#grand theft auto fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

d-u-s-t-9379 · 1 year

Text

Hi @tdutchartist! And Merry Christmas! I was your @gtavfest secret santa <3

I had so much fun writing this inspired by your celebration prompt! I hope you like it!

Title: Sneaking Beers

Words: 3,870

Ship: Michael x Trevor (My first time writing Trikey! I love reading it but have never been confident in my ability to write it, so I hope you enjoy!)

Summary: The boys go out for one (definitely only one) drink to celebrate a successful job. Drunkenness ensues.

No one had turned the lights on in the motel room. And as the sun had sunk, it found the windows – rosy, prying fingers of light forced through cracks – and painted the walls a sultry orange. But no one was there to witness the warm golden hour and it quickly faded to gloom. And no one turned on the lights

So that it was sitting dark; slipped into night without any acknowledgment of the march of time. No recognition of the day that had passed for all the – no doubt – innumerable creatures who inhabited the economical room. The rats in the walls; the cockroaches beneath the bath; the microbes growing between the sheets. This last should certainly have been afforded some kind of celebration for seeing in a new sunset. Given how short their lives were.

But what no one tells you, is that the question – you know the one. The one that goes If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it. You know. That one?

Yeah.

That question is only important, or even interesting, because we assume the no one – the one who isn’t around to hear – must be human.

No one cares, or thinks about, empty motel rooms.

There must be people in them to make them interesting. To make a story.

So, let’s add some.

---

This is not an empty motel room.

This is an emphatically not empty storage lock up.

Not empty because it contains a car. And not empty because that car contains three dark clad figures.

Their faces are covered by masks – ridiculous, plastic clown masks – and they sit in the car, in the dark. They are listening to sirens outside.

Muffled by the shuttered door of the lockup, the sirens nonetheless grow louder. And louder still.

And then, once more, louder.

Then they receded.

A breath was released. Not by any of the figures in the car. No, they were far too experienced by now to hold their breath for the LSPD. They released no puff of relieved air when the patrol cars fled past without a care in the world.

By the universe then. The breath released.

As though the universe gave a shit.

Or at least, it never had before to the man who climbed out of the motionless vehicle first, yanking off the claustrophobic mask first and tossing it in the back seat. It hit the man sitting there who made a wordless noise of disapproval. Michael De Santa, nee Townley, pulled his phone from his pocket as he levered himself out of the passenger side seat. He squinted in the blinding blue light, and it took a moment for him to find the number. It rang only a couple of times.

‘Hey, Lest,’ he said into the hand piece, keeping his back to the car. ‘Yeah, we got it. Pretty easy actually. Maybe too easy. Ground forces seem to have lost us, but you mind checking they don’t got a bird in the area before we come out of here with our asses hanging out?’

A pause and then Michael said, ‘Okay. Thanks.’

He turned back to find his two accomplices had emerged from the car as well. Franklin was leaning with his arms folded on the roof – he’d taken his mask off too. The third had left his on.

Michael found the plastic eyes – with the dark holes cut out for sight – disconcerting. He looked instead at Franklin. ‘So?’ the younger man asked. ‘We good?’

Michael shrugged before saying, ‘Apparently. No more units in the area and Lester said-’

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a whoop that filled the confined space of the garage. The third man finally ripped off the mask and Michael didn’t think what lay beneath was any easier to look at.

The lock up was hot in the early evening sun, but it was more than just that which drew the sweat from Trevor’s brow. Beneath the heavy structure, eyes glinted. Deceptively keen, deceptively clever eyes. But the grin the spread across his face, that showed all his teeth, was genuine – as much as it was chemically fuelled. Natural and synthetic.

Adrenalin and speed.

‘Lester said,’ Michael repeated loudly, avoiding looking too long at his old running buddy, ‘we should be good to leave the stuff here. Someone will come by and pick it up and we’ll get paid once it’s been verified.’

‘And we got a guarantee on that?’ Franklin asked, eyes narrowed. ‘Like, it’s for definite.’

‘What are you expecting, kid? A pro forma? Guy said he’d pay us on delivery. We gotta take him at his word.’

Trevor scoffed loudly. ‘And we all know what a man’s word means to you, Mikey.’

This earned him a look – albeit short lived. ‘For now,’ Michael continued doggedly, ‘let’s all go home; keep quiet; and see what happens.’

Franklin nodded, but Trevor was blocking the exit. ‘Oooooor,’ he drawled, placing his feet wide and raising his hands to point at them. ‘We could not be total fucking pussies. Go out. Get a few drinks.’ His movements became more energetic as he spoke, more erratic. ‘Fucking celebrate, man! We’ve done a good, long day’s work here. Least we can do is get some beers in.’

Michael looked doubtful, but Franklin was already nodding. ‘Sure, dog. I could use a fucking drink.’

‘Alright!’ Trevor’s hands clapped together – the sound echoed off the wall. ‘Mikey? Come on, sugartits. You owe me a drink.’

‘I don’t know, T. Amanda is-’

‘Fuck Amanda!’

‘Watch it, T.’ The look Michael gave him was dangerous, but at least he was looking at him.

Trevor’s smile grew.

‘Come on,’ he wheedled. ‘One fucking drink. Just to toast our success. Come on. One.’

---

Six, Michael thought, looking down at the heavy-bottomed glass on the table. It shifted before his eyes, splashing amber liquid. No. Seven?

And Michael was laughing. Genuinely, belly-clutching, wiping tears away, laughing. Laughing like he hadn’t in years.

Because Trevor was telling stories.

There were many things about Trevor that were utterly clear to the naked human eye. Many aspects of his personality that made themselves known to even the most obtuse observer. That he hadn’t bathed in a number of months; that some substance stronger than caffeine was fuelling him; that he was dangerous.

But as clear as all these things were, there was still – even Michael must admit – much about him that was unexpected. And one of these hidden attributes, one that was making itself known tonight, was that he was a great storyteller.

‘So the guy – headless chicken in hand – looks at Michael. And Michael’s walking like he’s just shit his pants with all this cash stuffed down the back of his jeans.’ Pausing, Trevor pointed a finger at Franklin, and said, ‘Now, if there'd been a dye pack in this take, that'd’ve been quite a show.’

‘Man, fuck you,’ Franklin said, but he was laughing too.

‘I don’t know how we'd have explained that one.’

Trevor’s eyes slipped to Michael, who shrugged and suggested, ‘Explosive diarrhoea.’

‘Always did say you were full of shit, Mike. But, as it was, we never even got that far. Because before we could even ask if he had a phone we could use, he turns to us and goes-' Trevor’s voice ratcheted up an octave, taking on an exaggerated yokel twang that was completely out of character with where the story was actually set ‘- Hold on just one gosh-darn minute! I know you fel- Bang!’

The table shuddered, ice clinking in glass, as Trevor drove his fist into the surface.

‘Mikey shoots the poor old guy. Straight through the fucking chicken in his hands. Chest cavity explodes. Blood and fucking feathers everywhere!’

Not laughing any more, Franklin looked at Michael, sitting in the booth beside him. Michael shrugged again.

He knew the ending to this story.

‘Then, this man,’ Trevor continued, indicating Michael once more. ‘This man, who has just mowed down droves of pigs; who has just massacred some poor, innocent old farmer. This man steps up to the body, looks down at the gory sight, and says-'

Trevor stopped, hands held out to Michael like a showman presenting his finest act. Looking down at his drink and unable to hide the wry smile creeping across his face, Michael concluded the tale.

‘Poor chicken.’

Trevor was the only one who laughed. Head thrown back and loud enough that, even in the crowded bar, he drew some irritated looks. It was the type of place that, ten years ago, would have been considered a dive. But after a celebrity was spotted slumming it and trying to pass for a normal human being, it had experienced a brief period of trendiness – during which it had exchanged its real grit for the faux stuff. The kind that made you feel like you were somewhere with an edge, while you rubbed elbows almost exclusively with finance bros.

And though the celebrities had long since moved on to other, harder to find spots, their pictures still adorned the walls amidst the store-bought, easily consumed knickknacks of Vinewood glitz and glamour. The bar desperately clinging to their five minutes in the sun. That they had allowed Trevor on the premises was a sign that things were returning to the natural equilibrium though. Already Michael could see the nervousness settling in. Young men in suits looking uncomfortable as their favourite dive bar became just a little too realistically gritty.

Though, Michael was perhaps being unfair on them. After all, Trevor was too gritty for most people.

Grit ingrained so deep within the pores of his skin it would never come off.

‘Yo,’ Franklin said. ‘For real?’ He was looking at Michael with a perturbation he hadn’t in a long while.

‘Look, kid, it’s not what you think. The guy was a retired cop. He knew me from back in the day. Plus he was a prick. Used to beat the ever-loving shit outta his wife. Everyone knew.’

‘As if you gave a fuck about his wife,’ Trevor barked.

Franklin felt the conversation needed some steering. ‘What happened to the chicken?’

Michael looked to Trevor who shrugged and said, ‘Made a mean pot pie.’

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Franklin slipped out of the booth and said, ‘Sure, dog. Was the chicken you put in the pie.’

‘What are you implying, Frankie?’

‘I ain’t implying nothin’, man. You may be inferring some shit, but I ain’t implying nothing.’ He gave the older man a look that was entirely innocent. ‘I’mma hit the pool table. You dogs wanna join?’

‘Nah.’ Michael burped. ‘I stand up right now I’m gon’ end up on my ass.’

‘Trevor?’

‘You go ahead, kid. I’m quite comfortable where I am.’

Michael heard Franklin walk away and concentrated on the table in front of him. The wood grain was flowing water – streaming across the surface in a rippled wave. He blinked and realised his excuse to Franklin had been truer than he'd thought.

It took an effort to raise his gaze and he wished he hadn’t. Because it was only to find Trevor’s on him. Those dark eyes that could glint no matter how dull the light was – like they contained it. Like a log in a burned low fire, black and cracked on the outside but still a scintillating, fluid inferno within. They lit a fire beneath Michael’s skin.

And it sparked his temper.

‘The fuck do you want?’ he snapped before he could stop himself.

The slow smile that unfurled across Trevor’s face was triumphant. ‘Nothin’.’

‘Then quit fuckin’ staring, creep.’

Trevor’s brow shot up. His grin was still amused, and it only pricked Michael’s nerves more. ‘Creep?’

‘Oh, fuck off.’

‘Didn’t realise it bothered you so much.’ There was a creak of cheap pleather as Trevor settled further back into his seat. ‘What, I’m not even allowed to look at you anymore?’

‘Not like this, man,’ Michael muttered. His fingers drummed on the table spanning between them, wood still shifting like sand. He could almost feel it beneath his fingertips.

That’s what they had exchanged it for, right?

What he had exchanged it for.

Fucking sand.

Fucking sand and fucking palm trees.

But he could smell snow.

‘You’ve been staring all day. It’s creepy.’

‘Only ‘cause you’ve been avoiding meeting my eye all day.’

Like a string pulled taut between them, Michael’s eyes sprung up and caught on level with Trevor’s. ‘I-‘ There was heat rising from the collar of his shirt. The AC in this stupid, pretentious dive was probably busted. ‘Like hell I have.’

Trevor’s head cocked to one side. He said nothing.

‘I haven’t,’ Michael insisted, though even to him it sounded unconvincing. ‘I-’ The lies melted on his tongue – dissolved in whisky and salt water – leaving only the truth. Still he hesitated over it. Less than honest at the best of times, Michael had always found it even more difficult where Trevor was concerned. So he took a breath before saying, ‘You look weird.’

Whatever Trevor had been expecting, this drew him up short. His brows crashed back down; fresh fuel to the fire. ‘What?’

Michael looked down again, back to the safety of his drink. He raised it to his mouth but didn’t drink yet. ‘I don’t like that you shaved your head,’ he slurred into the glass. His lips felt strange – swollen.

There was a pause and then. ‘I don’t like that you abandoned me for nine years.’

Bleary eyes found Trevor, grown around mournful frustration. ‘Can we hang out for once without you bringing that up?’

Another pause.

Michael didn’t look this time.

He couldn’t imagine a favourable response. But then Trevor said, ‘Sure, Mikey.’

Though he half suspected this to be Trevor’s intention, Michael looked up again nonetheless. But Trevor wasn’t watching him now. Face turned away, he was staring at the table. One elbow resting on the surface, he scratched at the back of his freshly shorn head.

Michael found himself watching the movement closely. The flex of his roughened fingers and the crease of skin stretched thin across bone, revealing every curve and line.

‘After all,’ Trevor continued after a moment. ‘It’s a celebration.’

---

The strip club was a mistake.

Two blocks before they arrived at its door, Michael had already realised it was a mistake.

It had seemed like such a good idea when they’d left the bar.

But somewhere in the short walk between the two establishments, Michael had sobered up enough to rethink this decision. Still, he followed Trevor and Franklin inside regardless and – after a number of whiskey shots and a couple of private dances – it was back to being the best damn idea they’d ever had.

After all, like Trevor had said, it was a celebration.

And Michael felt like celebrating.

So much so, that he didn’t even care when – several hours and another, fresher number of whiskey shots later – he was all but carried outside by Trevor.

He didn’t care. No he didn’t care. Not at all.

It’s not like there hadn’t been nights in the past, many in fact, that had ended the exact same way. There was something familiar about it. Even now, nearly a decade later and untold pounds heavier, Trevor’s arm around his torso, strong as an iron beam, kept him up. Familiar. Almost comforting.

Not that he cared.

He didn’t care.

‘Ughhh,’ he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of night air. ‘I’m gonna throw up.’

‘Let it all out, bud.’

Michael could feel the words pass from Trevor’s chest to his. ‘Or I’ll shit the bed.’

‘Let it all out.’

‘Ay.’ Franklin’s voice. The kid was still here? Shit. Had he said anything weird? Done anything? He hadn’t- Everything was spinning.

He remembered his eyes were still closed. But opening them didn’t help.

‘He gon’ be good?’ Franklin was asking. ‘He’s pretty drunk-’

‘Yeah, I’m drunk!’ Michael agreed enthusiastically – too loudly. ‘I’m fuckin’ drunk- mm’fuckin’… Bleeeeeh.’

The world heaved and for a terrifying, stomach-lurching moment Michael thought he’d fallen, but it was only Trevor readjusting his hold – pulling Michael’s arm more firmly over his shoulders. ‘He’s fine, kid,’ he assured Franklin easily. ‘I’ve seen him worse. He just needs a bed to sleep it off. I’ll get him home. He’ll be fine.’

Doubt softened Franklin’s voice. ‘Man, you sure?’

‘Trust me.’ Trevor’s was solid as wood. ‘I know him.’

‘I- I know me,’ Michael informed them. He added, in a quieter mumble, ‘I just don’t like me.’

Trevor met Franklin’s pointed look head on and said, ‘Ahh, he’s always saying that!’

And Franklin had to admit that was true. ‘Alright,’ he said, and the word trailed into oblivion. He remembered that he was far from sober himself and suddenly his bed was the most enticing thing he could imagine. And Trevor was sober – well, as sober as T ever got. He’d see them alright.

Right?

But Franklin’s head was spinning too fast now to properly answer that question. With a shake of his head, which he quickly regretted, he waved the two men, alongside his concern, away. ‘Whatever, man,’ he slurred as he stumbled away. ‘I’ll see you next time.’

‘Safe home, kid.’

‘S’f’ome,’ Michael echoed.

And then Michael blinked and Franklin was gone. And they’d teleported several blocks over. And Michael’s head felt like it had a tent peg buried in it. The kind he’d seen fathers teach their sons how to anchor into the ground in movies. Film fathers that took their sons camping. Not like his old man who’d left before teaching him anything approaching useful. Not like his stepfather who had taught him only how to take shit that didn’t belong to him – but never got around to imparting the secret of how to enjoy it.

Not like-

Michael’s feet – half walking, half dragging along the sidewalk – stopped.

Trevor stopped too. He looked over at Michael and their faces were discomfortingly close. ‘What’s up, buddy?’

‘Hey, T?’ Michael’s tongue felt twice its usual size and he had to concentrate on forming the words.

‘Yeah, M?’

‘Did your dad ever take you camping?’ His vision was still blurry, like looking through rippling water, but Michael thought Trevor was frowning.

‘Are you fucking kidding?’

‘Yes… No.’ He laughed through his nose. ‘I always wanted to take Jimmy. But I- I never did. I don’t know why. And now- now…’ He laughed again and, flinging his arms suddenly wide, knocking Trevor away, he gestured in an expansive circle around them. ‘Now, where would I take him? If he was even interested. An alley behind Vinewood Boulevard? A homeless camp under an overpass in Mission Row?’

There was no reply. After a moment, Michael noticed Trevor watching him – not with animosity, but something that might be called thoughtfulness. Michael, swaying on his feet, looked back at him belligerently. ‘What?’ he asked, his voice husky.

He could almost feel the whisky seeping from his pores. Sobriety crept over his limbs, injected by Trevor’s fierce look.

It felt hot. Like morphine in his veins.

‘What are you fucking looking at?’ he snapped.

Trevor stepped forward.

For the first time Michael noticed where they were. The alley was bare and quiet. Gas stains mottled dusty concrete and drains steamed with heavy fug. A half-hearted street light spread a soft glow across the deserted urban landscape. Warm orange light that caught Trevor’s eye.

Michael’s heart stuttered in his chest. He felt lightheaded.

Trevor was close now. And normally that would make Michael nervous. But whether it was the alcohol, or the residual high from pulling off the job, tonight it didn’t. For some reason. Tonight, Michael didn’t step back. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t put space between them.

Still Trevor said nothing. Only looked.

And those eyes – near hidden in the shadow of his heavy brow – were inescapable.

Growing up there had been few restraints in Michael’s life. So long as he didn’t annoy the adults in his life, they couldn’t give a shit what he got up to. So long as they didn’t have to see him, he could pretty much do as he pleased.

There had only been one hard rule.

Never take his stepdad’s beers.

And so, of course, Michael had begun sneaking them at a very early age. And though he could have found other ways to get booze, and though each bottle was a risk of getting the ever-loving shit beat out of him, he kept taking them.

Because it wasn’t about the beer. It wasn’t about getting drunk.

It was about the thrill.

And there and then, in that dingy alley in Los Santos, he felt like that kid again – carefully extracting a glass bottle from an open fridge. Praying that it didn’t clink against the others; or the door didn’t open behind him and his stepdad walk in; or his hitched breathing, deafening to his own ears, give him away.

Michael felt that same thrill now as he reached up and, without looking in those eyes, brushed his fingers against the shorn, bristly stubble on Trevor’s head. He could feel the hot skin, and beneath that thin barrier, his skull.

Heart in his throat and praying the bottles didn’t clink together, Michael asked, ‘Why did you do it?’

Trevor’s voice was low and gruff, and close enough to feel. ‘It was going anyway.’

Michael’s fingers moved, rubbing the strangely soft cranium. Trevor’s face changed, but Michael wasn’t looking to see it.

‘You don’t like it, huh?’

Michael shook his head.

But even he couldn’t be blind to the grin that spread wolfishly across Trevor’s features. ‘Yeah,’ Trevor said softly. ‘You do.’

When Trevor moved it was blurry – fuzzy like a film not quite in focus. And Michael wasn’t sure if – if he’d been sober – he’d have reacted differently. But, confused and cotton-headed, he didn’t draw back. And when Trevor’s mouth crashed onto his it was as teeth. As want and need and heavy desire.

It was as heat and pain. As razors and pleasure.

He didn’t pull away.

He didn’t pull away, he kissed him back.

And the heat and pain and desire and need – it wasn’t all on one side.

In the end it was Trevor who pulled them apart. Only to look – as he had been looking all night – at Michael and, breathless, say, ‘Motel?’

Michael could feel artificially cold air on his cheeks; could smell the contents of a fridge left too long. He nodded.

Bottles clinked.

And Trevor grinned.

‘After all,’ Michael said with his heavy tongue. ‘It is a celebration.’

---

So that it was sitting dark; slipped into night without any acknowledgment of the march of time.

That is, until a key – fumbled in drunken fingers – scraped against the lock.

And the door opened.

36 notes · View notes

artistically-insightful · 2 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, Grand Theft Auto V Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Michael De Santa/Tommy Vercetti, Ken Rosenberg/Tommy Vercetti, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips Characters: Tommy Vercetti, Michael De Santa, Ken Rosenberg, Trevor Philips Additional Tags: mentions of statutory rape, This fic shows the very unhealthy side of Tommy and Ken's relationship, Emotional Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mentions of prison sex, Cheating, Arguments, drug usage, Blow Jobs, General Chaos Series: Part 2 of True Love and Devotion Summary:

Another story showing how little Michael cares about Trevor and his feelings. Featuring Tommy who really couldn't care less about anything. Tommy only wants control and endless blow jobs. Ken is losing it in this fic. Cocaine is one hell of a drug guys.

#Tommy Vercetti X Ken Rosenberg #Trikey #Trevor Philips X Michael De Santa #Grand theft auto vice city #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto V #grand theft auto fanfic

5 notes · View notes

rreskk · 5 months

Text

Heatwave

Summary: Sandy Shores experiences a frightful heatwave in which disturbs Trevor and his sleep, leaving him to use the only source of entertainment - you.

NOTES: Hey guys. I've not answering requests at the moment because I really wanna focus on providing much more focussed fanfics! Trying to improve and experiment with my writing, but this means I'll upload more promising works! :)

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1856

The humidity was ravishing like a spiteful bliss of rushed warmth evaporating from an active volcano. The many layers of heat had tangled Hell into Sandy Shores, the rock roads fuming, the metal trailers sparking and burning up. A horrific heatwave during the summer hours of early dawn. What was present outside was also found inside; unbearable temperatures and sticky mattresses heaving at his naked skin. For once he tried to sleep but it came with a downfall of sweat and irritation. The 3 day bender of meth fuelled chaos ended and the sleep deprivation caught up momentarily. So with tiredness and angst, Trevor attempted to sleep the night before and, almost choked up by the heat, ended up lying there with eyes wide open, his back stuck to the duvet and his whole body measured with sweat — head to toe — every inch.

He glanced over to your sleepy figure and glared with distain. His body rolled forwards and it grinds against your backside, needly asking for some comfort and physical contact while in the moment of Hellish heat. Though you were just as sweaty with the mattress becoming damp, you had somewhat managed to enter the process of a light sleep, your eyes closed and face aching with trickles of sweat.

“Wake up…” his finger brushed across your damp stomach, “Don’t sleep without me.”

This tauntingly disturbed your peace and quiet as you began to stir, his breath heavy on the back of your neck. Throughout the whiplashes of consciousness, his stench grew more intense due to the humidity and increasing pressure of the warm heatwave that caused his bedroom to sickly hold this stream of his sweaty musk. Your nostrils were inflamed at the punch and you peered over your shoulder, just now noticing the layers of sweat painting your skin and sticking to your shirt. He met with your eyes, still frowning.

“What?” You murmured after being eruptively woken.

“I can’t sleep.” He simply said like it was your fault.

Begging to differ, your stomach coiled at his demonising scent and slowly, you sat up from the sticky sheets.

Trevor immediately followed you with his eyes and took advantage of the free access to your body, his hands grabbing at your waist and them warm fingers sliding across your bare skin. It made you shiver as the contrast of your sweat and his sweat mixed. The sensation was more or less hot AND bothering, an unwanted caress of butterflies moving around in your tummy and making it harder to breathe. Them damned hands are only making this heatwave worse for you.

“Trevor.” You’d warn since the illy-balanced fractures of bodily temperatures were apparent to cause future sickness.

“What?” He grubbed in response, scowling. His touch remained fixated on your waist and quietly ushering you closer to his side of the bed.

Knowing it wasn’t smart to argue against this revoltingly lustful intimacy, you shook your head to avoid any more of that sober grumpiness.

“This fuckin’ heat is killing me…” And with a slight tug, you were pulled back and into his lap. Your head planted onto the sweaty chest and he gazed down with a snarky smirk. “Hey.”

A hesitant muffle left your lips as you obtained the urge to find comfort in this gooey, humid situation. While lying against Trevor was a diamond in the rough, it didn’t help with your hair and clothes sticking to your body. Overstimulation, at its finest.

“It’s too hot for this.” You protested and attempted to sit up from his close proximity.

“Is it?” He questioned before grabbing the back of your shirt. “It’s never too hot to spend quality time with my girl.”

Your body went into immediate shut down and you couldn’t hold back the grudge. Limply falling back, you gave him a deceitful sigh. “C’mon, please. We both are tired—“

“From what I can remember, you were sleeping fine. Almost too fine…” He murmured.

“Before you woke me up.”

Trevor grimaced, “What’s wrong? You don’t want to spend time with dear ol’ Trev?”

“I didn’t mean it like tha—“ Before your sentence barely spat from your tongue, his hand perversely broke an entrance down your sweatpants, harshly groping at your pussy through your sweat-shaking undies. “Fuck!”

You felt him smirk at your initial reaction. Trevor increased his grip as your back arched, the overwhelming presence of heat turning into an internal arousal, defeating your inner dignity. He maintained your steady position in his lap while that hand only abuses your pussy harsher, suddenly clawing at your clit through the damp cloth.

“Trevor, stop…” You struggled with a smile, rocking your hips and thrusted into his hand.

“Atta girl. You love it, don’t you?” He whispered as his lips remained attached to your neck. His voice vibrated throughout your body, assisting the rush of blood to your stomach and lower. And from what you could tell, as that growing urge bulged from his crotch, he was excited as well. A bit too excited.

Disabled of vocalisation – jerking your hips is the only way of communicating since he had stolen your words. How he responded was physically intimate. His finger, clinging to your panties, pulling it aside and freeing the wet mess caused by his monster teases. You just wanted to rip off your clothes and free yourself from the chambers of sweat and overstimulation but he enjoyed watching you grow frustratingly sweaty and sticky. His eyes were peeled upon the hair that stuck to your face, the silhouette of droplets on your forehead and neck illumining from the lamp beside the bed. Trevor always loved it hot and messy, heatwaves setting him off when you submit such a sight to behold.

You clumsily pulled down your lazy sweatpants with the damp panties, kicking it away with the jerk of your feet. Now you could see his veiny, pulsing hands that dared to finger your clit more than it already is. With circular motion, you watched his thumb press down and interrogate the sex, assassinating the build-up of tension starting within your thighs and making them shake with anticipation.

“Oh yeah, that’s how I fuckin’ like it.” You heard him moan when sighting your exposed lower body.

As predicted, he shuffled around, your back hitting the mattress instead of his chest and his hand, based on your clit, increasing in pressure as he used it to continue the yearnful pleasure. You moaned, eyes closed, feeling his shadow looming over your body when another hand opened up your legs more.

“Look at me, baby.” Trevor pled.

“I can’t.” Everything was spinning that you didn’t have the guts to face him in fear of coming too early.

“Yes you fucking can.” He reached for your face and aggressively open up one of your eyes, grinning when your pupils expanded at the sight of his face. Sweat, perverted eyes, wobbly lips, sharply inhaled chest that his ribs were exposed, you were devastatingly attracted to this ugly version of him.

There he was, your dirty man; all rugged for your taste and all energised for the next taster. Trevor ensured you were to keep your eyes open before glancing down, his briefs hanging around his thin waist, tugging it further down until the happy-trail trickled towards the V-line, then hitting the sight of his touch-starved cock that was caked in god-knows how much sweat. It trembled when the dim light of his night-lamp stared it down, showing off the ugliness and divine ravenous.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, beastly needing the Devil’s touch.

Trevor whimpered and lined his cock against your loose pussy, his thumb remaining tightly against your clit to keep you actively pleasured. Inhaling the last freedom of oxygen, he pushed inwards and took control. You both moaned at the intense gratification and fulfilment.

“Mhm… Yeah, that’s right,” He breathed when thrusting, his sweat being used as lube, “God, I fucking love you!”

You were being rattled relentlessly against the mattress as your back was inhumanly stuck to the material with nothing but pure sweat. His hands gripped your thighs and kept it wide apart when rocking in and out of your pussy, ignoring how frantically they were shaking. It made your head toss and turn to try and express this unnatural wave of euphoria.

Trevor chewed his bottom lip and adjusted himself onto his knees, leaning forward, lifting your legs up, the access to your sex getting bigger and the deeper he gets to fuck you. His hair was coiled in every direction despite the thinness after it was beyond bewildered by the caking of lather. It would occasionally drool down his face and drip onto your naked skin, his own fluids from the flesh of his body warming you up while he’s inside you – how dirty and filthy – how you are bonding and loving it like a Heavan in disguise.

“Trevor! Harder!” You unconsciously whined.

He shakingly gritted his teeth and slammed his hips wildly, “Shut –“ His voice lowered, “– the fuck up, baby. Fuck!”

“Please!”

The witch-craft – or as for now, bitch-craft – of your weak voice made him stammer forwards even more, his cock rapidly beating you to a pulp, just like you wanted.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and panted while he dismantled you like a doll. The sweat becoming equally as arousing, unlike before. He was taking great care of your pussy by demolishing it. So sweet and exasperating, a last blow threw you downhill and you gave him a high-pitched moan. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“Cum for… Fuck… FUCK!” Trevor aimed to command you but it backfired as he could barely hold himself hostage. So in a haze of immense desire, he pressed his wrenched forehead against yours and memorised this moment before the urge to cum was threatening to follow.

“Ah! Oh! Ohh…” A hurtful whimper lasted for seconds as your whole tummy went into a series of spasms, cum squirting out, painting his cock which was flooded with more warmth and more wetness than it already was. Trevor kept on fucking you through the orgasm and moaned your name repetitively, staring at you through his eyebrows as sweat dripped off his skin and onto your cheek like a dog drooling from it’s mouth.

Your face scrunched up and your climax met with his, a sudden blow of fluids attacking your pussy and deeper. He threw his head back and shouted. “FUCK! YES!”

The bed stopped creaking and shaking when he collapsed onto you. His face buried itself in the crook of your damp neck and his cock stayed inside you while it shook off the rest of his cum. The only sound was the shared breathing between you both that was as familiar as a wolf feasting its prey.

“Yeah…” He murmured suddenly, hands hugging your curves and more of his body weight pressing against you.

Rubbing his back, you whispered, “That felt so good…”

Trevor didn’t respond and closed his eyes. You were left comforting his tired body as he finally fell asleep, probably sleeping for the next 12 hours and caging you under his weight, making you roll your eyes but smile.

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevorphilips #trevor philips/you #trevor philips headcanons #grandtheftauto5 #grandtheftauto #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction #my fanfic

204 notes · View notes

starksinner · 7 months

Text

Why Didn't You Stop Me?

Summary: You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay.

Pairing: Trevor Philips x AFAB!Reader, Franklin Clinton x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Content, Possessiveness, Fuckbuddies, Unhealthy Relationship, Average GTA Stuff

November 16th, 2017.

It was easy to regret not catching a ride back to Los Santos with Franklin in his sexy white Bravado Buffalo S.

Regret is easy, regret you know. Regret can grow and grow it does as you make eye contact with the hillbilly jacking off next to the icebox in front of the Yellow Jack Inn.

After a couple of days gallivanting around the desert shit-pile that was Sandy Shores, Franklin deemed that your weed-fuelled, fuck-filled adventures had reached a necessary end.

Despite his intriguing offers of more shenanigans and freaky sex once you both got back home, you weren’t all that keen on leaving the town of meth production and Republican rednecks just yet.

“M’gonna go see him,” you sighed, resting your head back against the stained motel pillow.

Moments before, as Franklin had fucked you raw into the cheap motel mattress, you were met with the smell of blood and piss and cum as your face was shoved into the shitty cushion.

Despite the abysmal scent, the man was taking you so good and so fuckin’ hard, you couldn’t force yourself to care.

Now though, as you laid sated in your post-climax glow of sweat and semen, the smell against your cheek served as an unignorable reminder of your still bleeding heart.

That man, that asshole, that meth-head-Trevor-Philips-piece-of-fucking-shit—goddamnit.

You still hopelessly, stupidly, selfishly loved him. The fucked kind of love.

Always caked in blood, smelling like piss after running off to get high and grinning like an evil bitch as he came all over your chin and tits. The smell of the Derelict Motel—the sheets, the pillow, the musty air—was all just a nauseating reminder of how much you missed him.

Your therapist was gonna kill you.

“You know that ain’t a good idea,” Franklin murmured, running his thumb over the plushness of your bottom lip.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but shiver at the way he looked at you, his gaze so soft and so full of adoration.

He made you feel like you weren't just a burning shitpile of flesh, bones, and substance abuse issues.

Frank is a good friend, a great man, a nice fuck. He was always there to bring you back down to Earth. He was so easy to love and you sure as shit loved him a whole lot. Beautiful fuckin’ man. “He ain’t right in the head about you.”

“We both know he ain’t right the head about nothin’,” you argued, leaning your body over his. Beautiful man.

“And he’s a big boy. He can take it. Whatever I wanna throw at him.” Your legs quickly became tangled, Frank’s hands resting over your hips as you smiled and played with his chest hair. “He can fuck all the people he wants, but I can’t touch or look or fuckin' breathe around anyone but him? He’s a fuckin’ ass.”

“He fell for you, girl. T’s always been crazy an’ possessive, his shit ain’t nothin’ new.” Franklin snuggled your body closer to his, sighing softly as he pressed his face into the warm crevice of your neck.

He couldn’t control himself, not when he had you like this. You were so hot and so sweet and just so fucking delicious.

Shit.

His lips lingered over the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, his tongue reaching out to tease a fading bruise. He did that. He made that. He marked you.

Fuck.

He groaned as you gave him easier access by raising your chin, letting him worship you like the real fuckin’ princess he always thought you were.

“He was fuckin’ paranoid and possessive in all the worst fuckin’ ways, Frank. I fuckin’ hate him for how he acted when I said I was leavin’ but I still...miss him.” You hummed softly as you felt Franklin’s lips suck right over your pulse point, his teeth just brushing over your delicate skin.

You held down the urge to beg him to bite you.

“Yeah, you miss him, but ain’t nothin’ gonna be solved if you both end up killin’ each other...or fuckin’ each other,” Frank breathed roughly against the shell of your ear as his hand wandered across your stomach and down to your aching clit.

He immediately preened at your wetness and teased the bundle of nerves with soft, circular motions. You gasped as you felt his cock harden and twitch against your thigh, begging for your pretty fucking attention.

He grinned and quickly shoved a finger into your cunt, making you moan and writhe oh so beautifully against him. “Jus’ come back home with me, baby…”

You could barely solidify your thoughts, whimpering like you were.

His motions were so smooth and perfect and rhythmic. Frank was good at a lot of things, but you considered his talent of fucking you mindless as one of his top three.

You immediately felt your wetness start to leak down your thighs. “If he still isn’t over it...I’ll fuck off, hitch a ride, meet you back at your place…yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” he gripped your throat just how you like and shoved another finger into you, leaving you mewling and squirming in his grasp. You reached for him, hard and thick in your palm, and squeezed.

The best girl.

If you were parting ways, Franklin was gonna have you one last time. He understood Trevor’s possessiveness. You were great company, a great fuck, a great woman.

Addicting, hell blazing, heavenly—you were everything. So fuck yeah, he was gonna have you as many times as he possibly could. “Lemme take care of you, babygirl, then you’ll be all good to go.”

The Yellow Jack Inn has never been known for its posh customers or regular demonstrations of human decency, but a man jacking it in front of such a fine all-American establishment is still a sight you couldn’t have properly braced yourself for.

As the ash of your blunt falls to the dirt, your eyes stay transfixed on the man by the icebox as he lets out a disturbing howl and drops to the ground.

His pants are stained, his dick disgusting and soft. He lets out a series of groans as he turns to lie flat on his stomach, his cock scraping against the sand.

Jesus H. Christ. What a charmer.

You manage to twist away from the scene in repugnance and perhaps a more sinister part of you in mild delight, settling yourself in the alley next to the bar.

You restlessly attempt to calm yourself against the brick, picking at its shoddy green paint job before you begin rolling another blunt.

You’re stalling. Like a little bitch. It's embarrassing how much a man can turn you into such a conniving fickle coward. Perhaps not just any man. Your paranoid fuckin’ shitshow of a somewhat ex-lover.

Embarrassing. Unbecoming. Completely mindfucked.

You know Trevor’s inside. He’s an enigma, a loud, idiot one at that. Over the noise of clanked bottles and shitty laughter, you can hear him.

Stupid, how much of him you can hear. And see. And smell. And understand. In everything and anywhere and with anyone. He never leaves you even when he’s left you. He never leaves you even when you've left him. He’s a parasite that you’ve coddled, and cared for, and loved and fucked.

The timber of his voice warms you in a special, fucked up kind of way. It’s familiar and it’s settling and it kills you to know that he’s spent fourteen months ridding you of it. Of him. His clinical insanity has rubbed off on you beautifully. You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay.

God.

Would he kill you? Kiss you? Fuck you? You’re still stalling.

Maybe all three?

Being the oil to a homicidal cannibal’s match, you could never really know what the fuck you were gonna get. You anticipate an explosion, but you’re clueless to its degree.

You pocket your blunt, walk over the man with his dick in the sand, and open the door to the biggest health hazard in California.

Chapter 2

a/n: found this oldie from 2021 that i was in the mood to refresh & post! i haven't written in literal years, be nice to me! also, happy ten years to this stupid fucking game. i love u. i feel old (i'm not) and i'm tired (constantly) and i hope you enjoyed (lie to me if you didn't) :3

✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ send me an ask / let's chat! ✧

#trevor philips x reader #franklin clinton x reader #trevor philips #trevor philips x oc #franklin clinton #gta v #grand theft auto v #gta fanfiction #gta fanfic #the protagonist #gta online

132 notes · View notes

namelessedospuntosp · 2 months

Text

Knowing that a writer on wattpad wants to make carl and woozie's relationship look like jinx's makes me mad.

I mean... You know woozie is going to tell cj to go fuck himself if he dares to treat him badly AND EVEN BE ABLE TO KILL HIM IF CARL TRIES TO RAPE HIM????

Seriously, didn't you see the cinematics about how woozie would get angry, the insulting dialogues and the threats? He would be able to set you on fire, rob you, murder you or anything if you dare to do anything to him.

So cj would already be dead if he tries to do anything to you without your consent.

besides that, woozie would be pretty disappointed in cj if he does that. (and there's a dialogue where woozie says "cj, you disappoint me" if carl hits him).

in canon, the two's friendship has more dynamics than cj's 6 girlfriends, it's pretty healthy and they both care about each other.

By wanting to make their relationship more questionable as cute, you make me understand that you are a nutcase who only forgive rapists for being cute.

Cj wouldn't be able to do that to woozie, his sister kendl gets harassment from tenpenny and polaski

he knows how horrible it is to be stalked because of her experience.

Summary: Eliminate jinx and other manga that romanticize toxic relationships. the fans of those manga are the same ones who complain if a movie does the same thing but with a straight couple.

#gta #gta san andreas #gta sa #grand theft auto san andreas #grand theft auto #carl x woozie #cj x woozie #woozie x cj #woozie #cj #carl johnson #wattpad #fanfic

23 notes · View notes

daryj · 4 months

Text

LOVE IS A LONG ROAD

And give her one more chance To try and save my soul But love is a long, long road Yeah, love is a long, long road

23.12.2023

obs: qualquer inspiração, credite-me, por favor!

ps: essa música não sai da minha cabeça..

16 notes · View notes

asdear · 7 days

Text

So, as promised, here's my first fanfic that'll go on here. This is with Lamar and the female protagonist. 👀

I hope y'all enjoy. 😏

(18+ warning: strong language, sexual content)

The young woman walked out of the airport building, taking a moment to look at her surroundings. Some people were standing around her, either talking or meeting up with other people. In her case, she was one of those who'd meet someone there.

Arriving in the city of Los Santos, she hoped that she could unwind and relax upon meeting her online friend, Lamar. After all, the hours spent in a cramped airplane seat had left her tired.

It did not take long for her to notice him standing by his car, and she walked up to him, spotting a flower in his hands. The sight of him holding it caused her to become confused, making her wonder if it was just a simple gift or if he was interested in being more than friends.

However, her thoughts were answered as she approached him.

"God damn, girl," he commented. "You fine as a motherfucker!"

She reached out and grabbed the rose. As he proceeded to compliment her, she awkwardly glanced around before throwing it onto the ground behind her. He, taken aback by the sight, paused for a brief second.

"Uh... you know... you know, we've been online for so long," he continued. "You know, it's time for us to take our relationship a little bit further. You know, like... in like... a sexual way or something."

She quickly took a couple of steps back and raised her hands in the air, trying to stop his attempt to grab her waist.

"Oh, my bad. It ain't like that? Excuse me, you know?" He paused again. "Fuck it, that's neither here nor there."

She shook her head as she observed him walking toward his car, her quietly following behind. She had only recently arrived in the city, and yet her friend was already showing sexual attraction.

The moment when he attempted to touch her caused her to smirk, finding it more amusing than infuriating. Certainly, she had never expected it to happen.

As she settled into the car, closing the door behind her, she was surprised to see a pistol being handed to her in her left hand.

She started to inspect the firearm, ensuring it was loaded. As she focused on it, the sound of Lamar flirting with her filled her ears again, causing her to look over at him.

"Give me a tongue kiss," he chuckled.

She moved the gun barrel upwards, angling the weapon in his direction.

While she initially found his comments amusing, she began to grow slightly annoyed by them.

"My bad, okay. Let's go."

During the car ride, she had been informed that she would participate in a street race the same night. It had caught her off guard, as she had not anticipated such an event upon her arrival in the city.

Strangely, though, she was excited about it.

Upon arriving at a parking lot, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her, walking away from the car as she waited for Lamar to end a phone call he had to make.

To make herself less bored and impatient, she observed the passing cars on the road near them, each one speeding quickly by. She then lowered her head toward the ground and wandered around near the spot she was originally standing in.

Soon, she heard the sound of the other car door opening, and she watched as he exited the car and walked toward her. A grin crept across her face as if she was asking him what took him so long.

"My bad, baby," he remarked, tucking his phone away in his pocket. "Got distracted talking to the auntie. Now... where the fuck were we?"

She only shrugged her shoulders at him.

"Right, right. So... we need to get you a car, and we can fuck up the streets of Los Santos. And after we race, I can introduce you to my boy, G. He got some jobs you can do. I think I told you about him, didn't I?"

The girl nodded in response.

"Alright, alright. Cool. My brain be fucked sometimes, you feel me?" He paused for a moment, sighing. "Let's find you a car first, alright? Better pick a good one. You ain't gonna beat me."

She silently laughed and shook her head.

"There's some over there," he told her, pointing at some nearby cars behind her. "Why don't you go take one of them?"

She turned around, her eyes set on two vehicles parked on the opposite side of the parking lot. She noticed one of them was a sedan, while the other was a muscle car. Assuming the muscle car would be faster, she pointed at it and turned her head back toward him.

"You going for that muscle car? Shit, you have a good taste in cars, baby. Let's race then!"

Excited for the street race, she made her way toward the muscle car. The red and black vehicle appeared like it was locked, yet she was lucky enough to casually open the door. Upon entering, she did not need a key, as she hotwired it with no issues.

Driving the car out of its parking space, she soon positioned it alongside Lamar's vehicle in the middle of the road. To her surprise, the street had now become empty, causing her to wonder if the traffic temporarily died down.

Directing her gaze to her right side, she watched him as he rolled down his window, prompting her to do the same with her passenger side window.

"How about I make a deal with you?" he hollered from his car. "If you win, shit... then you win! That's that! But if I come in first... I got something I wanna try with you, girl! Just one time! I hope you won't think I'm some motherfucking creep for it!"

She could only frown at him, confused by his words, but as it clicked, she took her eyes off him in disbelief.

Was he serious?

Despite knowing the suggestive affection he initially showed, she found herself shocked by his deal. However, part of her believed he would not pressure her if she declined.

Surely, he would not go as far as annoying her about it constantly.

"Alright, baby!" he yelled, leaning out of the car window. "Let's see what you got! And I do mean 'baby' in a totally non-sexual way!"

Throughout the entirety of the race - from the very first starting point - she was lost in her thoughts, though she tried her hardest to stay focused. Many questions had swarmed her mind, making her feel concerned about her new criminal life in the city.

Would she ever get into trouble with the law?

Could she get killed?

In her hometown, evading the law had been easy for her, but she feared Los Santos would be a challenge to do illegal activities in. After all, it was a new place for her, and she had no idea yet how things worked there.

Eventually, the race reached the end, with her unfortunately finishing in last place. Lamar moved his vehicle into an empty parking lot and stopped it, with her pulling up beside him afterward and looking over to her left at his car.

"Ha!" he laughed. "I win! I told you that you wouldn't beat me!"

In response, she smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

"What do you say? This lot is empty, so we can go ahead and... you know! Or we can go to my place! I'm down for either!"

She quickly spotted a secluded area within the parking lot, the spot being dark with a few walls surrounding it. She extended her arm out of her car window and pointed toward the area.

"What?" he asked, staring in the same direction. "We going there?"

She nodded in response.

"Alright! Looks like a good spot!" He redirected his focus onto her. "You wanna hop in my car?"

She exited her car and closed the door behind her.

"That's a yes then, huh?"

She didn't reply as she opened the passenger door and sat inside.

"Just making sure: you wanna go along with this?" He placed a hand on his chest as he spoke. "I mean, I know I sound pushy, but I'm a good guy. I don't wanna make you think I'm some creepy dude. You can back the fuck out if I'm making you uncomfortable."

She nodded.

"Shit, alright. If you say so."

He drove his car to the empty section of the parking lot, parking it and switching off the engine.

As he turned it off, she glanced around, realizing she had chosen a good spot. She thought it was very dark from a distance, yet she did not know beforehand if it would completely hide them.

"Why don't I prepare you?" he asked her. "I'm sure you ain't wet yet. Are you?"

She shook her head at him.

"Well, then how about I help with that? Come sit on my lap."

She carefully moved herself from the passenger side to the driver's seat. The car, not being very spacious and roomy, resulted in an awkward moment between them; the girl had unexpectedly gotten stuck. Though with a bit of effort, she finally climbed onto him.

She kneeled against the seat and settled on his lap, making some minor adjustments at first to ensure she was comfortable. Once she repositioned herself, she gently rested her hands on his chest.

Lamar chuckled in response, his hands laying against both sides of her waist. "Man, you fit as hell. I like that."

At first, she had been uncomfortable with him displaying sexual interest in her, but as the moment was happening, she quickly adjusted and consented to his affection.

To especially show him that she was enjoying it, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slowly lifted it, neatly folding it to let it rest over his chest. With a shy smile on her face, she proceeded to tenderly caress his chest.

He responded to her actions by moving his hands away from her waist, firmly gripping both sides of her ass. The sensation caused a quick gasp from the mute woman, which then triggered another smile from her.

"Mmm, your ass feel fine as fuck - all nicely round and shit. You like me grabbing it, baby? Looks like you do."

She could feel him exploring every inch of it. Although her insides still felt somewhat dry, a throbbing sensation within her began to build up from his touch, making her grow desperate for much more.

No longer caressing his chest, she delicately tapped her hand on his left arm, causing him to stop his actions and look up at her with curiosity.

"Whatcha want?" he asked her. "Something wrong?"

Shaking her head, she paused to figure out a way to tell him about what she wanted him to do next.

Once she knew how to "talk" to him, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt with one hand and slowly lifted it, enough that only her stomach was exposed. She directed her eyes onto him and her hand a few times, hoping he would understand her.

He responded by staring at her, puzzled by her gesture.

Letting out a quiet sigh, she released her shirt, once again tapping his arm, before grabbing the bottom of her clothing and repeating the gesture.

He quickly caught onto what she was trying to tell him. "Oh, shit. My bad, girl. You want me to take your shirt off?"

She nodded eagerly at him.

"Alright, alright. Let me get that off you then."

With the limited space in the car, it took him a bit of effort and time to remove her shirt. However, he eventually got it off, which revealed her bra that had been hidden underneath.

Without hesitation, she also discarded the undergarment, her average-sized breasts gently dropping in their normal place after being tightly confined. Placing it on the passenger seat by her shirt, she took notice of his own shirt, gesturing him to also remove it.

In a matter of a minute or so, the two friends had found themselves shirtless.

Contemplating her next action, she realized that removing her pants and underwear within the small and cramped space would be a challenge, unless she had to step outside just to do so. Instead, she lowered them partially, exposing her entrance and aligning it with his crotch.

Staying kneeled on the seat, she straightened herself up again, allowing him to unzip his pants and pull out his dick through the front pocket. Although she couldn't fully see its size, she hoped it wouldn't be too big.

Immediately, she could feel the tip brushing against her skin, and the sensation alone caused a surge of arousal within her. Lamar tried lining the tip to her entrance, and the second he got it aligned, he began to slowly insert it, though it did not go in very deeply.

Removing his hand from his cock, he looked up at her confidently. "Settle yourself on me, baby."

Listening to him, she lowered herself more onto him, also being relieved that his length was neither too thick nor too long.

The last thing she wanted was a size that was too much for her.

She curled her fingers against his chest, and a gasp escaped her lips from his dick sitting inside of her. The pulsating sensation of it, matching with her insides throbbing, brought her pleasure almost right away.

"Shit... don't you feel nice?" he commented. "Do your thing, girl."

She started to grind on him, her hips slowly moving up and down. As she did so, a sudden, huge wave of pleasure surged through her body, causing her to feel wet almost instantly.

Keeping her eyes on him, she loosened the tension in her hands and laid her palms on his chest. His lips curled into a smirk as he stared up at her, and she couldn't help but respond with a playful smile as well.

As she continued to ride him, it was not long before he reached up and tenderly caressed her breasts with both of his hands. The touch came as a surprise to her, but the feelings within her controlled her so much that she could not protest. She nodded at him silently, encouraging him to continue doing what he was doing.

As some time went by, she could feel herself growing even more sensitive, as her legs easily started to slightly shake and twitch. Although their moment appeared intimate and nothing crazy, she experienced intense sensations as if she was riding him faster and energetically.

And so, that was what she did. After what felt like a long time, she could tell he was getting bored of the slow, gentle sex, even though he had never verbalized it to her.

She peeked at his lower body, her fingers tensing and curling once more on top of his skin, and bit her lip. Her ass quickly bounced up and down against him, and she nearly released a moan. Aside from the feeling of his dick inside of her, his touch on her upper body was enough to drive her completely wild.

"Shit, baby." He paused to keep his hands on her breasts. "You fucking good at this."

She directed her focus back on him, a smirk creeping across her face.

"You normally ride dudes like this? Man, you a motherfucking freak... and I mean to call you a 'freak' in a good way."

She could only stare downward at his lower body, her smile still spread across her face. Having a history of trying various positions with men in her hometown, the one she loved the most was the riding position.

To her, it was a lot of fun... much more than the others she had previously tried.

Releasing his hands from her breasts, he gently rested them on her hips, gripping each side. His fingernails lightly pressed against her skin, causing a faint poking sensation that she did not pay any attention to.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with his own pleasurable sensation that was different from what she was feeling. For him, there were feelings within his lower body that nearly pushed him over the edge. However, he was not yet about to finish, as the urge to had not yet come to him.

On the other hand, the girl experienced feelings which had physically impacted her. Not only did her vagina pulsate and throb, but her legs trembled and shook a lot more than before, though she tried to keep them as steady as possible. Her heart was also beating fast, enough that she felt as if it was about to burst through her chest.

She certainly did not regret accepting his deal by then.

The moment between them was too incredible for her.

She could sense the dam within her being on the verge of fracturing. It caused her to gasp, her hands clenching into fists. She was uncertain if he was close, too, but she realized that she was herself.

"Mmm... fuck, girl," he remarked. "You... you about to make me fucking bust."

She peeked down at him, trying to give him another smile, though she was unexpectedly interrupted by another surge of pleasure. The intensity nearly resulted in a scream from her, but being unable to talk, no sound escaped her.

Then, in a matter of moments, the dam finally cracked open. She sat down and clenched her fists even tighter, her legs convulsing violently as she rode out her orgasm.

Coincidentally, she felt his climax occurring almost at the same time. Never did she anticipate that they would be synced, and she was taken aback by it. Though she felt him releasing his warm cum deep inside of her, she was too transfixed by the overwhelming sensations of her own orgasm, unable to fully comprehend the idea of wanting to have him pull out. Instead, she only sat there, allowing him to coat her insides.

Once things calmed down between them, she allowed herself to relax, maintaining her sitting position atop him. Another grin crossed her face, as if she was asking him if he was satisfied.

After all, he had been desperate to do sexual things with her.

He chuckled, his focus staying on her. "That was... good. Shit. But we should probably get the fuck out of here before some motherfucker sees us. Maybe we can chill somewhere else after all that. Why don't you get back in your car?"

In response, she nodded and lifted her body, allowing him to take his dick out. She then pulled up her underwear and pants before opening the driver's side door, awkwardly and slowly exiting the car.

"Oh, don't you forget these, baby! Don't wanna be driving around with those titties out!"

She looked at him, noticing him holding out her shirt and bra to her. She smirked as she shook her head and took the clothing items from his grip.

#gta #grand theft auto #gta online #grand theft auto online #gta 5 #gta v #lamar davis #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfictions #smut

7 notes · View notes

gunsoffire · 2 months

Text

Started numbering my posts so I can keep track of how many I made and ID them, and holy shit I post way too much; I joined the GTA fandom literally 23 days ago!

#Post 61 #I'm not stopping anytime soon #It's becoming more than just screenshots too #I said I was going to only write one fanfic but I have an idea for a Patrevor one #And I still need to draw some [GOOD] art #my thoughts #type: text #grand theft auto

9 notes · View notes

czechkris91 · 6 months

Text

I’m almost done with my next chapter of “The Price They Paid”! I’m also working on a oneshot based between my two main stories. It will follow that timeline and events. Should have it out by December.

#ao3 author #ao3 update #fanfic #gta iv #niko bellic #kate mcreary #grand theft auto #ao3 writer #ao3 #grand theft auto 4 #niko and kate #gtaiv #nikobellic

9 notes · View notes

mfdoomfist · 18 days

Text

“Hmmm to write GTA V oviposition or not to write GTA V oviposition, that is the question”

#ao3 writer #grand theft auto #gta v #gta online #gta 5 #writing #fanfic #ovi

3 notes · View notes

d-u-s-t-9379 · 1 year

Text

Hey, guess who spent way too much time designing a fake cover for her fanfic instead of actually writing it???

#gta v #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #gtav #gta5 #gta 5 fanfiction #gta v fanfiction #gta fanfiction #grand theft auto fanfic #fanfic #grandtheftautov #graphic design #title drop #the sequel is a-comin'#tfof #tsos

13 notes · View notes

dark-t1des · 1 year

Text

chapter 6: where Trevor gets a little toooo Trevor, and you get a little too drunk 👀

Trevor Philips x you story!

#trevor philips #gta v #gta 5 #gtav #grand theft auto v #trevor phillips x reader #trevor philips x you #trevor philips x oc #gta v fanfiction #gta v fanfic #gta 5 fanfic

34 notes · View notes

rreskk · 2 months

Text

ASLEEP

Summary: Trevor has a habit of acting upon his urges. You woke the moment before he could, and you made him deal with the mess himself.

TW: Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1489

Trevor dragged his legs across the wooden porch and opened the door with his prominent hips, eyes immediately searching for you in this needy, horrifically restless state. His heartbeats were rapid and he was experiencing a haze of sobriety for the first time in a while. It was taking a toll on him, explaining the random bursts of deprivation where the meth would “cure” it.

He grumbled when you were absent from the main room until he peeked his head through the bedroom doorway, seeing you sprawled out on his bed, asleep. He promised to be back hours early so he couldn’t blame you for sleeping, yet he was crossed. His brows furrowed and he dragged his heavy legs towards the bed. You were sleeping so effortlessly. It made him think you weren’t excited for his return despite spending time together the morning prior. Spending time, he really meant arguing but he refused to see the fault being him.

“Hey.” He murmured into your ear, gaining no verbal response. Instead, you snuggled further into his mangled sheets and breathed out with ease. Your face, light and peaceful, without his comfort.

Trevor placed a finger and outlined your shoulder, caressing the barely exposed skin but calming down at the physical touch. Unconscious or not, he really needed to be praised with your attention. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“Hey.” He repeated and properly loomed over you. His frame shadowed and blocked out the light from his lamp, hiding the small details on your face, making the warmness turn cold. And you remained dead.

This was not aiding his pining aches. Trevor fantasised about you rushing to his side with the click of his fingers, like a nurturing maid; a motherless mother, an emotionally-available whore, a bitchcraft witch to cast spells upon the desires he wants. Yet, right now, you were doing nothing.

“C’mon…” He tugged onto your shirt like a little boy, “I’m back. Wake up.”

Still, the trailer was silent and deadly. He was alone with his thoughts again.

Trevor whined softly before greeting his impulses – a habit he does when vulnerable – throwing off the sheets that covered your static body, displaying the lazy clothes that clung sheepishly around your curves and limbs. You were too much of a heavy sleeper to recognise a hand following your backside, giving you a small squeeze, fondling around your hips, worshipping your stomach through the thin T-shirt.

“Sugar, angel,” Trevor addressed while lining his lips against your jaw, “I really want you right now. Wake up for me, I need you.”

He hoped you’d at least hear him through your sleep, just enough convincing to tear you from that slumber, but his impatience was running low and he couldn’t stop himself. Like a pathetic dog, so lost without his owner. So lost that he crawled over your body and gently positioned your knee upwards. If you weren’t going to wake up, he’s just going to use what he can get. Even if that was the most bare minimum pleasure.

His hands toyed around with his waistline and slowly edged it down and around his thighs. Then he hovered over your knee, his bulge safe behind the tight whites, holding back the source of his desires where it itched and ached. Trevor was so hard, grunting when he swiftly pressed his crotch against your knee, moving his hips in circles, grinding towards the bone, getting the real feel before deciding it was too little for his preference. Your knee, though bony, had no warmth or skin to provide a replicate of your sex.

With his mental humor cutting short, his fingers intertwined with yours and waited for a minute to ensure you were not faking the rest. Trevor’s eyes drifted to your goddess of a face, finding himself smiling at how lucky he was to have lured such a beauty. Although you may have fell asleep to avoid the bitterness of the fight, you still looked like a blooming flower, a diamond in the rough. He fell forward and praised your neck with kisses, his crotch unconsciously falling into your knee again, hitting the right spot where he gasped into your skin.

“Oh, fuck.” It slipped out from his tongue, hurting so good.

The bone struct the burning heat and he grinded into it repeatedly, treating you like a free palace to roam.

Trevor whined into your ear as he hump dried your knee intensely. He was so self-indulged that he was apathetic at your awakening. His eyes fell onto your open ones and he could only moan out your name in greeting.

You struggled to process what he was doing until he pulled up the rugged T-shirt where your breasts fell into his palms, perfectly fitting as he groped, played, squished, pinched the size. The rough pressure made you groan softly. Allowing him to captivate your breasts.

“Mmm…” He communicated through small phases of moaning.

“Are you close?” You whispered, treating him like a low-life subhuman.

Trevor was not afraid of eye-content and nodded proudly. His white briefs were heavy with arousal and you could feel the damp pre-cum from the fabric grind into your knee. It left wetness smear across the skin. Hot smear.

“That’s right,” You smirked, “C’mon. You can do better. Can’t you?”

“Mhm…” He winced.

“Let me help.” Thinking you were going to portray the fantasy he’s been dreaming of, harsh reality betrayed the expectation that buried his mind. Trevor threw his head back and cried with pain and pleasure, feeling you kick him with the knee, the brutality behind your actions making him shrivel up on bed beside you, cowering his crotch for protection and comfort.

“Fuck, fuck!” Trevor said through gritted teeth and closed eyes.

“That’s what you get for waking me up.” You scoffed and proceeded to grab the bulge for yourself. It sat in the palm of your head, soaked and used. You gripped and recognised the shape of his boner twitching. It shrivelled into your hand, like a deer in headlights.

His whole body went into shock when you gave him the abuse. Trevor wobbled out your name with his quivered lips, hoping you’d take mercy on him.

“Ohh, poor baby… You just want to cum. You wanna use me without my consent?” You continued to mock.

“M’no. No. No – “

“Do you know what happens to dirty animals like you?”

“Mommy, I’m sorry.” Trevor urged.

“Oh, so now you call me mommy. You think treating your mommy like that is nice?”

“I’m sorry!” He cradled your hand that held his crotch tightly, thumb caressing yours.

“Mommy’s not going to help you, Trev. You gotta make yourself cum, yeah?” You murmured.

His face fell at this proposal and he shook frantically, “No. C’mon, no. That’s not fair.”

“You need me?”

“I really need you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Where were the calls or messages?” You challenged.

“I – “

“You don’t deserve to be helped. Mommy will watch you instead. I’ll make sure you’re getting exactly what you deserve.”

“Ohhh…” It seems as though Trevor accepted his fate.

When you released his crotch from your white-knuckled fist, he immediately went to work in front of you, his briefs torn from his hips and exposing that ugly mess of a cock. He was already in the middle of an orgasm when inserting freedom, sloppily jerking himself off in front of your eyes.

His Adams-apple trembled in his throat and he glanced to the ceiling, cum draping them sore hands that were sweating with arousal and emotional stress. At this point, he forgot you existed and focussed on relieving himself.

“Fuck, fuck… God!” Trevor’s waist fell into spasms when another orgasm was quickly approaching.

You were amazed to watch him experience so much at once. You knew of his short activity rate, but now you were seeing it when it comes to masturbation.

“Ah, fuck… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum again – “ He said, looking directly at you, “Watch me, mommy. Watch me.”

“I’m watching baby.” You reassured with a smirk, head resting against the bed railing.

This was the push he needed. Trevor arched his back and came again. However, this time, it was strong. His cock twitched dramatically as he oozed cum, dampening the sheets underneath but also his thighs. His skin being dressed by this warm and white sensation.

“Ohhhh!” You heard him moan loudly and through the night.

His body fell back and he exhaled with defeat. You stayed silent while he maintained the usual composure but it never returned.

Trevor only whined for you again, calling you “mommy” and shuffling close to your body as if you were attached like glue. It was weird yet you enjoyed the submissive nature when he grew needy. Always when he was sober.

“Good boy.” You whispered and kissed behind his ear.

The man shuddered but said nothing, only embracing your body.

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #trevor gta #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction

88 notes · View notes