dnf oneshots

2. want

Mafia AU
George, the spoiled mafia king's "prince." Dream, the famous mafia king, used to handling things that don't go according to plan. But when thing's go so backwards not even Dream expects it, the fate of the two falls into George's hands. [spice]

CW// firearms, mentions of blood, gunshot wound

It's not hard to get whatever you want, when you want it, when your boyfriend's a mafia boss.

I should know.

Dream is a famous mafia boss, known in the mafia community nation-wide. And, by transfer of fame, I am fairly well known too, widely regarded as Dream's Prince. So Dream has taken this up as my nickname. My Prince.

Thing is, I never know what's going on in the world of mafia-ing. All I know is that Dream brings in a lot of money, kills people when he sees fit, and is scary good at avoiding the cops. But I want in on the action.

And I always get what I want.

——

The lock clicks. My gaze swings up from my book as the front door creaks open. A wide smile covers my face, and I jump up, my book landing against the couch cushions. I peer around to the front door, where Dream is slipping off his dress shoes, his tie already loosened. His jacket has fallen to the floor, the fabric jumbled together at his feet.

I skip up to him. He looks up and immediately brightens. "Hey, baby," he coos. I snort as he rises, and throw my arms around his neck.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that," I say quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"And I thought I told you I don't take orders," he replies, a low growl etched into his tone. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.

I tuck a loose blonde curl behind his ear and stretch my neck to bring my face closer to his. Cool hands grip the exposed skin at my waist. His eyes glint with lust and danger.

"How was your day?" I ask, intentionally stalling. He groans, a low sound that makes my heart falter.

"George," he mumbles, his mouth next to my ear. His breath is hot against my skin before his lips connect with my jaw.

"Dream," I reply, my voice laced with childish need and joy. He chuckles against my neck as he paints scarlet spots, his lips the paintbrush. He moves to my collarbone, and I let my head fall back and my eyes roll in pleasure.

"M-maybe we should go to our room," I whisper, my breath coming in uneven gasps.

"Turned on over nothing, huh?" Dream asks, ignoring my remark.

I smirk. My hips start to sway in a pattern I know always turns him on, without fail. "I could say the same," I rasp as he groans again.

He suddenly picks me up bridal style and heads to the stairs. I squeal in delight and expectation. Tonight will be fun.

——

"What?"

After I stumbled down the stairs this morning to find Dream making coffee, I asked him if I could join his mafia.

I raise an eyebrow. "I know you heard me," I say.

He sighs and sets his mug down. "George, the mafia isn't a walk in the park."

"Not like I know that," I scoff. "You never tell me anything about it. You always ignore me when I ask how your day went."

Dream sighs and stares at me sympathetically. He's quiet for a minute.