#gta fanfic

[starksinner]

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! ✧

[poeticpascal]

Crazier Than Him (Trevor Phillips x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: You and Trevor are a match made in heaven, as Michael knows all too well.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: these two are crazy and in love, poor Michael and Franklin, non-graphic descriptions of torture.

A/n: I've been replaying GTA V lately and was reminded of how much I love Trevor... so here ya go!

Trevor Phillips was the craziest fucker Michael had ever met.

Irrational, chaotic, unhinged. Completely incapable of regulating, understanding, his own emotions. Somehow totally deluded yet desperately nihilistic.

And when he was with you? God, somehow it got worse.

You, Trevor’s girlfriend, who waltzed into his life one day like you were always meant to be in it. That’s what he always said; “she’s a part of me, Mikey. More a part of me than I ever thought my own arm legs were.”

You egged each other on. He was mad? Better believe you were already speeding onto the street, guns loaded and knife in your hand. You were upset? Ten guys would be locked up in your basement by the end of the day, gagged and blindfolded, your boyfriend sat beside them with puppy dog eyes waiting for your next command. 

“The hell did these guys do to her?” Michael had asked, the time he heard that story (because yes, it really did happen). 

“What? Nothing. I took them from the street - I just wanted to help her feel better.”

You made each other insane, more so than you already were, because apparently impossible things can happen. Trevor was so much more… Trevor, when it came to you. He was touchy, sensitive, passionate. And he always talked about you.

“Ain’t she gorgeous, Mikey? Huh?”

Michael wasn’t falling into that trap again. “Sure, T.” He just sighed, hoping that his friend would back down.

“The fuck is that s’posed to mean? You don’t think she’s pretty? ‘Fuck is wrong with you? Franklin, you know what I’m talkin’ about, right?”

“F, don’t-” Michael tried to warn, but it was too late. 

“Yeah dog, shit, she’s crazy, but she’s damn fine.”

Trevor’s face soured immediately as he quickly stomped the short distance between him and Franklin and pointed a finger in the younger man’s face. “Mhm… so you’re sayin’ you wanna fuck my fuckin’ wife? Huh? That what you’re fucking saying, Frank?!”

“T, calm the fuck down!” Michael yelled, and Trevor changed course. “For starters, you fuckin’ asked. And secondly, she ain’t even your wife! She’s just your girlfriend!”

And oh boy, was that the wrong thing to say.

“She’s just- WHAT?! You think I couldn’t marry her, Mikey? How about I marry my fist into your FUCKING-”

Yeah. Franklin learned pretty damn quickly not to give in to Trevor’s provocations after that.

And you? You were no different. Hell, you were worse.

“So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Michael asked, sitting uncomfortably beside you in the back of the chopper. Trevor had insisted you should ride beside him in the front, but Michael knew all too well by now that nothing could get in the way of you both getting… frisky. And he certainly wouldn’t put it beyond you both to get down to business while Trevor’s flying a fucking helicopter across the city - so he put his foot down, instead leaving a very frazzled Franklin to sit next to your boyfriend.

“You really wanna know, Mikey?” Trevor shouted, grinning like a maniac.

Michael groaned. “God, I guess not. Lord knows you probably threatened to eat her left calf or somethin’-”

“The fuck did you just say?” You sneered from beside him, eyes locked on and a violence in them Michael had only ever seen in one others’; the psycho flying this fucking chopper.

“It was a joke, sweetheart-” there was a knife to his throat before he could finish his sentence, already digging in so harshly he could feel droplets of blood start to fall.

You’d all but jumped from your seat, leaning all your weight into the blade against the man’s skin. “You wanna say that again, sweetheart? You think mocking my man’s funny, do ya?”

Michael looked desperately between yourself and the men in the front; Trevor just smiled, and he knew him well enough by now to know he was getting turned on by your display of aggression. And Franklin… well, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut, hadn’t he?

“You think makin’ fun of your friend is funny, Michael? Think you’re better than him?” You sneered. 

“No! For fuck sake, no. It was a joke, alright?”

You finally relaxed, releasing your grip on his throat and returning to your seat. Michael quickly wiped at his wound; superficial, but it stung like a bitch.

“I think he’s jealous, baby,” you laughed, and Michael couldn’t have hidden his incredulous stare if he tried.

“Mhm…” Trevor replied, his attention completely deviated from the helicopter he was piloting now. He was only focussed on you. “Think we should taste a chunk outta his thigh, eh, sugar?”

Franklin tried to suppress his snicker, though Michael caught it, but he was more concerned with the way you watched him now, a malicious glint in your eye. “Oh, I think that’d be fun.”

Yeah. That’s you two. Loved up, drugged up, hopeless romantics who somehow fit together in spite of everything. It was sweet, really, in a twisted sort of way.

And of course, you egged each other on. How couldn’t you? Just when Michael thought both of you had reached your psychopathic limits, you outdid yourselves, every single time.

“How about we do this by the book, huh?” Trevor grinned, pacing back and forth before the half-conscious man, his chair creaking as he slumped to the side. The tape around his wrists and ankles were just about the only things keeping him upright at this point.

You and Michael sat on fold-up chairs to the side. A third one sat empty beside you; Franklin had left a little while earlier, around the time Trevor picked up the wrench, his stomach unable to handle the torture that was unfolding before him.

You’d chosen to sit back, letting Trevor “have his fun”, as you’d put it. Michael did all he could to stay silent in his chair - he was outnumbered now, and certainly didn’t want to get into a shouting match with you both over what was right and wrong. You needed information from this guy - believing him to be an ally of the late Steve Haines - and he was stubborn to say the least.

Still,  Trevor had been overly brute with the man, who was beyond speaking a coherent thought at this point. The maniac grinned, picking up the blood-splattered jerry can and removing the cloth from the spout, tipping the hostage’s chair upright. “A little waterboarding never hurt anyone, huh?”

“No, Trevor!” You shouted, and Michael jumped out of his skin. You’d left your seat, storming across to your boyfriend who just stared at you in shock, grabbing the can from his hands and placing it back on the table.

Michael sighed - perhaps finally, for all the craziness the both of you shared, you’d hit a limit. The man couldn’t cope with anymore, wouldn’t be useful to you now beyond enjoying the assault on his fragile body, and while Trevor was happy to do just that it seemed you’d put your foot down and-

“You know that’s fucking legal, right? And for good reason. Ain’t nothing good can come from waterboarding the son of the bitch. May as well take him for a day at the park, Trev.” You sneered, all but prancing around the small cart that held each item of torture your boyfriend had picked out.

You grinned, and Michael buried his head in his hands. He knew you well enough by now to know any ounce of humanity he’d hoped for was nonexistent in your mind. The pliers you chose were weighty in your hand, strong, and when you strolled your way to the barely-there shell of a man before you, Trevor could only match the wild look in your eyes,

“Let me show you how it’s really done.”

And that’s how the both of you went along; killing, stealing, running. A fucked up Bonnie & Clyde, Michael always thought. And for all the misery you caused, and all the history between him and Trevor, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a certain way to know that even the worst pair of fuckers he’d ever met could find each other.

Yeah, Trevor Phillips was the craziest fucker Michael had ever met. Until he met you.

[zach-is-an-alien]

*slams this down*

Ok so I decided to write (I only got the one chapter down)

the fic in question

Inspired by

[gunsoffire]

Buried Inside

I actually wrote a fanfic for this game, wow!

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandoms:

Grand Theft Auto V

Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games)

Relationships:

Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips

Michael De Santa & Trevor Philips

Characters:

Michael De Santa

Trevor Philips

Additional Tags:

Fight Scene

POV Michael

One Shot

Fix-It of Sorts

Homoerotic Implications

Bury The Hatchet (Grand Theft Auto)

I Wanted Them to Kiss but Unfortunately They Didn't

My First Work in This Fandom

Words:1,630

Buried Inside by KissOfLightning (AKA GunsOfFire)

Summary:

What if the Chinese took a little longer to reach Trevor & Michael in North Yankton? Alternatively, what was going on in Michael's head?

Work Text:

As Michael rushed through the streets of Ludendorff, his heart felt as if it were trying to leap out of his chest. A part of him knew this moment would come, and he dreaded it. Or perhaps, he anticipated it. Was he here because he really thought he could stop Trevor? Or did he want to see him find out? Maybe a part of him was yearning for this moment.

Michael lowered a window for fresh air to ease the anxiety; it was as cold as he remembered it. The moon illuminated brightly over the fields and streets covered in snow. As he continued to drive, memories of the deal flashed in his mind. His soul ached with regret.

Did he regret what he did? How could he not? But he did what he needed to do to protect himself and his family. There was no other choice. That’s what he kept telling himself. The guilt only managed to set in when Trevor walked back into his life. The man was deranged, an asshole, and would murder without a second thought. Michael was a murderer too, but at least he felt guilty about it.

What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter how guilty I feel about it; it doesn’t change anything.

Michael parked outside the cemetery, and darted towards his own grave. ‘His grave.’ In reality, it was really Brad’s grave. Trevor was already there, digging it out.

Michael held onto hope; the only potential way out of this was to play it cool. “You’re wasting your time.” He spoke to him.

“Oh yeah?” Trevor retorted with fury in his tone. “Is that why you flew all the way down here? Huh? To tell me I’m wasting my time?”

Maybe I can discourage him by pretending I don’t care about it.

“Go ahead. Dig it up. I don’t give a shit.” Michael lied.

“Yeah, that’s what you look like. A guy who doesn’t give a shit.”

Michael waved his hand in dismissal and pretended to start walking away. “Ah, this is ridiculous.”

“How long are you going to keep lying for Mikey, huh? When’s it going to stop?” Trevor pressed.

Michael’s blood ran cold. He turned back to Trevor, listening to him.

“What happens in the dark, comes out in the light.” A wide smile of determination formed on Trevor’s face, as if he knew he was going to find exactly what he was looking for. And he was.

Michael’s heart clenched in dread.

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

“Give it a rest Trevor.” He managed to say calmly. “There’s nothing there!”

Trevor’s shovel clunked against the coffin. “This is it.” He stopped for a breath. “Moment of truth.” Trevor gave Michael one last look in the eyes, as if he were giving him one last chance to finally talk.

Michael shifted his head and shrugged. He shifted to investigate the hole as Trevor did, feeling extreme nausea.

And there it was. “UGGH! As if I didn’t know.” Trevor cried out as he gestured to the corpse. “Brad.”

“Look, we gotta do what we gotta do to survive.” Michael justified. “This thing, it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to.”

“Oh, and how was that?” Trevor’s voice escalated. “With Brad in the can and me in the ground? Or-or-or both of us in the coffin?”

“Brad got shot. You saw it! He didn’t make it. I got shot, I did. That, that’s it!” Michael protested.

Trevor sat himself up out of the ditch he dug. “I think the only thing that didn’t go as planned was me showing up on your doorstep ten years later.” He shifted from squat to full standing. “Mikey.” Pointing at him, “I mourned you.”

Read the rest on AO3:

Buried Inside - KissOfLightning - Grand Theft Auto V [Archive of Our Own]

[cutepervert]

wanted to share an excerpt of trevor’s pov from the latest chapter of my fic because i enjoyed writing it much more than i thought i would and i think it came out better than i expected it to. a cool experiment i think i will carry on with

I had my suspicions. I could have— maybe should have— killed her the day I spotted her. But I’d learned to enjoy the cat-and-mouse game I’d set up for myself. I really was so fucking bored. I told myself, Ron, Wade, that I’d keep her close to observe her, watch how she moved through the world. Be sure of my convictions, because hadn’t Franklin been the one who told me not to jump the gun on everything? So I didn’t. I watched her like how she had been watching me. How was I supposed to know she’d be as amusing as she was? Am I your sex slave? Jesus Christ. If anything, I’m hers. I let my cock do the talking, make all the decisions, set all my boundaries. For this, and perhaps this alone, I am a stupid man. I theoretically know better. Theoretically.

[anboringday]

Hoping this doesn't sound tacky, but was Curious Hearts taken down? Just noticed it went missing from my AO3 bookmarks but Just Friends was still up, so wasn't sure if that was at risk too or if it was related to making its sequel a visual novel.

Oh yeah, sorry! I was meaning to make a post about that. I'm using some of the OCs from Curious Hearts and Suits and Shades in my upcoming visual novel, so I figured it was best to take the stories down before the game releases.

Sorry about that! 😭 Just Friends won't be going anywhere though!

[rreskk]

Can’t stop thinking about riding Trevor in his chair and fucking in his desk in the strip club office omggg the dirty talk, the way it would lowkey be rushed in case anyone walks in😭👀

I'm too lazy to proof read so sorry if it's all sillay :(

FAVOURITE GIRL

Summary: Quality time with Uncle T in his office!

Pairings: Fem!reader/Dom Trevor Philips

TW: Smut! (he's a bit of a pervert in this)

Word count: 1003

He made a low grunt when you sat down bare, his warmth greeting yours with compassion as the chair beneath him shuddered at the extra weight.

“Sugar, sugar…” His voice purred against the crook of your neck. “Move a little closer, just a little – fuck… Perfect… Yes, fuck.”

You had corrected yourself directly onto his cock, a small breath leaving your lips and making your legs turn to jelly. You also felt his thighs clench up at the intimate contact – his arousal becoming animalistically unbearable.

“God, I love your pussy.” Trevor murmur and wrapped his hands loosely around your hips like a saddle on a horse, encouraging to you slowly ride, the office silent apart from the background noise of your skin slapping together.

It was hard not to whimper. His harsh fingers with substances of grub and dirt traced your sides as he assisted the way you moved into his exposed lap. You felt him stiffen whenever the contact came close and he always looked between your body and the door, always alerted in case someone walked through and disrupted the mid penetration.

So you followed his gaze after feeling the uncertainty.

But he quickly captured your attention by moving his hand further up your back with a small grumble of his deep voice. “Hey, hey. Eyes over here, beautiful. C’mon…”

“Is the door locke – “

“Shut up,” He breathlessly silenced you. “That don’t matter. You should be feeling good right now. Uncle T’s treating you well, ay?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Where’s the euphuism, treasure? I needa make you scream.” Trevor grinned with his full sets of yellowish teeth before grinding you into his lap harder – his attention detached from the door and onto the way you reacted; breath hitching and words stumbling out like a token of pride.

He kept on going until your volume increased to his desired amounts.

“Fuck!” You grunted. “Yes, God…”

“You like that?”

“Mhm.” Your lips sealed shut as the two of you continued to fuck about on his desk.

“That’s my girl…” Trevor muttered then stood you up. His hands guided you to his desktop where he bent you over, his fingers caressing your backside before examining the brutality of your pussy; his lips twitching as a result of your wet nature since it drooled from his fingertip when stroking the surrounding pubes. It was exactly what he wanted, furthering his roughness and replacing his finger with his needy cock, warming you up again by rubbing it between your inner thighs.

The change of positions made your adrenaline spike. His desk was covered with dirty magazines and ashtrays, so you had the delights of ingesting his natural scents of tobacco and filth. It brought you comfort more than anything – better comfort than most smells. His offices stunk of sourness due to his hygiene and addictions, but you had outgrown the disgust, finding it arousing as he pushed inside you.

“Fuck…” Trevor whined, thrusting in and finding himself comfortable, repeating the procedure again while you were hung over his desk.

“Mph – “ You muffled out a sweet moan when he began to rush since the rattling of the door suggested dancers walking out from the stage which was merely down the hallway. It made you shudder, falling against the desk and grunting his name.

“I know, Angel. Uncle T’s gotcha…” He reassured with a rough voice.

“Oh – Yes. God.”

“How’s my girl doin’?” A lockful of your hair was tugged backwards as he wanted to see your face. Trevor smirked; satisfied and cruelly enjoying the way your face looked when thrown back. “Aren’t you the sweetest fuckin’ thing, ay?”

“I’m gonna cum.” You whispered pathetically.

“Oh yeah?”

“Please – “

“Playtimes almost over?” He gave you a playful frown, his grip increasing. “But, sugar, I love being with you. You gonna hold it together while you can, babe?”

“Bu – “

Trevor tugged your head back more as his lips grazed the tip of your ear. “Don’t be like that to Uncle T, sweetheart. Hold it together until I say so.”

It was an order to restrain the urge so you squeezed your eyes shut and took him in repeatedly. His praises encouraged you, his hips becoming unbearably fast as he wanted to toy around dangerously before anyone could walk into the office to clock out.

“Fuck, Trevor.” You couldn’t help but moan – his torture making you sexually frustrated.

“I’m almost there, sugar…”

“Trevor. Pleas – “

He gritted his teeth. “Keep talkin’. Baby, fuckin’ speak.”

“Fuck… Fuck…” You stared ahead as he fucked you quick. The moment he wanted you to speak, words were struggling to form and you felt him grow tensely impatient by the ways his hips ruggedly slammed against your backside. It made you jaggar forward and grabbing his desk for support.

“Speak to me, Angel.” He repeated in a broken whisper.

“I want to.” Pathetic as it sounds, you only whimpered and looked back at him, his face scrunched and hands digging into your waist. He was close. It made you lose willpower as cum seeped from your sex. You couldn’t even express the pleasure since he was still fucking you through the climax, your cum being smeared all over his cock that was already stimulated by his longingness to release.

Trevor exhaled sharply and thrusted one more time – deep inside you – his hips cuddling against your backside, his frame closing in on you before he came.

“Oh, fuckin’… God! Love me!” He cried into your ear.

The desk underneath you stopped rattling, but instead rocked backwards at the pilling up weight of Trevor’s body falling into yours fully. You moaned softly at his orgasm, feeling all warm and used, his cock staying inside you until he said otherwise. Which was okay. You wanted him to stay inside you; for more than he thinks.

Your breath was weak and it barely made a noise, no matter how hard you tried to talk to him.

“God. You’re my favourite fuckin’ girl.” He took the hint and spoke for you. “You gotta run along now, Angel. I won’t keep myself together if I’m still inside you when that clock ticks another second.”

It was tempting to challenge his words but you knew he was a busy man, so you leaned up, his cock flawlessly falling from your pussy, making you feel empty and cold.

“Beautiful.” You heard him murmur, his hands rubbing your hips again. “I’ll give you a call later. Don’t fuck around without me, yeah?”

“Mmm. Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Yes Uncle T.”

“That’s my girl.”

[theesasssyunicorn]

Leah Williamson x GTA V edit

Please don't repost w/o my permission

[clamsio]

Final Fantasy

Cloud and Sephiroth

[czechkris91]

And today marks a special day. I’ve written over a million words. I actually cried for a second. I’ve put so much effort and love into this- and it’s great to see my flourish.

[xxatlasxx]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: KinnPorsche: The Series (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat/Kim Khimhant Theerapanyakun Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slice of Life, Fireworks, Photo Shoots, no beta we die like the koi fish Summary:

It's just a normal photoshoot, right?

[dallianceangel]

Eyefucking 😏🫦

this is just a random little fic 💗

🫦 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫦

The party at Michael’s house is in full swing. You’re chatting with Tracey, your best friend of five years, when you catch Michael’s gaze from across the room. His eyes are locked on you, practically undressing you with his eyes.

You bite your lip, loving his attention on you. Michael’s smirk tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. His gaze lingers, and you notice the bulge in his jeans. You can’t help licking your lips.

“You alright, babe?” Tracey asks, noticing your distraction.

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to stay casual. “It’s just hot in here.”

Tracey nods, but you can’t help sneaking another look at Michael. His smirk widens, and he winks at you when no one is looking.

[namelessedospuntosp]

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.

[miranita]

[karls2001]

I’m writing a fanfic of Trevor and I 🫢😏

[princessesaphi]

[alt text : plusieurs photos d'une version imprimée de la fanfiction "le commissaire ne reçoit personne" par Saphirina qui consiste en plusieurs paquets de feuilles imprimées agrafées rangées dans une chemise en plastique bleu./ID : Several pictures of a printed version of the fanfiction "le commissaire ne reçoit personne" buy Saphirina. It looks like paper sheets stapled together going inside a blue plastic folder.]

J'ai fait une édition d'une de mes fanfics !! C'est une histoire de police donc je voulais que ça fasse un peu dossier et je suis assez fière d'avoir fait tout ça avec juste le matériel de chez moi. Open office, une petite imprimante domestique et du papier d'imprimante basique.

I made a printed version of one of my fanfictions, it's a crime story so I kinda wanted it to look like a folder. I'm pretty happy I managed to make it using only stuff I had at home. Open office a little family printer and basic printing paper.