#OC// Auto

[autoboros]

Shadows are on my brain again.

[valgeristik]

i dont think he remembers what a normal meal is, nor does he care

[macaronichewtoyz]

Robotsona reboot!! Beep boop 🤖⚙️

[charliesgayhead]

Been playing GTA Online lately and wanted to draw my character

[cokoweee]

Forgot that right one from work

RELEASE ME! YOU DID THIS TO ME BEAST @sha-biest

[musubiki]

mochi doodle. coco hyping her up to switch to the short-skirt-with-shorts-underneath combo!!

[miranita]

it’s been a while but I’m back…ish, i’ve been on my oc x canon era on twitter so I here’s some unfinished sketches that I’ll probably finish when I get some free time so in the meantime here they are ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[gtafest]

GTA SECRET SANTA 2024

It's time for another Secret Santa!

For those who don’t know, Secret Santa art trade is an exchange between artists and writers who create fics/fan arts/graphics for one another as a Christmas present. Secret means that you can't tell anyone what you are working on until it's time to post your work.

The theme is mostly Christmas, but you can also leave other kinds of prompts if you want. You can ask for gifts about any GTA games or even your original characters. The mod will do their best to match up everyone so that there is representation for as many games as possible.

NSFW prompts or themes so heavy that they could make people uncomfortable are not allowed. Always ask if you're unsure! Make sure your prompts are very clear on what you want. The form has a guide on leaving prompts.

You can join by filling in this form. It will only be available until November 15, so be quick! By November 18, you will receive the information of the person you're going to gift your work to. Then you will have until Christmas to work on your gift. If you can't stick to the deadline, you shouldn't participate, but in December, all Christmas themed GTA works that this blog gets tagged to will be reblogged! <3

The moderator will ask you for progress a couple of times before the deadline to make sure that everyone gets their gift. If there are any problems and you can’t participate any longer, contact the mod ASAP.

Feel free to reblog this post and hopefully, we get a lot of participants to light up the Christmas time!

Mod: @nevergonnasimpyoumikey

[chloe12801]

Text post dump with Trikey, Framar, and Tranklin? Frevor? What do we call them lmao

[ronkeyroo]

Hey, Its still Us

[autoboros]

The gays return

And closeups because I spent too long on these

[shuunnico]

SeptGrember 2nd! Who here is excited for the new Grem Theft Auto?

Obligatory SeptGrember drawing of Grem in a swimsuit.

[macaronichewtoyz]

Malfunction!! Please stand by! [he/it/they]

[spotaus]

I am begging on my knees that Tumblr posts this. It has no audio but I cannot send it from my computer to phone and I want it archived lmao-

[puppetgearing]

Niko's specialty. A well-known local food of Fontaine now fried on a pan to a perfect golden brown, accompanied with a few sprinkle of spice, instead of just the usual taste of butter and garlic, it now has a spicy tint to them and it surprisingly compliment well with the taste of the overall dish. However, you can't help but be worried and horrified looking at how much spice Niko added to his bread...

i have no idea how to draw food !!!!!!! but i managed to make Niko's specialty somehow !!!!!!! after months of avoiding it orz

here's a lil speedpaint tho !! sorry if its angled weirdly, ibis run into problem :[

[starksinner]

Why Didn't You Stop Me?

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

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

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

November 16th, 2017.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your therapist was gonna kill you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The best girl.

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus H. Christ. What a charmer. 

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

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

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

Embarrassing. Unbecoming. Completely mindfucked. 

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

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

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

God.

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

Maybe all three?

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

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

Chapter 2

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

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