it in your eyes, you wanna be more than Dream's ‘little song’, don't ya?”

Graham watches, feeling his vocal chords easing in the slightest bit. He still can't speak, can't scream, can't get any sound out but a whisper so quiet, he still can't be heard.

“You want to be something not so sweet,” he continues. “You wanna sing something other than Kumbaya, holding hands with your neighbors and bein’ all nice and happy.”

Your lip twitches at the mention of that song, a campfire song that felt like a pinnacle of your distaste for the music you've been forced to sing. “I hate Kumbaya,” you mumble.

He chuckles. “Don't we all?” He brushes his knuckles along your cheekbone, smoothing down to rest underneath your chin. “You can be so much more than that. I know it. You can leave behind all that sweetness, and become like me. Remake yourself in your own image.”

He raises your hand, still cupping the needle and thread in your palm. “All you have to do…” he gently pushes your palm toward your body, separating each word as he does, “...is take the needle.”

He takes a step back, giving you space to think.

You look down at your palm, contemplating. This is it. This is your chance to become more than a little songbird. You could become better. You could fulfill your own hopes and dreams and become a better version of you.

Your fingers curl over your palm.

Your eyes turn on Graham, and fear flashes across his face. You take the first step toward him, then another, and he begins to squirm in his chair as you do. The Corinthian tuts, walking toward him as he places his hands on his shoulders to keep him down, still.

He smiles, a dark and wicked smile. “There you go,” he encourages. “Do it. Become more than that sweet little dream. Do what you want to do, not what you were made to.”

You take the string of thread and punch it between your thumb and forefinger, stilling your breath completely as your slightly shaky hands work to thread the needle. It takes a moment for you to get it through the eye, letting out a relieved sigh when you do.

Graham keeps squirming, despite the uselessness. You stand in front of him. “Take a seat,” the Corinthian says. “It'll be easier.”

You set your free hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself onto his lap as you straddle him. His mouth forms a word, the slightest whisper tearing painfully from his throat as it did. Please. Please. Please.

He casts a desperate, pleasing gaze upon you, his life in your hands—the hands of the beautiful siren who had forsaken him. You watch him with an unwavering gaze, the anxiety and anticipation curling your brows.

He is so good. So genuinely good. The kind of good that stares at your face and calls you beautiful. The kind that keeps calling you beautiful until you no longer have the capacity not to believe it. He's the kind of good that holds you when you're sad, wipes away your tears when you cry. The kind of good that makes you feel better about living in such a cruel world.

And you want to feel bad about taking his life away, about taking the rhythm of his heartbeat away.

But you can't, and you don't. And honestly, a rage and desperation flares within you as you stare at him. Because he is good. And that's just the problem, isn't it?

For so long, all of your songs have been so good. Songs about dancing birds and twinkling stars and buzzing bees. Songs about hope and love and care and whatever else. And you're sick of it.

You were only drawn to him because he's good.

You need something new, something a little fiercer than the blazing sun in the sky, something a little darker than the moonless night. You need inspiration.

And he could give it to you. The Corinthian would help.

You begin to move your hands toward his face, and Graham desperately tries to move away. You sigh, looking up at the Corinthian. He understands immediately.

Taking Graham’s face in his hands, he holds his head still and his jaw securely closed. He bears his teeth like a frightened animal, breathing quickly as whispers of protest strain in his crushed vocal chords.

You use one hand to hold his lips closed. The Corinthian nods along with you. “Just at the corner. Right there.” You slide your pinched fingers over to the left corner of his lips. “Very good. Now just…push it in…”

You position the needle, holding there for a long time as you internalize taking this step. All you have to do…is push it in.

The needle pierces his flesh, sinking into his skin as he screams silently, held still as a statue by the Corinthian, as though his strength is nothing to him.

The sharp end comes out on the other side of his bottom lip, and you pull it all the way through as the red thread becomes redder with the blood staining it. You pull until you have enough length, tying the end off with steadier hands.

“Very good,” the Corinthian praises. “See? You're a natural.”

He takes in his success, his great triumph. Dream's little song…nothing more now than the outlines of a nightmare waiting to be filled in with a little more color. He almost feels drunk off the sight of you, straddling this man as you continue to pierce him with your needle and sew his lips shut, tight, taking away the one thing you were made to do.

Sing.

Such a sweet little bird you are now, a corrupted and twisted little dream in the hands of a wicked nightmare.

He watches you thread the needle through his flesh as Graham continues to cry and try and try and try to scream, to have someone hear him, save him from the pain and torture. But you're all alone in here, locked inside this room with nothing but the night…

As you focus, you find yourself easing into the task. Pinching and piercing and pulling and repeating. You smile, calm as a melody comes to mind.

You hum it, lower and slower than the original speed. The Corinthian watches, in awe of you as you continue to work. He almost swears the rhythm of Graham’s silent breaths and cries begin to form to the rhythm of your song.

“Say ‘Night-ie night’ and kiss me,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Graham’s nose. “Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.”

You poke the needle through the end of his lip, piercing the far right corner slowly, calmly. “While I'm alone and blue as can be…” You tie the end of the knot, singing a little slower as you do. “Dream a little dream of…me.”

You lean forward and cut the thread with your teeth, taking in the sight of your good work. The Corinthian lets Graham go, and he just sits there, still sobbing, his face wet with tears and blood and sweat.

“Look at that,” the Corinthian admires, laughing deep in his throat as he sets his hands on your shoulders and shakes his head. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him, taking in the sight before you. The Corinthian’s hands fall to your waist, and his head rests at the crook of your neck. Graham’s eyes struggle to stay open, his vision blurry with tears and the adrenaline and pain crashing down and making it hard to find the will to stay conscious.

“Look at all your hard work,” the Corinthian hums, the sound of your song still playing in his mind. “How does it feel?”

You look at him. His dark blood is crimson as it stains his shirt. His messy black hair is only worse now, his pale blue eyes brighter and paler as his pupils grow to the size of a coin.

He looks beautiful, you think.

“Different.”

The tip of his nose brushes underneath your ear. “Do you want to finish it off?”

You nod gently.

The Corinthian fishes a sharp blade from the inside of his jacket. He takes your hand and wraps it around the handle, gripping it tight and helping to guide you.

“Right…” he moves the tip of the blade to press against Graham’s straining neck. He presses it right under his chin, starting from the far right, opposite the needle, “...here.”

“Here?” you ask as he lets go, keeping the blade steady.

He nods. “Right there.”

You lift your other hand to hold the back of his neck steady. Graham watches, terrified. You stare him dead in the eyes, unblinking, unwavering.

You carve the blade into his throat and slice. All the way across, you take your time in slowly slitting his throat. You only blink as the blood sprays out of his sliced arteries and spray all over your face and neck. It keeps spraying and keeps spraying, coming in spurts as he chokes on his blood, gurgling and coughing.

You continue to stare at him, even as you've finished even after he has died and the light has left his eyes and the songs have left his soul. His eyes are bulgy and he's drenched in blood. Butchered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a dark hand reaching out to Graham. You want to turn, to see her take him, to watch as he is swept away in the hands of Death to his afterlife. But you don't. Watching Graham, you see the flickers of hope in his eyes die out as the life leaves him and replaces it with emptiness. A momentary silence is filled with the gentle flap of wings.

The Corinthian comes back to mind as he pulls you back enough to see the whole of your work. He shakes his head in admiration, smiling wide.

“Your first one,” he says.

“My first one.”

“How does it feel?”

His hands on your hips pull you back against his body. You lean into him. “Different.”

He chuckles lightly, one of his hands moving from your waist in favor of sliding up the length of your body to wrap around your throat, resting there as he holds you securely. His other hand slides down your arm and takes the knife from your hand.

“I think you liked it,” he hums in your ear, dropping his knife on the table with a clatter and holding your neck tighter. “Having his life in your hands?”

You swallow thickly, staring at the dripping blood as the crimson on your face dries. “I–”

“Say it,” he cuts you off, his lips right by your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. “You loved it. You loved silencing him.”

He feels your shallow breaths beneath his palm. Still dazed, you say, “I–”

“Say it.”

You take in a slow breath, filling your lungs before you admit it, the curling in your stomach gone and replaced by the chills along your skin. “I loved it,” you sigh. “I loved silencing him.”

He smiles triumphantly. “I know you did,” he chuckles. “Now look at you. A new person, a new dream.” His smile widens and his hand tightens. “You're just like me.”

“Just like you.”

“A nightmare.” His lips graze the shell of your ear.

“A nightmare.”

You lean into him with a slight moan when his lips press against your neck, kissing it with insistent lips and insistent teeth. “Just like you,” you whisper, like the repeating lyrics of a song.

“Just like me.”

Your eyes flutter at the way his teeth nip at your flesh. “A nightmare.”

“A nightmare.” He turns you around in his arms, moving you so your back presses against the table. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing you whole as they do. He can taste the blood staining your lips. You melt against him, weak and wanting as his body presses flush against yours. He bends you back against the table, laying you down as his lips trail down to the skin of your neck, kissing and biting and sucking.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “A corrupted little dream.”

Corrupted. You like that word.

“Corinthian,” you moan, bringing your arms up as your hands wrap around the back of his head and keep him close to you.

“My little dream,” he scoffs, his hands gripping your body tightly.

You go to speak, but he cuts you off. He laughs wickedly. “But you're not a dream, are you? And you're not a nightmare.”

“Cor–”

“You're just a little whore, aren't you?” he smirks, riding your shirt up as his hand slips under it. “A little whore who wants to be something else.”

You moan. “A whore.”

His face is inches from yours again as he speaks quietly, his voice low and rough and dangerous. “You thought I wouldn't know what you were when I saw you?” he questions, finding it amusing. “You thought I wouldn't know you were just a dream trying to be something she isn't?”

Your breath has picked up, heavy as your head spins. “I–”

He's not having it. He silences you again, holding your throat still as he makes you look at him, as he makes sure you can't look away. “Let me show you what you are,” he breathes. “Then I'll rebuild you into something you can be.”

Enchanted by him and his words, you breathe deeply. “Show me what I am,” you echo.

He nods, “That's right.”

“What I can be.”

“Good girl,” he praises. He attacks your mouth once more. It's a bruising kiss as he wraps you up in him. His hand grips your neck tightly, constricting your breath a bit as he does. With one hand, he rips your dress from your body and lets it fall to the ground in rags. You gasp as he does it, your body now exposed to the chilly air as you're left in nothing but your undergarments.

He hums deeply as he looks over you. He smiles. “Dream had it right with this body,” he says, running his hand over your skin and listening to the way you moan.

He hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them roughly down your legs to reveal yourself to him. “Look at you,” he breathes as he smooths his hand over your mound. “You're so pretty, aren't you?”

You moan when his long middle finger sinks inside of you, sliding between your damp folds. He's surprised by how wet you are, though he supposes he shouldn't be.

You immediately clamp down around his finger, and he lets out a long sigh. “Such a tight little thing.”

Your legs move to close at the intrusion, not new to the feeling but still not quite used to it either. He just forces them apart, keeping you spread wide for him as he does. “Don't you hide yourself from me,” he says, thrusting a second finger inside of you as you moan at the stretch.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, collecting the gathering wetness as he watches you through his dark glasses, admires the way your body responds to him.

Your hips meet his hands as he keeps touching you, eager to feel more of him as your shallow breaths continue to pass between your lips. When he pulls his hand from you, you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing in an attempt to feel him again.

You watch as he sets his fingers on his tongue, closing his mouth around them and suckling with a deep hum. He caresses your name with his lips as he looks down at you. “You're delicious, sweetheart,” he says, and your body keens into his touch.

His hand around your throat tightens as he bends down so his face is hardly separated from yours. “I bet you'd just love to feel my mouth on you, hm?”

You nod quickly, “Please.”

He laughs darkly, kissing you roughly and letting his mouth trail down your body—down, down, down until his mouth ghosts over your fluttering pussy.

Your back arches when you feel his hot mouth against you. His tongue laps against your folds and he suckles around you, tasting the sweetness of your nectar. His tongue flattens against you as he begins to lick you up.

His hand loosens around your throat before ultimately letting go to hold your grinding hips down. Your mouth falls open and you give into him, tangling your fingers in his hair and encouraging his mouth against you.

He laps at your pussy like you're the finest wine. He can taste the virtue that pulsed in your veins, and he can taste the darkness beginning to replace it. His tongue delves inside of you, his lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently.

The pleasure jolts through your body like a fire, and you’re entirely willing to let it consume you. You want to feel its burning flames lick at your flesh, searing it from bone to turn you to ash and create something new out of the remains.

The Corinthian sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes, moaning and grinding. He looks up at you, looking for your eyes and finding them hooded.

You mewl when he pulls away from you. “No, no, no,” he says. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. You gotta watch me make you mine.”

You do as you're told, opening your eyes and doing your best to keep them that way. He praises you with another “good girl” before he's wrapping his lips around you again.

He enjoys every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal as he coaxes it from you, taking the grinding of your hips every time he curls his fingers or sucks on your clit.

You moan his name as you feel the rise in your stomach tightening with an oncoming pleasure. You clench around his fingers, your clit pulses against his tongue. You've forgotten all about Graham's body slumped in his bindings, you'd forgotten the blood staining your face and neck. It's all the Corinthian.

You throw your head back roughly and gasp when you cum, your head spinning as the back of it smacks against the table. Your thighs tremble and shake as he refuses to let up, sinking his tongue deeper inside. Your moans almost sound like tiny cries as you grind your hips into his mouth.

He licks his lips, tasting you on his tongue with an immense amount of appreciation. "You're fucking delicious, baby,” he hums, smirking dangerously.

He sits up to his full height once more, his hand finding its place around your throat as he bends down to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating.

His lips smack as he pulls away from you. Without a word, he flips you onto your stomach atop the table. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it roughly. The breath is forced from your lungs as your chest presses against the table.

The Corinthian tangles his hand in your hair as he roughly pulls your head up, making you look up as your eyes fall on Graham.

“Look at him,” he hums. “Look at all that good work.”

You do. You take in the sight of him with a new set of eyes. The red thread keep his lips shut tight. He'd made such wonderful sounds when you'd sewn them. You'd taken his song and added it to your own, his fear and his desperation had been the perfect addition to your symphony.

His blood soaks his clothes, as well as your face, what was once crimson now darker from being exposed to the air. You can still hear the way he choked, the way he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

His skin was so pale, his eyes that were once a pale blue now cloudy and grey with the mask of death. His once pink lips are just as grey. You can still see the smile they made, the words they spoke. The things he could sing.

You could still hear him singing.

You moan when the Corinthian’s hand presses between your slick folds again. He smiles, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “There you go,” he says. “Nice and slick for me. Be a good girl and say please.”

You let out an airy breath, mumbling a tiny whisper of, “Please.”

But he isn't convinced as he groans and shakes his head. “No, you can do better than that, sweetheart. Now I'm not going to give you what you need until you say please.”

Desperate and needy, you let out another breathy moan. “Please,” you whine again, louder this time as your words form into a melody. “I need you. I need you to make me yours.”

He's drunk off your obedience, the way you gave into him so easily from the start. He inclines his head, satisfied. “Good girl.”

The jingle of his belt buckle fills your ears with its gentle ring. Your pussy flutters when you feel the tip of him press against your folds. “Please,” you whisper again.

You let out a long breath when he buries himself to the hilt inside of your hot cunt. A rough groan falls from his lips, the tip of his cock pressing deep inside of you as you lose your breath.

You grip the table, allowing the pleasure to fill you as he holds your hips tight. You moan at the stretch of him inside you.

The Corinthian lets out a deep breath, steadying himself as he pulls out just barely to the tip before roughly thrusting back into. You moan loudly, your head dizzy with the feeling blossoming inside of you.

He doesn't allow you a slow build. He doesn't give you the privilege of easing you into the monstrous nature of his love. Instead, he holds you steady as he fucks into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust to him.

He grunts and groans behind you as he uses you to his need. He feeds off your moans, their song-like nature filling the air and seeming to hypnotize him into wanting even more of you, into needing even more of you.

The sound of his hips smacking against your ass fills the room. It joins your moans and his dark grunts, blending together perfectly.

“Listen to you,” he grunts. “You're my little song now.”

You can no longer think straight, your head spinning with pleasure, with the sound of Graham's singing in your head, with the sound of flapping wings.

You watch Graham as if through rose-colored glasses, the pleasure mixing with the sight of him creating something you've never felt before as you continue to moan meekly.

And, for a moment, you think of Dream.

As a melody plays in the back of your brain, a new melody you've never heard before, you think about how much you want to show Dream.

But he abandoned you. And, before that, he'd created you as a sweet dream that could never know anything other than harmony. And you hated him for that.

So, as you watch the blood drip from his sealed lips, you smile and give into the Corinthian completely. His fingers press to your clit, and you shudder as you feel yourself getting so close, so close to falling apart and forever becoming the Corinthian’s song…ready to leave Sweet Dream behind forever.

The pressure builds as his speed on your clit does as well. You clench around his cock, your head light and your moans scratching your throat. “Corinthian,” you whine. “I'm so close.”

His hips snap into yours a little harder. “I bet you are,” he huffs. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make you nice and full.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a circle of his finger, you fall apart. Your whole body shudders as you let out a loud, breathy moan as it all comes crashing down. You give in to the Corinthian’s symphony of death.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you. He gives in to the squeeze of your cunt and cums, grinding his hips so deep as he fills you to the brim.

And with one last thrust, with his cum buried in your fluttering pussy, he claims you as his. He lets go of your hair, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

You whimper at the loss of him, laying on the table as your legs shake.

The Corinthian’s arms wrap around you, picking you up and pulling you to stand as he embraces you in another kiss. You lean into him, letting his lips meld against yours.

He looks over your face, the new clarity in your eyes. He smiles.

“Sing me a song, sweetheart.”

And you do. You sing a song of a dying promise, the sounds of the symphony you'd just created allowing you to sing a melody of broken hope and shattered dreams.

You sing for a long time as the Corinthian listens to you, enchanted by your song, by your new dream.

Now, you belonged to him.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 The Corinthian taglist: @waitingformysandman @honey-im-hotdog @saltysasque @anotherblackreader Tag yourself here...

#corinthian #the corinthian #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian smut #corinthian fanfic #corinthian fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

[angelsxwords]

— pretty little eyes.

corinthian likes your eyes.

a/n: corinthian brainrot so strong i revived my writing blog. warnings: mentions of eye-stealing. he doesn’t actually steal them. intended to be fluff. gn! reader. short drabble.

corinthian loves your eyes. they entice him; their shape, their colour and all the little details they reveal. he enjoys to see the way you roll your eyes when something annoys you, or the way they are blown wide and almost seem to sparkle when something fascinates you. your eyes speak to him more than your lips — and they could show him so much more, if…

he presses a kiss to the thin skin protecting them from harm, lingers there for a moment to feel them tremble beneath his lips in response to the unfamiliar pressure. corinthian smiles and kisses your eyelid again, before moving to the little space in-between your eyes.

“do you have, like, an instinctive need to take my eyes that you need to control?”

corinthian chuckles at that.

“not really. i just like them, especially yours.”

his fingers trace the bags underneath your eyes. with you trusting him as much as you do, it would be easy to take them. corinthian could do it now, whilst you two are enjoying this quiet moment in bed. yet, he doesn’t — and won’t, which is the promise he seals whenever he kisses your eyelids.

#the sandman #netflix the sandman #the corinthian #corinthian x reader #corinthian #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian x you #corinthian x you

[roguelov]

Look at You

Summary: With his back turned, you decided to try on your love’s, the Corinthian, sunglasses. But, only trying them on will come with some consequences.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Reader: Afab

Warning: Smut (fingering, dirty talk, teasing/begging, unprotected sex (doggystyle), mirror sex)

Requested by the sweet @dreamstatednightmare

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

You inhaled softly, awaking to a new day. Cracking open your eyes, the yellow hues of the morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Dust particles - that hung loosely in the air - now twinkled like your own galaxy trapped within your four walls.

You sighed, and snuggled deeper into the warmth of bed and sheets. Your head lolled over to the side. A smile - so joyful, pure of adoration - crossed your lips.

Your miniature stars of your galaxy floated down, haloing around your love’s face. He basked in the early morning golden hue, like a god sculpted by fire and wonder. His voice was a deep vibrato, a harmonious symphony, that hummed within your bones down to your soul. It uplifted you. His touch was downright intoxicating that left you addicted and always wishing - aching - for more. His essence enveloped you, he became the sun to your barren earth.

He was perfect.

“You’re staring again, sweetheart.”

Still smiling, you snorted. “Is that a problem?”

Corinthian titled his head over to you. He opened his eyes, smiling widely.

Nightmare. A monsterous vision.

Teeth - yes, teeth - stared at you where eyes should be. Pearl white teeth that clicked together - a sickening click meant to haunt dreams. Yet, despite all of it, you continued to smile back at him.

“No, not at all.” His rich syrupy voice inflected with a southern drawl, even more pronounced with the lingering effects of sleep.

You completely rolled over, facing him. “Good.”

He laughed once. “You really are somethin’, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, your problem.”

With quick reflexes, he threw his arm out over your waist and drew you in, pressing you firmly against his chest. Your smile only widened, despite being face to face with a literal nightmare. No fears, no worries, only love flooded over you. Such a dizzying warmth.

“You are just too sweet, I could eat you up.” He popped the ‘p’, then tossed you a wolfish grin.

“You could, but who would keep you company?” Your hands skimmed up his chest.

“You think I couldn’t find someone else?” He teased.

“No one as good as me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Now, you may be right about that.”

“I’m always right.”

“Oh, now don’t go pushin’ on it.” He leaned in and pecked your forehead. But, neither of you were satisfied with it, so he kissed your lips. So sweet, so addictingly sweet. Smirking, he whispered against your lips. “You know I was thinking about hopping into the shower, care to join me?”

You hummed in thought. “Tempting.”

“But?”

“But, I’ll sit this one out … for now.”

“Ooo, I like that promise.”

He kissed your lips once more before rolling out of bed. Your eyes trailed after him, hungrily taking him in. He strolled into the bathroom shutting the door behind him, hiding him from your view.

You flopped onto your back, sighing.

The pipes creaked as the shower turned on.

Now, you could get up to start your day as well. Maybe, you could make breakfast for the two of you … or you could stay in the comfort of your bed just a little while longer.

You peered back over to the closed bathroom door, but something was caught in your peripheral - something shone, glittered, in the sunlight. All your attention shifted.

Sunglasses.

It was frankly an ordinary pair of sunglasses neatly folded on the nightstand. However, ordinary also wasn’t the correct word. It was a unique pair because it was the Corinthian’s sunglasses which hid his true nature out in public. Sunglasses he freely tossed aside once in the confinements of your home.

He trusted you, wholeheartedly. Trusted and loved you enough to shed his mask.

Unfortunately, in this moment, you only had one thought in mind: to try them on for yourself.

You snuck a glance to the bathroom door. Still closed, and the shower still ran. If you listened closely you could hear the soft whistling from the Corinthian. Biting back a giddy smile, you scrambled across the bed and plucked up the dark circular sunglasses.

You slipped them on. You were taken back by how dark the room became, it was nearly pitch black.

How does he see in these?

You hopped out of bed and walked over to the full length mirror hanging on the closet door. You smiled at yourself. You had to admit you loved how they looked on you. Like how they framed your face, how they made you feel. Staring at yourself, you started to goofy faces then just downright admired yourself.

You laughed, having your fun and turned away.

Arms snuck around your waist.

Your breath was taken away, your heart leapt up into your throat. Turning your head back to the mirror, your eyes locked onto the Corinthian directly behind you. His pale blonde hair slicked back as water droplets occasionally dripped off the one loose strand. His body, his skin still damp and slightly red, radiated an intense heat from the shower. Your clothes soon stuck to his bare chest. And to top it off, all he had covering himself was a towel tucked around his waist.

And although he couldn’t see your wide shocked eyes, he could perfectly picture it in his mind. He chuckled, tightening his grip. “Having fun, darlin’?”

You laughed once, a little nervous. Would he be mad? Upset? “Yeah, uh, sorry.”

“Oh, now don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” He dropped his head, his lips skimmed over your neck. “I think they look good on you.”

You tucked your chin to your chest, feeling both relief and bashful by his honey sweet words.

He chuckled softly. You were certainly something, something he loved sinking his teeth into. His hands glided down and gripped your hips. He nipped at your neck. You gasped. He smirked, the same buttery smirk he always wears. He brought your hips back, making you grind on him just a bit. At the small sensation, a pleasant hum vibrated in the back of his throat.

You shivered. Your head tipped forward, craning to the side to give him better access. His glasses slid down the bridge of your nose

A hand snaked up your body - over your curves and valleys, leaving a trail of goosebumps - and wrapped gently around your throat. It tipped your head back, so you could look at yourself in the mirror head on. Corinthian smiled deviously. “Now, now, sweetheart, I think you need to see this.”

His sunglasses hung on the tip of your nose. Looking over top of them, you made eye contact with him. He only smirked, one that held a hidden agenda. His hand - wrapped around your throat - came up and pushed his glasses back properly on your face. His face nuzzled into your neck, starting to bite and bruise you.

“I want you to keep them, sweetheart.” He mumbled into your skin. “And keep your eyes on me, on what I do.”

His fingers traced down your body, loving how easily you squirmed. His fingers landed on the waistband of your sweatpants. He picked at the elastic, humming in minor disapproval.

“Step out of those pants for me, would you darlin’?” You obeyed without a second thought. You shimmed out of your sweatpants then kicked them to the side. “And these too.”

He tugged on your underwear. You pulled them off, and decidedly your shirt too, tossing them to the growing pile. Your heart hammered in your chest, absolutely thrilled by the quick turn of events.

His eyes raked over your body. He smiled, showing all his teeth like a ferocious hungry animal. “Perfect.”

His arms shot out and yanked you towards his body. He twisted you around, ensuring you faced the mirror. He peppered kisses down your jaw and neck. Each kiss, you fell - fell into depravity, fell into his waiting arms. His fingers danced over your body, tracing over your curves. Your skin screamed - ached, yearned - for more. His fingers skimmed down your thighs then towards your core. But, he only teased. With a feathery touch, he glided over your inner thigh.

Leaning into him, you let out a shaky breath.

He smirked, deviously. He kissed your neck - a mere distraction. With one finger, he dipped down, swiping along your wet folds.

Your breath hitched.

“My, my, what has you all turned on?” His finger teased your entrance again. Your heart pounded against your flushed chest and ears. All his doing. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart. Who has you all in a tizzy?”

Licking your lips, you breathed out, “You.”

“That’s right.”

He circled around your clit, playing with it - teasing you as he always did. You dropped your head back into him. Fluttering your eyes closed, a string of curses passed under your breath.

“Ah, I want you to look.” With his free hand, he grabbed your chin making you look at the mirror.

Darkness stared back.

You shivered.

Your naked body was solely supported by him, while he hid from view. All you saw his smirk and of course his fingers. How they wondered over your body, and reflected in the light with your juices. You swallowed, nervously. Your eyes locked onto his hand, onto his skillful fingers as they dipped between your folds and inside of you.

You whimpered.

His fingers pumped in and out of you, slowly working you to your high. “You’re okay, I got you.” He whispered in your ear.

Even through the dark glasses, you could easily see how his fingers disappeared inside of you. And if you couldn’t see, you could most definitely hear the sinful wet noises.

Your hands flew up, threading into his damp hair. You tugged on the golden strains, needing to cling to him, needing all the support to keep you upright. You greedily grinded down on his fingers.

He moaned, loving how you were losing yourself in such intense feelings. “Hmm, just like that sweetheart, just like that.”

The heel of his palm grinded into your clit. Moaning, you bucked your hips. More. His fingers curled. Your walls fluttered. More. He smiled to himself. He pumped faster, giddy how close you were reaching your end. You yanked on his hair, whining. You rocked your hips desperately chasing your high.

He chuckled. A deep vibration felt in your chest. Yet, despite knowing how close you were, his fingers slipped out of you.

You whined, unabashedly.

“Come here.”

He moved you around the bed, and easily bent you over the edge - all in front of the mirror, or so you could look at yourself head on. Your hands rested on the bed with your ass sticking out. Nerves and excitement fluttered through you. His towel dropped with a soft thud, and your heart rate spiked. He grabbed your hips and his cock teased your entrance.

You were needy, you were desperate. You immediately pushed back, wiggling your hips.

He purred. “Slow down, sweetheart.”

He continued to tease you, just sinking his tip between your folds. Oh how he enjoyed how you became more and more vocal. Such a devious man in such a beautiful package.

Such trickery, such irony, such poetry.

“Please,” you begged.

He hummed. “Say it nicely.”

“Please, Corinthian.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Darlin’, I don’t know.”

You whimpered. “Please, please, I want you.”

Your words hung in the air. He said nothing, as if weighing them. Then he leaned down, his lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Now, that is begging, sweetheart.”

His cock slipped inside you, and your wall eagerly welcomed him.

“Ooo, look at you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flickered up, over the edge of glasses. Your mouth had fallen apart into a silent moan. Corinthian smirked from behind you, looming behind you. His skin glistened in sunlight like a god made of stars. He radiated warmth, but his actions always said otherwise.

His was a contradiction, but your contradiction.

He rocked his hips, sliding in and out with such ease. You dropped to your forearms. “Fuck.”

Corinthian chuckled. His fingers dug into your hips, definitely bruising them. He began to pick up his pace.

Your head tipped forward, burying into the sheets. Unbothered by how the glasses pressed into your face. Your whines and moans were muffled. You pushed back, grinding into him.

He moaned. “Ooo, just like that darlin’.”

He pounded into you, and you matched his pace. His skin smacked against you, such a resounding delicious sound. Higher and higher you both rose. Your walls fluttered around him. His cocked twitched and he moaned.

You whined. “Corinthian.”

“Come on, come for my sweetheart, I know you can do it.” He lifted your head, making you look at yourself in the mirror again. “I want you to watch yourself.”

His cock kissed deep within you, hitting such delightful spots.

You whimpered.

With each hit, you reached higher and higher and -

And you finally crashed.

You moaned, watching yourself as you came around him.

Corinthian chuckled. He grabbed your hips forcibly and continuously pounded into you making you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own. And you watched, utterly entranced by him. Your nightmare wrapped in a dream. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back to the gods. His mouth fell open and he moaned out your name.

You shivered.

He dropped his head, opening his eyes. He connected with yours in the mirror. He tossed you a tired smile, and bent over you. The same smirk, cocky and somewhat arrogant, wormed its way onto his beautiful lips. He whispered into your ear. “Care to join me in the shower now?”

You laughed, breathless. “Absolutely.”

#the sandman #the corinthian #corinthian sandman #corinthian x reader #Corinthian x afab!reader #corinthian x you #corinthian smut #the sandman smut #smut #afab!reader

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧

requested by @psychedelic-ink

A/N: you guys don’t understand how bad I just wanna kiss this man’s neck, like seriously I am enamoured, I could write a whole fic just on giving him beck kisses I swear... um anyways, thank you for the request my beloved Sil!! I really hope you like it

extra warning: as this is somnophilia it does involve slight dub-con, but trust me reader is very happy about it once she wakes up

You’d been asleep when he’d finally snuck his way into your bedroom. It was a frequent occurrence now for The Corinthian to visit you at night time. Usually the two of you would get up to all sorts of smut together when he came to see you, but tonight you had fallen asleep before he’d arrived.

That wasn’t going to stop him though.

He hums a deep groan as you shift under the covers, revealing to him that you had gone to bed wearing nothing. He kicks off his shoes, quickly and quietly ridding himself of the rest of his clothes swiftly after. He’s then silently crawling his way into the bed beside you. He shuffles close to you, but not close enough to touch you. Not just yet.

For a moment he just takes in the sight of your glorious chest, carefully pulling the sheet all the way off you to expose your entire naked body to him. He smirks to himself as he revels in the idea of just how vulnerable and exposed you were to him. The thought makes his cock twitch as it quickly starts to grow hard.

His gaze roams freely and shamelessly over you as he starts to stroke himself next to you. He squeezes and tugs at his dick hastily as he watches your breasts rise and up down with your breathing. He admires the way your plump lips are hanging open, almost inviting in their shape. A light grunt escapes him as you shift again in your sleep, your legs falling open slightly.

That was the final straw for The Corinthian. He simply couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to be inside you. He gently grabs onto your waist, turning you so you lay on your side, your ass now facing him. He almost lets out another groan as your body seems to move instinctively, your ass pushing out to meet his crotch.

At this point he’s aching for you, desperate to get inside you. He has to bite back a growl as he finally pushes inside you. A soft, sleepy sigh falls from your lips as he slowly starts to fuck himself into your sleeping body. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, pulling you back against him to meet his hips with each thrust.

It’s not long before he’s fucking himself quite hard into you, the wet sound of slapping skin and his breath groans filling the room. It’s just moments before you’re slowly waking up with a moan. Your back arches, pushing against him, as one of your hands comes up to curl around his nape, tugging on his light blonde hair.

“You’re here,” you muse drowsily, a lazy smirk on your lips, as you twist your torso slightly to face towards him.

He brings his hand up from your hip to cup your jaw lightly.

“Having a nice dream?” He taunts darkly, placing a deep kiss to your lips.

You smile as he kisses you languidly, deeply, his hips still loving against you, his cock stroking deep inside you.

“Mmm,” you hum sleepily against his lips, “a nightmare, actually…”

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #the corinthian #the corinthian smut #corinthian #corinthian smut #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian x you #the corinthian imagine #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian imagine

[undiscovered-horizon]

You've probably already received a request like this, but would I be able to request a part 2 to the one-shot you wrote about the Corinthian having a crush on Dream's s/o.

[Original Post] | [Part 3] | [Sandman-inspired playlist] | [MASTERLIST] | 🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

Corinthian didn't care much for books. Truthfully, they didn't care much for him either - whichever one you'd open, he'd be the villain. The Nightmare. Nonetheless, he had found himself inside the library but not because he was interested in reading. Instead, it was the reader that captivated him.

Like a stalking predator, he hid between bookshelves at a fairly inconspicuous distance from the daybed you were sitting on. Behind you was one of the many stained-glass windows that Morpheus seemed to be exceptionally fond of. That one, however, was very personal - it presented none other than you. Undoubtedly, it was the beloved king's whim, a monument for his undying devotion. With the colourful glass behind your back, you resembled a deity leisurely spending time in their own temple; a halo of sunlight around your frame revealed your holy nature. Considering how much Morpheus was willing to do for you, such a statement wasn't far from the truth. Perhaps that willingness was the one thing that had made all the difference: one could die for you and the other kill. Which one was the true declaration of unconditional love, I wonder?

The quiet rustle of the page you were turning did not reach Corinthian's ears - he was too far away. But such little noises didn't interest him anyway, they were nothing more but static that audaciously jarred him. Your little expressions were much more captivating, giving away what emotions the book was eliciting from you: surprise, confusion, anger, shock... Your fingers barely grazed the yellow paper as though you expected it to rip or tear with even a little bit of harshness. Would your hands feel equally gentle against his skin? Corinthian inhaled sharply in an attempt to chase away the forbidden thoughts that made his heart tremble. Occupied with his voyeurism, he didn't notice a very expected guest:

"Corinthian?" Lucienne asked confused. She looked at him from above the rim of her glasses; her eyebrows were raised about as high as they possibly could. There was a stack of books in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

As best as he could, Corinthian acted unbothered. "My job," he lied through his teeth. Yes, he was quite exceptional at that. "Lord Morpheus asked me to keep an eye on his beloved. There have been some... unfavourable whispers going around."

Lucienne watched Corinthian for a moment. Honestly, she wasn't aware of any 'whispers' of that sort but if that were true, perhaps it really was for the better to not discuss unrest in the open. "Don't be a nuisance," she warned him before leaving. She passed by you but never forced your attention on herself. Considering how much time you had spent among those bookshelves, you had become part of the library in her mind. Lucienne never said it out loud, as she didn't think it was important enough, but she truly appreciated your silent company. Strolling through her 'domain', she was putting back the books in their rightful places.

A quiet humming echoed through the library - Marv, undoubtedly. He had a curious habit of singing old songs while he was working. The pumpkin-headed scarecrow had no rush in his footsteps, humming some forgotten Frank Sinatra melody as he walked between the tall bookshelves. Ladder in one hand, a bucket of paint and a paint roller in the other, he appeared completely relaxed and carefree. He was probably done for the day and planned on enjoying his leisure to the fullest.

"Good day, your highness," Marv called out while passing by you, making Lucienne look over her shoulder. She wasn't going to quiet him just yet. "You're looking dazzling as ever!"

You looked up from your book with a wide smile on your face. Is this what rapture looked like? "Thank you, Marv," you answered with a flustered giggle in your voice. Corinthian wondered if he knew words sweet enough to drown in that melodic laughter. Was there any better way to die? "Good day to you, too."

Marv passed by Corinthian's hideout without noticing him. Soon after, Lucienne let out a tired sigh and marched out of the library for reasons only known to herself. Once again, he was unbothered in his relentless prayer to the only deity that deserved praise. There was a tea set placed on the table in front of you. Steam from brewing tea dispersed the sunlight coming through the stained-glass window. From his observation, Corinthian knew that you had a habit of getting consumed by different activities that you'd forget about the tea and drink it cold. A strange thought run through his head: he could, after all, set those bookshelves alight to make sure your tea is still hot for when you feel thirsty.

The silent calmness of his lovesick voyeurism did not last for long. Corinthian hid further among the books and wooden contraptions upon noticing a hem of a black coat. Barely peeking through the small gap between shelves and tops of books, he watched the sickening scene unfold:

Your face lit up as you looked away from your book. In a manner too excited for Corinthian's liking, you closed the volume and were about to put it on the table, next to the tea set, when your hands suddenly retracted - Morpheus probably told you he, still, had some other affairs to take care of. Then, in a quite unexpected act, Dream took off his heavy coat and placed it around your shoulders. Your expression softened as you took in a deep inhale of the fragrance lingering on the material. Pomegranate and old parchment. Corinthian didn't even notice his face contorted into a disgusted grimace as he watched Morpheus lean down and gently kiss the top of your head. A quiet giggle left your mouth but it was mostly muffled as your husband was holding you close to himself for a moment. Letting go, after what felt like hours of Corinthian clashing his teeth, Morpheus left the library the same way he had entered - never passing by the watcher's nest, thankfully.

Was that all he was going to do?! Disturb your loneliness for a mere minute, feed you crumbs of his attention, then leave again? What sacrilege was it to claim one's devotion to a god but never bleed on the altar of their mercy? Morpheus could give you anything and everything but not what you wanted. Not what you deserved. Gods craved sacrifices of all that bought pain and sorrow to give away, did they not? Of elements that kept undeserving creatures alive? Blood, tears, bile, marrow... Corinthian would give you all of that only to beg for your forgiveness for such a scarce, unimportant gift. But the one to whom you promised your forever, he gave you a coat. And perhaps that has made all the difference.

He had absolutely no clue what possessed him as he walked towards you. There were no words that he could say on that day that would change the current course of events, no spell that would make you break your sacred vows. Perhaps during Corinthian's creation, Morpheus accidentally poured into the Nightmare his own powerlessness in the face of your inexplicable majesty. If that were true, then Corinthian was simply answering a primaeval call weaved into the very calcium of his bones, iron floating in his blood; he was made to devote himself to you but lacking Morpheus's self-restraint, instead of making a sacrifice on the altar of your love, he longed to be the sacrifice. If he had no place by your side, he'd happily lay at your feet.

The tea was probably already cold when you remembered its existence. Letting out a quiet sigh at your typical forgetfulness, you reached for the kettle but did not notice one of the cups was in the way. The realization came a little too late - your forearm had already nudged the porcelain dish.

But instead of the sharp sound of chinaware breaking against the tiled floor of the library, you were made aware of someone's presence:

"Careful," Corinthian said as he placed the cup back on the silver tray.

"That was quite remarkable," you murmured more to yourself than to him. Shortly after, you looked back up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you. Have a seat." Your hand vaguely pointed to the empty cushion beside you. "If you're not needed elsewhere, of course," you added right after.

There was, quite literally, nothing that needed his attention more than your friendly offer. You don't deny gods when they invite you to eat at their table. "I'd love to," he answered with a smile. Despite his dislike of Morpheus, Corinthian had to admit that Dream equipped him with exquisite charm, which he was going to use to the fullest.

Without useless questions, he took the porcelain kettle and began pouring tea for you and him. A bittersweet, fruit and aniseed, aroma filled his nostrils. In some poetic way, that's exactly what his daily life had smelled like for the past countless decades - cyanide and honey.

"You know, I've always thought that Morpheus gave you an excellent name," you confessed while watching Corinthian carefully pour tea. For a vicious nightmare, he really did impress with his poise like venomous snakes allure with their colourful scales arranged into fantastic patterns.

"Really? I have never given it much thought," he lied. Your hand brushed against his as you took the cup from his hand. Corinthian clenched his jaw and forced that charming, polite smile to stay on his face as he tried to chase away dreamy images of your fingers caressing his face ('How would your knuckles feel against his lips?').

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud," you quoted. "It's from Saint Paul's letter to Corinthians. Your name, I believe, is a reminder for every sentient creature of what truly matters."

This moment - that truly mattered. The minute in which you acknowledged his existence although it was hardly deserving of your attention.

"Beautifully said, your highness."

You were right next to him, your knees nearly touching, and yet it felt as though you were entire realms apart. That heavy, black coat; the aroma of exotic fruits and antique books - a wall separating you; a malicious reminder, that he meant nothing in the grandeur of your life, that there was another to whom your thoughts, hopes and dreams belonged. Corinthian was an unimportant, unnamed tourist gawking at Mona Lisa.

A shy blush crept unto your cheeks. "You're being too kind, dear Corinthian," you said with a gentle smile on your face before taking a sip of the tea.

Mona Lisa stares ahead, in the general direction of the tourist but never explicitly at him. He moves along - there are others that want to stare too - but looks over his shoulder countless times as though one day, in the endless ocean of admirers, she might return the loving look. Hope dies last but she's also the mother of fools.

____

A/N: when I watched The Sandman for the first time and they said 'The Corinthian' my first thought was Bible and St. Paul's letter. The second thought was 'daughter of Corinth' (prostitute) lmao

#the corinthian x you #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #the corinthian fanfiction #the corinthian #netflix the sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #corinthian fanfiction #corinthian imagine #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian #the sandman corinthian #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman fandom #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x you #the sandman imagine #the sandman x reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do headcanons for corinthian falling in love with a god/goddess? (Maybe their the god of chaos, destruction etc and he is just in awe)

A/n: This is gonna be kinda shit cuz I don’t think I could nail down his character but here we go.

Taglist: @mm2305 @murnsondock @mess-in-side @blossomedfloweroflove @dinonuggett @lex-the-flex

Corinthian was more then prepared to work alone if he must to achieve his wants and wishes but when he came across you, a well known but feared deity amongst the catalogue of gods and goddesses he knew he struck gold when he saw the glimmer in your eyes at the prospect of causing as much chaos and destruction to both the waking and the dream realms one could possibly think of. After all chaos and destruction were always your forte.

Needless to say at first he would be stroking his own over inflated ego of how he managed to snag a deity and indoctrinate them to his cause, his ideals, his wants and wishes he would ironically think that he was dreaming.

“A god and a nightmare working together? Who would’ve thought we’d work so smoothly alongside one another.” Was a common phrase he’d spout teasingly after decimating innocence together on a random afternoon, wiping the blood from his knife as you reached a hand to wipe some that had smeared his handsome face from your view. “It certainly is a surprise, an idea birthed from madness one would believe our alliance to be but I’d say life is full of surprises…some aren’t always the good kind.” You would reply cooly before walking away, firmly aware of where his he eyes would’ve lingered if he had been blessed with any.

Feelings would be a secondary thought in the beginning but soon after spending some quality together within the apartments of his latest victims acting so domestic as though you haven’t just massacred the occupants seconds prior. You’d notice certain things that he never lets anyone else do such as holding his knife within your own hand as if it was a feather. You knew Corinthian’s weapons were his prized possessions. You would be lucky enough to even see it up close if it wasn’t aimed at you with deadly precision; so to be able to hold it meant he placed a decent amount of his trust in you not to deceive him and stab him in the back with his own blade.

He’d even go as far as taking off his shades around you even the deeper your relationship grew. “You aren’t scared?” He asked when he first took his shades off in your presence albeit a little insecure about what a deity like you would think after seeing all of him for who he was by creation. A nightmare. “No,” you were quick to stand and hold his face in your hands firmly, “your beauty could never ever scared me Corinthian.” Your words touched him in a way he had long forgotten as he found himself leaning into your hands, leeching off of your warmth.

His smile was more genuine compared to the one he shot everyone within his vicinity. It was a rare sight to behold and you were blessed to bare witness to this moment of vulnerability. Though Corinthian would would often find himself gazing at you as though you were the one to gift him his senses, to gift him his life that he would surly give back to you if the occasion ever arose. He never pegged himself as someone who’d wholeheartedly give himself to someone for that meant giving them some semblance of power over him, manipulating him for their own wants, needs and wishes. He was use to seeing that within all living things.

Corinthian acted on urges rather then feelings so what he felt for you was something estranged to him that he almost became dare I say…fearful for what this meant for him in the future. After all he couldn’t go up against you, you were far more powerful then he was, is and ever will be in his existence and he’s in awe of your destructive power and prowess of the likes he’s never seen before. Your thirst to see chaos and destruction matched his own that he’d once allowed himself to be delusional and believe that you were in fact soulmates. Partners in crime, a match made in hell. Bonnie and Clyde type of pairing.

A dangerous pairing you make but that’s the beauty of it to Corinthian for making sweet sweet chaos with you was his favoured pastime that he’d gladly continue doing for all of eternity. For doing anything with you sounded like a hell of a time to Corinthian and he was down for it all if you let him.

#the sandman fluff #the sandman fic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x you #the sandman imagine #the sandman imagines #the sandman x reader #the Corinthian imagines #the Corinthian imagine #the corinthian x reader #corinthian x reader #Corinthian imagines #Corinthian imagine #Corinthian x you #the sandman headcanons #Corinthian headcannons

[acapelladitty]

Will go to hell for this but perhaps Corinthian & spanking?

See you there, babe! 🍸👀💦

You only had yourself to blame as irritation clouds your thoughts and makes your words blurt out without too much consideration as the bedsheets pool around your lap.

"And what if I don't want to listen to you?" Narrowing your eyes at his smug expression, eyes hidden as always behind familiar dark glasses, your heels tap against the carpet in annoyance. "What're you going to do about it? Spank me?"

Head snapping around as he adjusted the cuffs of his pale pink shirt, pure amusement with only a sliver of danger coats his response.

"Now, there's an idea."

Quick as a whip and twice as deadly, he's on you in an instant.

In your joined state of semi-undress, there is a sudden flurry of movements as a graceless squeal breaks free of your lips and his fingers grip around your bare forearms, moving to flip you in place with very little effort as you attempt to kick out at his bare legs.

His hand is swift to move, hard against your back as it pins your chest against the bed and forces your knees to press against the threadbare carpet of the hotel room.

"Pathetic, really." He tuts, open shirt fluttering around his chest as he leans down to croon the words into your ear while your eyes roll at him.

"Get fucked."

"Never make a insult sound like an offer, doll." Deft fingers brush through your hair for a moment as his free hand trails down your exposed back before coming to rest atop your ass. "You never know what will happen."

Heat flushes across your face as you turn your head against the sheets and you are just able to see him through your peripheral vision as he remains standing by your side.

"I've always liked the number 5. Let's go with that and see how we get on. Sound good?"

Without giving you time to respond, the first smacks lands square on your ass and you gasp in surprise at the flash of discomfort. Your cotton underwear does little to soften the blow and, despite the sudden sting, you can feel that he's holding back his considerable strength so as not to do too much damage.

The second hit lands directly atop the first, adding a fresh sting to the growing fever there as you squirm in place. A moan threatens to break free of your lips but you swallow it down to hold on to your pride and not give him the satisfaction of a response.

Rough fingers grip your ass at the lack of response and you can almost hear the disappointment in his tone.

"Stubborn as a mule." He chides, drawling the words with a mocking edge. "I like it though. Let's see if number three can unlock those lovely lips."

SMACK.

A definite increase in strength has your fingers scrambling against the sheets as a short yelp escapes you; arousal pooling in your gut as the heat in your ass makes your entire lower body clench around nothing.

Perhaps seeing your body tense, his fingers dive lower to run along the thin fabric of your underwear and you can hear the slight intake of breath as his fingers feel the dampness there.

"You're enjoying this, you naughty little creature."

The smugness in his tone makes you want to knock the sunglasses clean off his head but you settle on focusing on your other needs as you tilt your head as far back as possible to catch his attention.

"Fuck me and I'll apologise properly."

His expression is positively wild as his lips split into a wide grin, perfectly white teeth on full display as his hands drop once again to grip the exposed skin of your hips.

A telling hardness presses at the heated skin of your ass and you gasp at the sensation as thin fingers wind themselves in your head to pull your head back even further.

The creeping drawl of his voice in your ear draws a fresh groan from your lips and you can hear the grin coating his words as he acquises to your suggestion.

"I know a win-win situation when I see one."

#fictober #the corinthian #sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #the sandman #Corinthian #corinthian x reader #boyd holbrook #corinthian smut #corinthian x you

[hollybell51]

One - you have beautiful eyes

Masterpost, five times the Corinthian didn't say what he was thinking plus one time he did

The Corinthian x gn!Reader

The Sandman (2022)

Word count: 2225

Summary: handsome stranger enters coffeeshop, flirts shamelessly, you know the drill. But this is not an ordinary stranger, and you have no idea what you're getting into.  

Content: flirting, petnames, referenced/implied violence (the Corinthian's hobby), maybe a little of a creepy vibe from our favourite nightmare, planned murder etc.

Notes: I’m Aussie and have no idea how American money/cafes/coffee works I am so sorry (I did try though so I think I deserve at least a participation medal)

The Corinthian really didn’t know what had drawn him to the little coffee shop on the corner of the street. He didn’t even feel like coffee, and he certainly wasn’t after the company. After all, it was the middle of a week day and the place wasn’t exactly a hive of activity. In fact, it was completely empty as he pushed open the door, the bell jingling cheerfully. 

A laugh sounded from behind the door labelled “staff only”, and a second later a figure emerged, tying an apron firmly about their waste and still smiling at whatever their coworker had said. 

“Can I help you?” they asked, leaning forwards on the counter.

Oh God, he thought. The server – (Y/N), from the nametag – had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Bright and full of life, sparkling with mirth and real genuine friendliness. And the colour, oh the colour! Rich and shifting in the light dancing off the bell above the door, swirling with depth he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He longed to reach across the counter and take them for himself right then and there, taste what went on behind them and carry those memories, thoughts and feelings with him forever. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him, looking at him like that. 

“Well ain’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve seen all day,” he said, recovering himself. 

Your cheeks coloured faintly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s sweet,” you said. “I’m sure all the other baristas think so too.” 

“Not at all.” The Corinthian flashed his signature grin and scanned the menu. If you thought it was strange that he hadn’t removed his glasses you didn’t show it, though he supposed you must have gotten all sorts of people in here. 

“What’ll it be?” You straightened, pressing your hands to the counter. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well that’s the thing,” he confessed, “I don’t really know. Perhaps you could recommend something?” 

“Well, our mochaccinos are a bestseller and,” you leaned forward, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “they’re damn good.” 

“Mochaccino it is,” he smiled. 

“Mochaccino it is,” you echoed. “That’s all?” Then, at his nod, “great, can I get a name?” 

He only hesitated a moment, then; to hell with it. “Corinthian.” 

You raised an eyebrow, but wrote it on the cup anyway. You must have gotten a dozen stranger monikers, it was a large city after all. “That’s $2.70. Cash or card?” 

“Cash.” He fished in his pocket for a moment, then withdrew a handful of coins and placed them on the counter. There was more than the required amount there, but that was alright. “Anything left over is a tip,” he told you. 

Your eyebrows shot halfway up your face. “Thanks,” you smiled, counting out $2.70 for the cash register and slipping the rest into your pocket. “That’s nice of you.” 

The Corinthian simply shrugged, stepping back to watch you work. Your hands moved deftly and with the ease of long practice as you made his mochaccino, your movements neat and precise. He tried not to stare at you, but there was something mesmerising in the little furrow between your brows, the light flush still lighting your cheeks as the machine hummed and hissed steam. He was down right enraptured watching your expression of complete and utter concentration as you dusted the foamy top of the drink with chocolate powder. 

You looked up as you pressed a lid over it, sliding the whole thing over towards him with a smile. “Biblical or Greek?” you asked. 

He frowned. “Pardon?” 

“Corinthian. Biblical or Greek?” 

Oh. His name, right. “Neither,” he grinned. 

“Architecture?” It was your turn to frown now, and wow, you even looked good doing that. 

“Not quite.” 

“Huh,” you mused. “I’m outta guesses.” 

“Too bad,” he sighed. “You were getting real close.” 

Your face lit up, intrigued. “Was I?” 

“Not really. Aw come on,” he went on at your exasperated eye-role. “You sure you don’t have any more?” 

“Mm, not right now.” You cast your lovely eyes away, down to where your fingers were tracing patterns on the benchtop. “I’d have to do some more research.” 

“In that case, mind if I come back some time? Just to check in on how that research is going.” 

“Or,” you smiled, a bold gleam flashing across your eyes, “you could swing by in three hours when I get off here and I could report back to you over drinks?” 

Did you just…? Yes, yes you very much did. The Corinthian was only at a loss for a fraction of a second, then he was grinning ear to ear. He’d usually be the one to initiate something like that, but here you were practically serving yourself to him on a platter. 

“That sounds like a hell of an idea,” he said.

“Three hours, then.” 

“Three hours.” 

~~~

You watched him leave, slightly awed at yourself. Had you really just asked out the hottest guy you’d ever seen and had your invitation accepted? If the mock salute he was casting you was any indication, yeah, you had. 

“Woah,” you whispered. Now you had to think up all the meanings of the word “Corinthian” in three hours, and you were at a loss. Sure, it was hardly the weirdest thing you’d been asked to write on a cup, but something about it, him, drew you in. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything. 

~~~

Three hours dragged by as the cafe got busier with the stream of people returning home from their office jobs, and it wasn’t too long before you and your coworker were both frantically making coffees and shovelling cakes into paper bags. You counted down the minutes until the clock ticked over to five pm exactly, your finishing time. The bustle had only really lasted through the three to four-thirty bracket, so you were totally free to go. 

Corinthian, as he had been dubbed in your mind in the absence of any other name, was waiting outside for you when you emerged, apron stuffed hastily into your bag, your face freshly splashed with water and your hair hastily styled the same way. He was leaning against a light pole, arms folded over his chest, the picture of just… wow. Words actually failed you. It wasn’t like he was dressed up or anything, he was wearing the same pale coat and tan shirt as he had when he’d first come into your cafe, the same dark glasses and jeans. But something about the way he was standing made your stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine, which was utterly ridiculous because you didn’t even know the guy’s name – assuming, as you were, that Corinthian was a pseudonym.

“Hey there,” he said as you approached. 

“Hi.” Curse the breathlessness in your voice. 

“You ready?” 

You nodded, slipping your hand onto his proffered arm. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” 

“Oh yeah,” he said. His accent made the words sound like they were dripping from his mouth like syrup. “Somewhere real nice for you, sweetheart.” 

Holy shit, you thought. Did the man have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, you reflected as he led you down the street, through the growing crowd of the city’s night owls. 

It wasn’t a long walk to the bar he was taking you to, you discovered, and the conversation was pleasant. He asked about your cafe which you were more than happy to talk about, he laughed at the sort-of-jokes you made, he flirted lightly with you and you flirted right back. It was nice. He was nice. 

“What are you having?” he asked as he scanned the menu displayed behind the bartender. 

“Not sure.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, truly unsure of what you wanted. “What do you think?” 

“Whiskey,” he supplied. “On the rocks.” 

Yeah, that checked out. He looked like a whiskey kind of guy, with his coat and his glasses and his accent, perfect blonde hair and tanned skin. Everything about him made you think of leather and cool vintage-y cars, milkshakes and those fancy record players. You were willing to bet he could rock a suit too, you could picture him in one right now. White shirt, beige waistcoat, dark tie, the pale coat…

“Hey there, you alright?” 

“Huh? Yeah.” You blinked, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, lots of options. Can I just get a… Moscow Mule?” 

Your date raised his eyebrows, nodding appreciatively. “So,” he said when the bartender slid the two drinks across the bar, “got any more guesses?” 

You nodded sipping your drink before answering. “One.” 

“Better make it a good one, then.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” you groaned. “It’s a bit of a stab in the dark.” 

“Lucky I like that.” He grinned, teeth gleaming. He had a really great grin, straight and white and oh so charming. Suave, in a word. He was suave. “Stab away.” 

“You know the city Corinth, how it was all supposed to be luxury and…” you felt a faint blush rise over your neck, “dissolute?”

“Hm, smart too.” 

You laughed. “Not quite, just got a lot of trivia floating around.”

“Knowledge is power. Go on.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s it. Decadent, fancy…” you trailed off, shrugging. “Like I said, stab in the dark.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, then, “That’s actually one I don’t hear so much.” 

“You do this with a lot of people?” You tried to keep your tone light, swirling your drink in its glass. It was really good, way better than you’d been expecting. 

Behind the glasses, his eyebrow’s shot halfway up his forehead. “Jealous?”

“No,” you said deliberately. “Curious.” 

“Well they say curiosity killed the cat.” 

You looked down, watching the ice spin in your glass, listening to the clinking. “But satisfaction brought it back.” 

He really laughed this time, a short bark accompanied by that wonderful grin. It was like you’d caught him off guard, like he hadn’t expected that at all. “Yeah,” he chuckled, looking at you a little oddly now. “It sure did.” 

~~~

The Corinthian stared at his phone screen, frowning. The words “(Y/N) (barista)” stared back at him, almost as if they were taunting him. He hadn’t taken you to the dark, sequestered alleyway at the back of the bar as he’d initially planned. He hadn’t followed you inside your apartment after insisting on walking you home like he’d planned. He’d simply talked to you, watched you, listened to you, all the while creating plan after plan on how he would collect your eyes. But every time one formed, it disintegrated again. He simply could not do it.

Yet, he told himself.

His mind replayed how you’d smiled at him, resting against the doorframe of your apartment, holding out your hand. He’d been confused, then your smile had widened and you’d explained that you were going to give him your number, that you’d like to see him again, that he still hadn’t told you about his name. It had been too good to be true. He’d had to reassure you that yeah, he wanted to see you again too, and yeah, give that to me and I’ll put my number in it so you know to answer after a moment’s hesitation where doubt had flashed across your face, clouding over those beautiful eyes. But it had been fine, you’d been fine, and now here was staring at your name and profession and genuinely considering calling you. 

It was ridiculous, insane. He was a nightmare, he was the freaking Corinthian for fuck’s sake. He had seen a person with beautiful eyes who he wanted, he had taken them out and bought them a drink (he was a nightmare, sure, but he was also a gentleman), he had had it all laid out in his head and then you’d pushed it all off the table like a cat did to anything breakable with your talk about the coffee shop you worked at and your little half-jokes that realistically weren’t that funny but that he’d found himself laughing at anyway and then you’d gone and whipped out your trivia about his name? Well, it had been the nail in the coffin so to speak. 

He could still see you now, here the parting exchange in his ears. 

“So am I gonna be left wondering forever?” you’d called after him as he’d turned to go. 

“Wondering what?” he’d asked. 

You’d folded your arms across your chest, frowning. “Your name.” 

“Of course,” he’d hummed. “Biblical, Greek, or libertine?” 

Your cheeks had flushed at the word, and he’d found himself smiling. You were downright cute, there was no other way to put it. Even when you’d basically called him an immoral whore, you were cute. You’d simply nodded, watching him carefully. 

“You’re not too far off the money,” he’d said. Then he’d left you indignantly calling after him, throwing more guesses and asking for more clues. But no, this was fun. This little game was fun for him, and he didn’t plan on giving it up so easily. Maybe he’d tell you before you went, let you have that satisfaction as you crossed from your world into his. Yes, that was what he’d do. A last gift, the satisfaction that had brought the cat back. Ironic.

Taglist (join here):

@juniebugg

#the corinthian #corinthian #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #the sandman (2022) #the sandman netflix #netflix sandman #boyd holbrook #fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #gn reader #x gn reader #gender netural

[tenshichan]

The dreamers wife

Imagine you are Morpheus’ wife but the Corinthian wants you for himself.

Warnings: Coercion, smut, adultery

Word count: 2171

It had been a few days since Morpheus’ disappearance. You were beginning to get very worried. He had left to go find the stray nightmare, The Corinthian, and had not returned.

“Where is he!? This isn’t like him.”

You vented to Lucienne in the library.

“He’ll be back soon. I’m sure he had other matters to attend to.”

Lucienne spoke as if it were a matter of fact. As you paced around the library.

“Whatever has happened Lord Morpheus will handle it. Why don’t you go back to your chambers and get some rest ma’am.”

Although you appreciated the attempt at reassurance you felt that something just wasn’t right. You had no clue where Morpheus was or whether he’d actually found the Corinthian but you had to go looking.

You left the dreaming and ventured to the human world, travelling to a few different cities eventually ending up in London, England.

You were on the lookout for any talk or any clues that might lead you to the whereabouts of either Morpheus or the Corinthian. If you found one, you’d be sure to find the other.

Eventually after staying in a few different hotels you heard a rumour of a man found a few streets away with his eyeballs removed. You recognised this as the work of the Corinthian. This was the reason Morpheus had left the dreaming so that he could apprehend the nightmare who’d begun feeding on the living.

You decided to take nightly walks through the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the classic suit and hat the nightmare wore. But you had no luck.

It wasn’t until your last evening at the hotel as the sun was setting that you caught a glimpse of what looked like him in the streets below. You hurried out of the hotel, tailing him through the crowds until you were lead to a rather secluded alleyway.

You thought you’d lost him at one point but as you rounded a corner there he was. Stood with his back to you.

“I thought I felt someone following me.”

He removed his hat and turned to face you.

“But I didn’t anticipate it would be the queen of the dreaming. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiled pleasantly to you. That charismatic friendly smile that lured many unsuspecting victims.

You wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Corinthian, my husband is missing. He left to come find you and never returned.”

You took a step forward when the nightmare did not respond.

“Please, you know where he is don’t you? Will you tell me?”

He furrowed his brows for a moment. Taking in your anguish over your husband’s disappearance.

“Oh I’m sorry (y/n) even if I know where he is you couldn’t save him. You’re better off forgetting about him.”

His words hit hard as you began remembering back to when Morpheus created this nightmare.

He’d looked your way and smiled delightfully as if he’d been created for you and you alone.

This had angered Morpheus who had demanded The Corinthian to pay attention to him right then and there stating that he was his master and he would now fulfil his role as a nightmare.

You’d seen him around the dreaming and exchanged a few words from time to time but Morpheus had always been watching the nightmare, particularly around you. He did not trust The Corinthian at all and made sure to keep an eye on him even in the waking world.

You finally managed the courage to fight back any looming tears and speak once more.

“Corinthian please.” You walked a few steps closer.

“Please tell me where Lord Morpheus is. I want to know.”

The Corinthian exhaled as he also walked closer, his tall frame now shadowing yours.

“I could tell you (y/n) but in exchange I want something from you.”

He picked up a piece of your long hair off your shoulder and played with it, bringing it to his lips to feel the softness.

“I want you to spend the night with me. Let me make love to you. Now I can be as rough as you want or as gentle as you want.” He kissed your hair delicately before letting it drop.

“The choice is yours.”

He smiled in a smug way which angered you causing you to slap him hard across the face.

“You forget yourself Corinthian! I am the queen of the dreaming and you will address me as such. Save your vulgarities for your victims for I want no part in them!”

His expression was momentarily one of shock before turning into a devilish grin.

He looked more excited that anything by your outburst.

“If you change your mind I’ll be at the Jameson hotel room 107, your highness.”

He confidently strode passed you and exited the alleyway. Leaving you sad and alone with your thoughts. Your last hope at finding your husband was slowly slipping away.

You sat in your hotel room gazing out the window as the people wandered by. It was dark now but the street below was still very busy. You were desperate to find Morpheus but to do this you had to agree to the Corinthians terms. However disgraceful they may be. But then again he was one of Morpheus’ creations so therefore he’s a part of him and you missed your husband dearly. His touch, the way he softly spoke in your ear when he was sweet talking you either before or after you had made love. You felt a yearning in your core and a loneliness in your heart and these feelings soon got the better of you as you found yourself making your way over to the Jameson hotel and up to room 107.

Before you could knock the door swung open and The Corinthian stood there with his shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, cocktail in one hand as he smiled at the sight of you.

He certainly was cocky and sure of himself, you could see why Morpheus was untrusting of him.

“Why hello there (y/n), glad to see you had a change of heart.”

He stepped aside to let you enter the room as you clenched your fist nervously, holding the fabric of your coat together at the neck.

“Here, allow me.”

In a rather gentlemanly fashion he helped you out of your coat and hung it on the coat hanger beside the door.

You fiddled with your hands uncertain as to what to do or say.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked as he raised his glass to her.

“Martini?”

You shook your head.

He leaned in and spoke playfully.

“Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

He grinned in his usual fashion before sauntering off, finishing his drink and placing the empty glass upon the desk by the window.

“This is a nice room.”

You managed to find the courage to speak.

“Ya think so? I guess it’s not too bad.”

It was rather grand you thought as you looked around. It even had its own mini bar.

The Corinthian left you no time to think on anything further as he approached you, grabbing you by the hips firmly and pulling you close, his lips closing in upon yours.

You pulled back suddenly as he’d taken you by surprise.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself.”

He smiled and looked down, it was almost as if he were slightly nervous. Something which you didn’t think him capable of.

“Please, let’s just get this over with.”

Your voice sounded small as you spoke.

He looked up into your eyes, still keeping his same old shades on to cover his true appearance. Reaching up to stroke your cheek tenderly he spoke in almost a whisper.

“I have waited for this moment since I first laid eyes on you.”

Then leading you over to the bed he stood you in front of it.

He gently undid your dress and let it drop, revealing your under garments as he took a step back to look at your body.

“You’re as beautiful as I always imagined.”

You felt yourself blushing as you wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging tightly.

With one hand he began unbuttoning his shirt as he closed the gap between you both taking your elbow with one hand and pulling your arm toward him and placing your hand upon his bare chest.

He kissed you firmly before pushing you back onto the bed and climbing on top of you. His kisses became deeper with more passion as he fondled your breasts inside your bra before removing it entirely.

Eventually his lips began moving down your body as he trailed kisses and took his time, relishing the scent of your skin while he licked your erect nipples.

He inhaled you deeply, sighing as he exhaled as for him it was pure ecstasy to finally be intimate with you. He was not a bad lover you had to admit, he was taking it slow and being gentle with you. Something which you hadn’t expected.

He arrived at the spot between your legs and began kissing you firmly over your underpants.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. His warm mouth felt good.

You could tell this gave him some sort of satisfaction as he paused to smile at your reaction before taking this as his cue to remove your underpants all together.

With you fully exposed to him he took no time in getting to work on you, kissing and licking you, working hard to make you feel good.

You arched your back and moaned like a cat as he lapped you up.

Bunching the sheets up in your fists as you gasped at the sensations his warm tongue was causing you to feel. He was a lot more experienced and confident in the bedroom than Morpheus.

The Corinthian started unzipping his pants, sliding them down his legs revealing his erection as he positioned himself above you. You lifted your legs to accommodate him as your wetness allowed him to effortlessly slide into you.

You both sighed into one another’s open mouths at the new sensation of one another before he began making out with you as he began thrusting.

He was larger than you had been prepared for and you found you had to spread your legs wider to accommodate him.

He sighed and moaned as he lost himself inside you, grabbing your wrists and holding you firmly in place below him.

After a while he spun you round as he rolled onto his back so that you were on top of him. You instinctively began riding him without a second thought. All your shyness melted away when you saw how much he was enjoying your time together.

You slammed down hard causing him to moan loudly.

“My God, keep going. Just like that.” He managed between breaths.

You could feel your orgasm approaching, something you weren’t sure you wanted to happen. Regardless you were determined to finish this so you kept going at the pace he liked until you felt his release inside you. Without being able to stop it you were hit with your own climax as you came together, digging your nails into his chest fiercely as you held onto him.

He hissed through gritted teeth at the sensation before smiling at the hot mess you’d become.

You moved off him now and hurried to dress yourself.

“You were incredible.” He spoke as he tried to catch his breath. “I can see why he married you.”

At the mention of Morpheus your head snapped round to look at him. He was now pulling on his pants and collecting up his shirt.

“Now will you tell me where he is?”

You asked trying not to sound overly eager. Corinthian took his time buttoning up his shirt and cuffs before responding.

“And what will you do once I tell you?”

When you didn’t respond he began speaking once more.

“You can’t free him. He has been bound to a mortal by a spell. The mortals name is Roderick Burgess, he has an estate south of here.”

You didn’t recognise the name but you knew there’d be a way to find him somehow.

“Thank you, I need to go right away.”

You attempted to walk out of the room but Corinthian stepped in front of you.

“This man Roderick Burgess isn’t someone to be messed with. He would kill you if he finds out why you’re there.”

“It doesn’t matter, I have to save Morpheus!”

You spoke with a determination which caused the nightmares face to fill with what looked like sadness.

“I wish you were as determined to be with me as you are to him.”

You frowned at his words, he knew full well there was nothing between the two of you and you owed him no loyalty.

“You could stay with me.” He spoke softly as he tried to offer you a sincere smile.

You shook your head as you looked away from him.

“Please just let me leave.”

He silently stepped aside and you grabbed your coat before exiting the room.

#the corinthian #the sandman fanfic #the sandman #the corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian x reader

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine being an immortal and the Corinthian falling for you

You were another bet between Dream and Death, another pet project, a human who would not die, who would become Dream's friend but would meet him more frequently, every 10 years to keep a closer eye on.

Only after a few meetings he never showed up. Life became monotone and getting closer to other people was almost impossible due to your predicament.

You felt lonely and lost until you met him.

The Corinthian's initial plan of using you against Dream was quickly forgotten as he got to know you. He grew more attached every day and by the time he was facing his creator, he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you.

So when you were begging Dream to spare him and your friend coldly stated that your affections mean nothing to the nightmare, your Cori couldn't stand it for a second to be the reason you might be in pain of any kind.

"You are wrong. With her, I feel. I feel human."

#the corinthian #corinthian x reader #corinthian #the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #corinthian x you #my stuff #my fics

[just-some-random-blogger]

I just had a random thought about this but Morpheus and a love confession to his s/o in the rain after they left the dreaming after figuring out about his past lovers and thinking they aren’t good enough because they’re a mortal/because they think he still loves them

Not Enough

Dream of the Endless x Reader + Corinthian x Reader

Summary: Corinthian is your new drinking mate (debatable), and you air out your frustrations to a hallucination of Dream... except he's actually standing outside your apartment in the pouring rain.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Mentions/depictions of drinking/drunkenness, gender neutral!reader, exasperated "i am not your therapist"!corinthian, little mix enthusiast!reader, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: OK LISTEN UP this is ig a p3 continuation of "Beer" (part one being "Thorn At My Side") but also, you don't have to read it to understand. I'm also tagging everyone from p1 and 2 who commented just cuz 🫶🫶 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @pinksirensong @lexi-anastasia @aralezinspace @emy635 @libra207 @secretdreamlandmentality @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @laraackerman @reallystressedhoneybee @farintonorth @shining-yuu @ellooo0ooo also i love how dream looks like he's about to cry in the gif T_T HAHAHAHAHHHA i think deserve

Corinthian alternated between patting my back and holding me back from dancing on the table, which was honestly such an old man move on his part.

"Hey google," I call, "play No More Sad Songs by Little Mix."

"No," Corinthian retorts, "google no," he grabs the back of my shirt, "I am not listening to another sappy sad song."

I turn to him from over my shoulder, giving him a stink eye, "it's not a sappy sad song, grandpa," I wrangle out of his grip, "it's a good-bye-peace-out anthem."

Corinthian's grip does not relent. He pulls me back down to my seat, "I don't care."

I sit with a thud, though I continue my attempts to free myself from him.

The blonde pulls his hand back eventually, in lieu of grabbing his cup of gin.

"Hey google--"

"Stop."

"--play Joan of Arc by Little Mix."

"No google, don't."

Much to his distaste, Joan of Arc starts playing and I make my way off my chair, onto my tiny, dining room table.

Corinthian shakes his head, crossing his arms, "fine, it's not like I care if you die. At least then, I get to eat your eyes after you break your neck."

"What was that? I can't hear you over this power anthem," I call as I sway my hips to the beat.

The nightmare does nothing, as he can do nothing, but watch as I jam to my jam. Before I can even get to the chorus though, because of my rugged motions, my foot slips. Corinthian, in all his strength and speed, manages to catch me before I break my bones and my table along with me.

He grunts on impact and then yanks me down, "ok, now, I'm fucking pissed."

I yelp when he twists and hangs me on his shoulders. He carries me off the table and drops me in front of my couch. His shades droop a bit down his nose as he bends down in front of me, pointing a finger to my face, "don't fucking move."

I definitely don't fucking move and stand there still like a statue, resisting the urge to dance along to the song.

A few moments later though...

"Hey google,"

"SHUT UP!"

I purse my lips tightly, watching Corinthian as he turns to me from over his shoulder. When he goes back to cleaning my mess (it only dawned on me that I had most probably kicked some empty glass bottles, which then broke on the floor) I count one to ten before speaking again.

"HEYGOOGLEPLAYBOYBYLITTLEMIX!"

"STOP!"

Boy by Little Mix plays against his will.

The next thing I know, I'm latched onto the tall man's back like a backpack one move away from snapping. I'm begging him not to leave, "CORI, DON'T LEAVE ME, PLEASE, YOU'RE ALL I HAVE!"

He grunts, shaking me off as he makes his way to the door, "it's not hard to understand why."

"PLEASE, IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU HAVE BAD MUSIC TASTE."

Corinthian grumbles something under his breath and grabs my arms, forcing them off.

"Pleaseeeeeeee," I sob as I crumple to the floor like a discarded tissue.

He already made it to my door, but stopped himself when he spared a look before leave. He sighs at the fact I was felled like a disney princess, "get up."

"No."

He opens the door, "fine, I'll gladly leave you like that."

"NO WAIT!" I scramble to my feet. I sniffle and wipe my face with my wrist. His face scrunches at the sight of me, "you're so dramatic."

"And you're not?"

"At least I have class when I do it."

"I so too have class!"

He adjusts his glasses, "if that's what it takes to make feel better"

I give him a scowl. He returns it with a grin. Corinthian takes one step forward, wiping my cheek with the back of his hand, "your tears are wasted on him. Trust me."

With that, he pulls back and leaves.

I release a sigh, watching as the door shuts. I then run up to my window. I knit my brows at the sight of the grey clouds and the slight rain that begins to drizzle. I open my window and stick my head out, looking to the entrance of my apartment, waiting for Corinthian to come out.

When he does, I call out to him. He cranes his neck up at the sky upon feeling the rain. He loosens his coat and covers his head with it as he turns to me.

"Do you want to give you an umbrella?" I call out, placing a hand by my mouth.

"WHAT?"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO GIVE YOU AN UMBRELLA?"

"NO!" he calls back, "I DONT WANT A REASON TO COME BACK TO YOU."

My nostrils flare, "IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'RE THE TYPE TO RETURN THINGS!"

I see Corinthian smile, "GET INSIDE, KID. I WON'T CATCH YOU IF YOU FALL!"

I roll my eyes but wave him a goodbye, "WALK SAFE, CORI!"

He begins to walk off.

I cannot resist the urge, "LOVE YOU!"

Upon hearing that, he laughs to himself, "idiot's telling me to walk safe?"

I, in fact, don't go inside even after being told to. For some reason, the sight of the rain made me feel warm, in all its irony. It made me think of memories where I would be eating something warm under the covers, or how I used to play in the rain when I was younger.

I reach my hand out to feel the much heavier drops.

I think about how Corinthian must be dripping wet right now.

I withdraw my hand.

I then think about how he said my tears are wasted. I wonder if he ever cried over Dream too.

Just then, I look down to the street and see a ghost of a man, Dream, looking up at me, dripping wet in the pouring rain.

I chuckle at the sight of it. I prop my elbow on the sill and my head on my hand. It would have been funny if he was actually here, ready to confess and apologize to me like in the movies. I can hear him in my head-

"I'm sorry," he says, face wet with rain water that secretly had tears mixed with them, "it took your absence for me to realize that I do, in fact, value your presence."

I frown at my script, "that's so cheesy. The Dream I know would never say that."

"I would-- I am saying it. I mean it."

I blink at the man in the trench coat, shaking my head as I continue my internal monologue, "Dream doesn't like me. I'm a stupid mortal in his eyes, and yeah, sure, I may not know trigonometry to a tee, I may not posses a fraction of the wisdom he has, but that doesn't mean I'm dumb... that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt that he thinks I am."

Dream blinks rain water out of his eyes.

"And I'm pretty sure he's not over his ex," I mumble under my breath, "he went through a lot of trouble for her recently and, good lord, Lucienne told me she was one of the muses," I run my hands down the side of my face, "how do you even compete with that? Why even bother? I mean, I would drop everything and go back to my ex if they were damn muses too."

"There is no truth to that," Dream calls, "there is no competition."

I knit my brows as I look down upon him, "you're supposed to be nice. You're the ideation of Dream at the back of my head."

"I am real!" he calls, raising his hands, "I am Dream of the Endless and you have been drinking with my nightmare again!"

I sigh, pressing my lips together, "yeah, this is enough self vs self for today."

I pull back and close my window. I let out another huff as I turn around. My ghost nearly leaves me when I come face to face with a dripping wet Dream of the Endless in the middle of my apartment.

I clutch my hands to my chest as he looks at me, muttering softly, "I am real."

I raise my brows at him as I feel myself realize he was in fact real, as he just said. It takes a moment for me to calm down.

Water pools beneath his figure. I take in the sight of his dripping clothes. In this moment, I realize, not only was he making a mess, he was wearing shoes inside my house!

Because of this, I do not hesitate. I walk up to him and place my hands on his shoulders, "get out."

I nearly falter when he calls out my name the way he does.

"You're wearing shoes in my house and you're leaving a trail of water behind. I am not dealing with this."

Dream is helpless as I push him out of my door. I give him one last stern look before closing the door to his face.

I turn on my heels to grab something to wipe the mess, but I freeze when I hear what I do.

"I meant every word I said," he calls from the outside.

I deflate. My eyes trail to the puddle and water trail leading out my door. Sobriety begins to pound at me like a sledge hammer. I groan as I rip my hands through my hair, "not now, Dream..." I sigh, "I'm not ready to have this conversation now."

For a moment, when he doesn't respond, I have myself thinking maybe he already left. This was why I was surprised when I suddenly heard a voice beyond the door again.

"I will wait until you are ready," he replies, "you need only call my name."

#corinthian fanfic #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian fluff #corinthian angst #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream x you #dream fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman angst #dream of the endless angst #morpheus angst #dream angst

[lis-likes-fics]

The Taste of Liquor

Pairings: Corinthian x Reader W/C: 4.5k Warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, p in v, slight praise kink, public sex (kinda), drinking (still consensual), language, mentions of eyestealing (no actual eyestealing)... A/N: This came out of nowhere. I wrote this in less than 24 hours, enjoy because I did. <3

Your back hit the wall with a force that knocked the air from your lungs. Lips and teeth clashed with your mouth as he consumed you in a cloudy haze of lust and desire. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist in the small space of whatever supply closet you had crashed into as you pulled at the blond strands of his hair.

You had just been sitting at a bar on a quiet Thursday night. It was less populated as it would have been had you come just a day later. It was nice, peaceful enough to enjoy the calm of the scarcely crowded space.

It seemed like you felt the man before you even saw him. The brass bell over the glass door dinged like the beginning of some cheesy sitcom as you swirled the tip of your pinkie in your tiny glass as the cherry did spins in your drink.

You paid no mind to the front door, focusing on your drink before you pulled your pinkie between your lips and sucked on it quickly, taking the cherry between your teeth and biting. The long stem snapped off as you ate the tiny fruit, allowing it to pass through your lips after the red cherry was swallowed. Your tongue worked as you tied the stem into a knot absent-mindedly.

The Corinthian was on a prowl tonight. His shaded eyes scanned the small bar as a smug smile sat on his lips. They landed on you, sitting alone on a stool with your cheek resting atop your fist. His smile spread as he approached.

He ordered his drink with a disarming smile to the only bartender working that night. She gave him a lust-drunk smirk and walked away to get it with an extra sway to her hips. She even dared to look over her shoulder, biting her lip teasingly in an attempt to win the mysterious man's affection.

You glanced up as you saw her walk away, shaking your head with a scoff. Your smirk was small and satirical as you brought your glass to your lips. In a voice small as a whisper, you spoke.

"Slut."

Corinthians head turned to you at the short word that slipped from your lips. His smirk widened and he allowed a chuckle to pass through. This didn't go unnoticed by you as you turned your head, your jaw dropping slightly as you saw him and realized he'd heard you.

You covered a hand over your mouth and stifled a chuckle before pulling it away in favor of licking your lips. "My bad," you muttered half-heartedly, pursing your lips in a poor attempt to hide your smile.

He raised a hand off the table, titling his head slightly as he simply replied, "No problem here."

He set his palms back down and drummed his fingers a couple of times as he moved to sit in the chair a couple seats down from you. You didn't look at him again, lost in mindless thought as you stared at your cup like it was the most interesting thing there.

The bartender returned, pouring his drink for him in a way she deemed sexy. He would have been amused, had his attention not been stolen by you and your amusing mouth. She passed the glass over to him and he raised it up in a gesture toward her. "Thank you," he smiled. She walked away, pride swelling as evident in each step.

He scoffed silently to himself and shook his head again. You did not look at him, but you could feel his gaze on your face as you stared down at your drink. It was intense, filled with something you couldn't quite place. It distracted you from your own boredom, providing you something to find interest in as he examined you.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat to catch your attention, as if he hadn't already had it.

"So…what's a–"

"–nice girl like me doing in a place like this?" you interrupted, smirking slyly at him.

He chuckled and looked down, adjusting his glasses over his eyes to better hide what was lurking just behind them. "I thought about not using that one, but something about clichés said 'why not?'."

You smiled at the lilt to his voice, a slight Southern drawl intriguing you as his chuckle rumbling in his chest again.

You brought your glass back to your lips, pressing the tip of your tongue to the rim first to taste the liberating liquid before taking a quick swig. "Just like the taste of liquor on a Thursday night. What about you?"

You tilted your head in his direction with your chin, then to the side as your eyes properly took him in.

His blond hair was styled to perfection, dark white-rimmed glasses to match his white jacket and shirt. His smile was charming, laced with an intoxicating edge and a dangerous thrill that intrigued you. His smooth skin seemed like it glowed, even in the dimmed light of the bar for the aesthetic of your late Thursday night. You'd hit on him, too.

"I like the taste of liquor," he saluted you with his glass.

You tried to hold back a grin, but failed as you lifted your own glass. They clinked delicately, swishing the liquid around in them at the gentle impact. "To the taste of liquor."

He tipped his glass once more and you both took a generous swig. "What's your name?" he finally asked after a moment of comfortable silence. You told him with the lick of your lips, and he admired the name interestedly, before the question returned to him. He looked like he would dodge the question, but the way he raised two fingers to adjust his glasses with a chuckle. You saw a shift, though, as he suddenly looked up again. "You can call me Corin."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Corin," you tried to name, tasting it on your tongue as you thought to yourself. "Is it a nickname?"

"Corin?" He was amused again, not that he ever stopped being amused.

"Yeah," you said. "It feels like it's missing something."

Rather than answer, he expertly dismissed your question with a, "If it is, it's unimportant."

There were so many more looks, so many stifled smirks and dark gazes. His eyes bore into yours, which glittered with his arrival. Oh, yes. He would indulge in the pleasures you were willing to give and then see what lies beyond those beautiful pair of eyes that gazed. He soon moved to sit in the stool right next to you, speaking in that charming manner that should not have been as consuming as it was. The bartender was not happy.

You knew as soon as his fingers brushed against your bare skin that your night would end with this man's lips on your flesh.

You just didn't expect him to take you on a makeshift date that same night after your glass was empty.

It was innocent enough, just a movie theatre showing some horror film about demons and nightmares. You were hardly interested in it, all the horror was dependent on predictable plots with jumpscares and bright flashes of light. You'd tried to convince him to take off his glasses, it was a dark room, how would he see? He insisted, however, that it was "part of his charm". You didn't push.

Your mind was elsewhere as his fingers grazed the back of your hand, teasing shapes that made your skin tingle and cry out to touch him. His eyes remained on the screen, the dark theatre preventing you from properly seeing his face as you resolved to just staring at the flashing screen. His touch traced the sides of your fingers as your hand laid flat against your arm rest.

You decided to give him what he was looking for, your hand to hold. You intertwined your fingers and stroked your thumb over the meat of his palm. You could have sworn you saw his lips twitch in a smile, heard his slight chuckle at your response.

You didn't keep your hand on the arm rest. Why would you? He'd basically handed his to you on a silver platter, and you would not keep him waiting. You brought your hands to your lap, just on top of your thigh as you lingered there for a moment. His skin pressed to your jeans, and you suddenly cursed yourself for that tiny dress you contemplated but ultimately turned down.

Your other hand cupped your joined grasps, beckoning him closer. Corinthian was cocky, that was certain. The smirk on his face was scandalous, self-satisfied as your lust clearly got the better of you.

You removed your hand from his, only to open his up and trace your fingers along his palm, eyes still focused on the screen—which had become a huge blur as your attention was caught someplace entirely different. The slight throbbing was not so slight anymore as you felt his hand resting on your leg. You hadn't realized how quick your breathing had become. It was still quiet, barely audible under the protection of the loud sounds of overdone action as the music picked up with a chase scene.

You turned his hand over and then brought it up to your lips. You surprised Corinthian with a soft kiss to the back of his hand. He felt the warmth of the very tip of your tongue dart out to taste his skin. He did not disappoint.

You set his hand back on your thigh and moved it up, up, up. You had to hold your breath when his pinkie reached out to dip into your inner thigh. As soon as the side of his palm brushed against your clothed heat, you almost let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes fluttered, and you suddenly found yourself wishing you were also wearing glasses.

You licked your lips and pressed his hand closer. You didn't have to do much else, his hand began pressing against you on his own as it cupped and grinded into you. You could have passed out, but you would not let a single second of this slip by you.

Before you could drop to your knees in front of everyone to end your suspense and do something to this man, he reclaimed your hand and stood to move past the last couple of people in your row. The anticipation filled you, swirled around your body like a whirlwind of darkness and desire.

He pulled you out of the loud theatre and into the hallway with dark red carpets and black painted walls, movie posters encased in glass along them to show what was and would be showing. The smell of buttery popcorn and concessions, although enticing, did nothing to distract you from Corinthian. His hand held tightly to yours, and you couldn't escape the little giggle in the back of your throat as he chuckled darkly.

You thought you were leaving, but he seemed to have other plans.

You quickly found those plans when he pulled open a random door and pushed you inside. The door closed shut rather loudly behind him and, in the next second, your legs were wrapped around his waist and you were slammed into the wall behind you.

And now you were stifling moans and giggles against his lips as he devoured you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, ruining the perfect style he'd managed to maintain the whole night. His hands held your waist, your hands, your ass, whatever he could grab. He was very grabby.

You moaned into his mouth when he pressed his body into yours, your chests flush against one another as he held you up by his hips. His mouth slipped off of yours, burying in the crook of your neck where he bit and sucked and licked your skin. You were already drunk off his touch, high off his pleasure. Your head was spinning and your body felt so alive.

It felt like a dream, like a guilty pleasure as you indulged in a fantasy that you just know you should not enjoy. You didn’t know why it felt so forbidden, why your body was so turned on by the idea of fucking this man because of the scandalousness of it all. You were doing nothing wrong, and yet it all felt so right.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his teeth brushed that special spot of your throat. You were like putty in his hands as he pressed into you harder, just to keep you from slipping down and falling to the ground. He held you tighter, his hands gripping tightly as the cold material of his glasses brushed against the underside of your jaw.

“Your taste is intoxicating, sweetheart,” he whispered deeply into your ear. “I wonder if that applies for…every aspect.” His insinuation was like a spark of fire on the gasoline that you had been drenched in with the first touch.

“Such a flirt,” you sighed contentedly into the dark space of the tiny closet. You tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him rougher against you as a whimper escaped your throat. You could feel him through his pants, hard and thick as he rubbed against your clothed core. You grinded down harder into him, searching for the cherry on top of your guilty pleasures with him.

He seemed to take the hint pretty quickly. “So needy,” he tsked. “I’m tempted to make you beg, but you’re loud enough as it is.” The parted lips split into a smile as he continued, “Then again…you probably like the idea of someone hearing you moaning all pretty, opening the door to see you impaled on my cock, don’t you?”

You moaned breathily, supporting his idea as you thought of it, being caught. The more you thought, the more tempting it was. You waved the idea away with the shake of your head. “I thought so,” he said with a hearty but quiet laugh.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, all-too eager to take things a little further, distract him from the teasing that was setting every inch of your body on fire. Your fingertips met with his metal belt buckle, tugging uselessly with desperate sighs.

“I hear you,” he chuckled deep in his throat. “But you gotta be patient, darlin’.” His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “And you gotta be quiet.”

“No time for patience,” you urged. “Movie ends soon.”

He tsked once more, “Hush, sweetheart.” His teeth nipped at the skin of your throat, bared as if he was going to take a bite out of you. You whimpered as you let out a shaky breath, but ultimately obeyed with the nod of your head. You were aching and desperate. You just wanted him to bury himself inside of you, to fulfill both your desires and calm the consuming fire he had thrown you into.

You whispered his name, clawing at his hair as you held it in chunks and tangled your fingers. He set you down for only a moment, making you so much smaller than him now that you were standing. You held your breath when he knelt down in front of you, looking up at you through masked eyes as his face hovered so closely to your belly. His fingers hooked over the waistbands of your jeans as he pulled them down your legs agonizingly slow. His gaze never strayed from yours, even through the dark air separating you.

When your jeans were off, he took even more time and care with your underwear, but not before gazing at them with somewhat of a mocking smirk. “Awe,” he chuckled, pinching the tiny little bow in the center with his thumb and forefinger. “How cute.” You huffed impatiently at him, ignoring the blush that deepened over the expanse of your skin.

He continued his slow movements until your panties were finally off. You were bare in front of him, the bottom half of your body entirely naked for him to gaze and admire. You wasted no time in bending down and kissing his lips again, rough and devouring to distract him from the body you were suddenly self-conscious under his consuming gaze. His taste was exhilarating, you could never tire of it as it hazed your senses like a drug. He stood again, suddenly towering over you once more. His hands gripped your hips and he hoisted you up, your legs finding their designated spot around his waist. It felt so natural, the way your body slotted against him, like you were made to be there.

When you heard the magical sound of his belt buckle clinking against metal, you shuddered against him and tightened your grasp of him around his waist. He pulled himself from his pants and you swear all the breath left you when you felt the slightest brush of his skin against the sopping sensations of your pussy.

You felt his fingers first, suddenly. His middle finger brushed through your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits with a groan. “Haven’t even touched you, and you’re soaked,” he smiled. “Is this all for me, baby?”

You bit your lip harshly, unable to hold the eager nod you gave him. “Don’t know what you do to me,” you answered. He flashed that charming smile that you could see even through the darkness of the closet.

His middle finger buried inside of you, sinking in all the way for just a few moments as he wiggled it around. A moan slipped past your lips, too loud and too exposing. He stepped even closer, using only the strength of his hips to hold you up as he placed his other hand over your mouth. “Sh, sh, sh,” he whispered. “You’ve gotta be quiet, or we’re not doing anything, sweetheart.”

You nodded, blanching at the alternative as your body tingled with the anticipation of him finally filling you up. “Good girl,” he praised, nearly pulling another moan from you as your eyes fluttered. He removed his finger from you and you sighed at the loss, peeling your eyes open to see what you could of his face.

You watched as he stuck his finger soaked in your arousal between his lips and sucked.

His head fell back a little, and he hummed deep in his throat, “Mmm, just as delicious as I thought you’d be.” He gave you a pearly white grin, and you swore you forgot how to breathe.

“Please,” you whispered pathetically.

His inhale was deep in response to your answer, which had disarmed him in a way he had not expected. His lips came to linger right next to your ear. You could hear every little breath, every little hitch of his sigh as he spoke with such a dark whisper of a growl. "By the time I'm through with you, I'll have to carry you out of his theatre." You whimpered at his promise, felt his hand grip your side again as your heart pounded against your ribcage.

You gasped rather loud when you felt him sheath his cock deep inside of your warmth.

"Corin," you whined, eyes closing and mouth hanging open. He let out a heavy sigh as he sunk you down further onto his length. He felt you clench and squeeze around his cock, milking the pleasure from him as he allowed a strained breath to pass by his lips.

He rocked his hips in and out of you, your back rubbing against the wall. He raised a hand to cup your throat, his teeth scraping at the skin there as he marked you up. You sighed and whimpered, weak against him as he filled you with pleasure. Your fingers curled around his shoulder and dug into his flesh as you threw your head back, granting him more access to the column of your throat.

His pace was quick to pick up as his cock dragged in and out of your slick cunt. You pursed your lips in a poor attempt to silence yourself. It was of no use as his blunt head pressed so nicely to that special little spot deep inside of you. A particularly rough thrust nearly had you crying out, but his hand raised from your throat and pressed over your mouth.

"Hey, now," he strained, tilting his head back to look at you. He didn't stop, his steady pace still set as your legs trembled around him. "What did I see, sweetheart?" he smirked. "You've got to be quiet." He punctuated every word with a kiss to your neck, whispering deliciously menacing into your skin on the last word.

He didn't remove his hand, even after you'd nodded your agreement. He rutted into you, splitting you apart on his cock as he drove it in and out of you, filling you with a mind-numbing pleasure that threw you in a daze.

You muffled his name against his palm. He groaned when he felt your teeth nip at his hand, pressing it harder against your mouth without hurting you.

His free hand fingered the hem of your shirt, tugging on it teasingly before pulling it over your head. Once the shirt was discarded and his hand was slotted over your lips again, his own lips pressed against the skin over your breasts as he teased you with his kisses. It was becoming increasingly hard to stay quiet—with the way his hot mouth lapped against your skin, the way his cock slammed into you, the way his strained groans and sighs passed through his lips naughtily, the notion of it felt quite impossible.

"I'm gonna move my hand," he said. "But you gotta be quiet. Will you be quiet for me, kitten?"

You nodded and he smiled, removing his hand slowly and testing your agreement with a rough thrust into you. You gasped silently, felt pleasure tears pool in the corners of your eyes. He smirked at your obedience, grasping your hips tightly as he held you in place to move deeper still.

He leaned forward and kissed your tears away, humming deep in his throat as his hand strayed. His thumb brushed over your sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves and began to rub.

You threw your head back and hit it against the wall. The pain flared for only a moment before dissipating in the pleasure of the Corinthian. You whispered his name, chanted it like a prayer on the tip of your tongue as it fell from your lips over and over and over again.

He didn't know what possessed him to say it, what came over him that made him tell you the one thing he was reluctant to reveal for fear of scaring you away before he could indulge. "Corinthian," he nearly growled, nipping at your skin with a harsh thrust. "Call me Corinthian."

And you did. He nearly folded under you, but he remained tall and strong as his thumb and his cock destroyed you. The sparks of your sweet release were set off in your belly, climbing closer and closer to that amazing sensation you had been chasing since the first brush of your fingers.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You want to cum, baby?" He spoke through clenched teeth, his now messy hair falling in front of his face. "Is that what you want from me?"

You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips against him. "Please," you mumbled, barely coherent. "Yes, please." You huffed out a breath in place of a whining moan when his nails dug into the skin of your thigh.

"Good girl," he praised again. He applied more pressure to your clit, rubbing it almost harshly in circles that blossomed into bursts of pleasure. His mouth continued to defile your breasts before he tilted his head up to see your face, to see your eyes.

Your eyelids were squeezed shut and he shook his head with a tsk. "That's just no good," he breathed. "Open your eyes for me, darlin'. Now."

You did not disobey, you couldn't afford to as you climbed higher and higher toward your orgasm. He smiled when he saw your eyes gaze shakily into his glasses. "Atta girl."

You brought your hands to cup his neck, licking your lips. "Can I see you?" you asked weakly.

His smile faltered for only a moment, quickly replaced as he shook his head. "'Fraid not," he said. "Not a sight meant for pretty eyes like yours." He licked his bottom lip.

You moaned, "Wanna see you."

Again, he shushed you, distracting you with his hips again before silencing you with a kiss. Then he flicked his wrist, and out went the floodgates.

You exploded with a gasp and a shaky sigh, as Corinthian's name fell from your lips.

The pleasure erupted all over your body. You trembled and moaned as he pulled you back against his lips. You clenched tightly around his cock, which twitched inside of you while you came undone.

He wasn't far behind as he stilled and pressed himself as deeply into you as he could, spilling inside of you with a rough thrust and a muffled grunt. He filled you up as you milked him, taking everything he gave as you pulled him closer by his hips. His tongue slipped past your lips and invaded your mouth hungrily, eager to taste all of you at once as the both of you were driven into the deepest throes of passion.

The closet was filled with the smell of sex and shuddering breaths between you.

He pulled out of you, setting you back on your trembling feet as he helped you stand. One of his hands grabbed your throat gently, pulling you forward like a ragdoll as his lips descended upon your own once more. You mewled into his mouth, harshly biting his lip as he pulled away. He chuckled breathily, he had intended to bite yours.

"You are…" he sighed as he looked down at you, still shaking under his hand as his fingers pressed to your pulse points, "...an interesting person."

You quirked a brow, "Only interesting?"

"Talented, definitely. Beautiful, undeniable," he smiled. "You should be proud, I don't find a lot of people interesting."

You chuckled, a lust-drunk sound that spilled out of your throat as you leaned forward to kiss him again. "Well, if you help me put these clothes back on, we can go back to my place and rip them off again. But this time, I ride you, and I wanna see how you taste. How's that for interesting?"

He sighed longingly at you, his hand raising to cup your cheek as his thumb traced just under the expanse of your eyes, his nail tickling your lashes. "It sounds like a pretty damn good plan to me."

You smiled, taking hold of his jaw and pulling him close in yet another devouring kiss, which trailed down along his neck to lick at his skin. He breathed a contented sigh.

He wasn't done with you yet.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco​ @the-nerdy-goddess​ @life-on-needs​ @meg-the-second-greatest​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ (i cheated a lil bit, yes) Tag yourself here...

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[angelsxwords]

— weak.

that’s what he is for her. corinthian x f!reader | nsft 18+ mdni warnings; brief mention of eating eyes, but nothing like that is actually happening. this is really just sweet smexy time with cori + a bit of him being a simp. somewhat. (and a meanie). a/n; no glasses during s3x. suddenly had this in my head, so just have it.

A feeling that must be akin to entering heaven above washes over Corinthian once she embraces him with all she has. Her fingers are entangled in his blonde hair, tugging on the short strands and twisting them between her thin digits — and she’s all pressed against him, her warmth fully enveloping him.

Corinthian growls; low and possessive. His hands swiftly grab her hips to keep control of the pace, her rapid movements. His breathing is heavy with need for her and that perfectly sculpted body of hers. A goddess, that is what she reminds him of. Corinthian wants to eat her — absolutely devour her, dig teeth into her delicate skin and bite and bite until it‘s all decorated with his marks and no one else’s.

He follows the siren‘s call. Hides his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder and sinks into her flesh, eliciting a throaty moan from her. She welcomes the dull ache and shudders for him.

"Fuck," Corinthian mutters into her skin, gripping her ass as if it is his one and only lifeline. He lifts her up, and drops her down on him again. Repeating the motion over and over, until he brushes sweetly against the one spot inside her that makes her eyes roll and her back arch. She cries for Corinthian so prettily, lost in the pleasure he’s bestowing upon her. A chorus mixed with her song and skin slapping against skin echoes through the grand space of their bedroom. It is a beautiful addition to the pleasure.

"That‘s it," each word carefully punctuated with an especially deep thrust and fuck she holds onto his hair even tighter, "just how you like it, hm?"

Corinthian‘s low and breathless tone erupts a warmth within her core that spreads like a wildfire. It consumes her in seconds and she can’t stop it — reaches the high and lets herself fall, knowing there’s nothing Corinthian loves to watch more.

She sobs. He guides her through the sparks shooting through her veins and the exploding stars in her eyes, while gnashing his teeth. There it is again, that enticing itch as he sees her lose herself, watches her pupils dilate in the pool of tears. It drives him feral, much like her impossibly tightening around him until he can barely think anymore.

"There, there, darling."

Corinthian leans in closer, kisses along the streak of tears and collects the tiny droplets all the way up to her eyes. His own eyes, no more than an accurate reflection of his hungry mouth, find their desired prey and nip just at the corner of her eye socket — careful not to damage his treasure.

She boldly yanks him away by the hair, trembling all over, and forces a groan from him. She kisses Corinthian‘s neck, still rolling her hips, grinding against him, prolonging their shared pleasure. Shivers race down his back, her lips an angel's feather on his skin. Sweet and innocent. One of his hands abandons their prior position to reach between their bodies, finding her sensitive little bud. His favourite thing, really. And it’s utterly mean of Corinthian, perhaps meant to be a punishment for interrupting him, but he pinches and rubs it in slow, agonising circles, listens to her breath hitch, feels her twitch — too much, too much.

"One more, yeah? Give me one more."

He wraps his other hand around her throat, without applying any pressure. Just to better keep her there, in his lap, to prevent her escaping the touch. No safe word reaches his ears, thus he keeps bullying her clit and bites his lower lip as he watches her eyes dart up and down, left and right. Her lips fall open in a silent scream as she helplessly submits to the tidal wave of pleasure crashing down on her.

Corinthian enjoys it. Fully relishes in her falling apart on him. His head spins and his cock twitches and burns with the need to finally fill her up. He needs her as much as she needs him, but his patience rivals a saint‘s. Almost.

"Corinthian," she moans, pleads. It’s all she can do, call out for him. The name is like honey dripping from her lips and Corinthian immediately craves a taste.

He pushes her against his lips and drinks her dreamy melodies like the starved nightmare he is, tongue eagerly exploring the cavern he knows so well. It’s enough to push her over the edge again and he does not stray behind this time. Corinthians bucks up into her, eagerly decorating her insides and marking her most intimately.

He finds her behind once more, gives it a rewarding slap before he grinds her down on him again, chasing the aftershocks of their orgasm. With his lips tugged up in a pleased grin he leans back against the headboard of their bed and gazes at their connection — at the little puffs of cream that drip from her.

"Good girl, fuck," Corinthian guides her to lay on top of him, letting himself rest inside her for a little longer, "did so well."

Praise always has a wonderful effect on her. It all but causes her to melt in his arms, and clench around him too. She’s warm on top of him and tries to catch her breath. Corinthian puts an arm around her, angling his head a little awkwardly to try and see her, still.

A chuckle escapes him. Her eyes are already closed, too heavy with exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her lips that makes Corinthian stupidly proud. He can’t name a reason why, thus he doesn’t think about it.

"All tired now, hm? You go and rest for me. I‘ll keep the bad dreams away."

It’s ironic, really; She feels safe here, in the arms of the Corinthian. She believes him without a second thought when he promises to keep her safe. She’s naive and she doesn’t make any sense.

He holds onto her just a little tighter. With a kiss to her eyelid, he sends her away to the Dreaming, hiding her from everyone and everything while waiting for her return. Corinthian will wake her with a nice breakfast — and eat her pussy while he’s at it, as a treat for himself and her. She‘s so sweet to him, after all. He might get a toothache, but can’t get enough of her.

#the corinthian #the corinthian x reader #corinthian #corinthian x you #corinthian x reader #the corinthian x you #corinthian x y/n #the corinthian x y/n #the sandman x reader #the sandman

[witchybitchycrybaby]

You're kinda cute

Pairing: The Corinthian x reader

Summary: your nightmare becomes the one who adores you

Genre: maybe fluff

✨✨✨

You were furious.

And Corinthian loved it. He adored this raw emotion, how the mimic of your face changed with every second and how your cheeks flushed with scarlet. But there was one particular thing that never failed to catch him off guard and sent shivers down his spine: your eyes. He was always captivated by them, ever since he first looked at you all this time ago. They were bright, oh so innocent, sometimes mischievous but above all, your eyes held so much love for him, that he thought it was going to break him.

This time, however, your eyes were dark and the storm that rolled behind them sent flashes of lightning everywhere you laid your gaze.

Corinthian loved it because every time it reminded him of the night you met.

You were dreaming, of course, and in this dream you were standing in the field; there also was a city far away, barely visible on the horizon. Wildflowers grew everywhere; delicate violets and yellows danced in the wind in a jungle of green. It was a good peaceful dream, and Corinthian was just about to turn it into ruins.

As the dark clouds flooded the sky and the wind grew stronger destroying everything around you, you strangely stood still. The Nightmare thought you were going to start screaming and running away terrified, but you remained calm. When you took in the horror he made with a small smile on your lips, he decided to finally show himself to you.

He stood right before you in the eye of a hurricane. You looked him up and down and noticed the dark glasses covering his eyes, a white buttoned-up shirt, and an equally light suit. The man was taller than you and was so close you could feel delicate puffs of air when he breathed. His lips were adorned by a smug smile. There was something about him though, that made you feel safe, protected somehow.

"Shouldn't you be afraid now, little human?"

His voice was soothing, not exactly calming but you caught yourself relaxing a bit. And it fit him.

"You don't look very scary."

"Is that so?" Corinthian leaned over so that his mouth was right next to your ear. When he spoke his warm breath tickled your sensitive skin. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

You shivered involuntarily. God, he even smelled amazing. You knew he wasn't good and everything about him screamed that he would gladly harm you, but you just couldn't stop yourself from saying your next words.

"Because you're kinda cute."

It caught him off guard of course, but also led you both to where you were now: Corinthian sitting comfortably on the couch and you standing in his kitchen wearing one of his buttoned-up shirts. Nothing but the shirt, to be exact.

The sight of your body in his clothes always woke this primal beast inside of him that wanted you near at all times, and yelled "mine!" every time someone else approached you.

"Y/n, darling, you know it's not the end of the world and you can always make another one?" He asked amused. He tried to hide the smile that crept onto his lips but failed miserably.

"Well, here's the problem, darling, I only had this many ingredients. And patience. I've had one shot at this red velvet cake and I fucked it."

You were furious. You knew the recipe by heart and still managed to mess it up. You hated when something was not going your way. Especially when this something was meant to be a gift for a person you loved the most. And this person was sitting right next to you watching you fail.

"Come to me."

You looked up at the Corinthian, your eyes still shrouded in darkness, and saw him tapping his thighs encouragingly.

You sighted and, not even glancing at the mess of a cake, came closer to your lover. When your knees touched his, he took you gently in his arms. You sat on his lap straddling him, your arms wrapped around his neck. One of his hands was pressed against the small of your back, the second was drawing small circles on your thigh.

"I hate it," you said quietly, resting your forehead against his.

"I know" he murmured, giving you a minute to calm down. "We can remake it though, sugar."

You raised your eyebrow suspiciously. "We? You don't even know how to cook or bake in the first place."

"Then show me." He kissed the tip of your nose and you giggled. You weren't mad anymore. "And then..."

"And then what, my dear nightmare?"

"And then we'll go to our bedroom and I'll show you some different things."

"That's disgusting." Another giggle escaped your mouth, but deep down you liked this idea of his.

"Well, in that case, we will do nothing if you don't want to..."

"I never said such a thing," you said indignantly and got up from his lap. A mischievous smile bloomed on your lips as you reached for his hand. "Come now, darling, if we're going shopping, I need to change my clothes. Wanna help?"

Blood boiled in his veins; you knew the answer, why even bother asking? Corinthian without a word took your hand in his and led you to your bedroom.

The fact that you didn't do much baking that day goes without any word of comment.

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[mlmxreader]

Handsome Protector | Corinthian x nb!reader

Anonymous asked: Corinthian x Non-binary reader

“Im not going to catch you if you fall”

*proceeds to catch him anyways*

summary: Corinthiam is always going to protect you, he'll always be protective of you and he'll always make sure that you're safe.

tws: swearing, mentions of violence/murder

Corinthian had always been protective of you, no matter what situation you were in and whether or not something bad happening was your fault, he was always in your corner and he was always protecting you; when you came out to him as nonbinary, though, nothing actually changed between you. He was just as protective, he was just as supportive as he had always been. Still, that protective streak could be both a blessing and a curse if you were really honest about it.

On the one hand, his protection had meant that you didn't need to worry about a single thing when you went out with him; he would kill anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way, and he wouldn't need to think twice about it. Their eyes were his. He didn't give a shit if they were a Tory politician or just an average cunt, he would kill them if they even breathed in your direction in a way he didn't like.

But on the other hand, it also meant that you were almost constantly worrying about him getting caught when he was killing; but he would offer words of reassurance and you would stop worrying temporarily. It never lasted long, though.

Still, Corinthian was protective in almost every situation and in any setting; he had every right to be, though. He was a nightmare, which meant that Dream and his allies could come for you at any moment in order to use you as bait in order to get to the Corinthian. He was a serial killer, which meant that others could come for you at any moment in order to try and get to him and to prove that they were better. He had every right to be protective. Even at night, if he was at home, he would lie next to you, letting you cuddle into him so that he could protect you from the cold, and he would longer in the back of your dreams to chase off any other nightmares. He protected you, even when you didn't know it.

As he watched you climb up onto the counter in order to reach something at the very back of the top of the cupboard, Corinthian sighed; you were always doing things like this, things that could border on stupid and dangerous, and as he watched with his hands in his pockets, he shook his head.

"I'm not going to catch you if you fall."

"I'm not gonna fall," you told him, although when your foot slipped on the edge, you swallowed thickly, your eyes wide as you tried to find your footing, but your other foot slipped, and you felt yourself go backwards.

Before you could hit the floor, though, you felt two arms holding you; one across the back of your shoulders, the other on your lower back. A soft chuckle sounded through the kitchen as Corinthian held you for a moment.

"You were saying?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't catch me," you grinned up at him, able to see your reflection in those dark sunglasses. "You lied."

Corinthian shook his head, helping you up and getting you to sit up on the counter; he ran his hands over your body, checking for injuries as he frowned. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No," you shook your head. "I had you to make sure of that."

He hummed, daring to kiss your forehead so sweetly as he laid his hand at the back of your neck and drummed his fingers on the soft flesh. "You'll always have me to make sure of that, puppy, don't worry."

You couldn't help but to smile again, moving a little closer so that your legs were either side of his waist; you had to admit, he looked good when he was dressed down. Medium grey t-shirt that showed off his arms, grey jogging bottoms that hung loosely around his waist and left little to the imagination yet somehow it was just enough, the silver chain around his neck. He was always handsome, though. Your handsome protector.

"Always?"

"Always," he nodded, knowing that it was as true as it could be. Sure, he wasn't always around, but Corinthian always made sure that, at the very least, you were safe from those who would have wanted to take you away from him. "I'll always make sure you're safe."

"I love you," you whispered, not expecting him to say it back. You weren't sure if you wanted him to, but when he pressed his lips to your throat and sucked and bit at the soft skin, you knew that he felt the same, and you groaned softly as you laced a hand in his hair. "Corinthian? I love you."

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