Dsmp x reader smut

It's okay to eat fish. (George/Dream)

credits to OdeToTheOld

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Dream smiles at you as you pull the dress on, the fabric too tight and restricting for your liking.

"You're not fighting, though," he points out, pleased with how frustrated he makes you. You hate the way his green eyes leam and his dirty blond hair begs to have your hands strung through it. It doesn't matter. You're work partners. Romance is strictly forbidden. And Dream could never like you like that. "Just get the info and get out. Unharmed, hopefully."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Who is it I'm going for again?" You want to make sure you don't flirt-up with the wrong guy and totally embarrass yourself.

"George. Not Found. Can't say I know what he looks like, though." Dream grins at your discomfort and obvious hesitance to leave the building. You're bidding as much time as you can. Who says you want to get the info out of this guy?

The money you'll get once you do.

"Fuck off. Just tell me."

"Won't it be funny when you go to the wrong guy, though?"

"Dream," you whine, ready to get this over with. "Just tell me. Please. You're getting paid for this, too. If I don't do it-"

"Okay! Okay," he mutters, turning to the computer behind him. As he types on it, it illuminates his hair and really does make him look golden. You flush and turn towards the door, watching the rain patter just outside.

Finally, he calls you over and you get a good look at the guy. "He seems... Young. Aren't all the mob boss men like, sixty or something?"

"He got it from his dad, I think."

You blow out a breath and nod. "Well, I should go or-"

"Wait!" You pause and turn to the man you so wish you were allowed to love and look at him like you hate him so he won't know. "Here," he mutters, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and handing you the earbud you'll need to communicate with him. Flushed, you push away from him as quickly as you can and attempt to look unphased.

"Thanks," you mutter, placing the earbud in your ear. He waves at you to wait for a second and turns around, pulling on a headset of his own.

Loudly, and right in your ear, his voice booms and you yelp and pull the earbud out. He grins, pleased with himself, and bids you a nice farewell.

"Don't die! Or- something else? Go get that information!"

You grimace and don't wish him goodbye in return. Once you're a good distance away, you seat yourself in the taxi your company prepaid for and slip the earbud back in.

Dream is silent for the first bit and you're glad. The earbud probably has a tracker so he can see you're not at the club yet, but your nerves still swim. Fuck. How are you even going to get him to talk? Dream is recording everything so he can show it to the higher-ups.

Whatever. Just get this over with. You give the cab driver a light "Thanks!" and scurry into the club and out of the rain that's ruining your hair and dampening your oh-so striking dress. You have to get noticed somehow.

George is fairly easy to spot. The real trouble is striking up conversation. Everyone around you only wants to talk to him, you included, so being top priority is a little arduous. One of the goons lounging next to him takes interest in you, sliding out of his seat and sauntering closer.

"Hi," you greet, batting your eyelashes a bit. "You seem a bit fancy to be here, don't you?"

He flushes when you regard his suit, his hand moving to tug at his collar nervously. "Well, y'know, working for the boss." He lets out a tight laugh and you adore his bashfulness.