#ooooof it is done!! Thank you to the organizers of this challenge I had so much fun writing this!!!!!!

[writingbyshiloh]

Dirty Little Secret

MDNI

HAUNTED HOEDOWN DAY ONE: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into." Raymond Reddington x Reader 

WC: 1.5k

AN: literally my third time writing smut for tumblr so pls be nice. About 1000 words of background/buildup and 500 smut lol, no beta so expect a few mistakes

CW: FEM! Reader, Prisoner reader, SMUT, dub con (just to be safe, Red explicitly says he was never going to kill reader but still), fingering, sex in a shipping crate, possibly OOC Red 

Sometimes you think that you’re smart. You’ve made a small name for yourself, stealing paintings and priceless works of art, without getting caught. You could get into almost any place and leave without anyone knowing, stolen items are the only mark of your presence. Selling stolen works is more risky. Getting shot over someone not wanting to pay, making sure that transportation is undetected without any damages occurring to the objects you're trying to fence. Still, you think you’re pretty good at it.

Victim choice is where your intelligence falls short. You were advised to be extra careful by the buyers with this one. Stealing from any criminal is dangerous, but stealing from someone on the most wanted list, nay, the number one on the most wanted list is absurd. The payoff is great though. The man who hired you had a wife who was intimately involved with Raymond Reddington. You don’t blame her, he is handsome.

“Your drink will just be ready at the end!” the barista informs you. You thank her while moving to the end of the counter. The cafe is fairly empty, you should be able to get your drink quickly and leave before going to your storage unit where you stashed the painting. 

“Those are pretty glasses.”

Your head snaps up, ready to say thanks but the words die in your mouth. 

Oh fuck. Raymond Reddington saw right through your cover. 

You manage to thank him before moving away from the counter to the closest exit. He stops you, grabbing your arm to keep you in place. 

It's useless to try to flee. The grip on your arm is too tight. 

“Your drink will just be ready at the end!” the barista informs you. You thank her while moving to the end of the counter. The cafe is fairly empty, you should be able to get your drink quickly and leave before going to your storage unit where you stashed the painting. 

“Those are pretty glasses.”

Your head snaps up, ready to say thanks but the words die in your mouth. 

Oh fuck. Raymond Reddington saw right through your cover. 

You manage to thank him before moving away from the counter to the closest exit. He stops you, grabbing your arm to keep you in place. 

It's useless to try to flee. The grip on your arm is too tight. 

“Your drink will just be ready at the end!” the barista informs you. You thank her while moving to the end of the counter. The cafe is fairly empty, you should be able to get your drink quickly and leave before going to your storage unit where you stashed the painting. 

“Those are pretty glasses.”

Your head snaps up, ready to say thanks but the words die in your mouth. 

Oh fuck. Raymond Reddington saw right through your cover. 

You manage to thank him before moving away from the counter to the closest exit. He stops you, grabbing your arm to keep you in place. 

It's useless to try to flee. The grip on your arm is too tight. 

You figure you’re in a safe room in some safe house. He apologized while a bag was pulled over your head and someone led you into it. It's large, with a couch, and a few chairs on a rug in the center. A large bar takes up one wall complete with a sink and a fridge. Directly across from the bar is the only door. It locked, but you’re sure you could figure it out. 

He can tell you’re nervous. He's directly across from you on a couch, while you’re in a plush chair pretending to read a book he offered. Something about a bounty hunter in New Jersey. You’ve stopped hiding your body language since it's just the two of you. Leg bouncing while your gaze flicks between the fancy liquor in glass bottles in the bar, Reddington, and the main door. 

You’re not cuffed to anything and have been treated well. Treated supremely better than the man who hired you. You watched Reddington kill him in front of you, keeping you alive as a prisoner for over a week. No torture, water whenever you want, occasional offerings of tea and coffee. Plus the food he's been giving you has been incredible. 

On your millionth round of bar-Reddington-door, he catches your eye.

“I know you’re not going to flee, dear.” 

“Why,” you ask. You still think if you needed to you could pretend to get him a drink, knock him out with a bottle and then flee. There is no one else with the two of you.

“I want to show you something.” He stands, and gestures for you to follow him. You do, rising obediently out of your chair. 

He opens the large door and you’re hit in the face with wind, carrying the ocean breeze. Reddington's hand moves to the small of your back, to stabilize you in case you lose your balance. Thankfully the wind is blowing your skirt against your front, so you don’t have to worry about flashing anyone. Shielding your eyes with your hand you get a better look. 

You’re in a shipping crate, on a boat in the middle of the fucking ocean. There's no way you can escape this. 

Stepping back into the makeshift safe house, you wonder how much time is left in the journey. 

“We still have another two days on the boat, you can play nice for that duration right?” he asks rhetorically while pulling the door shut. 

You turn to go back to your seat, maybe finally being able to start the book. He follows, standing in front of you. 

“Do you know why I’m keeping you alive?” he asks, voice quiet. 

You truthfully have no idea, but decide to venture a guess. 

“You want me to be your dirty little secret? Is that what you're into?”

Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind having sex once more before he decides if he is going to kill you and he is attractive. More of a gentleman than other crime bosses you've met. 

You can tell your words piqued his interest. He tilts his head to the side as if to observe you. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. 

“Are you offering sex so I don’t kill you?” he asks. 

“More like trying to have sex before you kill me.” You already put it out in the open, you can’t turn it back on now. 

He’s closer to you now, and you start to back up to give him room. 

“I wasn’t planning on killing you. I actually need your skills to lift a fabergé egg. But your idea.” He pauses while your back hits the bar counter. You didn't even realize he was trapping you until it was too late. 

“Your idea sounds more fun.” 

Placing your hands behind you, you hop up on the bar, legs splaying open, causing your skirt to bunch around your hips. The whole situation is messed up. You’re a prisoner of the FBI’s most wanted criminal. The same man who is kissing your neck, as his hands push your skirt up further to give him more room. 

You dip your head trying to catch his lips. He ignores you, instead fingers ghosting over your underwear, making you choke on your breath. You rock your hips off the counter to assist in him removing the garment before he tosses it on the floor. 

He moves slowly, his hand tracing lines in one of your inner thighs before skipping to the other ignoring where you want him the most. You shift, trying to get friction from anything to relieve the aching feeling between your legs. 

“I thought art thieves were supposed to be patient. God knows you must have staked out my safe house for weeks,” he says, clearly amused that he has you in this position. 

“Yeah, but I did-.” You’re cut off from saying more by his hand slowly drawing tight circles on your clit. 

You press your forehead against his suit-clad shoulder to hide some of your moans. He places a chaste kiss on top of your head contrasting how his finger speeds up as he builds a steady rhythm. 

“You were saying?” he asks. 

“Mhh, yes patient. And, uh, skill of course…” You kept babbling, anything heist-related you could manage to think of in case he decides to stop. You’re so caught up in the feeling of his hands and trying to ramble that you gasp when his other hand teases over your pussy. 

The gasp turns into a moan as you feel his two fingers enter slowly. You savour the stretch and the feeling of being full. All you can do is go slack jaw as you feel him slowly curl his fingers, prodding for what feels best. 

You let out a sharp gasp, when he finds it, your hand grabbing Reddington’s wrist to keep him close.

“Apologies sweetheart, you were saying?”

Your train of thought is abandoned as you chase your high, hips grinding to build a steady rhythm. You know you’re not going to last long. The pleasure keeps building in your lower abdomen. 

“Raymond, I…” you cut yourself off to pull your head off his shoulder. You make a move to kiss him, but it's sloppy, and your lips land off-center. Neither care, you can hardly focus on kissing him, just moaning into his mouth. 

He can feel you tightening around his fingers and moves to nip at your jaw. The feeling of his teeth grazing under your jaw does it. You feel your orgasm build and crest over you, leaving pleasure in its wake. Your nails dig into his arm as you moan. 

Reddington gives you a few moments for you to catch your breath before removing his hands from you, one palm moving to slowly rub your back as your breathing goes back to normal.

“Now my dear, are you ready to discuss the fabergé egg?” Reddington asks, his voice low in your ear. You feel your lips curve into a smile. 

You grab his belt loops and pull him close.  

“Hmm, not yet.”