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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

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Reunion

Trevor Philips x fem!reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected smut, gta5 story spoilers,

Author’s Note: I am very aware this is the randomest thing to post. I have been replaying gta5. I am in love with Trevor. He’s my best friend, he’s the funnest to play, and I need him (nefarious motives). I unironically have a part 2 to this I’ve half written where the reader and Trevor meet up with Michael so let me know if anyone is invested <3 This is partly inspired by me going into the strip club to go to the atm and then going batshit insane. i am no better than a man but it is never the women im objectifying.

Summary: The reader did the original heist with Brad, Michael and Trevor. Afterwards, when everyone got split up, Lester told the reader that both Trevor and Michael were dead. After the jewelry store the reader wonders if he was lying about both of them. The reunion is filled with anger and also long lasting tension.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You see him at all? After the incident?” Michael’s voice trailed off into a feign disinterest. Lester and him both knew; this is what the conversation had been leading up to. The conversation had dissipated away from the task at hand, casing the jewelry store. Neither of them seemed to care.

“I kept tabs on him for a while. Needed to know that he didn’t blame me,” Lester complained, reminding them both of the idicotic ways of their former friend.

“Yeah, where’d he go?” Michael questioned, trying to be nonchalant.

“North, south, east, west. Wherever there were liquor stores to turn over and hitchhikers to disappear.” There was a beat of silence as Michael climbed further up the roof to get a better vantage point. The words could have remained in the air, if Michael hadn’t pushed further.

“Where did they bury him?”

“They buried him? Not as far as I know.”

He wanted to ask. He knew he had to.

“You see her?”

Lester was glad Michael couldn’t see his face. It was a knowing look. Oh God, Michael wanted to talk about her again! Something so familiar that it didn’t even seem out of place, not even after everything.

“No. She left all together.”

“She still…she still around?”

“She’s alive if that’s what you’re asking. Moved, made a better life for herself. Better than he could’ve gaven her. Or you for that matter. Still got the bullet wound to prove she was there though. Physical therapy for months on that shoulder.”

Michael was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He thought about the pandering, the vein attempts to make himself look better for you. The fight’s he and Trevor used to have all the time, arguments on who deserved you and who would get you. He had hoped you were oblivious. Now he wasn’t so sure he believed that.

“I told her he was dead.”

Michael paused on the roof, his movements only momentarily stunned.

“You feel bad about that?”

“It was the only thing to do. She would’ve found him. They would’ve found you. Bad for everyone.”

“And especially your cover.”

“Especially that.”

You were living a life where both he and Trevor were dead. You had moved on because it was the only thing you were able to do. He yearned to know what it could’ve been like if things hadn’t gone to hell. The danger was intoxicating but never as intoxicating as you.

He thought about Amanda. How she had never been you, how that’s the reason he was never able to love her the way he wanted. Clearly she had never loved him quite as much either, as was the case from her tennis performance. You were out there somewhere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he decided. If Lester told him even the smallest thing, a job, a marriage, a kid…he would go looking. He knew himself better than that.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you if you asked.”

Another short beat. He was almost to the highest vantage point.

“She deserved better than both of you. But you have to know she would’ve always chosen him.”

“There’s no need to hash up old shit okay? I was just asking to see who was still around. There’ll never be a better get away driver than her.” Even his deflection felt fake and vein. Lester saw right through it but decided to let it be. Michael thought of Franklin, diverging his thoughts. He could have him work, train him, mold him. He huffed as he got to the highest point.

“Now just to take a picture of the vent up there,” Lester said, evenly. The conversation was over. They wouldn’t talk about you or Trevor again today.

You were sitting at the small dining room table of your apartment. It was more of an island honestly but you called it the dining table because it was the best you could get. Los Santos was an expensive city and you were lucky to have found a place you could afford at all. Not that you weren’t doing well here.

The television was on to the news, though you weren’t necessarily paying attention. You poked at your mashed potatoes, proud of yourself for making anything tonight. You grabbed the remote with the intention of changing it to a shitty reality TV show when the screen shifted. ‘Breaking News’ painted the bottom of the television in red. A man was speaking but the volume was too low to hear it. You turned it up, out of sheer curiosity. You were reminded of a life before this one, a bang of guilt in your chest that you had desperately tried to get rid of.

Was it the guilt that brought the nostalgia forward? Or was it the way they reported it to be set up? Was it the cars, the hacking, the timing? Was it the sheer familiarity that made you sit forward? Or was it the fact that looked exactly like a Michael Townley job?

“You forget a thousand things everyday,” the witness said, shaken, “make this one of them.”

Your food was forgotten. Your face had gone blank with confusion.

“That motherfucker,” you muttered. The urge to throw something came back with his face in your head, the funeral you went to, the life you left. You saw his face on a big portrait and cried in front of it, wishing you had been faster. You left before ever seeing if anyone held a funeral for Trevor but now you wished you had stayed. What if you had spent all this time alone when they were out there, somewhere. What if Trevor was still alive?

The TV was now a ghost. It was now a time long forgotten. It was the bullet wound in your shoulder that now ached, something you hadn’t felt in a long while. That jewelry store was in Los Santos. It was here. Michael was here.

Lester told you him and Trevor were dead.

You searched for your phone. You didn’t have his number anymore, you couldn’t. He had changed it. He was too smart to keep the one he had years before. You recklessly searched anyway, knocking over the chair you were sitting in, tossing your pillows aside. Finally you grasped the phone in your hand, frantically searching in your contacts. His name remained, under L, and you called the number. It rang and rang and rang. You were already starting to think about how you would find him when the line picked up. Your breath caught.

“Y/N.”

“You fucker. You motherfucker. You fucking fucker.” You almost didn’t recognize the voice coming out of your mouth, you were so dedicated to the rage you felt. It was almost Trevor’s, almost the same cadence that you had picked up from him. It was amazing how fast all of that came back to you. How, just like that, you were her again. You weren’t her anymore, even when you took a turn too fast or knew the fastest routes out of an issue.

“What are you talking-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you seethed. You failed to think about how he had kept the phone just for you, just in case you needed him one day. It didn’t even cross your mind that Lester had loved you too, that they all had. You were friends in the purest sense of the word. You were all each other's people. Now, you hadn’t heard or talked to Brad since he was arrested. Now you were a different person.

Lester was laying low but he still answered your call.

“I don’t know-”

“Is he dead?” You couldn’t say his name.

“Michael? “

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.” There was a bitterness in your voice you almost didn’t recognize. Her, her, her. When did you stop being her? “Lester tell me the fucking truth.”

“I don’t know. I used to follow him but there was no use.”

“What do you mean you used to follow him?” There was a long pause. Too long. “What do you mean?” You sat down slowly on the chair by your island. You grabbed the edge of the counter. Your knuckles were strained. “Did he live?”

Silence.

You were gonna kill Lester. You were gonna kill him and you were gonna enjoy it.

“Where did you see him last?”

“Sandy Shores. But that was ye-” You hung up the phone. You should’ve asked about Michael, you knew you should’ve. You wanted to but the anger was too much. If you saw Michael now, you’d kill him with your bare hands. Sandy Shores was not a large place. And you were a determined person.

Trevor looked in the mirror at the tattoo he had for Michael Townley, his dead best friend. His formally dead best friend. On his other arm was a tattoo for the only girl he had ever really loved. She was supposedly dead too.

He broke the mirror with a fist. His knuckles started to bleed from the glass cuts. He ignored it. Ron was standing in the doorway, shaking, leaning over. Trevor almost made a shitty joke about his posture but for some reason, he didn’t. He had already sent Wade to find Michael Townley but he had kept you to himself. He wanted to find you but he’d do that with his own two hands. No one else needed to know you were out there. If you were out there. A Townley job did not mean you were still alive. Just because Michael lived didn’t mean you had.

“What the fuck do you want Ron?”

“Sorry boss.” He moved out of the doorway, down the steps outside. He looked around eagerly, glancing back at Trevor but not holding eye contact too long. Trevor followed him outside and walked past him. “Bikers had been scoping out here while you were gone.”

“Did you tell them to fuck off?”

“No?”

“Well next time, tell em to fuck off!” Trevor approached his truck with the intention of going to the city himself to find Michael. Michael would know if you were alive.

Trevor thought about that time little. He thought about leaving his friend, about the bullets that flew past him, the moment he knew he would never see you again. He thought about the bullet wound in your shoulder, the one in him, the wounds that will never fully heal. A constant reminder of the near death experience he lived through and shouldn’t have. In drunken nights he always wished it had been you who was in his place. You would’ve made a life. Had you made a life? Had you done it without him?

He hopped in the truck. He needed more booze.

“Where ya going boss?” Ron questioned.

“Bar.” He started the engine. It rumbled to life underneath him and it was already hot from the heat. He turned his head to Ron. “Get lost Ron.”

Ron nodded eagerly, already starting to stumble away. Trevor needed to clear his head. He needed to cloud his head some. He pulled away, mentally going through the map closest to him. If he went to a strip club, he was extra sure not to think about anything else. But the better booze was always cheaper at just a bar. If he went all the way to the city he could search for Michael at the bottom of a bottle.

All of those options seemed like good options. He wanted to beat the shit out of somebody. He should probably stay in Sandy Shores to do that. But where’s the fun in doing what you’re probably supposed to do? He made a sharp turn, almost running over a girl crossing the street.

“Hey don’t you see I’m driving here!” he yelled, feeling better already knowing he had probably ruined someone's day with their near death experience.

“Watch where you’re fucking going! Jesus Christ, some people don’t know how to fucking drive,” you called, anger lacing your voice.

The cogs turned at the same time.

You were standing on the side of the road, in the dust of the truck. You stopped walking completely, replaying that voice in your head again like it was your favorite song. The familiarity ached at you. You knew it the second you heard it.

Trevor had gotten about half way down the road when he hit the brakes. Hard. He was in the middle of an intersection. People were honking at him but he just sat there, both hands on the wheels, eyes squinted in confusion.

With ease he put the car in reverse. Much to the dismay of the few drivers around him, he backed up. You were staring at the truck as it did so, not sure if you should laugh or cry or yell or have any reaction at all.

He stopped beside you, head turned. You stared at each other for a moment. Eyes so familiar it was like coming home after a long time away. Like the feeling of your own sheets but someone else had made the bed.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost sweetheart,” he hummed, his voice as cocky as it had always been. “Which can’t be true because if I remember, you’re my ghost.” Your lips parted. You approached the truck and he let you, wordlessly. You were in shock. You were stunned. There had to be a word for seeing a ghost from your past you thought was dead. You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the door.

“You motherfucker,” you whispered, in awe.

“I’m the motherfucker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not the motherfucker.” You wanted to hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to slash his car tires. You wanted to take him home.

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Trev.” The car behind him honked. Neither of you had even noticed they were there. You both turned and it was like you were possessed by your respective ghosts.

“Can’t you tell we’re having a fucking moment?!” Trevor yelled. They honked again. Trevor pulled out a handgun. You watched him wordlessly. He shot the window. He missed. The car quickly diverged around and was gone in the dust again. You opened up the car door, his gun still smoking. He watched you, eyes curious. He thought he had memorized your entire body but now that you were there in front of him he realized his memory had never done it justice. You shut the door behind you and turned to him. The hand with the gun was slung against the passenger seat.

“I need a drink,” you muttered. He chuckled lowly.

“My girl.” He started to move forward again. Closest bar would do, he decided.

Lester wasn’t sure if he should even tell Michael. It was probably for the best that none of them had any contact for a while after the robbery. He had set that rule himself. They would lay low, stay straight, stay away from each other. Still, after the phone call with you it seemed stupid to not let Michael know, in some capacity, that you were going to be looking for him. Maybe he was more worried about you finding Trevor and then dealing with the aftermath of the havoc the two of you could bring.

Lester stared at his phone. He could text Michael. He could call. He could drop a place to meet. He knew that his friend would come if he asked, ever the rulebreaker. If you and Trevor remerged together that would be bad for everyone. That was bad for this whole thing.

Lester finally picked up the phone. He decided a text would do.

She knows.

Michael picked up his phone. He had been desperately attempting to hide from his kids and Amanda. He was glad for it, honestly, that the life he had chosen had chosen him back. But when he saw the text from the number with no photo with it, his jaw tightened. He had told Lester he figured Trevor was dead but now a risk was going to have to be made. You were out there and you were either looking for him (which was bad) or Trevor (which was worse).

Trevor and you were better off thinking the other was dead. The world was better for it. The money, the people, the general crime rate were all better for it.

“I want the TV,” Tracey said, approaching him. Her voice was muffled. It was like he was hearing her from underwater. “Dad. Give me the remote.” He looked up at her then, eyes still wide from worry. She made no note of his mood. He handed her the remote. He stood up, grabbing his car keys from the side table.

“Where do you think you're going?” Amanda questioned when he ran into her in the hall. He didn’t come up with an excuse fast enough and the judgemental look in her eyes creeped in.

“Gonna try and find an old friend,” he admitted.

“Yeah? How old?” Amanda dripped in annoyance. Did he mean a stripper? Did he mean a criminal? Somehow she knew it would negatively affect her.

“Old.” He pushed past her. Amanda looked at him and knew there were only two options to that answer. Neither were good.

Michael opened his phone to Lester’s number.

Where?

You sat beside each other in a bar that wasn’t memorable, drinks in hand you didn’t know the name of. You sat as close to him as you could get, legs touching. You didn’t want to ever not be touching him again.

“I had no idea,” you told him. “Lester told me you died.”

“Fucker.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve got a bullet with his name on it.” You took a sip of your drink. He looked at you, watching eagerly. You looked different. Well, you looked the same, but the clothes you were wearing were different. You must’ve had some sort of office job that required clothes on you he had never seen before. You used to steal his shit all the time, when it was clean. “I’ve got seven bullets for Townley. I’m makin sure that motherfuckers dead this time.”

Trevor smiled.

“Fuck girl, I thought you bled out from that shoulder wound. I thought I left you there.”

“You did leave me.” He glared at you. You had told him to leave and he did, only after you begged. “Lester told me you were gunned down in the escape.”

“You saw the fucking jewelry-”

“Yup.” You shook your head. “Bold of him. Really bold.” You finished your glass. You pulled down your blouse at the shoulder, revealing the bullet wound scar. He put his hand on your shoulder. He hadn’t touched your skin since seeing you again. It made you shiver. He poked it, making you roll your eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“All I know how to be.”

He rubbed it with his thumb, shaking his head.

“Looks like it hurt.”

“Yeah well.” You put your sleeve back up.

“So you haven’t seen him?”

“Nope. Went to find you first.”

“I’ve always been your favorite,” he bragged. You rolled your eyes, a sly smile playing on your face. It was true. It had always been that way. “You got any leads?” You were more reliable than Wade.

“Lester know’s where he is. I was gonna pay him a visit anyway.” “Well there’s no time like the present,” he offered. You gave him a look. He couldn’t read it. People skills had never been something he was particularly good at. You tilted your head.

“You haven’t seen me in nine years and you wanna go find Michael right now?”

His eyes went wide.

“Nine years and she finally admits it.”

“You knew it then. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He did remember it. He remembered all of it, every second of it. He leaned in.

“I’ve got a shitty trailer with a shitty bed.”

“That sounds like heaven right now Trev,” you said under your breath. He had been wanting to kiss your lips as long as he had known you. It took so much of him not to do it all the time when you saw each other regularly. After he thought you were dead, he regretted not doing it every chance he had.

You threw money at the bartender, too much he noted, and piled into his truck. Your lips were on each others before the car even stopped. You crawled over the middle of the truck, wondering if you would even make it to the bed, wondering if you even needed to.

Ron came rushing out of the front door, talking before he registered, “Boss the bik-” He stopped, literally putting a hand over his mouth. It wasn’t odd to find Trevor fucking a girl in his truck but Ron knew he didn’t like to be interrupted. Trevor left your lips for only long enough to speak.

“Get the fuck out of here Ron!” He nodded, scrambling away. You popped open the truck door and slid out. You weren’t touching Trevor for a mere moment and he grabbed you again, pulling you towards him. “You’re not getting outta here again,” he promised, voice low and threatening. You smiled brightly.

Ron opened the door to his place nearby and peaked through the window. You were dragging Trevor behind you, hands interlocked, a puppy dog look in his eyes. Ron was used to seeing Trevor with girls. He wasn’t used to seeing Trevor with girls he liked. He lost the two of you as you entered the trailer.

Trevor’s lips didn’t leave yours, even when the door hit him from behind. He hugged you close to him. How close could he get to you? How close could he make you so that you never left him again?

You hadn’t expected Trevor’s lips to taste so good. You expected beer or weed or unbrushed teeth or something shitty but something about them was intoxicating. He had a firm grip on your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tripped over something on the ground. You pulled away to see where you were going.

The trailer was a mess. There were beer cans littering the ground, half naked girls on the walls, unwashed dishes in the sink. He let go of you just to move shit off of his unmade bed. He grabbed the pictures he had of girls and tore them off his wall.

“Disrespectful,” he grumbled, kissing you again. And just like that you could have been anywhere in the world and it didn’t matter. You had waited long enough.

He was clawing at your clothes with one hand while the other dragged up your back under your shirt. You shoved him down onto the bed. He chuckled, falling onto his back.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Think?” You crawled on top of him, cupping his face in your hands. Why hadn’t you done this before? Why hadn’t you done this so many times? His hands reached for your shirt and it wasn’t until then that it hit him. You were alive. You were here. You were in his arms. He had beat the stupid longstanding fight him and Michael would always spat about over drinks. You were here, with him. He took off your shirt.

“God woman.” He cupped your breasts, eyes wide like they were gonna pop out of his head. You put your finger under his chin.

“Eyes are up here Trev.” He kissed you like he would never be able to do it again. He needed to be on top. The rising tension in his sweats were hard to ignore as you sat on top of him. He could feel your every movement. You slid your hands slowly up his shirt and then down again, fingertips electric. You hummed as you trailed kisses down his chin. While you were distracted he flipped you onto the bed. You made a surprised noise that caused him to chuckle.

“My girl.” He took off his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a girl and wanted to make it last. When was the last time it was less fucking and more something else, something he could barely remember the name to? You gripped his shoulder. There was a tattoo there, your name in faded ink. Your eyebrows softened. He didn’t seem to notice. “My girl,” he repeated, whispering against your skin.

“Trev,” you whined. He was already shimming down his pants. He kicked them off the bed onto the floor. You could feel his hardness against your clothed core. He fixed his fingers around the loops of your jeans, pulling it down with ease. You raised an eyebrow at his expertise but he was so caught up in the taste of you he didn’t notice.

“God!” You arched your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t wait any longer. Without warning he was inside you, all of him. You gasped at the sudden change and then eased. He gave you no time to calm down or adjust but he was leaning over you and his lips were permanently on your skin and it was like the room had gotten ten degrees hotter in the span of five minutes. You could probably fuck around all night. Trevor could go again and again but he needed to do this right now.

He placed a finger on your clit. You gasped, eyes locking with his. He grinned smugly. You kissed him to shut up whatever he was about to say.

Your breath hitched as he sped up, moving his fingers wildly and without care. Somehow he managed to hit just the right spot.

You came together, plagued by moans and spasms.

Still inside you he smiled, self satisfied.

“Never thought a dead guy would make you cum huh?” You snorted, eyes shut tightly.

“Fuck you Trevor.” You were laughing through your words.

“Haven’t gotten enough yet?”

He collapsed beside you. You found the bed more comfortable now in your bliss. You grabbed a pillow, placing it under your head.

“Get me a beer T. I can go all night.”

When Trevor woke up you were still in bed. He had a hand on your thigh, now clothed, much to his dismay. He had no idea what time it was. You had thrown on one of his clean shirts, one of the rare ones. You were hunched over your phone, sitting beside him. He rubbed his eyes. You turned your head, realizing he was awake.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” you said, a pleasant smile on your face. Your hair was a mess of the night. He could still feel it on the tips of his fingers. He could still taste you on his lips.

It hadn’t been a dream. You were here. You were with him. It wasn’t a wet dream, it was reality. Just the thought made him dizzy.

“Let’s get drunk and get hitched.” You laughed gently.

“Now that’s an idea.” He sat up and kissed you aggressively, throwing you off but not by much. Your phone fell from your fingers. You turned to him. His girl. His girl. His girl. You pulled away, much to his dismay. “I think I know where Michael is.”

He groaned.

“You had to remind me.” He fell back onto the bed with a flop.

“Los Santos. There’s a Michael De Santa with two kids and a wife. Amanda.” He perked his head up.

“You check the plastic surgery records?”

“I did not but I have a rough estimate.” You stood up. The bed was cold without you. Couldn’t you just live forever like this? Why go find Michael at all?

And then he remembered his anger.

“They’re living in a mansion, Trev,” you said. You hadn’t taken any money from that robbery. You couldn’t, it wouldn’t make any sense. But Michael was out there and he was using that money somehow. He had taken it all for himself.

Trevor’s anger intensified. He was here in the slums of San Andreas in a shitty trailer. He had put his life on the line. He had lost everything he cared about. Michael got the house and the family and the life they had all risked it for. He had lost you for nine years.

He tossed you the truck keys.

“Start it but don’t drive it,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“You think you’re a better driver than me T?” You both sat in the memories of you driving away with money, evading the cops, knowing nothing but the danger in your speed.

“I’m the only one that drives that truck.” You put your hands up in surrender, backing out.

“Yes sir.”

God he wanted you back in bed.

Part 2

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips imagines #trevor philips x fem!reader #trevor philips fanfiction #grand theft auto imagines #spicy tag

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marchsfreakshow · 3 months

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Suggestive/18+

Trevor Phillips who's secretly in love with how obsessed you are. He heard that camera and saw the flash out of the corner of his eye. But payed no mind to it. Ron saw you early in the morning, hiding behind Trevor's trailer, waiting a moment to grab something of Trevor's. But this time, the scruffy yet yet handsome man caught you. "You. You're the fuckin bird aren't cha?" You gulp and ask what he means before he rambles about how many photos he's seen you take of him.

But before you can say anything else, he's dragging you into the trailer and yanking the camera out of your hand. Your body landing on the damaged sofa hard. A soft 'ow' escaping your lips. Trevor's hands work quickly, turning the camera on and scrolling through the long list of photos. His eyes widened at all the photos. A wide variety. Even one or two of him jumping onto a train. "How did you get these ones? Did you know what I was doing?!"

"you were jumping onto a train...it looked good." You mumbled, meekly meeting his eyes. They were deranged, but nothing else. Like you couldn't read anything else about the man that stood taller than you.

"I look good to you then hmm?" He lowly asked, discarding the camera and the photo roll your way. The silence went on for a few seconds. "Your silence is offensive." Trevor walked out but turned back to you before he fully left the trailer.

"stay here. I'll be back for you."

"..alright."

The door slammed behind Trevor, and you were left on the rotting couch. Your eyes took in the sights around you. Everything you ever wanted. Right in front of you. leftovers, a shitty rug, a broken table, the barely functioning TV. It made you warm as you thought of every single that happened in this small home.

Getting up, you stepped into the small bedroom. Double bed, a broken TV and wardrobe. The clothes he wore, right in front of you. Your hands ran over a shirt. Freshly worn. The beige lines were lightly stained by little red marks. Blood? You didn't care.

It ended up in your hand, stuffed into your face as you laid back on his rickety bed. Every single thing had his erotic and musty scent burned into it. It drove you insane as you lifted your leg and your skirt was pulled up by gravity. A hand subconsciously moving to your red and warm clit. Moans were muffled by the maroon and beige t-shirt. Your obsession finally came to light as you were laid in the man's bed, touching yourself to everything about him you loved. Fuck the age gap, you thought. Following him for months, living off quick meals in the stores and taking little things from the outside of the trailer.

Just as the knot in your stomach was about to go, you heard the door open, "what the fuck?!" Fuck. But it was just too late. Glistening cum covered your two fingers and your inner thighs. Trevor stood in the doorway by his room as you shot up and threw his shirt onto the bed. "oh no no sugar tits. You created this. Let's...explore that." Trevor chuckled, taking your come covered hand and pushing you back into the same position you were in earlier.

You were secretly loving this. Trevor pressed ontop of you, undoing his trousers.

Your plan went perfectly.

@danzinmfndaze

#trevor phillips #trevor philips x reader #x reader #trevor philips #smut #gta v #gta #gta fanfiction #trevor phillips x reader #Trevor philips smut #grand theft auto #grand theft auto v #Spotify

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dark-t1des · 1 year

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Trevor Fanfic Master List

The Grapeseed Cleaning Service (11/??)

A routine cleaning job goes wrong when you end up at the trailer of a certain lovable trash panda… Trevor x YOU story! 18+

Home Sweet Home (one shot)

Unforeseen circumstances have forced you to relocate your life in Los Santos to Sandy Shores, and after a heavy night of drinking all those trailers start to look the same… Trevor x YOU story! 18+

White Elephant (one shot)

The unholy trio and you play a festive game of White Elephant, but things get weird when you realise Trevor doesn’t know the rules… Trevor x YOU story! Teen & Up

Paved with Good Intentions (16/16)

Ellie Sullivan returns to San Andreas for one last score, but can she keep her eyes on the prize or will she be distracted by a former flame in the desert… Trevor x OC! 18+

Blood and Snow (9/??)

Los Santos Bounty Hunter, Rory Brown, has flown out to North Yankton on the hunt for a small time local thief, but a chance encounter with a mysterious man in the woods threatens to change the course of her life forever… Trevor x OC! 18+

#trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips x you #trevor philips x oc #trevor philips fanfiction #gta v #gta 5 #gtav #grand theft auto v #trevor phillips #gta fanfiction #my writing #master list #grand theft auto #gta

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starksinner · 7 months

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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

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gtafest · 11 months

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Feels Like Summer (GTA Summer Fest 2023)

It's a cruel summer, late nights in the middle of June, this summer's gonna hurt like a motherfucker

Welcome to the GTA Summer Fest 2023! Creators of any kind are hereby invited to join the event: whether it's art, fics, roleplay scenes, screenshots from the games, memes, mood boards, headcanons or something I can't even imagine to mention here! All GTA games and all characters, including OC's, are welcome.

This time the theme is summer songs! You're free to use your favorite summer-themed songs as inspiration for your work but I'd also love for every participant to send an ask or a message with a few of your favorite songs so I can make a post with them, and maybe others can find some inspiration from those if needed!

Other than that, there's no need to sign up, just post your work in July or before August 15th with the tag #gtafest and tag this blog (notice the new hashtag and name since the events aren't only for GTA V anymore!). If you do NSFW work, please censor it and link the full work somewhere.

Happy creating and have a lovely summer! <3 Consider reblogging this post for visibility.

mod: @nevergonnasimpyoumikey

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n0tah1pster · 15 days

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Salt N Pepper

A Trikey fanfic from my ao3! People seem to like it so I thought I'd post it here too.

Salt N Pepper

Summary: Michael is having a hard time accepting his graying hair. Trevor seems to like it.

Word Count: 1,054

Warnings: None

Life wasn’t as bad as Michael thought it would be. He expected to be presumed dead for the rest of his life and die an early death, whether it be from drinking or just plain boredom from being cooped up in the house all day. It was nice having a tennis court and a pool but god, do they get boring fast. TV wasn’t much better. Stupid cartoons and drama-ridden reality shows do wonders if you want to burn off some brain cells.

Movies. Movies were where it was at. Old movies, new movies, stupid movies. They were all fun. Except for Sharknado. What the hell were they thinking? The point is, Michael loved movies and it was an honor to be able to work with the one and only Solomon Richards. Unfortunately, the movie director passed away a few years prior. Not so unfortunately, he passed down Richards Majestic to Michael.

The former bank robber sighed as he got out of bed, swinging his legs over the side and standing up before stretching his arms over his head. Amanda wasn’t next to him, which almost felt normal now since their divorce. She wasn’t too hard on him, thankfully. She promised she wouldn’t take the house… If he bought her a house for herself. He agreed. His bones cracked and ached. He felt old. He glanced over at the alarm clock on the side of his bed that read 6:34pm’. Guess his nap took longer than expected. The date was right under the time, and the numbers stuck out to him on the dimly lit screen; ‘2024’. He was old.

“Jesus,” Michael mumbled to himself before making his way to the bathroom. The light flicked on and the ex-criminal looked into the mirror. The wrinkles weren’t as bad as he thought they’d be at his age. 55. Fuckin’ A. His face didn’t show that much age, but his hair? He might as well be in a retirement home. His beard, which he’d grown out a little bit per request of Trevor, had small streaks of gray in his dark, black locks. His hair was worse with gray on his sideburns and slowly moving up towards the top, taking over the black like some sort of plague. Michael ran a hand through his hair and let out another sigh. The older he got the faster the days seemed to go by. He spent the last nine years pretending to be dead, and for what? A family that doesn’t even talk to him much anymore? He’d never done anything he wanted to do. Michael had always wanted to go on a nice vacation or travel the world or maybe just get a new boat, he really missed his boat-

DING!

Michael snapped out of his inner crippling monologue and glanced over at his phone. A text from Trevor.

Trevor: hey. want 2 go out 2 eat? im hngry. ur paying $$.

The former bank robber fought to not roll his eyes. Trevor never paid anymore. Not since they first started seeing each other. Who would’ve thought they’d end up together. Michael swore it’d end only if one of them killed the other. Who knew they just needed to kiss? He picked his phone up and texted back.

Michael: Sure. Why don’t you come over and I’ll order in.

Trevor: ok, b there soon.

Might as well start getting ready.

★★★☆☆

“So what’s been goin’ on with you?” Trevor asked with a mouthful of alfredo pasta. The two (Michael) had ordered some pasta from a nearby Italian restaurant. Doordash is amazing. They were sitting on the couch with a movie playing in the background; ‘Pulp Fiction’, per Michael's request.

Michael looked up from his own food and shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I-”

“You got this aura or whatever. You look depressed as fuck. Talk to me before I beat it outta you.”

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, aren't you supportive? I really feel safe talking to you.” He said sarcastically. Trevor just responded with a half-assed grunt and began eating again. After a few minutes, Michael decided to just say it.

“I feel old.”

Trevor snorted. “You are old.”

“I know, but it’s different. I feel…” He searched for the word in his head for a moment. “I feel unsatisfied.”

“With?”

“Life, Trevor.”

The taller man raised an eyebrow and set his fork down. “What, you’re mad you’re aging? Life goes on, buddy. You can’t stop time, trust me. I’ve watched Ron try.”

“Why would he-? Nevermind.” Michael sighed. “I feel like I haven’t done enough with my life. Plus, look at me! I’m graying, Trevor. Graying.”

Trevor stared at the other man for a moment. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because it looks-” He paused. “Unnatractive!”

“Oh, fuck you, lots of hot people have gray hair! Like… George Clooney!”

“He is not hot.”

“Tell that to all women over the age of 40.” Trevor scoffed. Michael shook his head. It went silent between the two again before Trevor broke the silence again.

“I like your gray hair.”

Michael took a sip of his drink before answering. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

The taller man looked down at his pasta and began poking it with his fork. “It’s nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Trevor, I’m gonna need you to elaborate-”

“It’s comforting.” He finally spit out. “It’s nice.”

Michael thought about it for a few moments. How could gray hair be comforting? It’s hair.

“Why do you say that?”

Trevor leaned back against the couch and let out an annoyed sigh. “I dunno, Mikey. Maybe it’s because you were dead for nine years.”

“You don’t need to remind me.”

“Well, I feel like I should. The point is, I like seeing you gray. It’s nice. It’s… a nice reminder that you’re alive. I never thought I’d be able to see you, you know, get older. You know how death is. I thought you were gone. Forever. Being able to see you keep living is nice. Does that sound grim?”

Michael had fully stopped eating and was leaning back against the couch now, watching Trevor talk with a soft gaze. He smiled softly and put a hand over Trevor’s own.

“No. It doesn't… Thanks, Trev.”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

“Whatever you want, T.”

#trikey #michael de santa #trevor philips #gta #gta 5 #grand theft auto #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto v #gta v #gta v trevor #GTA V Michael #gta fanfiction

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strawberrybobamilk · 30 days

Text

Cut Here (Part 6)

TWs: Language, drugs, mentions of abuse

1988

Some months have passed ever since Trevor and Michael's first encounter and robbery. From that day on, they have engaged in various other crimes together, that ranged from small pickpocketing to selling weed to junkies that passed by under that bridge the duo first met, to bank robberies.

Michael was a planner, carefully studying his every move before acting. He explained Trevor he has already been in prison twice as a consequence for not thinking his moves through enough, and of course he wasn't gonna make the same mistakes.

Trevor on the other hand was a ticking bomb, just waiting, BEGGING, to go off and blow shit up. Sure he cared about getting money and getting the job done, but not as much as causing mayhem with no restriction whatsoever.

A weird mix, but it strangely worked. Surprisingly good too.

Part of Michael was terrified of Trevor's impulsive and reckless nature, yet another part of him found that man... interesting. "T" (so he called him) was good with weapons and plus had a grand physical strenght, but didn't even need to use those skills: his roars and screaming threats were enough to intimidate anyone. And while "M" was more laid back, T's behaviour encouraged him to let go and unleash his inner wild side. He was pretty sure T would have got them both killed at some point sooner or later... yet the thought was absolutely exhilarating.

As for T... it felt so right, to have finally found someone who didn't utterly hate him or ran away from him screaming in terror as soon as they saw him. Someone who made him feel alive, like "his life was worth living".

"Come on... piece of shit... WORK!" Michael was grumbling to himself while trying to make the TV work.

Trevor was lying down on their cabin's couch, amused by Michael's annoyance "All of this just for a movie?"

"Hey it's not 'just a movie', it's 'Albert The Gentleman Thief', one of David Richards' most memorable movies!" Michael explained "You might like it, if only I can manage to make... this... work... THERE!"

A peaceful violin music started playing along with the intro credits, as Michael excitedly sat besides Trevor on the couch.

Michael wasn't wrong: Trevor actually ended up somehow enjoying the movie, while Michael commented on how many times he already watched it and how classy and timeless black and white movies were back then.

Trevor fake coughed "NERD"

"Hey I'm just saying the truth" Michael chuckled.

They laughed together.

Trevor kept laughing, as his laughs then faded into a smile. He never felt happier in his life. He took his attention away from the movie, and looked at Michael. How his sky blue eyes were mesmerized at every detail of the movie. How excited he was to see the main character in the action scenes. How... Michael was a bright ray of sun in his deep gray stormy life.

"Everything alright T? Or you're gonna stare at me the whole time?"

Trevor got out of his trance state and looked at his knees, thinking of something to say "Uh, yeah... I was just thinking of..." he suddendly thought of their first encounter under the bridge "Why didn't you shoot me the first time we met? Even though you had the perfect chance?"

Michael's face darkened "Huh..." he then made a forced smile and pointed at the TV "Hey, this a nice scene there..."

"I asked you a goddamn question Townley..." Trevor gritted his teeth with a growl.

Michael was growing exhasperated "Because... just because, okay?!"

"THAT'S NOT A FUCKING ANSWER"

"OKAY! I'LL FUCKING TELL YOU OKAY?!" Michael yelled "I fucking spared your life because..." his voice lowered and he looked down "...when I saw you under that bridge, at rock bottom in your life, thinking that your life wasn't worth shit... I saw myself in you..."

Trevor's eyes filled with an emotion he rarely felt, compassion.

Michael breathed in "Yeah... you ready for me to tell ya about the story of my life Trevor?" the hazel eyed man nodded, and Michael began "So... I never knew my mother, my old man was a drunk son of a bitch who'd give me beatings on a daily basis and then abandoned me, and to top it off we lived in a dilapidated shitty house"

Trevor's eyes widened as Michael spoke. His own childhood memories resurfacing.

Michael's face suddendly filled with pride "But... there was something good after all. At school I was the jock. Quarterback for a football team. And at least there, everyone admired me. Hell, I even had a dream job back then: becoming a sports star! But then..." he frowned "...fuck me. It was all my fucking fault. I got expelled. Due to my anger issues" he let out a heavy sigh, as he felt Trevor's unusually empathetic eyes on him "...I felt... useless, you know? Fuck, the reason I started doing all this robbing and criminal shit was because... I wanted to become someone! To make something out of my fucking life! And it does feel good! But then, sometimes I feel even worse, because I start wondering what the fuck am I even doing with my life"

Michael's rant stopped as he focused on the movie for a moment, currently depicting the main character with his wife.

"O Albert, I love you so much, but isn't a life of crime too dangerous for you and our family? O what if I lose you?"

"Madeleine, I love being a gentleman thief, but for you I'd be ready to give up anything"

As he watched the two lovers sharing a romantic kiss on the TV screen, Michael let out a heavy sigh "I mean... I'm sick. I'm a sick and awful human being who does sick and awful stuff just so he doesn't feel like a failure. And who'd ever wanna marry a criminal like me? Guess I'll probably die alone"

Trevor finally spoke "You're not gonna die alone"

As Michael replied with a soft "mhm", Trevor, without even thinking about it, put his hand upon Michael's, much to the blue eyed man's shock.

Trevor took away his hand in embarrassment, opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say, and improvised with a "heh, North Yankton's pretty chilly ay? My balls are freezing!"

Michael didn't say anything, just looked at him with an unreadable expression, and got up. Trevor looked down in shame. Just as always, he had to fuck up everything. But suddendly, he felt a warmth enveloping him, and Michael sitting down besides him with a blanket covering them both.

"Better?" Michael asked.

After some seconds, Trevor nodded "Yes, definitely better"

"Agree" Michael smiled "I'm cold too..."

#grand theft auto #gta v #trevor philips #michael de santa #gta fanfiction #trikey

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beetleblunt · 8 months

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All dolled up

Summary: TRIKEY HURT!!!!

TW: drunk driving?

Words: 1,082

ao3 link

Trevor shifted in his seat, glancing down at his phone to check the time.

8:27

He grimaced, looking around the dimly lit bar for any sign of his so called “date”. Not that Michael really knew it was a date. Trevor had called him last night, asking to meet for drinks at a place much fancier than the two would usually spend their time together.

“Drinks? You’re kidding.” Michael sighed.

“Not in the slightest, sweetheart,” Trevor said, a little too chipper, “c’mon, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.” he added more aggressively.

“Actually I do,” Michael griped back, “and I’m tired of gettin’ dragged to whatever dinky little shack you’ll call a bar for the night!”

“Like what?” Trevor laughed, “Chain smoke by the pool? Listen to your wife get porked by the pool boy because she doesn’t even like you enough to let you watch? Besides, it’s a nice place, ya ungrateful fuck.”

“A nice place?” This seemed to pique Michaels interest enough for him to forget the prior insult, “I’d like to see your idea of a nice place.”

Trevor growled, “Oh you will!” he shouted quickly “I’ll send you the address, be there at eight.” with that, he hung up before Michael could protest, or before he could piss him off even more.

Trevors leg started to bounce and he twitched as he waited, thinking about their last phone call. Sure Michael hadn’t said yes, but he didn’t say no either, and he did say he wanted to see his idea of a nice place, did he show up and decide it wasn’t nice enough? it wasn’t the fucking Ritz, but it was a nice club on Vinewood, a change from the small, smoke and violence filled bars the two were used to. As hard as he tried to stay calm, it was useless. The minutes passing by felt like hours, and Trevor was not a patient man.

A server timidly approached the table, hoping to not make eye contact with him. Luckily for her, he was spaced out, his feet propped on the table, fidgeting with the hem of the red dress that barely made it to his mid thigh.

“Sir? Could I.. uh could I get you anything to drink?”she managed, her eyes trained on the blood stained work boots resting atop the table, clearly terrified.

Trevor’s head snapped up at the sound of another voice, and he glared up at her for a second, “Sure. Sure, yeah yeah yeah, whatever” he spat quickly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “ugh, just fucking whiskey, neat. And keep ‘em comin”

As the server scurried off without another word, Trevor stood up, took another strained look around the bar, and then made his way to the bathroom. When he got in, the two men, and the couple making out in there quickly cleared out, and as soon as they did, Trevor pulled his phone from the small purse he’d resigned himself to carrying tonight, given his lack of pockets, and tried to call Michael.

After several rings, Michaels voice came through “You’ve reached Michael De Santa, leave a message.” it said, confidently

Trevor’s grip on his phone tightened, “Heeeey, you fat fucking snaaaake, it’s me!” he began, dragging out his words in a sickeningly sweet tone, one that was specifically designed to incite fear and make his offenders skin crawl. The sweetness in his voice didn’t last, and he said the rest through gritted teeth, “The best friend you’ve left waiting at the bar, either call me back or get here, prick.” he hung up, and tried to call again. After several more tries, and strongly worded voicemails, he gave up, looking at himself in the mirror and sighing loudly. The plan was meant to be simple, ask Mikey out for drinks, take him somewhere nice, show up all dolled up, maybe a handy or two under the table, and ignite something deeper than the rocky friendship they’d been navigating since reuniting. Something like what they had back in North Yankton.

A neat glass of whiskey was waiting in the center of Trevor’s table when he got back. Not even bothering to look around again, he sat down and took a drink, savoring the slight burning in his throat. Soon, his drink was empty, and just as requested, he was brought another.

A few drinks turned into several, and after a while Trevor was looking far more disheveled than usual, slumped down in his chair, with hot silent tears streaming down his face, which was slightly smeared with the lipstick he’d stolen from the drugstore on his way into town. The thin straps of his dress fell off his shoulders a bit ago, and his dress had rode down, allowing more of his hairy chest to peek out. Normally he’d have been kicked out well before this point, but he’d actually been relatively well behaved even without Michaels presence, the most he’d done in the past few hours was hit on a few other patrons who quickly passed him by, and mumble strings of profanities directed at his traitorous friend.

A loud crash suddenly rang through the still busy club. Trevor’s empty glass was now shattered on the floor, and he was making his was towards the exit with a few worried staff on his tail shouting something about bills and damages. A firm hand landed on his shoulder when he passed the door.

“Hey, fruitca-”

Before the bouncer could even finish his insult, Trevor spun on his heel and connected their foreheads with a loud crack, sending the other man crumpling to the ground.

When Trevor finally found his truck, he at least managed to fumble his keys out of his bag and get them into the ignition before everything around him faded to black.

When semi-proper consciousness and sight finally returned to him, all Trevor could see was the shattered remains of his Bodhi’s windshield, and the large, dented, metal gate just ahead of him. Letting his eyes drift shut and his head fall to the steering wheel, he didn’t bother looking up when he heard quick footsteps paired with his best friends broken voice, nor when three more equally worried and irritating voices broke through his haze. He felt too heavy to move, and suddenly wasn’t sure what he’d say even if he could, so instead he let the heavy fog in his mind take his body over yet again.

#this is my first fic #so sorry if it sucks #but i had this idea rottin in my head and i needed to put it SOMEWHERE #gtav #michael de santa #trevorphilip #grand theft auto v #trevor philips #michael gta #trevor gta #michael townley #trevor fanfiction #gta fanfiction #gta v fanfiction #gtav trevor #trikey #trikey gta #trevor x michael #bugs write

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rreskk · 9 months

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TROUBLE CONCEIVING LUST

-A/N: I lowkey rushed cos my laptop is dying, so apologises if grammar sucks (and spelling!)

Summary: You met this guy through mutual friends and he had to be the most... Interesting... Sexy?... Unusual man, ever. Playing a "spin the bottle" game ended drastically. You couldn't help yourself, and neither could he.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 5777

NORTH YANKTON — 2002

“Who are these fine babes?”

You looked up from your empty glass of booze. A night out with some friends was almost at it’s end until one of your friends, Amanda, decided to bring along her “friend” who’s name was Michael. He mentioned 2 other guys coming, 2 faces you aren’t familiar with.

Smiling softly, you stared ahead at this middle-aged man who’s hair was blonde and slicked into a pony-tail. He was quite chubby but tall, a big lad. He was the guy who spoke first, his eyes drifting from girl to girl. There was a sense of excitement behind his gaze as Michael, the one you were briefly familiar with, spoke.

“This is Brad,” His hand signalled to the blonde guy you were just looking at before noticing a taller, much slimmer man behind them both, “And this is Trevor.”

You instantly made eye-contact with this stud. A shabby mullet, all wild and untamed. His hair was brown, a dark, chocolate brown (to be exact), and so was this stache. It was a fairly groomed moustache that really brings out his intense eyes. You couldn’t help but inspect this stranger with every detail you could find… That goes from his eyebrow scar to this gauntly, sickly grin he had. It was abnormal and different. You’ve never seen a man so rugged, scary but also striking.

You both held strong eye-contact before he was torn from your gaze and upon the rest of the group.

“How are you, Trevor?” Amanda asked with an informal tone; sounding rather disinterested, almost irritated at this guy called Trevor.

And the moment he revealed his voice, you had opened your mouth with fascination. The rawness and deep, taunting, grainy voice – it was glorious – you’d be able to sit and listen to him talk for years straight. However, a few words in, you’ve came to the conclusion that he was from the North; Canada. He had this Canadian tongue that was quite hard to miss.

“Splendid, Mandy. Don’t you have a nightshift, ay? It is a Friday.” He grinned at her, teasing.

“I took the day off.”

“Oh!” Mocked Trevor, “I thought money was an issue?”

Amanda glared at him. This guy was definitely a menace.

“Trevor leave her alone. Come introduce yourself, you too Brad. We’ve got – “ Michael had named every girl before approaching you, “ – and this is [y/n].”

“How’s it going, [y/n]?” You were surprised that he had asked you a question. His deadly eyes stared back at yours.

“I’m fine.”

“Mm… Nice evening?”

“It’s been nice, yes.” You nodded your head.

“Michael mentioned you before,” He looked at you up and down, “Pleasure to meet you, at last.” He held out his hand and you could proper visualise his rough, veiny skin.

You proceeded to shake his hand, the contact so electrifying that you couldn’t even dare yourself to look into his eyes. It felt forbidden to feel such strong emotions for a man you just met.

“Pleasure to meet you too, Trevor.”

Trevor gave you a wink as everyone began to chat amongst themselves. He had left the conversation with intensions of annoying his buddies who were trying to decide on a “friendly, fun game” to end the night. They all took chairs and sat around the already crowded table. This guy, Bradley, was already smoking up a joint as Trevor eagerly took a hit before pouring himself some whiskey that Amanda didn’t finish. He ignored her protests and just downed it in one, throwing the bottle aside as it rolled off onto the floor.

“Jesus, Trevor! That was mine!” She complained and looked at Michael for support, but he was too busy pouring a pint of beer.

“Chill, old girl. It was just a sip.”

“A fucking sip? You drank it all! That cost me a good few notes!”

“Woah, correct yourself, it costed Michael a good few stacks,” Trevor grinned at her, “Team effort, Mandy. Thank us.”

“Fuck you, Trevor.” You watched as Amanda refused to look in his direction.

“Maybe a few more shifts at the strip joint and you can afford the cheapest here.” He continued to torment her.

Mikey had distracted him before he could bully her too much and they all had an open discussion at the table. You ear-dropped their conversation and heard all sorts of ideas that consists of sexual imagery – most coming from Michael’s buddies – not Mikey himself.

“What’s wrong with sexy truth or dare?” Bradley seemed disappointed when his idea was turned down.

“Dude, it ain’t right. Why not a simple drinking game?”

“God… Amanda, what have you done to M? He’s a boring old prick now.”

“Shut up, Trevor. I’ve saved him from your psychotic ass!” And her backtalks were incredibly entertaining. It left you smiling giddily before Trevor caught your amusement, and he frowned. He didn’t like how you found joy in him being humiliated.

So you dropped your head and pretended to adjust your black dress, hoping to avoid any confrontation from this… Man. Somehow it made your stomach coil, not in a good way. These guys didn’t look as promising as Amanda painted them.

“I vote spin the bottle!” Brad announced.

“And what? Shots?”

“You know damn well, Mikey. How about kisses, blowjobs, handjobs?”

“Shut up, T.”

“Trevor’s right, dude.”

Michael groaned, “Shut up, Brad – Fuckin’ fine… Kisses then, but nothing else… Don’t be creepy, yeah?”

Your friends, including Amanda, seemed content with this game of spine the bottle, but you? Mixed feelings. You only just met these 2 guys and they are already demanding the group to participate in some high-school, drunk college game. You just knew that they had a rough idea to bring someone home, especially that one guy, Trevor.

Speaking of Trevor, he caught your sights again and smirked. You’ve noticed that he’s barely given any of the other girls attention. He didn’t even say hi or smiled at them – yet he seemed extremely curious about you. It felt dangerous.

“So we’ve got three chicks and three studs, yeah? Where’s a bottle we can use?” Brad inquired.

“Jesus, are you blind? Look around you, B. The table is filled with bottles.”

He responded to Trevor, “Shit man, they still have booze in them.” Both of them began looking around the table until they noticed your almost empty bottle. Bradley tilted his head and gave you a sickening grin.

“Are you gonna finish that, darl?”

You noticed Trevor wince at the pet name. He sent a glare to his friend and clenched his jaw.

“I – “ Feeling pressured, you just pushed the drink towards them, “No. You can, uh, have the rest.”

“Mmm… Thanks, babe.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bradley.” Your man of interest muttered before pouring the remainder of alcohol into a random glass.

Michael had rubbed his hands together in addition to the game beginning. He was sat beside Amanda, obviously making it known that they are two peas in a pod. It seems as they didn’t mind playing as an “unconfirmed” relationship, but you knew they wouldn’t take it as far as one kiss.

“Who’s going first?” Your other female friend asked.

It was getting late so the bar was slowly decreasing in population. Soon enough, you were the only table left behind. The jukebox was playing some late 80s rock and roll, a big throwback to the past. You listened to it through the background noise of Brad’s booming voice.

“I’ll go!”

He leaned forward and spun the bottle. Everyone watched with anticipation. You heart began beating. It was slowing and you gulped, thinking it was gonna land in you. Not wanting to kiss this man, you prayed to God. You sat tight and held your breath before it landed on Trevor.

The table began to laugh as Brad scowled with embarrassment.

“You fucking kidding me, bro?” He mumbled.

“Go on then!” Michael laughed, his arm around Mandy’s shoulder.

Trevor, unlike his friend, was smirking. He turned to face Bradley and gave him a mocking kissy face, waiting.

“T, stop it man. This is weird as fuck!”

“The longer you wait bro, the longer I’m gonna smooch the life outta ya.” He teased his buddy.

This only made everyone laugh louder. You chuckled here and there until it all died down and Brad was left with no choice. He squeezed his eyes closed and speedily pecked Trevor’s lips. You saw it barely touched.

“Come on, man. You’re such a pussy.” T would roll his eyes.

“Shut up. Just… Carry on, goddammit!”

You were sat next to Brad, so it was your turn. Everyone looked over and gave you words of encouragement. You found the confidence to lean over the table and spin the bottle. You studied how fast it spun. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel your pulse breaking. It was nerve-wracking. The bottle was slowing down and it stopped. You followed it’s gaze and realised it pointed to your friend. She giggled.

Luckily it wasn’t… him.

“Ohhh…” He was the first to speak, “Mmm, I see how it is. Come on, ladies. Bring it on…”

You both ignored Trevor. Your friend adjusted her chair so she was facing you and held in a laugh. You did too. At least it was nothing awkward, more humorous. You decided to beat the clock and gave her a small kiss on the lips. She erupted in giggles, holding onto the table for support. The tension finally eased after your first go. It made you think this game wasn’t so bad.

“That was hot.” Murmured that raspy voice.

“Trevor, shut up. No creepy shit.”

“Whatever, Mikey. It’s your turn.”

Michael grumbled something you couldn’t hear and spun the bottle. He sipped his beer and waited for it to stop, and when it did, it was pointing at Bradley. The table was in hysterics.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” The blonde man was in disbelief, “I have to kiss another dude?”

“Just my luck, hm?” Mikey said to Amanda before she urged him to do it, for the games sake.

Trevor clapped his hands, oddly excited to see his two friends kiss in front of him. You’ve been observing him and the way his eyes lit up, them pupils dilating when the game proceeds. He was definitely aroused. You could tell.

“C’mon you guys!”

“Trevor, bro, just shut up!” Brad whined. He shook his head and leaned across the table, closer to Mikey who was also hesitant. They cringed before kissing for a split second and moving away from each other straight after.

You covered your mouth and chuckled.

“You are both fuckin’ pussies!” Trevor cried with distaste, “That weren’t even a fuckin’ kiss!”

Amanda rushed to her boyfriends rescue, “It’s your turn! Go!”

“Oh? You want some, Amand?” He grinned at her.

“Don’t be disgusting, Trevor.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, my turn.”

And then your heart only grew more unbearably nerved. His red, bruised hands spun that green bottle. He was right opposite you as well so you saw that concentrated stare in his rugged face. The way he leaned down to spin, some hair strands fell in his face, giving him a really pirated look…

He bit his lip and impatiently waited until it stopped.

You felt your whole body grow paraylsed. That neck, that tip of the damn bottle was facing you. It was just your luck, your VERY luck.

“Oh?” That cat-like smirk grew more perverted, “Look who it is, [y/n]…”

Looking into Trevor’s eyes felt like a Deathwish on it’s own. He was eye-fucking you so hard, it made you shiver. Them cold, dark, brown eyes. They were unmatched, so scary, so intimidating.

“I guess it is.” You slowly spelled out.

“How come Trevor gets the hot chic – “ Bradley’s face was suddenly muffled by Trevor’s hardened hands. He didn’t even look away from you though. He kept his sights fixated on you.

“You’re a lucky girl, [y/n].”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” He murmured and stood up. His lean figure hovered over the table; his efforts to be closer. This was pressuring enough to make you meet him half-way, but when you tried, he was already pining you against your seat.

The group all watched as Trevor practically climbed over the table just to meet with you. Desperation depicted his sly grin. Them cruel fingers had wrapped themselves around your wrists, trapping you.

“You ready?” His voice purred in your ear.

“Oh my God, stop being a freak!” Amanda was disgusted. She exchanged glances with Michael who was equally as disturbed.

Trevor raised an eyebrow and gave her a side eye, “You wished Michael was this intense and romantic, Mandy. Don’t even start.”

“Excuse me? – “

“You heard me. Now shut up while I give [y/n] a kiss, yeah? That’s a great idea, ain’t it?”

Everyone was dead silent before he returned his attention to you and sighed in your neck.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Anyways, let’s continue the game, ay?” He licked his lips and stared down at yours.

His breath stunk of alcohol, weed, cigarettes, and… Weird metal? You didn’t even want to know. He was bizarre, completely out of your league! You’ve never seen a guy so unpredictable and manic. However, a part of you found it admirable. Inhaling deeply, you gave him what he wanted and kissed his lips.

For you, it lasted hours. Trevor kissed back with passion, his tongue wasting no time and forcing itself into your mouth. You thought to yourself for a brief second; it was only supposed to be a kiss? Why are you letting him passionately make out with you? Why are you enjoying it? At this point, he was properly pushing his weight onto your chair, his shoulders hiding you from everyone’s sights as his face was smashed against yours. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around them masculine shoulders and keep him close, your hands mindlessly tugging at his mullet until someone had separated you both from any further “activities.”

“Fucking Hell, T!” Michael pulled Trevor away from you, both your lips swollen and red.

“What?” He asked breathlessly, “We were just kissing?”

“Kissing? You were eating each other’s faces!”

“You wish you were me, Bradley.”

“Okay, okay, uhh! Can we just… Carry on with the game? From what I last remembered, it’s my turn.” Amanda tried her best to convert the awkward situation. She waited as Trevor walked back to his seat, a look of disappointment on his face after being separated from you.

She placed her cup down and spun the bottle. Michael was watched intently, clearly growing a bit nervous in case she had to kiss either Trev or Brad. He hoped it would be him.

“C’mon, c’mon…” He’d unconsciously hum out loud.

The bottle stopped and you bit into your tongue. It landed on you again.

Amanda chuckled softly and shrugged, “I’m thankful it’s you, [y/n], and not them two chumps.”

“Woah, watch your tongue!” Brad winked. She returned the wink. You had sensed some sort of tension between the two, and so did Michael. He looked at them both, his face growing angered.

You decided to step in and avoid any conflicts.

“Okay, I guess we have to kiss, Mandy.”

She glanced away from Bradley and nodded. You felt Trevor’s eager eyes as you two both kissed and giggled afterwards. Amanda kissed your cheek in a friendly manner before returning to the game.

You had made eye-contact with him again and he smirked. His lips were still swollen but this time, there was a predatory danger behind his pupils. He pointed to your black dress and made a sexual had gesture of a penis and pussy. Your cheeks grew red. The childish flirting actually made you flustered? What has this man done to you…

“Okay, I guess it’s my turn again.” Brad mused.

“Woah, woah – “ You interrupted, “You missed Michael. It’s his turn.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Go ahead, Brad. I don’t care.”

“Too scared to kiss me, Mikey?” Trevor pouted playfully.

“If I kissed you, I’d catch STDs.”

“Mmm… Not from what I rememb – “

“Okay, Brad go.” Michael quickly disengaged his friend from confessing something that had quickly caught your undying attention. Not from what I remember? You smelt something fishy between them two, but decided not to ask any further questions considering the game was still playing.

Bradley spun the bottle and bounced up and down in his seat. He looked hopeful this time. He was had his fingers crossed.

“Strain anymore and you’re gonna shit yourself.” Your other friend joked, earning a small laugh from Michael.

“Don’t ruin my strive, girl.” He whispered and went wide-eyed when it stopped. The person it face was revealed to be Amanda, and Michael’s amusements fell into despair.

“What?”

“It’s just a kiss, Mikey.” Brad mentioned. It wasn’t helpful at how casual he felt about kissing his friends darling.

“No, not Mandy.” He refused.

“Let her have some fun – “

“Wait… You have the hots for her?” Michael was beginning to get more enraged, “Dude, that’s my fucking girlfriend! Amanda? What the fuck is this? Trevor, bro?” He looked at Trevor with pled.

“What? I don’t know what’s fuckin’ going on.” He huskily uttered from the opposite side of the table.

“Mikey, it’s nothin’! It’s just a kiss!”

“Bradley, I swear to fuck! – “

“Michael!” Amanda held onto his shirt, “Just sit down, please! You are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Amand, he’s a fucking chump!”

You played around with the green bottle as the game was probably ruined now. Nonetheless, you looked at the clock and decided to leave sooner than later. Whispering to the other friend, you told her about leaving soon and she agreed. The three of them were still fighting; the tension growing, so you stood up and began to collect your things.

Trevor was daydreaming until he’s noticed you stand. He tilted his head and gave you a small frown.

“Where you going, [y/n]?”

You gave him a small smile, “I’m gonna go soon and catch a taxi home.”

“Nah, nah…” He immediately stood as well and rushed over, “Don’t leave me. Can I catch the taxi with you? I ain’t driving back with these pricks.”

“Where abouts do you live?”

“Uhh… I’m renting this motel room with the boys.”

You were holding your leather jacket before he grabbed it and placed it back onto your seat. He sounded more needy now.

“Don’t leave right now. We can sit in one of those booths at the back and get some drinks on, ay?”

“I’d love to, Trevor, but – “

“C’mon… Don’t leave, not after what happened,” He gave you a knowing smirk, “I don’t like pretty girls playing with my heart. I wanna… Get to know you more.”

And you knew exactly what he meant. From the way he was staring down at your dress, it was super clear what he was referring to. You were fluttered. You shouldn’t be though, from what you saw earlier, he was a nutjob.

But he was dashingly irresistible. You studied his facial features again and reintroduced yourself with his scars and classic 70s porno stache. Then you remembered the feeling of his mullet between your fingers. He had oddly soft hair despite the balding and split-ends. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was handsome.

“You like what you see?” He caught interest in your staring.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologise. I like it when you look at me.” Trevor whispered and stepped closer. He sneakily outstretched an arm to fit around your waist. He ogled your figure again before tugging you closer so your chests were touching. He had to look down (due to height difference), and he smirked.

“You’re a sexy piece of work. If them cunts didn’t stop me, your dress would’ve been ripped off by now.”

God damn, is what you thought. He was extremely bold and confident. It was too attractive.

“You like that idea?” He purred against your forehead.

Suddenly, the background noise of arguing had disappeared. You were too focussed on Trevor that your whole world, right there, revolved around him.

“Mhm…” You nodded.

“Atta girl. You know, from what I can see, you’d be the hottest on top of me.”

“On top?”

“Yeah, babe. Don’t think I can’t see that fire burning from beneath your eyes. You got that power, I felt it before, I wanna feel it again.”

“Oh God…” You exhaled, your stomach burning up with arousal.

“I’m gonna be honest, [y/n], I won’t make it back at my motel…” Trevor admitted with a grin. His free hand moved to his growing bulge, groping himself.

“Can’t you now?”

“Yeah, ma’am, I can’t.” He growled in your ear.

“Oh, you’re calling me ma’am now?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

You chuckled softly, “Nothing…”

“It sounded like you were complaining.” His grip around your waist tightened as he began moving you both towards the booths.

“I weren’t complaining.”

“Good,” Trevor lets go before jumping onto the leather seats and lying down, “C’mere…” He made grabby hands, his boner visible for you to see.

You hesitantly crawled onto his lap until he grabbed your hips, helping you get comfortable. You sat inches away from his boner and smiled down at him. He seemed to be enjoying your weight.

“Are they still fighting each other?” He’d lowly ask.

To answer his question, you peeked out of the booth and saw them still at each other’s throats.

“Yes, they are.”

“Goodio…” Trevor grabbed the straps of your dress and dragged it down your arms, your chest being exposed willingly. He’d giggle like a child when you were seen without a bra. Your tits were inches away from his face and he began licking the nipples.

You held in a whimper, “Are you sure they won’t see us?”

He didn’t respond. He ripped your dress off fully and yanked you so you were practically lying on him. Your breasts, already caked in his saliva, was suffocating his face as he licked and nibbled every ounce of your skin. The warmth of his tongue made you chew your inner mouth to restrain a moan.

“I knew you had a smashing body under that dress, I could sense it.” Trevor finally murmured, moving his way up your chest to your neck. He smothered your neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh God…”

“You sound perfect, ma’am,” He pressed a kiss against your jaw before unzipping his flies, “I want you. I need you, so bad.”

You straightened your back and sat on his crotch as he freed himself from those jeans he wore. The moment you saw his cock, you traced your fingertip over his tip. Length never mattered to you, so it really didn’t surprise you when he wasn’t big. Trevor didn’t seem to care either – it was attractive.

“Say yes to me.” He pled, staring through his eyebrows.

“What happens if I say yes?” You decided to tease.

His dick twitched at your taunts.

“I want you to ride me, [y/n]. Ride me – “

“Manners?”

He groaned, “Whaaaaaat?”

“Did your mother not teach your manners?”

Sensitive topic, it made him wince and pout. Trevor stayed silent. You noticed how he refused to look at you in the eye. All his confidence dropped when you mentioned his mother. He just continued eye-fucking you and caressing your breasts.

“Trevor?” You broke the silence.

“[y/n],” The way he slurred your name, “Fucking ride me. I ain’t gonna ask twice.”

“But you already asked me twice…”

“You’re starting to piss me off, sugar. Don’t fuck with me.”

“You’re asking me to fuck you.” You pointed out. While in heat, you warmed up his erected cock with your hands. Whether you were prepared, Trevor arched his back and groaned heavily. You didn’t realise how sensitive he was, especially from a handjob.

“Oh, yes… Yes, I like that,” He panted, “Keep going, keep going!”

You grinned and used this for your advantage. He was vulnerable. You pretended to stroke his cock before raising your palm and slapping the tip.

His back arched in pain, “FUCK!” Trevor roared.

You did it again; seeing the same reaction.

“Fuck, oh yeah! OH, SHIT!” He was a hot mess. Every time you slapped his length, he’d only squirm and moan like no one else was in the room. Wrong. People were in the room, but you weren’t bothered anymore. Maybe this crazed guy was more fun than you thought. If only you knew how whiney he was before the game, you wouldn’t be too nervous around him then.

“Take your top off.” You ordered softly.

“Ah… Ah, uh?” Trevor glanced up, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “My top?”

“Yes.”

He breathed in and out heavily. You had to help him take off his leather jacket and shirt as he was left shirtless, for your taste. He had a hairy chest, quite skinny but oddly muscular. However, the beers he had that day made his stomach bloated so you were greeted with a small, hairy pouch. You trailed your finger across it, using your nail, making him whine and whimper.

“Ohhhh, you’re fuckin’ with me…”

“You wanted me to.”

Trevor glared lustfully at you, “Jesus… You’re too fuckin’ hot, [y/n].”

“Just lie back. You wanted me to ride you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I want, I want! I want! Gimme! – “

“Shush.” You pressed a finger against his wet lips.

Trevor raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Authority wasn’t his cup of tea, yet he seemed content to follow your commands. He scratched his stache before lying down and holding onto your hips, ready.

“I hope they see this though…” He’d cheekily oppose as you sat down onto his naked lap, his boner painfully fucking your clit.

You nibbled your bottom lip and closed your eyes. You grabbed his penis and used it to cause friction against your clit until you were both squirming against each other.

“Nah, stop… Stop fuckin’ edging me!”

“Easy… Easy…” You’d attempt to calm him. Trevor was growing breathless already. He was arching his back, grabbing the table, jerking his hips up; he was doing everything he could to resist your playfulness.

“Oh, fuck… Nah, do it, please. I won’t be able to last, [y/n].”

You took his words for granted and sat down, your crotches interacting. Once he was fully fucking your insides, volume didn’t seem like a boundary. You’d moan his name and begin to bounce.

“Oh! Yes, God, you’re so fuckin’ wet!” Trevor heaved and migrated his hands from your waist to your jiggling breasts. He squeezed them like a squish toy, making ungodly sounds, varying from grunts to outrageous gags.

“Trevor, ah!” You held onto his wrists and bounced faster.

“Ma’am, ma! – “

“Shit, fuck… Mhm…” His cock would bury itself deeper after he allowed you to dig into him. You couldn’t believe you were having sex with him, you just met him a few hours ago? Comparing his appearance from the second you met him, his mullet was draped in sweat, his dark eyes were dazed and unconscious, his stache was ruffled from the intense kissing. To cut it short, he was ruined.

And it was your fault.

“Yeah, yeah! Oh yeah!” Trevor whined, “C’mon! Give it to me! Your cunt is so fuckin’ sexy, oh yeah!”

You swore the room gotten more quiet as Trevor’s moans echoed. Nonetheless, you ignored it while riding him because the sensation was heavy. It felt like you needed to cum already. Your stomach was dominated with butterflies and Trevor’s cock was furiously twitching and pulsing.

You’d peer down at him with a honest, pleasured smile. Your tongue sat on your bottom lip until it was confirmed that you were climaxing.

“Oh fuck…”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in your pussy!” Trevor – as per usual – was expressive. He kept you riding him as you both choked out some groans, your orgasm meeting with his. His dick loaded an impressive ton of cum inside your cunt, the spillage making you whimper his name.

“Shit, shit…” You breathed.

“More, more!”

“Oh God, okay.”

He sat up and stared at you with a perverted smirk.

“What?” You’d frown.

“Sit on my face.”

“Huh?”

Trevor used his strength and lifted you up from his lap and crawled under. You gasped when he was directly under your cum-soaked pussy. You felt his eyes stab Hell into it.

“Fuckin’ sit on me, [y/n]…” He growled, hands clasping your thighs.

The booth seats were rattling when you lowered yourself onto him. Trevor was still lying on the leather seats, forcing you to hover over his face. Of course, you used the table beside you for stability and in front of you was the whole bar. It was empty, calming your thoughts after the anxiety that more people would come by for a few beers.

“Gimme a piece of your fuckin’ cunt, ma’am.” Was the last thing Trevor muffled before stuffing his mouth into your abused pussy. His tongue, so unreally long, licked up the traces of his own semen after he had filled you up.

You squirmed and gripped onto the table. Your tits were hanging, his handprints marking red bruises all over your chest and neck (not forgetting the amount of hickeys).

“Oh, fuck…” You gulped and looked over your shoulder as you heard rubbing noises. Trevor was jacking himself off when face-fucking you. He was brutal. You watched him interrogate his poor cock like it was replaceable.

“Argh!” He muffled a cry in your cunt.

“Trevor, oh my! – “

You turned around again and went wide eyed when you noticed the group.

They were still there.

“Trevor, they are here – FUCK!” He dismissed your concerns by tongue-fucking you to death. You pathetically moaned, accidentally making eye-contact with Michael who was disturbed beyond belief.

They all grabbed their things and headed towards the exit. You watched in guilt, but at the same time, you were too aroused to care. You began to grind against Trevor’s mouth. His moustache had left rashes upon your thighs and flaps. It was burning hot, it was making you overstimulated – beautifully overstimulated. You wanted more to feel, more to cum to.

“Oh, yeah! Trevor!”

Bradley was the last to leave. Unlike the others, he smirked and gave you a wink. It was an uncomfortable gesture. He was as weird as Trevor, in that creepy way, and you knew when you finish and part ways, he’s going to get questioned about… Your “activities” that they had accidentally walked in to.

“Fuck! Oh yeah!”

You constantly looked over your shoulder to see him orgasming many times. There was a puddle of semen on his stomach. His sensitivity had made him cum when you sat on his face. He had cum when jacking off. He had cum to the thought and feeling of you. It was hard to hear him orgasm considering he was being strangled by your pussy, but in a way, you’d feel his tongue shake with anticipation.

“I- I’m gonna…” You pushed harder against him, “I’m gonna cum!”

Trevor was crawling under your skin, his tongue was torture to your poor cunt. He wasn’t gentle at all. He was beating you to a pimp until you came.

And it was a drastic, messy, unstainable orgasm.

“FUUUUCKK!” You sobbed and trembled.

He licked up the cum that drained into his mouth. He slurped, you heard this, and he slurped again, and again, and again.

“Oh… Oh, my God…”

Trevor’s tongue departed from your sex before pressing hot kisses in your inner thighs, freeing himself from between your legs. He gasped for the fresh air and stared up at you. There were drooled, white liquids oozing from his lips and chin. He grabbed your jaw and pulled your head down, kissing your lips. You tasted your own cum and moaned. Trevor passionately made love to your lips until he pulled away and ruffled up his mullet.

“You tasted like heaven on a golden platter, ma’am…” He giggled dazedly.

You followed the way he tangled up his hair and reached over, stroking it. You draped your fingers across his scalp.

“Mm…” Trevor murmured and closed his eyes, “That’s nice…”

“I like your hair.”

“Oh yeah? I like your tits.”

“Ahh…” You chuckled and felt him knead them with his bare palms again.

“And your pretty little face…”

“That was intense.”

He giggled, “Oh, you’ve seen nothin’ ye – “

“Trevor!” A loud voice interrupting your conversation. Brad was at the bar exit, his face bored, “Bro! C’mon! You finished your little fuck-fest. The fucking taxi is here, hurry up already!”

Trevor glared at Bradley as he crawled out of the booth, putting his cock away and throwing on his shirt again.

“Fuckin’ Bastard…” He whispered to no one in general before helping you zip up your dress and made you look… At least punctual when seeing the rest (who’s shamefully experienced your momentary sex).

“We were long.” You smiled.

“Yeah, but I wanted more time.”

“We will soon.”

Trevor winked and nudged you, “You bet your ass…”

You made your way out of the bar and was greeted with the uncomfortable atmosphere. Mikey was sending stares of Satan at Trevor while Amanda was biting her lips, trying to ignore what she saw.

“I’m here. Now what?” Trevor muttered grumpily.

“Excuse me, ma’am…” You went wide eyed when Brad used the term “ma’am”, almost tormenting you both, “Would you like a ride home with us?”

“Bradley, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll kill you.”

“I can’t believe you said ma’am during sex, bro!”

Trevor went to punch him until Michael held him back. He effortlessly held onto the collar of his jacket before the taxi finally arrived, and by then, you decided walking was safer than… A carpool with these heathens.

“You aren’t joining us?” Amanda asked, sitting in the front.

You shook your head.

“No, rephrase that… You ain’t coming?”

“Brad!” T shoved his friend into the car before crawling inside after him.

“Go say goodbye to your madam!

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You heard him scream, then he rolled down the windows and winked, “My motel room is down the main-road West… Show up any time, sugar.”

“Trevor, get your own room! We share that room!” Michael protested.

“Pussy…”

“[y/n], is Trevor’s dick small?” Brad tried to shout over the noise of the engine.

“FUCK OFF, CUNT!” Trevor battered him again.

“Jesus Christ… Get home safe, [y/n].” Mikey muttered before their taxi drove off, leaving you embarrassed, excited…

And fucking sore.

102 notes · View notes

suvidrache · 9 months

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Relationship Headcanons

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 125 / Read it on AO3 | Offline Version

— He would love how nice you are compared to Trevor.

— He wouldn't tell Trevor about you as anyone Wade comes close to dies.

— Unfortunately, Wade isn't very good at keeping secrets.

— He'd try to keep Trevor away from you as much as possible. He doesn't want to share you with him.

— Unfortunately, you might meet Trevor and hopefully, you can stand up to him. Wade wouldn't do anything. He's too afraid something might happen to him or you, or both.

— Wade would frequently buy you gifts just because.

— He likes seeing you happy, and he loves how just him, in general, makes you happy.

— He would talk about you all the time to Ron.

— He would spend more time with you rather than with Trevor.

Tag List: @eli-chris, @queendeeshorrorimagines, @sunmoongoddess / Join My Tag List Here!

#wade hebert #wade hebert x reader #wade hebert imagines #wade hebert headcanons #gta x reader #gta imagine #gta headcanons #gta v wade #gta v #gta 5 fanfiction #grand theft auto #grand theft auto v

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marchsfreakshow · 7 months

Text

Cigarette Tension [Michael De Santa]

You and Michael De Santa; you're friends with Tracey De Santa, and she brings you home one day when Amanda and Jimmy are out.

Moodboard made by @lilthbunny

Sort of a self insert fic cause I'm down bad for this man. (And as gender neutral as I could make it lol)

Could be suggestive. -18 be warned; Addiction to smoking is referenced.

Your perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tracey pulled up in the driveway, and I stared wide-eyed at her house. It was a mansion, let alone one with a pool and a tennis court of all things! She got out of the car and my jaw was slack. "Y/N c'mon! Fame Or Shame is gonna start sooonnn!" She wiggled a bit as I brought myself out of my trance and stepped out of the car.

I had become friends with Tracey De Santa recently after accidentally bumping into her when I was shopping. We apologized after a while, but at first, she was telling me off, annoying me with 'what's your excuse?!' And 'im from money you know?! Daddy can kill you instantly!' I rolled my eyes a bit before picking up her stuff.

"lemme pay you back."

"This was $100..?" She asked, staring at the broken perfume bottle on the ground.

"Okay? I have $200 to spend still." She just smiled and I took her back into the perfume shop.

A few weeks later, and more asks later, I was finally stood by her front door. "I think Jimmy and Mom are out. Daddy's being lazy still in the living room." She grinned. I chuckled in response and walked in with her. "Daddy! My friend Y/N is here."

I followed the chirpy girl into the living room. It was magnificent, and much more than my small apartment. But the man sitting on the sofa took my attention. He was in his 50s at least. Chubby... but attractive. He looked over with a drink of whiskey in one hand.

We made eye contact immediately, and it was like I was captured by him, even though I was just looking into his eyes. I couldn't let my thoughts run wild here, I just couldn't. No one said anything, but Tracey could tell I was staring. "Y/N. Eugh. I'll be in my room sorting this shopping out. Be right back."

I sort of mumbled an okay and leaned against a wall awkwardly. Michael went back to the TV. "you can come and sit down."

"oh I'm okay, thank you though."

As soon as I said that, the man stood up. He turned off the TV, and quietly went outside, holding out a cigarette box behind him. I stared hungrily at the box while it disappeared. The debate and war in my head were eventually won, and I nonchalantly joined him outside. "You smell like you smoke inside."

"You smell like an addict."

"And look at that, you lured me out here." I felt so confident now. My own guess was the cigarette between my fingers, and the lighter I was about to light for the both of us.

We made eye contact again as the cigarettes were lit and we took our breaths.

Tracey clearly was busy sorting out my own shopping compared to hers. I bought barely any expensive things, but it seemed she got everything that was expensive. "How did you meet my angel then?" The word 'angel' came out like sarcasm, but I felt the love within it.

"I broke her perfume by accident when we bumped into each other. I decided I was nice that day, and bought her a new one." Michael raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing me for a second. I fidgeted around a bit as we took our time to smoke.

A few minutes went by before he stomped his cigarette out, I wanted to take my time. I already fucked up my cigarette sobriety, why not enjoy it? Michael's eyes found mine again. A war was happening in my brain again. He was attractive, for a 50-something-year-old. But god he was married! With two kids my age, a bit younger. Clearly.

I was finishing my cigarette up, and I stomped it out soon after. He stood in front of me barely blocking the bright sun. "Michael."

"I can tell..."

"Tell what?"

He placed a kiss on my cheek, then my neck. I was confused and turned away. "You got it figured out.", Michael winked at me, then headed back inside.

I was standing there, against a wall, in my friend's backyard, questioning why her dad just kissed me after a cigarette. He smelled vintage. Old cologne, worn-out suits, and the cigarettes.

When I figured he was back to watching TV or something, I walked in awkwardly. The man was distracted with making a bowl of chips in the kitchen. After taking a deep breath, I headed up the stairs and found Tracey's room right in front of the stairs. She was sleeping. I wasn't sure for how long, but she was asleep. The other door, I assumed was Jimmy's by the sign on it. "Welp, fuck Fame or Shame I guess," I muttered, grabbing my own bags, that held my shopping.

"Why don't you stay for the evening? You're nice. And you seem like a good friend to my girl." Michael said suddenly. The tension I felt last time had come back.

"oh no, I really couldn't. I have all this, and I wanna get it all home quickly." I stuttered out, feeling embarrassed for no reason. I barely knew these people! Why was this middle-aged man so attractive and why did I have to make friends with his daughter!? It seemed like the war in my brain never stopped. My nerves calmed when I was on my own. Or I was drinking. So many things calmed me, but staying the night wasn't one of them.

"No seriously. C'mon. I'm ordering Chinese food tonight. D'you like Chinese food?" Michael just smiled and patted the seat next to him. The TV was playing some sort of old film. A noir film.

As I sat down next to him, awkwardly, I nodded. "I get takeaway a lot."

"oh?"

"I'm not incredibly well off, but I got 400 from my aunt recently. So, I paid my rent for a few months, and y'know. Met Tracey-." My mouth blabbered. I waffled a lot before Michael cut me off.

"You're staying then?"

"Mhm."

"Good! I'm sure Amanda will take to you." His eyes stuck to the movie. It was intimate. I leaned my chin on my knees while attempting to watch the movie too.

Time passed. Movies and shows went by. We ate, and drank, and he had one last cigarette. I wasn't sure where Amanda and Jimmy were, and Tracey was a deep sleeper. "Where is everyone?"

"Jimmy'll come back soon. And Amanda probably found somewhere else to sleep."

"That... sounds bad." My tone was slightly guilty. Not like I had done anything anyway, but it was 4 p.m. at this point, and no one had come back to Michael's place.

"My relationship is fucked. Might as well keep it up."

"What happened? If you don't mind talking about it.."

"I fucked another stripper. She decided her tennis coach was the best person to go to after. Because of course, she did. In my own house, on my own bed. Of all fucking places."

Michael kept going about their relationship, but I could tell he was leaving some details out. Like he couldn't tell me every part of the story. When he stopped and looked over at me, I held his hand softly. He used his hands a lot clearly. Rugged, short, dirty nails. My thumb softly rubbed over his thumb. Empathy wasn't my strong suit, but I could try. The man's eyes softened for once and placed the same hand on my thigh.

I was feeling something. But I was so, distracted by looking at him, I couldn't tell what he wanted. Whatever it was, I didn't know if I should give it to him. The concentration on my face became obvious, and he backed down a bit, moving his hand away. "You didn't..have to.." I whispered, inching closer to him and his alcoholic breath. He kept his silence and went back to the position we were in a few seconds ago. It was like a clock was ticking. A time bomb about to explode.

This was lust. Not love. I didn't want to be known as the one who fucked my best friend's dad. Not particularly. But, he held me captive when I stared at him. Why was he fucking me with his eyes? That look I didn't see often, I knew it. All he did was hold onto my waist as I faced him, sitting on my knees. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know who was around. All I knew was that I just wanted him. For some fucked reason. Daddy issues I guess.

His hair was a bit messed up after being inside all day. The red shirt, the baggy trousers. His hands. His eyes, and his 5 o'clock shadow that was still there at 7pm. Everything about this feeling was fucked. Everything. But god he was so handsome. At any moment, his wife could come through the door, or his son, or Tracey could wake up, and kick me out of the house for being weird with her dad. My eyes screamed nervousness apparently.

"We'll be okay."

He kissed me gently, and he held me gently. This felt insane. What was I doing?! Kissing a married man!? While I kissed him back, my thoughts were like a race track. Where did I drop off my shopping? Nothing sounded like it broke, but maybe something did. "Are you alright?" Michael rested his hand on the side of my face, looking concerned.

"You're distracted."

"I suppose so."

"Nothing matters right now. Calm yourself."

We were entangled in each other again. I sat on his lap, straddling him. He held the small of my back. I gripped his shoulders. Our breaths mixed when we pulled away from each other. The TV was still playing noir movies. It didn't distract him, thank god.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

oh. shit.

I went wide-eyed and got off Michael immediately, my embarrassment now noticeable. Tracey stared shocked at her dad as I hurried behind her, grabbed my stuff and headed for the door.

"Y/N!"

"Tracey, angel.. listen."

"DAD! I can't fucking believe you! You're worse than Mom sometimes, Jesus!"

She stomped out into the backyard, so I took this opportunity to move away and go home. Thankfully, Michael didn't follow. Not until I got out the gate anyway. He stopped the car next to me and stared apologetically at me. "Just let me drive you home,"

Awkwardness filled the car, my bags in the back, and I was sitting in the passenger seat, looking out of the window. I refused to look anywhere but the window. I just couldn't look over to him. The man driving me home. The man who I was making out with a few minutes ago. Clouds went past quickly, and the bags were the only noise coming from inside the car.

The drive almost killed me inside it was so long. But we got there, eventually. Taking a deep breath, I just opened the door quickly, grabbed my stuff and closed the car door behind me.

He lingered.

"Don't linger, Michael..." I mumbled. The car window was open, and I knew he wanted to say something. My front door opened, my foot entered the hallway, and I didn't decide to look back. He stood there, by my front door. "I'm home now. Thanks.."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's my fault." I kept walking away, into the living room, but because he was in the doorway, I couldn't close it.

"Alright. But you know you can come back."

"I think Tracey's opinion of me has drastically changed. I doubt it." My mutters continued. I acted uninterested and bored. But I wasn't mad at him, not really.

"Just...come back soon okay?" The door shut. Finally. My chest felt less heavy now, so I almost slid my way into the kitchen.

A creak.

Not my footsteps. They couldn't be.

"Michael please.."

"I don't think anyone will realise."

We just stood there, staring at each other. "How about a smoke?"

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

The only tag today: @beetleblunt

#gta 5 #GTA V #michael de santa #michael de santa x reader #gta fanfiction #im such a simp #Michael de Santa x you #fluff #x reader fluff #suggestive #gta #grand theft auto v #might make a part 2 #big Michael simp help

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