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honey-im-hotdog · 1 year

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Make Me Melt

Ty Shaw x reader

Author’s Note: Look this is short, I know. BUt there is nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, for this man and I have to change that damnit! He deserves better, this sweet angel baby! I hope you enjoy!

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Words: 0.7k

Warnings: pet names (baby, darlin’, and sweetheart); mention of cotton candy; the fair; earrings, but could be read as clip-ons or the pierced kind (and even then the type of earring isn’t specified); fluff, like too much. I think that’s all.

Summary: A little sweet moment between reader and Ty while they’re on a date at the fair.

Check out my other stuff :)

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“Oh, look!” You grab Ty’s hand and start tugging him along, “C’mon, c'mon!”

He chuckles as you somewhat manhandle him to the booth with handcrafted jewelry. He seriously can’t get over how excited you are—how excited you’ve been all day, honestly. When he had first suggested going to the annual fair for a date, he hadn’t expected you to jump at the idea. And even then he had wrongfully assumed you two would mostly walk around, enjoying the colors and sounds and smells, and the joy radiating throughout the place. Maybe go on the ferris wheel, let him win some stuffed animal for you.

But oh boy, was he way off! If he had been any less enamored with you, he’d probably complain about his hand cramping from how tight you’d squeeze it in excitement. You had nearly bounced in your seat the whole way to the fair since he picked you up; and then squealed every time you saw something you wanted to check out. And to think that you hadn’t even made it to the cotton candy stall yet…

“Ooh. These are so beautiful!” Ty zones out as you converse with the girl manning the stall. He can’t take his eyes off you. The pure joy vibrating off of your body is enough to fill the place single-handedly. He finds the lights and colors reflecting in your wide eyes more beautiful than the actual thing. For the hundredth time that day, Ty asks himself, how did I get so lucky?

He zones back in when you let his hand go to pick up two earrings, one on the daintier side, and the other chunkier.

You hold each one up to your ears and look in the small mirror attached to the stall. “Hmm, they’re both so pretty. I don’t know,” you blink at your reflection. Turning to your boyfriend, you ask him what he thinks.

Ty’s first reaction is to giggle at how serious you look, but then he schools his expression into a faux serious one, with his lips pouting and brows furrowed. He lightly pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your face this way and that, as he hums. “I like this pair,” he indicates the ones in your right hand.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Frames your face better,” he gives a too-serious nod.

You laugh and pivot back to the girl, handing over the pair he had picked out and putting the other one back. “How much?” you ask as you look down into your tote bag for your wallet. However, when you turn to hand over the money, you notice Ty having paid already.

When you whine out his name, he chuckles and replies with: “Lemme treat ya, baby.”

And god, does the way he says “baby” melt your insides.

Ty throws an arm around your shoulders as you both move on from the booth. You’re still admiring your newest purchase when you feel your boyfriend tug you to a stop. Looking up with a curious expression, you’re met with his brilliant smile.

“Well? C’mon, put ‘em on!”

You smile, a bit bemused, and shrug your shoulders up, “What, now?” He nods in response. You laugh a little as you reply, “Ty, I might need a mirror—”

Before you’re even finished with your sentence, he says, “‘s okay, you got me, darlin’,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your hands, which had been holding up the earrings, fall down to your sides and your shoulders shag, mouth falling open slightly. His words melting you right into a puddle. You lean into him, hiding your face against him, and you whine out his name again, “You can’t just say things like that to me!”

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as he envelopes your shoulders underneath his arms, one hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you tighter into him. “Why not, baby?”

“Because you turn me into goo!” Your hands fist his shirt by his hips and tug him closer. “Stop making me fall deeper in love with you, Tyler!”

You feel his warm breath against your head as he nuzzles you, “No can do, sweetheart.”

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dirtbagdefender · 1 year

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5-4-5: heart sees heart.

#vengeance #vengeance 2022 #ty shaw #ben menalowitz #boyd holbrook #zach villa #bj novak #issa rae #movie gifs #( * mine )

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duncan-vizla-honeybee · 1 year

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I love this photo from on set.

I love his Mustang, he is so damn HOT in this car, omg.....

🔥🔥🔥

#the sandman #the corinthian #boyd holbrook #sandman #corinthian #the sandman netflix #boyd holbrook gifs #jed walker #mustang #Mustang 302 boss #the sandman 2022

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freddyfagzbear · 2 years

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Just realized that The Corinthian (The Sandman) is played by the same actor as Miracle Guy(We Can Be Heroes) and I'm sobbing like you're telling me this man

IS THE SAME GUY AS HIM?!?

I quit. I'm dying. @/jordanparker I leave you my blog and my heelies. It was nice knowing you all. Goodbye.

#boyd holbrook #the corinthian #miracle guy #the sandman #we can be heroes #the sandman 2022 #we can be heroes 2020 #as i looked him up one if the results was miracle guy x reader #so im scarred for life #cant believe this #im done #im so done

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acapelladitty · 2 years

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love you with my hands tied

Pairing: Corintheus (Dream/Corinthian)

Word Count: 4.3k (nsfw)

(Warnings: sub/dom dynamics, punishment, choking, whipping, mild blood, teasing, pain kink, anal sex)

Summary: Muzzled and held in place at his creators feet, continued defiance sees the Corinthian punished for his rebellious mouth and actions.

Perfectly moulded to his face, the leather muzzle presses against Corinthian's lips like the fingers of an eager lover as his pink tongue traces across the thin straps to taste and tease at the material. Earlier in their day, he had watched his master lovingly craft it from the void, knowing that it would soon be wrapped around his head, and the knowledge had created a stutter within his chest as he understood its purpose.

It was both a gift and a warning.

One which recognised his strengths as well as the dangers which his vicious mouth has wrought on those unfortunate enough to cross his path. Victims and lovers, both stood as equal casualties to the sharpness of his teeth as he indulged his unfettered desire for flesh.

His beloved teeth; all of them.

Those same teeth which now served only to protect and pleasure the one who had caged them.

To have his mouth restricted in such a way was akin to having a sense removed, the lack of freedom making his other senses heighten. He could feel the harshness of the cool marble flooring pressing smoothly against his supplicant knees as the faint turning of the paper pages from the figure behind him roars like a cacophony in his ears.

"Little dream."

Twisting his head at the familiar siren call of his creators’ voice, Corinthian turns his body fully - legs shuffling as the lack of slack in his leash ensures he remains held in his submissive position - and gazes up at the being who owns him in both body and soul in a way which no other creature could comprehend.

He had been somewhat mischievous in his last visit to the waking world and his behaviour had not gone unnoticed. Although, in the grand scheme of punishments, being held at his masters’ feet as though he were a muzzled beast was one which he could at least find some pleasure in.

The book which Dream had been reading is now discarded in his lap as his pale fist tightens around the end of the leash which connects to the thick chain around Corinthian's throat, its weight a constant, dizzying reminder against his warm skin.

As ever, the shock of inky hair seems to pull in the light from around it, swallowing it whole as Corinthian’s eyes dip from Dream’s hair to his pale face; the features there achingly familiar as is the stern but almost playful look which radiates from his stiff expression.

"You've been somewhat behaved this last hour of your punishment." Dream praises in a heavy, almost bored, tone. "So, tell me, if I take your new muzzle off, will you dare to bite me again? Worry at my hand like the feral creature you so often show yourself to be?"

Snarling below the straps of leather in pure defiance as he plays his part, Corinthian curls his lips enough to allow his sharp teeth to flash in warning. His head quickly follows as it dips into an unmistakable nod of confirmation, the movement making the chain clink quietly.

How could he not bite the hand which holds his leash?

He was birthed of a desire to reflect the true darkness of humanity and darkness would not allow for itself to be quelled as easily as his maker may like.

Then again, if the sudden heat which enters Dream’s cool features at his defiance is to be believed, then perhaps his refusal to submit is exactly what his maker expects of him.

"Disrespectful little pup," voice as chastising as it is amused, Dream's own lips quirk up in a smirk to match the open challenge of his creation, "perhaps we shall now focus on instilling some more discipline training in order to bring you properly to heel."

Snapshots of heated memories flash through Corinthian's mind in quick succession as his breath stutters and his cock swells against his thigh.

His sight blocked to enhance his reaction to every wicked touch and torment as he was held immobile by restraints which would never break until his creator were satisfied enough to release him.

The sting of the whip against his broad shoulders as Dream methodically tested out various implements to find the one which drew the most pathetic noises from his lips.

A familiar scent of copper filling the space as his own blade was pressed firmly to score through his willing flesh by a firm hand which was quick to fix the damage it has inflicted only to repeat the action once again.

Flexing the exposed muscles of his back, he can almost feel the delightful ache of his lords last attempt at instilling some discipline in his most rebellious nightmare and his ocular eyes are lidded as he answers.

"You can try."

He bites the words, muffled as they are by the custom-built muzzle, with as much honeyed venom as he can muster, even as a pit of desperate need roils within his stomach.

Fuck the consequences, he would see this game through to the end.

Pulling at the chain within his firm grasp once again, Dream's eyes narrow in obvious pleasure as the move forces Corinthian to jerk forward, ripping him free of what little pride he possesses as he stumbles messily in place.

Shuffling towards his master to prevent the new pressure of the chain on his neck, Corinthian comes to a rest between Dream's outstretched thighs as he finds himself unable to resist the arousal which the promise of the punishment which he so rightly deserves ignites within him.

He only hopes that Dream will use his hands.

"For your defiance, you will choose three additional punishments which will become your undoing."

Flashing a hyena’s smile, Corinthian’s eyes narrow as his nose presses on the highest part of the muzzle.

"Only three, my lord?"

A sharp gasp breaks free of his lips, quickly followed by a whining keen as thin fingers wind themselves in his blonde hair and tug at it harshly. Fire ignites in his scalp at the rough treatment and his neck swallows around the chain as it extends up to lessen the unexpected pressure.

"Was I unclear?" Brooking no disobedience, Dream's words boomed in his ear. "Choose your three punishments and you may also explain to me why you deserve each of them."

Arousal, hot and heavy, sits within his gut and the intensity of it makes his breath come in short, sharp bursts as his mind whirs with the possibilities. Punishment was limitless within the Dreaming, with the only barriers coming from the imagination of himself and his maker.

And neither were lacking in that sordid department.

"Choke me, my lord. As my creator, you crafted and breathed life into this form, and you have the right to give and take that privilege at a whim."

A soft groan floats from Dream as Corinthian bites out his first choice from behind his muzzle, his arousal coating his words like a poison.

"And the second?" Dream prompts.

"Flog me, my lord. My depraved use of this flesh has shown you much disrespect and I deserve to have it marked and punished as you see fit."

As Dream openly palms the clear bulge which shows at the robed section of his groin, a grunt of pleasurable shock ricochets through Corinthian as Dream's ankle shifts up to brush against his stiff cock.

"And your final punishment?"

The forced nonchalance in Dream’s tone makes Corinthian's lips twitch. He knows exactly what to say to play into his creators’ desires. Desires which are as twisted as his own despite how much Dream would deny the accusation.

After all, were he not crafted from Dream's own being?

"Fuck me, my lord. Use this body however it pleases you with no regard for my own selfish desires. Force me into my place as the perfect creation which you shaped me to be."

Dream hums in consideration but the sudden gleam which has entered his dark eyes is undeniable.

"Very well, my nightmare, you shall have your wish."

Immediately, the chain around his neck contracts and takes with it his ability to breathe freely. Panic and fear, ripe it its intensity, claws at his senses as his fingers scramble against Dream's legs. To start so quickly, and with such a relentless grip, is a cruelty which he had not expected of his creator and the surprise makes each of his mouths fall open as he gasps for air which will not come.

His cock jerks between his legs; knees rolling forward to push him up higher as his choking has the familiar, depraved side-effect of heightening the heated arousal which sits low in his gut and seems determined to consume him.

The right to give and take.

He wanted this.

Dream was only giving him what he wanted.

The thudding of his heart within his chest, his fingers clawing at his neck, is almost too much to bear and the boom of panic is clear on his expression; an expression which is being intently studied by the cool visage of his creator.

Serene as ever, the only hints towards the satisfaction which his creator is deriving from his torment is the slight flush which has crept to the highest points of his cheeks. That and the pure lust which is radiating from the void of his irises; as dark and unyielding as the ancient being himself.

The pressure within his skull throbs within his cock with just as much intensity, the sensitive head bobbing against his stomach as he writhes in place, desperate to regain his breath. One hand drops from his neck to wrap around his twitching length, providing a momentary relief against the bitter need for stimulation.

It proves to be short-lived as an iron-like grip closes around his wrist and jerks his hand away so violently that he hears the bone creak in warning. Pain radiates from the joint as the pressure around his neck lets up just enough to allow Dream's stern words to break through the sound of rushing blood in his ears.

"You get what I say, when I say you can have it. Do not disobey me now, little dream, or I will add on some creative punishments of my own."

The grip tightens even further, and the quick bloom of pain forces a keening whine from Corinthian's lips as Dream continues.

"And they will not be punishments you will find any joy within; regardless of your perversions."

Having made his point, Corinthian finds his hand quickly released along with the pressure on his throat as the chain choking him loosens fully around his straining neck.

Immediately gulping down as much oxygen as possible, the air burns his straining lungs as a suspicious trickle of bloodied tears trailed their way down his face. The pressure within his head remains at bursting point and his hands instinctively come to wrap around his temples, quelling the noise as he covers his ears and focuses on his breathing.

Blurred hands appear before his face as firm fingers loop themselves around his neck chain, loosening it further. Almost curiously, they press against the hot, almost broken skin below and the chilling sensation of Dream's fingertips on the abused flesh there draws a low mewl from Corinthian's lips.

Something desperate.

Pathetic.

"Remind me of your second chosen punishment."

A cruel request, given how raw and rough Corinthian's throat feels despite its new freedom, but it is a request he knows better than to hesitate to fulfil.

"To- to flog me, my lord."

Every word burns like an open flame and his grimace beneath the muzzle is impossible to conceal.

"Why?"

"The way I choose to use this body, the body you gave me, means I deserve to be punished."

"I wove you into being from the void," Dream agreed, his voice hard as he plays his part with ease, "toiled for months to make you perfect in every way which mattered. And you choose to use my gifts for your selfish deviances? To satiate a debauched lust on the humans you were created to serve?"

As Dream's small speech washes over him, shame stirs within his chest and the flush of it creates a shudder down his spine as a twinge of arousal spikes within his cock.

Debauched lust.

Selfish deviance.

Perfect.

"Which flogger does such perversion deserve?"

Materialising a simple riding crop into his outstretched palm, Dream weighs it for a moment before levelling his stare back at Corinthian.

"Too lenient, you enjoy this one too much."

In the blink of an eye, the crop is gone, replaced by a bullwhip; the length of it trailing across the floor like a serpent as apprehension knocks at Corinthian's heart.

Fuck.

The bullwhip was one of the few toys in their games which he genuinely feared. Its dart-like precision mixed with the inhumane strength of his maker, even when he was holding back, had proven its danger as it ripped through his skin like paper. Generally, the use of the bullwhip was limited for genuine punishment, to fix transgressions which did not quite merit an unmaking but could also not be simply ignored.

In the handful of events over their time together when such a punishment was warranted, the wounds took days to heal. He could remember the ache, the agony of his sliced skin pressing against his clothing as he were expected to continue with his duties without complaint. The vicious way in which Dream would inspect the slow healing of the marks as his cool fingers teased the raw flesh.

But such a punishment was wholly unwarranted for this game and rage, a familiar bedfellow as ever, bubbles deep within Corinthian's chest at the perceived injustice.

"What do you think?"

Mouth twisting below the muzzle at the unexpected question, Corinthian glances up from the bullwhip to meet Dream's expectant gaze.

He was being tested.

The debate between his pride and fear is brief as his eyes reflect the apprehension which makes his fingers tremble as he responds in kind.

"Whatever you think is necessary, my lord."

Smiling, Dream nods his own head to show his pleasure at the tactful words.

"Well done, my beautiful nightmare. A good answer," he pauses, "finally."

The ache which such a small yet genuine smile inspires within Corinthian's chest is almost painful in how eager it is. Relief also floods him as the bullwhip disappears and his head tilts to rest on Dream's knee, awaiting the next suggestion for his punishment.

Dream's free hand comes to rest, cool and heavy, on his scalp and Corinthian could positively purr at the affectionate gesture.

In a moment, Dream's free hand is filled once more and Corinthian blinks at the black cat o' nine tails which now lays within his palm; the scent of fresh leather washing over him and causing a faint stir in the arousal which heats the base of his spine.

"Assume the position, my nightmare. You have performed so beautifully thus far and a reward for your pains is within reach."

Perking up slightly, Corinthian ignores the slight embarrassment at how quickly he locks his hands to Dream's ankles as he drops back to his submissive position on all fours; his back arching high as his knees press into the marble flooring.

A perfect target.

Willingly offered.

A gasp breaks free of his lips as Dream gives an experimental swing; the flogger connecting with his back in one solid strike to give him a taste of what was in store. His head remains bent towards the floor, between his hold on Dream's ankles, if he glances down, he can just see the tip of his hardened cock, neglected and heavy as it hangs in the free space.

"Ask me to begin."

Anticipation making his throat dry, his response is practically choked out.

"Please, begin my punishment, my lord.

The next strike comes without hesitation, the impact rough and shocking. Exactly what he deserves.

What he needs.

Heat quickly rises in his skin, moving from a pleasant warmth to true discomfort as Dream quickly picks up his pace, drawing the flogger across his exposed back in a calculated swing to ensure as much coverage as possible.

He can feel every small leather knot at the end of the strands as they impact his flesh, digging in even more viciously to accompany the sting of the strands themselves. He grunts, he whines, he whimpers, and his pathetic noises are the only other sounds aside from the harsh snap of the leather.

The familiar sting of pain grounds him, centres him to the moment, and he relishes in it despite the way it makes his spine flinch, and his teeth worry his lips. With it comes the pleasure; the pleasure of his creators’ touch, his attention, and the undeniable way that even the slightest brush of physicality between them powers him more than any human depravity ever could.

A sudden strike catches him in a particularly brutal way, and he cannot bite back the short yelp which tears its way free of his lips as his slippery hands break free from their grip around Dream's ankles to fall flat to the floor.

Something wet trickles across his spine, slicing through the haze of sensation and his murky thoughts cannot determine if it is sweat or blood.

Panting through his raw throat, he dares to raise his head to his creator, only to find Dream staring down at him passively with one brow slightly raised. A million thoughts pass through his mind in that moment but the idea of giving in, of showing weakness, rankles his chest and he forces a smirk to his lips as he arches his back once more.

"A glutton, even for punishment." Dream offers fondly as his hand comes to rest on his chin to stroke the skin there with some affection.

"So red," Dream muses, "you cannot imagine how beautiful you look carrying my marks on such perfect and responsive skin."

But he can.

He feels a similar pride as he inspects and poses the bodies of those whose eyes he has taken and consumed.

A feeling of pure euphoria.

"Are you ready for the final part of your punishment?"

"Yes!" Corinthian almost cries out, the anticipation of finally getting to touch his maker making him feel almost lightheaded. "I am ready, my lord."

"If memory serves, I am to 'use your body however it pleases me'. Is that still your wish?"

"Y-yes."

A broken response as Corinthian raises his head once more, placing it gently on Dream's knee as his teeth gnaw as his lower lip.

Dream's hands move fluidly as they dip within the expansive robe which covers the majority of his pale skin and pull free his cock, the length looking painfully hard as a clear bead of pre-cum pearls at the very tip.

"You have thirty seconds to please me before we start," Dream instructs in a heavy voice which does not hide his arousal, "and you will receive no additional preparation. So, use your time wisely, my little dream."

Wanting nothing more in that moment, Corinthian shuffles his knees forward to allow him easier access to his prize and his tongue wraps itself around the head of his makers cock with reverence.

Sighing out his pleasure, Dream reclines slightly as he allows his creation to service him.

The taste of Dream, so recognisable that it seems almost built into his very being, draws a moan from his lips as he swallows down the tip of his cock, pushing his head forward as his tongue dances across the velvety skin.

No additional preparation.

Pulling free, he wets his mouth further and returns to his task, coating as much of Dream's length in his spit as he can. To ease what comes next. His work is diligent, ensuring that not a single inch is missed by his tongue and lips as he drinks in the pleasurable grunts which his creator gifts him with every few moments.

"Your time is up."

His voice further strained than it was a minute before, the colour in Dream's cheeks also looks more flushed.

"I feel that was longer than thirty seconds, my lord."

Allowing a tease to enter his tone, the look of exasperated amusement which enters Dream's eyes confirms his suspicions.

"Well, my nightmare? Your final punishment awaits."

Scrambling to his feet quickly, the ache in Corinthian's knees makes his legs wobble for only a moment as he climbs atop his creator.

While he may have had the advantage in terms of height and weight, the strength of Dream never failed to rip his breath from his lungs as he effortlessly pulled Corinthian into position, spreading his knees on either side of his thin frame and lining up Corinthian's ass with his cock.

Glancing down at Dream, something within Corinthian's heart constricts as he finds Dream's eyes locked on his own, absorbing his every movement and shift in emotion. Through the muzzle, he unleashed a wolfish grin and drops his body carefully.

Taking Dream's entire length in one push, he grits his teeth against the sudden pain which lances through his lower body. It steals his breath, and he involuntarily clenches around the cool length within, the move causing a low grunt to escape Dream as his eyes widen at the sudden stimulation which his creation is gifting him.

A fantastic sensation of fullness grips Corinthian as he moves his ass back up before pushing down again in a steady rhythm. The pain in still there but with it comes an overwhelming pleasure that makes his cock ache with neglect as it hangs in the free space between them. Arousal burns hot against his spine, and he moans freely, having nothing to hide in this moment.

He sets a slow yet intense pace, determined to feel every inch of the wonderful discomfort and terrible pleasure which he has earned and his cock bounces against his stomach with a maddening rhythm.

Cool lips wrap around his left nipple, teeth worrying the pebbled nub there in an agonising fashion as he throws his head back and whimpers. Clearly enjoying the reaction, thin fingers come to simultaneously pinch and pluck at his right nipple with a wicked firmness.

Tension wracks his body while lightning flashes through his veins as Dream's cock brushes that spot within him that makes him see stars and he repeats the same movements to encourage the sensation again and again and again.

He is so close that his teeth bite down on his lip in a vain effort to keep himself from coming too early. He wants to savour this. To feel everything.

He never wants it to end, as terrible as that would be.

Dream's fingers wrap around his cock and the sudden stimulation, the firm pressure mixed with the cool digits against his headed skin, is terrible in its intensity and he issues a low scream, one which refuses to stay within his chest.

"Come for me, my beautiful nightmare. My Corinthian."

It was enough.

The band of arousal which has grown unbearably tight across his lower body snaps and his vision seems to almost white-out for a moment as he comes. His release is messy against his own chest, reaching as high as his collarbone and the shame of it only serves to heighten the pleasure as his ass tightens around the length within it.

Lost in rapture, he barely feels it when Dream's thumb brushes against the mess on his chest, but he does feel it when he brings that same thumb to his lips, offering him a taste of his own release.

Parting his lips without thought, he accepts the thumb into his mouth as his tongue cleans his mess with reverence. Tasting not only the salt of his release, but also the slight hint of his creator as his tongue wraps around the offered thumb.

The thumb is removed smoothly, and Corinthian immediately misses its presence.

His creator within his mouth.

Devotion laid bare.

Dream still sheathed within him, Corinthian feels cool hands pressing atop the abused skin of his back to pull him lower down and he follows the guidance without hesitation. Overstimulated and raw, his chin trembles as he is held by his creator; an anchor which he can grip without any further apprehensions of punishment as such affection is offered freely.

Dream waves his hand lazily and the muzzle around his head disintegrates into nothing, leaving him feeling oddly exposed as he immediately uses his new freedom to plant a frantic kiss on Dream's temple.

"Your neck and back?" Dream mutters with a softness which is beautiful in its rarity.

"Manageable." Corinthian confesses with a sigh. "Although I will not reject a quick fix if one is on the table. I was expecting worse."

"The restraint it takes for me not to indulge the worst of your desires. You would allow me to flay you if you thought it may please me; your petty games of defiance aside."

Satiated and worn-out, the instinctive desire to snap back at such a fair assessment of his self is easily ignored and Corinthian instead chooses to accept the words.

"Maybe one day. It would be quite the experience," he hums, "for both of us."

Dream makes a small noise of consideration in his throat as he rolls his hips subtly; offering a stunning reminder to his nightmare of the hard length which is still sheathed within him.

"Hrmm, if you can remain here while I muse on some future construction work within the Dreaming then we shall see about offering you that 'quick fix' you desire."

Clenching his ass around Dream's cock as a physical show of agreement, Corinthian settles himself comfortably against Dream's chest as the heady scent of his maker envelopes his senses.

Nerves still quivering after the torrid mixture of pain and pleasure which assaulted them, the idea of a short break did hold some merit.

Besides, it was always interesting to watch Dream at his craft as he wove the reality around them into existence by his very whim. And here, seated upon his lord as he remained settled in his throne, there could be no greater position to watch him work than this.

Also available on AO3

#i tried very hard with this one so please dont let me flop lmao #corintheus #corinthian #dream of the endless #dream x corinthian #corinthian x dream #the sandman #sandman netflix #sandman 2022 #sandman smut #morpheus x corinthian #corinthian x morhpheus #tom sturridge #boyd holbrook #i also made that gif and im ashamed at how long it took

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hollybell51 · 2 years

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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.

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