gucciduval

[gucciduval]

benefits package

summary: your handsome coworker jason invites you over to his house and confronts you about something hes suspected for quite a long time.

warnings: jason is a little cocky, 6 year age gap (reader is 22 and jason is 28) oral (m!receiving) unprotected penetrative sex, jason has a breeding kink

notes: based off of this ask i received :) do let me know what you all think of this!

word count: 6.8k

The average person walking past you on the street would probably take one look at you and think, Wow, that girl really has her life together! And if a stranger talked to you for more than five minutes, they’d probably come away thinking you were painfully sweet, the sort of person who apologises when someone else steps on your foot. It wouldn't occur to them that you were currently financing your college education through drug and firearms trafficking.

A few months ago, you’d been frantically applying for jobs with the kind of desperation usually reserved for people stranded at sea. Cafés, bookstores, grocery stores, tutoring centres, you sent out enough applications to single handedly keep several HR departments employed, only to be rejected by every single one. Apparently, not even minimum wage establishments were willing to take a chance on you, which did wonders for your self esteem.

After receiving yet another email that thanked you for your interest before immediately crushing your spirit, you’d called Nicole and spent the better part of an hour ranting, and to her credit, she listened.

Then in the same tone someone might use to recommend a decent plumber, she mentioned that her uncle Brian was looking for a courier driver.

The job, according to Nicole, was simple: pick things up, drop things off, don’t ask too many questions, and, most importantly, get paid far more than any twenty two year old with a catastrophically empty bank account had any business earning. She described it as “mostly driving around,” which, in hindsight, should have set off at least a few alarm bells, especially considering her uncle somehow managed to pay his drivers three times minimum wage. But you needed the money. Desperately.

At first, you managed to convince yourself that the whole thing was merely eccentric rather than illegal. Sure, most jobs didn’t involve collecting anonymous duffel bags from strangers in abandoned parking lots, but plenty of businesses operated in ways you didn’t understand. For several weeks, you clung to the increasingly flimsy belief that Brian simply had an unconventional approach to logistics.

Still, the longer you worked for Brian, the harder it became to ignore the increasingly obvious fact that something was very, very wrong.

The people you delivered to got progressively shadier. What had started as dropping off packages to ordinary looking people in parking lots gradually evolved into meeting heavily tattooed men outside warehouses at eleven o’clock at night, all of whom seemed to share the same unsettling habit of looking over both shoulders before speaking to you. Nobody ever introduced themselves. Nobody ever smiled. Half of them acted as though they expected to be arrested at any moment.

Nobody ever told you what was actually inside the packages. The boxes varied in size and weight, the duffel bags occasionally clinked in ways that felt vaguely concerning, and Brian’s instructions stayed the same: pick it up, drop it off, don’t ask questions. At first, you didn’t care enough to pry, but after a month of ferrying mysterious parcels between increasingly suspicious people, curiosity got the better of you.

The first time you asked him what exactly you were transporting all over the city, Brian looked at you like you had three heads.

“You ain't serious right now, are ya?”

You shrugged. “I mean, I think I have a right to know what I'm constantly transporting around in my fucking car, don't you think?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “See, that's your problem right there. Too many fuckin' questions.”

"Crazy concept. I like knowing whether or not the packages I’m dropping off are bombs that might explode and blow me into smithereens."

Brian pointed at you with his cigarette. “And I like people who keep their mouths shut. You prove yourself, maybe one day I'll let you in on something.”

You rolled your eyes hard enough to risk permanent damage.

“You know what?” he said, already shifting gears. “From now on, you’re not gonna be doing runs alone anymore.”

You frowned. “What?”

“I’m sending Jason with you.”

The name meant absolutely nothing to you, which, given Brian’s apparent hiring philosophy, was somehow more concerning than if it had.

“Who the fuck is Jason?”

“Guy who works for me.”

“Oh yeah 'cause that narrows it down.”

Jason turned out to not be so bad. For the first twenty minutes of your first shift together, he didn’t say a word. The silence stretched on long enough that you started to wonder whether Brian had accidentally assigned you a very large, mildly intimidating houseplant.

“So, am I allowed to talk to you, or is that above my pay grade?”

Jason glanced over, rolling his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t take Brian so seriously,” he said. “He’s just an asshole.”

You stared at him. “Wait, you can talk?”

Jason glanced over from the passenger seat, looking mildly offended. “When I have something to say, yeah, I talk.”

“Good to know. I was starting to think Brian had just assigned a statue to be my chaperone.”

That earned a faint smirk before his attention shifted back to the road.

“Anyway,” you said, “if Brian’s such an asshole, why do you work for him?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

He shrugged. “Same reason anyone works a shitty job. I need the money.” Then he looked at you again, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Could ask you the same thing.”

You opened your mouth, then stopped.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

From that point on, Jason was a constant presence in your passenger seat, and once he got to know you, he wasn’t quiet at all.

Over time, the job itself started to feel more and more suspicious the longer you stuck with it, but suspicion alone wasn’t enough. You needed something concrete, something that confirmed what you were pretty sure you were already involved in.

The opportunity presented itself one night while you were waiting for Jason.

Brian had handed you a taped up cardboard box twenty minutes earlier and sent you to wait outside some run down industrial building on the edge of the city. Jason, according to the text he'd sent, was running late.

The box sat on the passenger seat beside you, radiating an almost supernatural level of sketchiness.

You lasted about ten minutes.

Months of hauling mystery packages around the city had transformed your curiosity from an occasional inconvenience into a full blown personality defect, and before common sense could intervene, you were peeling back the tape.

The flaps opened with a soft crackle.

Inside, nestled between layers of packing paper, was an AR-15.

For a moment, you just stared at it.

It wasn't exactly a revelation. You'd suspected for quite some time that Brian's business ventures extended well beyond legitimate courier services. Still, there was something unsettling about finally seeing proof sitting in your passenger seat.

The passengers side door suddenly opened.

“The fuck are you opening the package for?”

You flinched hard enough to nearly hit your head on the roof, which, given the situation, felt justified.

Jason slid into his seat, looking from you to the open box with an expression that suggested you’d just made his day significantly more complicated.

After several months of mysterious warehouses, suspicious duffel bags, and men who looked like they'd lost custody battles with the law, you felt not only justified, but a little overdue.

“I figured after months of not knowing what I’m hauling around in my own car, I’d check for myself.” You shrugged. “That a problem?”

Jason frowned, reaching over to inspect the damage you'd done to the tape.

“We're gonna have to tape that back up.”

You watched him press the box shut, trying and failing to ignore the fact that there was currently an assault rifle sitting by your feet.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So we're just not gonna talk about the gun?”

Jason glanced over at you. “What exactly do you want me to say?”

“I don't know. Maybe something along the lines of ‘just so you know, your suspicions were correct! You are in fact participating in an illegal business.’”

That earned a laugh, an actual laugh, not the faint smirk he'd been rationing out for the past few months.

Strangely, after that night, whatever awkward distance had existed between you started to disappear.

Maybe it was because you'd finally received confirmation that Brian's operation was exactly as illegal as you'd suspected, or maybe there was something uniquely bonding about spending several evenings a week transporting firearms and, as you later discovered, drugs around the city together. Either way, somewhere between the late night warehouse pickups and increasingly questionable life choices, you and Jason stopped feeling like coworkers and started feeling like friends.

You learned that he'd done a brief stint in the military before coming home under circumstances he never elaborated on. He learned that your academic career was being financed by a criminal enterprise because apparently every café and bookstore in the city had collectively decided that you were unemployable.

Long drives turned into conversations. Conversations turned into inside jokes. At some point, you realised you'd started looking forward to your shifts, which was concerning for a number of reasons, not least of all because your shifts routinely involved crimes.

And then, because the universe apparently had a sense of humour at your expense, you started falling for him. Stupidly, hopelessly and with full awareness that it was a terrible idea.

In your opinion, Jason was catastrophically out of your league: six years older, effortlessly attractive, and possessed of the sort of competence that made you feel like an overcaffeinated college student pretending to be an adult. More importantly, he almost certainly saw you as nothing more than a coworker, a slightly nosy one with questionable judgment and a tendency to ask too many questions.

So you did the mature thing and buried those feelings beneath sarcasm, denial, and what you believed was an exceptionally convincing performance in which you absolutely did not have a crush on Jason.

Unfortunately, you had dramatically overestimated your own acting abilities.

One morning, you woke up to your phone vibrating aggressively on your bedside table.

Still half asleep, you grabbed it and squinted at the screen. It was a text.

Jason: Bring the cargo over to my place today

You stared at the message, waiting for some kind of follow up that never came.

That was new.

Over the past several months, you’d delivered packages to warehouses, parking lots, industrial buildings, and once to a man who appeared to be operating out of a suspiciously abandoned laundromat, but Jason had never asked you to bring anything to his house. Despite spending an unhealthy amount of time together, you knew surprisingly little about his life outside of work.

You thought about texting back to ask why, then immediately dismissed the idea. Any question directed at Jason usually got you a shrug, an insult, or some variation of it’s complicated, and after months of that, you’d accepted that getting a straight answer out of him wasn’t happening.

So you got out of bed and got ready. And, against your better judgement, you put more effort into your appearance than usual.

Not an embarrassing amount. It wasn't like you were trying to impress him. You were just making sure you looked presentable. It wasn’t your fault that “presentable” apparently involved changing outfits twice, fixing your hair more carefully than necessary, and staring at your reflection for a few seconds longer than usual before deciding it was fine.

You were just… making sure you didn’t look like someone who had rolled out of bed and immediately gone to commit a felony.

The package sat in the back seat as you drove across the city, and your brain immediately started coming up with explanations for Jason’s text.

Maybe Brian had sent him home sick. Maybe his car had broken down. Maybe he was injured. Or maybe... objectively the dumbest option, he’d suddenly realised the two of you had undeniable chemistry and decided that inviting you to his house in the middle of a workday was the best way to deal with it. But you shut that thought down almost immediately.

The house itself was not what you'd expected.

You slowed the car as you turned onto his street, double checking the address he’d sent before pulling up in front of the house. For a moment, you just sat there with the engine idling, staring at it through the windshield like it might suddenly transform into something more predictable if you gave it enough time.

Not that you'd actually spent much time imagining where Jason lived. That would have been weird and deeply embarrassing. Still, if someone had forced you to guess, you probably would have pictured an apartment somewhere, something practical and vaguely impersonal.

Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a weathered house raised on stilts, perched a few feet off the ground like it had decided at some point that ordinary foundations were beneath it. A set of wooden stairs led up to a wraparound porch, and the whole place had the sort of quiet, slightly isolated feel that made it seem less like a home and more like the setting of a crime documentary.

You stepped out of the car, package in hand, and glanced around for any sign of Jason.

At first, you didn't see him, then a flicker of movement caught your eye.

He was on the roof. This was, from both a practical and emotional standpoint, an absolute disaster.

He was crouched near the edge of the house, apparently fixing something, wearing worn jeans, a backwards baseball cap, and absolutely no shirt whatsoever. Sunlight caught against tanned skin, tracing over the defined lines of his shoulders and down the length of his back, every movement pulling muscle tight beneath his skin as he leaned forward to tighten something you couldn't identify because, unfortunately, your ability to process basic information had just abandoned you.

There were faint scars scattered across his back, barely noticeable unless you were staring, which unfortunately, you were, and the sight of them did absolutely nothing to help your rapidly deteriorating composure.

Your brain, clearly having decided to betray you completely, supplied an image you did not ask for: your hands on him, nails dragging slowly down that same sun warmed skin, leaving marks in their wake.

You immediately wished for the ability to uninstall your own thoughts.

A sharp rush of heat hit you out of nowhere, catching you so off guard that for a second you just stood there, gripping the box a little too tightly before forcing yourself to get it together like nothing had happened.

“Hey.”

The sound of Jason’s voice snapped you back to reality. You looked up to find him climbing down a ladder propped against the side of the house, one hand gripping the rung above his head as he descended with the sort of effortless coordination that only made the situation worse.

You tore your eyes away and focused very intently on the package in your arms.

“What are you doing up there?” you asked, aiming for casual and landing somewhere in the vicinity of mildly flustered.

“Just fixing some leaks.”

Of course he was. Because apparently being ex military and annoyingly competent wasn’t enough, he also knew how to fix his own roof.

He reached the bottom of the ladder and pulled open the front door before jerking his head toward the inside.

“Bring it in.”

Then, without another word, he disappeared into the house.

You walked up the wooden stairs and stepped through the doorway, immediately struck by how different the place was from what you'd imagined.

The entire house had an unmistakably beachy feel to it. Sunlight poured through wide windows, washing over pale wooden floors and faded furniture that looked comfortably worn rather than old. A few surfboards leaned against one wall, and the salty breeze drifting in through an open window carried the faint smell of the ocean. It felt relaxed, lived-in less like the home of someone involved in organised crime and more like the sort of place featured in holiday brochures.

You carried the package into the living room and set it down on the coffee table before sinking onto the couch, making a truly heroic effort to behave like a normal, well adjusted human being and not someone who had just spent the last five minutes getting absolutely steamrolled by her own thoughts and losing in a way that felt both humiliating and entirely predictable.

A moment later, Jason stepped into the room.

At some point, he'd ditched the cap, leaving his hair damp and slightly tousled, strands sticking to his forehead from the heat. A faint sheen of sweat still clung to his skin, catching the light in a way that felt almost deliberate, and there was something deeply unfair about how completely unbothered he seemed by the fact that he looked like that at eleven in the morning.

He paused by the kitchen counter to grab a bottle of water, twisting the cap off before tipping his head back to drink. His throat moved with each swallow, and whether he realised it or not, the effect it had on your ability to form coherent thoughts was immediate and catastrophic.

You looked away before your expression could betray you.

Desperate to redirect your brain onto literally any other topic, you gestured vaguely at the room.

“You’ve got a nice place.”

Jason screwed the cap back onto the bottle and wandered over to the couch. He dropped down onto the cushions beside you, then shifted, sliding a little closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. He threw his head back with a long sigh that suggested he’d been up there for a while.

“It’s not mine,” he said, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “It’s Brian’s.”

You turned to look at him.

“This is Brian’s place?”

“Yeah.”

For a second, you just stared at him, then you let out a short laugh.

“Of course it is,” you said, shaking your head. “I should’ve guessed.”

You glanced around the living room again, the pale wooden floors, the enormous windows, the surfboards propped against the wall.

“No wonder it’s so nice.”

Jason looked over at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess I pictured your place looking less like a coastal retreat you'd see on the cover of Vanity Magazine and more like the kind of place where every piece of furniture has a story behind it."

Jason chuckled. "What are you talking about?"

“You know.” You waved a hand around the room like that explained everything. “I expected you to proudly present a folding chair and be like, ‘Yeah I won this in a fistfight with a homeless guy back in 2019.’'

Jason stared at you for a second before another chuckle escaped him.

“I mean, that would be a cheap way to get a chair.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “See? That’s exactly the kind of response that makes me think my original assessment of your living situation wasn’t entirely unreasonable.”

“Right.”

He kept looking at you, not casually or distractedly, but with clear focus, the corner of his mouth tilted like he knew something you didn’t.

Realizing that made it much harder to act normal.

You let out a small laugh and looked away, suddenly very interested in the surfboards against the wall.

Jason kept watching you with that same irritatingly amused expression, like he was waiting for something to happen.

Then he said, “You think I don’t know about the thing you have for me?”

Your brain went completely blank.

Not in a dramatic, cinematic way. More like someone had flipped a switch and replaced every thought in your head with pure, unfiltered TV static.

One second you were sitting there, mildly annoyed, and the next, nothing. Just a loud, buzzing emptiness and one very clear, very alarming question cutting through it.

How the fuck does he know?

You stared at him, convinced you had to have misheard him, because that was impossible.

You'd spent a long time carefully suppressing those feelings, burying them under sarcasm, bad decisions, and what you had genuinely believed was a convincing performance in which you absolutely did not have a crush on your coworker.

Apparently, you’d been wrong.

The look on Jason’s face didn’t help. He wasn’t joking.

You opened your mouth, closed it again, then forced out something that almost resembled a normal response.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “The what?”

The grin at the corner of his mouth widened.

“Come on.”

You just kept staring at him, horrified, trying to process the fact that at some point, without your knowledge, your supposedly secret feelings had stopped being secret.

Eventually, some combination of embarrassment, panic, and the rapidly dawning realisation that denial was no longer a viable strategy forced you to speak.

“...Was it that obvious?”

Jason didn’t even hesitate. “Very.”

You narrowed your eyes, a mix of offense and disbelief settling in. At this point, your dignity was already in ruins, so you made a conscious decision to challenge him.

“Really?” you said. “Because I’m gonna need you to back that statement up.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Alright.” He took another sip of water. “Sometimes I’ll look at you, and the second you realise I’m looking, you immediately look away.”

You stared at him, horrified, then groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my God.”

Jason laughed. “You asked.”

“I really wish I hadn’t.”

You stayed like that, face hidden, trying to process the fact that your attempt to discreetly pine after Jason had apparently been about as subtle as a car crash. This was catastrophic. Worse, Jason sounded so calm about the whole thing that you couldn't tell whether he found it funny, awkward, or deeply regrettable, and your stomach twisted.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled through your hands. “If I’ve made things weird, I understand if you don’t wanna-”

“Who said I thought it was weird?”

You stopped, lowering your hands just enough to look at him.

Jason had shifted closer on the couch without you noticing, one arm resting along the back of it as he looked at you with an expression that was far too relaxed for someone currently causing you this level of psychological damage.

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “I never said it was weird.”

Your brain, which had only just begun recovering, immediately short circuited again.

Before your brain could catch up, he shifted closer.

His arm slid around your shoulders like it belonged there, like this was normal, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

You felt it all at once, the heat of him pressed against your side, the solid weight of his arm, the way your body reacted instantly, traitorously. Your pulse spiked, your breath catching just slightly as your thoughts scattered into something far less coherent than they had any right to be.

“Did you wanna do something about it?” Jason asked it like it was nothing.

You didn’t answer him with words. Instead, you turned your head, slow and deliberate, and closed the last few inches between you. Your lips met his in a soft, searching press, nothing rushed, nothing clumsy. Just the quiet, electric certainty of finally giving in.

Jason’s breath caught against your mouth, just once, before he kissed you back.

His arm around your shoulders tightened, pulling you in until your side was flush against the hard line of his body. The kiss deepened almost immediately, his lips parting, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whatever he’d been drinking earlier. One of his hands slid up to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

You felt him smile into the kiss for half a second, cocky, pleased, before he tilted his head and took control of it, slow and thorough, like he’d been thinking about this for longer than he’d ever admit. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and when you let him in, a low, rough sound rumbled in his chest.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. The thought flashed through your mind, sharp and stunned, even as Jason’s mouth claimed yours again, deeper this time, hungrier. His tongue slid against yours in a slow, filthy stroke that made your head spin. You kissed him back with the same intensity, your hands sliding over the bare skin of his chest.

His chest was bare under your hands, warm and solid, the muscles shifting as your fingers traced over him. The heat radiating off his skin was almost overwhelming.

Jason’s hand didn’t stay still. It drifted from your neck, down the curve of your shoulder, slipping underneath the strap of your dress with practiced ease. The fabric shifted as his palm smoothed over your ribs, warm and rough against your skin. The moment he realised there was nothing between his hand and your breast, no bra, just bare skin, his breath hitched against your lips.

He cupped you fully, his large hand covering your breast, thumb brushing slow and deliberate over your nipple. The sensation punched through you, hot and electric. A soft, involuntary moan slipped out of you and into his mouth, muffled but unmistakable. Your back arched into his touch without thinking, pushing your breast more firmly into his palm.

Then he suddenly broke the kiss. His mouth left yours with a wet sound, and he pulled back just far enough to look at you, eyes dark, lips slick and slightly swollen. His hand stayed exactly where it was, large and warm under your dress, still cupping your bare breast, thumb lazily circling your nipple like he had no intention of stopping. A slow, cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Coming over to my place without a bra on?” he asked, the words softened by the teasing note in his voice.

His thumb gave your nipple another deliberate flick as he said it, like he was punctuating the question. A surprised laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. You were still half straddling the line between turned on and stunned that any of this was real.

“Me?” you shot back, breathless but grinning. “You were doing work on your roof without a shirt on knowing damn well it would've been the first thing I saw as soon as I got here."

Jason’s smirk deepened, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple under your dress. “Fair point,” he murmured.

He didn’t give you time to say anything else. He leaned in and kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue sliding against yours with renewed hunger. His free hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, holding you to him as the kiss turned messy and deep. You could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, the way his muscles shifted under your palms as your hands roamed over him.

You broke the kiss first, just long enough to catch your breath. Your eyes locked on his as you reached up with one hand and slowly tugged the other strap of your dress down your shoulder. The fabric slipped easily, and you kept going, pushing the dress lower, past your chest, past your waist, until it pooled around your hips. You lifted up just enough to slide it the rest of the way off, letting it fall to the floor. Now you were only in your thong.

The cool air kissed your bare skin, but Jason’s gaze burned hotter than anything else. His eyes dropped, taking in the sight of you, your breasts fully exposed now, your body almost completely bare except for that thin scrap of fabric between your legs.

Your gaze drifted lower. The tent in his jeans was obvious, thick and straining against the denim. You bit your lip at the sight, heat flooding through you as you stared for a second too long.

Jason noticed. Of course he did.

“What's the matter?” he asked, voice dark with amusement and something much heavier. His eyes flicked back up to yours, watching the way you were still biting your lip as you stared at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "See something you like?"

Then you slid down off the couch and sank to your knees between his spread thighs. Jason’s eyes darkened, his breath catching as he watched you settle there, almost completely bare except for that tiny thong.

You leaned in without hesitation and pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss right against the thick bulge straining in his jeans. The heat of him bled through the denim, and you felt him twitch under your lips. You kissed him there again, firmer this time, letting your tongue drag lightly over the fabric.

A rough sound rumbled in Jason’s chest as one of his hands came down to rest in your hair as he watched you.

You reached for his belt next, undoing the buckle with steady fingers. The leather slid free with a soft sound. You popped the button of his jeans and dragged the zipper down, then hooked your fingers into the waistband and pulled. Jason lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down his thighs, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black Calvin Kleins.

His cock was straining hard against the thin fabric, the outline thick and unmistakable. A small wet patch had already formed at the tip, the thin fabric clinging to the head where he was leaking. You looked up at him once more, then hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulled them down.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower stomach before settling. Eight inches long, flushed dark at the head, with a prominent vein running along the underside. It was girthy enough that your fingers wouldn’t quite meet if you wrapped your hand around it, and the tip was already shiny with precum, a thin string of it stretching as his underwear came down. He was rock hard, twitching slightly in the open air, the scent of him warm and masculine.

You didn’t wait. You leaned in and wrapped your lips around the flushed head, sucking slowly, tasting the salty sweet bead of precum on your tongue. Your hand came up to grip the base, steadying him as you took more of him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive underside.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth the second your mouth made contact, his hips twitching once before he forced them still. His fingers slid into your hair, threading through the strands and gripping, not hard enough to hurt, but firm, possessive. He held you there as you worked him deeper, a rough groan rumbling out of his chest.

That’s it, baby… suck it nice and slow,” he muttered, voice husky as his thumb stroked over your scalp.

He let out another shaky breath when you hollowed your cheeks, his cock twitching against your tongue. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction, guiding you without forcing, his hips giving the smallest, controlled roll.

You moaned around him, the vibration pulling another rough sound from Jason’s chest. His head tipped back as his grip tightened in your hair.

“Fuck, there it is,” he rasped, voice rough and strained. “Keep doing that.”

You didn’t stop. You kept sucking him, slow and steady, taking him deeper each time your head bobbed. Your tongue worked along the thick vein on the underside, swirling around the sensitive head every time you pulled back. The wet, filthy sounds of your mouth filled the space between you, soft sucking, the occasional slick pop when you let him slip free for a breath before swallowing him down again.

Jason’s breathing was getting rougher, his fingers tightening in your hair as his hips gave another small, involuntary roll. Then he tapped the top of your head twice with his knuckles, gentle but firm.

“Hey… stop,” he rasped, voice strained.

You pulled off him with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your lips to the flushed head of his cock for a second before they broke. You looked up at him, lips shiny and slightly swollen, breathing hard.

Jason’s hand stayed in your hair as he looked down at you, chest heaving. His cock twitched in the open air, still rock hard and glistening from your mouth.

“I don’t wanna cum yet,” he said. “Not until I’m inside you.”

You smirked and rose to your feet, climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs. His bare skin felt hot under your palms as you settled over him, the hard length of his cock pressing against the thin fabric of your thong.

Jason’s hands immediately found your waist, gripping you as you leaned in and kissed him. It was messy and deep right away, all tongue and heat, tasting like him. His hands slid up your bare back, pulling you closer until your breasts pressed against his chest.

Then he shifted, leaning forward and taking you with him. You both tumbled backward onto the couch, the cushions sinking under your combined weight. Jason landed on top of you, his body covering yours, one hand braced beside your head while the other stayed on your waist.

He broke the kiss only to drag his mouth down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there, his stubble scraping lightly as he worked his way along your throat. His hips rolled once, slow and deliberate, grinding the thick length of his cock against the damp fabric of your thong as he kissed and licked at your neck like he couldn’t get enough.

You reached down between your bodies, fingers hooking into the thin strap of your thong. You tugged it to the side, exposing your pussy completely, slick, swollen, and aching for him.

Jason pulled back just enough to look down between you. The second his eyes landed on your bare cunt, a low, rough moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck… look at you,” he breathed, voice wrecked.

His hand slid down, and his thumb found your clit instantly, rubbing slow, firm circles over the sensitive bud. You were already so wet that his thumb glided easily, spreading your slickness as he teased you. His cock twitched against your thigh, still rock hard and leaking.

He pulled his hand away after a few more slow strokes, gripping the base of his cock instead. He slapped the thick head against your exposed entrance a few times, wet, filthy sounds filling the air, before lining himself up.

Then he started to push in. The stretch was immediate and intense. The thick head of his cock pressed against your entrance and slowly sank inside, inch by inch. You felt every ridge, every vein as he filled you, the girth stretching you open, the heat of him sinking deeper with every controlled roll of his hips. He was thick enough that your walls had to adjust around him, the sensation bordering on overwhelming as he kept going, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt.

Jason let out a shaky groan right against your neck, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he bottomed out inside you.

He stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, before lifting his head to look at you.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, breath catching as you adjusted to the overwhelming stretch.

“Yeah… it’s just a lot,” you admitted, voice a little shaky.

Jason’s expression softened even as his cock twitched deep inside you.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll start off slow.”

He leaned down and kissed you once, slow and reassuring, before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again.

“Put your legs up.”

You did as he said, lifting your legs. Jason hooked his arms under your knees and hoisted them up onto his shoulders, folding you beneath him. The new angle pushed him even deeper, and you felt every thick inch of him press impossibly further inside you.

He started thrusting, slow, deep, and controlled.

Each deliberate roll of his hips dragged his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in to the hilt. The stretch was intense, the fullness overwhelming in the best way. You could feel him everywhere, the thick girth of him stretching your walls, the heavy weight of him pressing right against that spot inside you with every slow thrust.

A soft moan slipped from your lips, and Jason answered it with a low, guttural one of his own.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groaned, voice strained as he kept the pace steady and deep. “So fucking full of me, aren’t you?”

A broken moan slipped out of you as he thrust in again, the thick stretch making your toes curl.

“Mm… you’re so fucking big,” you breathed, voice shaky and breathless.

Jason pulled back just enough to look down at you, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips even as his cock stayed buried deep inside you.

“Am I?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

You nodded, biting your lip as another slow thrust made your walls flutter around him.

“Mhm…”

The second the sound left your mouth, something in Jason’s eyes darkened. His smirk sharpened, and without another word he started thrusting faster.

His hips snapped forward with more force now, each stroke deeper and quicker than before. The wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin filled the room as he fucked into you harder, his cock dragging along your walls with every powerful thrust. With your legs hooked over his shoulders, he had you folded beneath him, the angle letting him sink impossibly deeper.

You could feel every thick inch of him, the way he stretched you open, the heavy drag of his cock pulling out only to slam back in, hitting that spot inside you over and over. The fullness was almost too much now, intense and overwhelming with the faster pace.

Jason’s rhythm stayed relentless, his hips snapping into you hard and deep. A low groan tore from his throat as your walls clenched around him.

“Fuck… you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense. “You close, baby?”

You could barely form words between the sharp, deep thrusts, but you managed a breathless, shaky nod.

“Yes…”

The second the word left your lips, something in Jason snapped.

He let out a rough curse and drove into you impossibly harder, faster, deeper, the force of his thrusts making the couch creak beneath you. His hips slammed against the backs of your thighs with every brutal stroke, burying his cock to the hilt again and again. The angle with your legs over his shoulders had him hitting so deep it felt like he was splitting you open, the thick stretch bordering on overwhelming as he fucked you with raw, unrestrained power.

The pressure built fast and sharp.

Your orgasm hit you hard, sudden and intense. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his thick cock as you came, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

Your whole body shook beneath him, thighs trembling over his shoulders while wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. You could feel yourself pulsing and squeezing around him, soaking his cock as you rode it out.

Jason groaned at the way you clenched around him, fucking you straight through your orgasm without slowing down, chasing his own release while your cunt milked him. The tight, rhythmic clenching of your orgasm pushed him right over the edge.

A few hard thrusts later, he buried himself deep with a low groan and came, pulsing thick and hot inside you as his hips jerked against yours.

Your breath came in broken little gasps, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. You felt full, stuffed full, and the rhythmic throb of his orgasm kept triggering little aftershocks that made your clit twitch and your belly clench.

It was filthy and perfect, the way your body just took it all without resistance.

Jason stayed buried inside you for a long moment, breathing hard against your neck, his weight pressing you down into the couch. Then, with a low grunt, he pulled out. You felt the drag of his softening cock slipping free, and almost immediately a thick, warm trickle of his cum began to leak from your swollen folds.

It slid slowly down onto the cushion beneath you, warm and sticky, the evidence of how deep he’d been inside you.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair, and swung his legs off the couch. You watched him walk naked over to the coffee table, the muscles in his back and ass flexing with each step.

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes sitting there, flipped it open with his thumb, and shook one out. The click of the lighter was loud in the quiet room. He cupped his hand around the flame, lit the cigarette, and took a slow drag, the tip glowing orange as he inhaled deep. Smoke curled from his lips when he exhaled.

He turned back toward you, still completely bare, cock hanging heavy and shiny between his legs, and walked over. Without a word he held the cigarette out to you, offering the filter end between two fingers.

You reached up and took it, bringing it to your lips. The paper was warm from his mouth. You took a slow pull, the smoke hitting your lungs sharp and familiar, mixing with the haze of sex still clouding your head. You exhaled toward the ceiling, watching the smoke drift while you felt another lazy trickle of his cum slip out of you and cool against your skin.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

previous work

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is anyone active

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Fuck buddy/heist partner Jason who’s adamant that’s it’s just sex and nothing more getting jealous when he sees you flirting with a guy so he swoops in and starts getting all possessive and touchy and is staring down the guy. You weren’t playing into the flirting before but now that Jason’s there you like seeing him get all pent up. He’s beyond pissed and can’t take it anymore so he grabs you and you guys end up having sex in some random room

this could work as a part 2 to this… like after you guys first hook up at his place you make it a regular thing, but after a while you discover that there’s a part of you deep down that wants something a little more serious with him, but you’re too scared to admit it because he thinks it’s just sex and nothing else

then one night you’re at some function somewhere (maybe a house party or something?) with one of your friends and jason just so happens to be there, but you don’t see him until another guy starts flirting with you

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im gonna start working on this now as a part 2 to benefits package i hope all 20 of u guys enjoy 😜

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patiently waiting for that fic

omg i’m seeing this as i’m writing the sex scene 🤪🤪🤪🤪 not long now guys

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hi jason nation <3 my new fic benefits package is nearly done and should come out within a day or less

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thinking about nursing jason after he was in an altercation and ends up getting stabbed and cut. obviously he doesn’t wanna go to hospital so he comes to you. bim just whimpering and groaning and once you’ve cleaned him up he’s still in pain so you make him feel better🤭🤭🤭

omg i love this.... one day ill write a fluff piece based off of this <3

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guys

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Can you write a scene or fic where reader and Jason are in the club together🫦

yes i was at the clubs last night and ughhhh don’t even get me started

imma add this to my list of requests

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getting jason to pick u up drunk from the club oh who said that!!!!!

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can we get a sneak peek of whatever you're working on rn 👀

OR COURSE

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https://www.tumblr.com/gucciduval/822264057725960192/fuck-buddyheist-partner-jason-whos-adamant

Building on this ask bcs I was just listening to what you need by the weeknd he would 100% be so condescending in bed saying things like “can he fuck you like this?” 😩

ohhh goddd yes 😣😣 and “i bet i’m bigger than him” “i bet he wouldn’t be able to make you sound like this” 😣😣

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wait i cannot wait for this one https://www.tumblr.com/gucciduval/822241139887423488/i-guess-we-dont-know-how-old-jason-is-but-i?source=share it sounds so buzzy I'M UPPPP

HEHE YAYYYY IM WORKING ON IT RN

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I really need a fic about being neighbours or roommates with Jason😛

omg this one is going on my to write list !! imagine looking out your window and seeing him shirtless fixing his roof all sweaty and shit like he was in the trailer…. what a slut

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https://www.tumblr.com/gucciduval/822264057725960192/fuck-buddyheist-partner-jason-whos-adamant

wait… this is would def be a perfect pt 2 to that other ask🤭

make it a mini series xoxo

i’m so glad you see the vision too anon omg jason nation you are all going to be spoiled

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do we think jason's a munch? to me has a face of a cocky eater lol

hundred percent cocky eater! ughhh

if i’m like this about him when the game isn’t even out yet i’m going to be so fucking annoying when the game IS out

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Fuck buddy/heist partner Jason who’s adamant that’s it’s just sex and nothing more getting jealous when he sees you flirting with a guy so he swoops in and starts getting all possessive and touchy and is staring down the guy. You weren’t playing into the flirting before but now that Jason’s there you like seeing him get all pent up. He’s beyond pissed and can’t take it anymore so he grabs you and you guys end up having sex in some random room

this could work as a part 2 to this… like after you guys first hook up at his place you make it a regular thing, but after a while you discover that there’s a part of you deep down that wants something a little more serious with him, but you’re too scared to admit it because he thinks it’s just sex and nothing else

then one night you’re at some function somewhere (maybe a house party or something?) with one of your friends and jason just so happens to be there, but you don’t see him until another guy starts flirting with you

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let's play pretend was a little tew good. lemme reread it again!

IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT ANON 🥹🫶🏼