Rockstar - Blog Posts

Help what did he say

I’m sure slash could practice and do a split

no aesthetic shit for now just a stupid rant. is it just me who fucking tweaks out whenever i listen to november rain ??? like the last few seconds of it has me tweaking the fuck out its actually unreal.. but maybe thats just me

izzy in his skater era. 🎸🖤🦇

Izzy Stradlin. No idea what year this is but I'm guessing it's '88 lol. 🦇🎸💋

oh good lord.

Izzy Stradlin, at the ritz 1991. 🎸🦇💋

dr.feelgood photoshoot, 1989. 🦇🎸💋

Axl rose, 1987. I'll post the crüe later i promise. 🦇🎸💋

ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞

!Teenage! Izzy stradlin/ reader

(Basically Jeffrey Isbell in that fanfic)

Tags: High School, Prom Night, 1980s, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, First Meetings, Rejection, Popular Kids vs Outcasts, Dancing, Music References, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Happy Ending, Teen Romance, Second Person POV, Reader Insert and just izzy it’s already a tag.

Description: When prom night turns into a disaster of rejection and humiliation, two outcasts meet on a park bench. She in her ruined sequined dress, he with his crumpled bouquet meant for someone else. Both wounded by the popular kids who chose others, they find unexpected comfort in each other's company. What starts as shared misery becomes an impromptu dance under the stars, proving that sometimes the best moments happen when you least expect them.

a/n: My exams are eating my ass now and I’m tweaking out for them as if I’m going to fight with a literal dragon wtf. This fanfic came to me when I was looking at my old prom photos from middle school (yeah we have those) and I was like: hell yeah. Let’s not sleep that night and write something about our man Izzy, cause once again wtf not. My sleep schedule is already ruined because I catch a real inspiration here so enjoy 🫶🏻

May. The month that all graduates hate, and it's not only because the childhood is over and everyone will fly away from their parents nests to build their own lives. No, not because of this. And not even because the exam season begins, but simply because all the losers of school’s society will once again be humiliated in such a special way that every hope of finding happiness is equal to zero. As you understood we are stalking about prom here. Yes, yes, a place for fairy tales and first kisses, but not for your school. You have long outgrown the age where, sitting in your room, you built castles of love stories and fairy-tale myths that any minute now a prince on a white horse will gallop for you and take you away from this Hell. He should have, but he didn't, as usually happens in life.

Derek is a prince?... no, but the idiot you invited to the prom, the idiot who is the captain of the football team and your date of the night, and the idiot you liked long enough to realize how stupid and naive you were to let your heart beat faster. Every guy you met was idealized, you liked them all simply because they showed their attention to you. You didn't know what love was and probably no one else does, simply because at your age popularity and status are more important than nightly serenades and poetry dedications. So the evening turned into a disaster when Derek accepted your invitation but ended up making out at the prom with one typical and such a stereotypical blonde cheerleader with an open cleavage who was just trying to get the attention of your so-called "boyfriend". Tina. Yes, you noticed this connection between them a long time ago and it didn't make you feel any better when, walking back with drinks, you noticed how they hugged and kissed - it was a low blow. It was like all 206 bones in your body were breaking at once, grinding you into powder, smashing your nose into the dirt and slapping you so hard that a trace of shame would remain forever on your cheek. You remained there as tears welled up and slowly flowed down your cheeks and your heart created a crack in pain. You didn't notice how someone pushed you and all the drinks spilled right on your dress that you had been choosing for months specifically for this event where you were supposed to kiss Derek and wear the crown of the prom. How foolish.

But it looked good, this dress was a bold contradiction of softness and edge, clinging to your figure in rich plum tones that deepened to black at the hem. Those contractions were something that you wanted to prove of yourself, someone you wanted to be for Derek. But it’s not who you are. The fabric shimmered with a galaxy of fuchsia sequins, scattered like stardust across the sheer overlay. Each step made them flicker under the chandeliers, catching the light in flashes that felt almost rebellious that now seemed like nothing with drinks spilled all over it. The bodice hugged you with elegant ruching, sculpting your waist and drawing the eye upward to a halter neckline that hinted at something both vintage and daring. The skirt flared gently into jagged, asymmetrical points, like petals with attitude, brushing just above your knees and swaying like they had their own rhythm. Strapped to your calves were winding black ribbons from your heels, lacing up like something out of a midnight fairytale. On one wrist, a delicate corsage of pale pink and ivory roses sat beside a burst of chiffon. On the other a punch of wild color, thistles and a rose in bruised red and violet, bound in black which gave the impression that maybe you weren’t as soft as you seemed. It wasn’t the kind of dress meant to blend in. It was made to be remembered, but instead you stand there with tears over your eyes and ruined fabric.

You are Cinderella because you lost your carriage and beautiful dress after midnight. Metaphorical confidence and childish naivety clouded your rational mind amidst the rhinestones, sequins and long glitter pendants that read “Prom 1980”. Amongst the crowd of teenagers, drink, fun and sparkly outfits, you felt like a missing piece of the puzzle and like you didn’t belong here. Glasses crashed to the floor and fabric was ruined until you began to realize how stupid you had looked this whole time. “You’re going to lose that girl” by The Beatles in the background didn’t help at all. How all those hours spent in the bathroom had been wasted, how makeup had become unnecessary that all weaknesses had slipped out when someone responded to you after a collision: “Stop standing there like a statue, you bitch. Can’t you see me coming or something?” it only provoked tears, bringing you back to reality. Derek and Tina turned to look you, studying you briefly before turning back with a smirk. You probably looked pathetic. Pathetic little creature. Naive and so stupid like a damn baby. Oh yeah who else you can possibly be than that?

You hate this world. You hate these people and you hate this school. All just to get out of this place, you ran out of the wooden door with a vertical window in the background, slamming it and no longer wanting to return to this damn hall. Everything that was happening around you shook even more, everything around was a trigger for tears and obsessive thoughts. You just don’t understand why all the bad things happened only to you and how you could have been so stupid to fall in love with this bastard? The sound of your heels echoed through the dark corridor as the music in the background disappeared, cracking your skull with memories of what you had seen earlier. Streams of tears ruined your makeup, painting your cheeks in a black stripe of mascara that was inexpensive. Because you were trying to save some money on that fucking dress. In your teenage dreams, you wanted Derek to take it off you. It only hurt more because you believed in yourself so much, preparing and planning everything in advance - speech, words, behavior, smell and appearance. And in the end he chose someone else.

Going outside and quickly walking down the stairs, you sat down on the step and started crying, but louder. You didn't care if anyone saw, those school years were over anyway and those people would leave, forgetting about you and themselves. But honestly you do because you wanted to be remembered as sharp and bright girl just to prove yourself once again that the role you worth for others is definitely not a crybaby. Your teenage hormones didn't help you at all. You're not a child anymore, but you're not an adult either. You're locked between two worlds and nothing can be the same as before. Kaleidoscopes and patterns of different colors blurred in your eyes when you felt the wind blowing your hair away from your bashful face.

Away from the monster you turned into in a matter of seconds after what you saw. You became a laughing stock that they'll hang on the boards of the school stand to ridicule you. It's so stupid and so unfair. But unfortunately you will get everything in this world only if you are popular and have a pretty face like this bitch Tina. Tina Morgan. Now you hate her, although you didn’t like her before either. An arrogant slut who likes to sit on two chairs, just so that all the male attention was on her. And so she oppressed you by receiving Derek and most likely the crown of the prom. Just the thought of this cut off your breath with a sharp pain and you began to feel how tears turn into an excess of air, and your chest can no longer cope. It never even occurred to you that you need to be a bitch to be liked by others. Since childhood, you were taught that princesses who received a crown are kind and beloved women. Not those who behave like Tina. You heard distant footsteps and someone's laughter that was approaching the exit where you were sitting at. Thinking about the bad, you prayed to God or whoever even exists up there, just so that it was not them. But with the door wide open and interested looks, you saw that it was a couple who couldn't tear themselves away from each other until they noticed your intense gaze and turned to ask who you were and what happened. And also why you were crying, which only made it more painful. Fuck you all, you replied, mentally wishing for their lips to stick together and choke them to death. You didn't want to see others happy, especially next to you in a place where it was calm and quiet and no one could possibly disturb you. A place where you could calm down and digest it all.

You stood up again, walking away under intense gazes. Maybe you were weird and that's why no one was interested in you and that's why no one will ever love you. You're an outcast, you're a commoner, you're disgusting, you're lonely, you’re an embarrassment, you’re an attention whore, you’re stupid and... your brain didn't had time to throw up a new insult when you walked outside the school closer to the nearest park and noticed a strange figure sitting on a bench. Some weird guy.

He sits there with a casual, almost defiant slouch, a teenager on the edge of adulthood who wears his confidence like a second skin but he lost it this time. At 17 or 18, he has the lean, wiry build of someone who moves fast and lives faster, with long, inky black hair that falls over his face in tousled layers. His deep-set, dark eyes hint at a restless energy sharp, observant, and constantly sizing up the world around him, were now reduced to thinking mess. He wears a light blazer carelessly over a graphic tee bearing the face of Keith Richards. Stones fan, huh? The contrast between classic rock glam and his gritty, punkish presence is almost ironic. He looked attractive and interesting, which made you stop in your tracks to observe his slouched figure. The shirt hangs a little loose, like everything he owns is either thrifted, stolen, or passed down from someone with better luck. His hands are rested over his knees while he was holding an already ruined bouquet of flowers. Fingers calloused, maybe from playing guitar, maybe from climbing out of too many second-floor windows but you knew that it was altogether for sure. He looked familiar. Everything about him says he doesn’t care, but the way he poses, half-challenging, half-inviting and half-thinking tells you he does. Just not in the way most people do.

You slowly approached him, sincerely not understanding what he was doing here and why you had the feeling as if you had seen him somewhere before. He is surely from your school.

-«Hey... can I sit here?» you called him out with a slightly shaking and hoarse voice after crying, swallowing saliva and already accepting your fate.

The black-haired guy looked up and you recognized him. Jeffrey Isbell, the same guy from your school who everyone calls a “weirdo” because of his strange style and “gay” because of his long hair. And he also loves the Stones, which clearly shows how much worse the situation has gotten since the wave of hate towards this band and how all of their fans immediately became gay. It's hilarious. His chestnut gaze was looking at you and you had already lost your guard for a second while he calmly nodded with a hint of attention, moving away and leaving you a place next to him. Weird guy, he looks so calm and enigmatic as if he were the surface of the ocean. He put the bouquet on the other side of the bench, leaning back while the rustling of leaves played a serenade, letting you both get used to each other. This... Jeffrey is definitely weird but he's dressed cool and his hair looks cool. You had almost forgotten that he was friends with this crazy guy Bill Bailey from your parallel or whatever he was.

-«Tough night?» a hoarse teenage voice soaked in testosterone suddenly sounded somewhere to your left. You were already looking at him, but it didn't matter because he was also looking at you, directly pointing with his gaze at your ruined makeup and obvious dejection.

-«That's an understatement but... yeah you can say that.» You answered with a nervous laugh, looking away and bitterly chuckling, not wanting to feel his intense gaze on you, as if he already knew your entire family tree and also your favorite drink. But it's better to just forget, because the worst thing is if he realizes that you were rejected in front of everyone and you, like a naive fool, cried thinking that it was love. «And you?» you turned the arrows in his direction, not wanting to raise this topic.

-«Tina Morgan.» He answered calmly, which made you raise an eyebrow, realizing that words were not needed here. You were both in the same hole. What a coincidence...

-«Ah...» was the only thing that came out of your mouth, realizing that you absolutely don’t know how to support others, or even yourself. It is such a difficult task and you definitely need to study for at least another 12 years.

-«Yeah... and you as I get it is Derek Henderson?» He turned in your direction with sympathy, also deftly avoiding the main topic, not wanting to bare his wounded soul and deep shame for believing in love. Just as you. It's strange, because this is one of the reasons why humans can be called humans, and they are so embarrassed by this feeling. Like what the heck, dude?

-«Yes.» You nodded, looking at your hands that you placed on your knees, playing with the fabric of your ruined dress. «I take it you were also rejected and replaced by someone better?» You said it with such deep pain feeling that tears were about to flow down again but his voice distracted you.

-«Well yeah... I spent three weeks getting ready and even spent money on a bouquet. The price I could have bought new strings or wires for my guitar for.» Jeff started. Which made you look up understanding his pain, you also spent so much pocket money on a dress, although you could have bought posters of your favorite performers. Even if we talk about Jeffrey, his outfit was most likely borrowed from his father or a relative judging by the quality of the fabric. But he was still irresistible. Well, that's what you thought. Of course.

-«Me too. I spent a month choosing a dress and in the end it's ruined. I could have bought posters or vinyl in that store down the street with that money.» You shook your head feeling your own absurdity and stupidity thinking that it was really so important for your money. «So I came hoping he likes me but he chose Miss Perfect... but I don't blame him, I'm really not good enough for him.» You said, feeling your eyes getting wet again. Damn Derek.

-«Not good enough?» Jeff suddenly said, making you look up at him while he just frowned. There was no pain in his eyes even after Tina, which made you so jealous. How did he do it so easily?

-«Look at me!» You exclaimed, feeling an obsessive sense of injustice fill your soul. This world hates average, which is what you definitely were. «I'm not a cheerleader and I'm definitely not a blondie with perfect curves who just came out of Vogue! Of course, nothing would ever work out between us...» You realized how pathetic you sounded pouring out your soul to a guy you barely knew, who clearly didn't give a damn about you and your problems. Tears started flowing from your already wet eyes again. It simply couldn't be any worse than it already is.

-«I hope it’s a joke.» Jeff replied, from which you looked up at him, clearly not understanding what he wanted to say. He only smiled slightly lifting the corner of his virgin lips in a light form of support. «Wipe your tears, this bastard does not deserve you. Now crying because you can’t buy a poster of your favourite musician is a real problem. I sold my soul for this T-shirt with Keith.. so this is the only thing that supported me this evening. I mean…I could cry over Tina but she’s not Richards.» His velvety and such a boyish voice pleasantly flattered your heart, from which you blinked wiping your eyes, feeling a strange sensation in your lower stomach. He supported so strangely but skillfully, as if thousands of crying girls were sitting next to him and asking for help.

- «....» you simply lost your words listening to him, of course you knew that he was slightly strange and detached guy who almost has no friends except for the rockers with whom he plays behind the garages and this crazy Bailey. But this level of support was definitely something new.

-«See? You have nothing to say because I'm right.» He smiled sarcastically and it gave you such a big explosion somewhere inside, letting the ecstasy spread through the body and the butterflies fly up the stomach and straight to the heart feeling every rhythmic beat. You always wrote it off as hormonal reactions, being a teenager trying to grow up and get some brain. Just because falling in love with every lamppost... is a little weird. «You're not the type of girl who deserves tears, you don't deserve anything related to this at all.» Jeffrey added, which made you have so many questions that no professional who has considered them all will be able to answer them. But the most understandable is where did he suddenly get interested in you? In you...

-«And what do I deserve then?...» you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and feeling how all the unpleasant feelings accumulated at the level of your dignity.

-«This.» Jeff replied and turned the other way, taking out his crumpled and dirty flower bouquet he earlier left on the other side of the bench. «You deserve it.» He replied with a smile that made you smile back. What a romantic this dude.

-«A dirty bouquet?» You laughed awkwardly, already thinking that if they will ever invent a time machine, you will erase your existence for such a response to elementary flirting.

-«C'mon, think one more time.» He tut his tongue and shook his head. «It's not that bad, even if it was thrown on the floor. I think that next to you, it will shine with new colors ... as cheesy as it sounds.» He looked at you, still holding the bouquet and pointing it at you, with such an enticing face. As if begging you to take it.

-«Is this an invitation?» you asked with some naivety, holding out your hand and intercepting the bouquet that he gave you, lightly touching his fingers, from which the touch went through your body like electricity, causing goosebumps.

- «You're certainly not a cheerleader and you're definitely not a blondie with perfect curves who just came out of Vogue. But I'd be a fool if I didn't give you this bouquet.» Jeff paraphrased you, from which you smiled and the tears were forgotten. That bastard Derek and slut Tina, could suck it. They can bathe in perfectionism as much as they want, but we will always be one step closer to the truth ... simply because we are real and not fake Barbie and Ken.» said the black-haired guy, pushing his body up from the bench and holding out his hand to you.

-«This...» you looked at him in surprise, sincerely not understanding what just happened and what was going on. He was so quiet and aloof almost always, and here his other side of the coin was calling you to forget about this world and accept reality. This introverted guy that you briefly saw in the corridors did not stick out in your memory until this evening.

-«Shall we dance? I don't want to invite artificial blondes anymore. I like humans, not dolls, even if I'm disappointed in them... which I don't think will last long, because you'll fix it.» He smiled and for a second it seemed to you that you were sleeping, that any minute now you would hear the alarm clock and wake up.

-«But... I don't want to go back there and anyway-» you didn't have time to finish as Jeff interrupted you, shaking his head and using all his efforts, all his masculine charm to attract you. Although to be honest, you thought that he didn't even have to try.

-«No. We're not going back there, they can have all the fun they want but we have our own fun here.» Jeff said.

-«It's quite shitty..» you commented pessimistically, reluctantly taking his hand and standing up from the bench holding the bouquet in your hands.

-«Then...we are the king and the queen of our own shitty prom, how does that sound?» he nudged your shoulder before his other hand let go of yours and with permission from your eyes he dropped his hand at your waist.

-«Still shitty.» you smiled letting him catch you while the rustling of leaves distantly carried loud music from a nearby building filled with students who next year will leave, disappear and only the school photo book will remember them. You and Jeff are part of them, but it didn’t affect your dancing at all, as the song reached your ears you grabbed each other twirling and dancing under the night lights. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while the bouquet hung somewhere behind him. Let time stand still, everyone will forget you and you will forget them.

-«You’re hard to please..» Jeff joked, looking straight into your eyes with sarcasm. That damn smirk was spreading across his face again.

-«You're not Jimmy Page for me to like, but your resemblance attracts me.» you said back.

-«Oh, so... you're also a Zeppelin fan? Welcome to the club. We love black-haired guitarists.» Jeff replied, studying your face with interest, like a painter memorising every detail. «I just hope you're not here with me because I'm a black-haired guitarist and look like a kid of Keith Richards and Jimmy Page.»

-«No.» You shook your head with a laugh. He had a particular sense of humor and you were definitely starting to like it. It wasn't just because he calmed you down so quickly and brought you back to your senses. He was just being himself. «But that could be one of the reasons.»

-«I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult.» Jeff replied, his eyes falling on yours. You wanted to drown in them so much.

-«Neither. I just found your resemblance amusing.» You shrugged, until a barely audible song reached your ears, this one was "Dancing Queen" so ironic.

-«Too bad.. I was hoping for the former.» He grinned with such cheekiness that sometimes you considered the quote don't judge a book by its cover, because there might be a masterpiece behind it. And that masterpiece was most likely standing in front of you, which made you feel weird again.

-«What do you think... I'm weird? Well... I mean..if I think about them?..» You didn't want to specify who, because in any case, you'll come out as a weirdo. Thinking about rock stars is weird because they're a few years older than you and they certainly won't notice you... and thinking about Derek and Tina is also weird. Just because that's what they're waiting for. For you to waste your tears on them.

-«We are all weird in our own way. And I love the way you are weird, because it makes me fell more comfortable being weird with you.» Jeffrey replied, leaving you speechless again. Sometimes this weird guy was such a poet that you wondered if he was from a fairy tale. With a gentle smile, he leaned forward to your ear, letting you smell him. He smelled like….teenager, but better, like a guy who is preparing to become a man, leaving his boyhood behind. It sounds weird, but he looked smarter beyond his years. Jeff hummed the melody of Dancing Queen in your ear, with such a husky and slightly underdeveloped voice, trying to impress you with his singing. Such a gentle and quiet half-whisper, so that only you could hear. So that no one else could enjoy his mini concert for you. He would have been a great musician. «You are the dancing queen...Young and sweet, only seventeen..»

You danced with him to this melody until the very end and until the beginning of the next one, realizing that sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them and don't prepare for them for months. They just come and change your life upside down. Just like this black-haired guy who whispered different songs to you all evening while you danced like an old couple to the hits. Such a stupid thing this life, first it cripples then heals. But you knew that Jeffrey would definitely make you love this little thing called….life.

I think I have a type…

ChaptGPT knows what’s up 😎😎( I kinda joined the trend so I will put down the full list it gave me if someone is interested):

2)Jim Morrison

3)Joan Jett

4)Mick Jagger

5)Robert Plant

6)Debbie Harry (Blondie)

7)Prince

8)Slash (Saul Hudson)

9)Stevie Nicks

10) Kurt Cobain

Imagine having a kid with Brian jones and naming them Indiana….just like that you will have Indiana jones. *joke rimshot* 🥁🥁

(Alright that dad joke isn’t funny)

DAMN MICK, here we have our new Mr. Ultimate Rizzler (I know it’s not that deep but still) I was bored and came to harass him but apparently he had other plans for me 😭(yeah I still use c.ai and I’m supposed to revise for my exams wtf am I doing.)

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅

Izzy stradlin/ fem!Reader

Tags: original female character, late 1980s, karaoke night, music, cussing, smut, p in v sex, not established relationship, implying drug use, teasing, just Izzy (is already a tag), drunk/high state, wall sex, fingering kind of, maybe some other additional tags to be added(tell me if I missed something) + also it’s very long and I’m sorry but still hope you enjoy (lol).

Description: Under the neon lights of the Sunset Strip, a night of karaoke with Izzy Stradlin takes an unexpected turn. As MDMA flows through your veins and classic rock anthems fill the air, boundaries blur between performance and desire. What begins as musical connection evolves into something far more intense, but in the haze of substances and stolen kisses, can anything real emerge by morning?

a/n: that was supposed to be one of the chapters for my Ao3 fanfic with Izzy “Anhedonia” (shameless promotion yeah ikr) but I changed my plans for the plot itself so this chapter won’t be originally there. But I was kind of sad to throw away this beautiful chapter so I changed it a little bit to make a smut out of it. (lol what a lovely way to let this chapter live) So maybe I will post it here and on my Ao3, I’ll see. Anyway, I hope you enjoy cause it’s my first time writing smut (sorry if it’s ass) and I kind of need to train for further usage of this “genre”. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

A strong grip grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd of people who stuck to each other like tongues on ice, exchanging scents. His dilated pupils and clouded gaze could not be erased from your memory, while the “vitamin” taken half an hour earlier worked deep under your skull, creating a false sense of comfort in the middle of an ocean of the unknown. Izzy’s calloused and dry fingers intercepted yours, gluing the skin, so smooth, like child’s with his flaky and warm one. The difference was sensual. The rings he wore cooled some corners of your limbs, only to sweat again after a while, sliding like oil and electrifying the sense of touch. Like two teenagers, you ran after each other along the dark and dimly lit streets of the Sunset Strip, laughing with all your might and feeling especially free. It seemed to you that the whole world is just nonsense, you are the main character of your story where all those people are your friends and in general you are the queen of the whole world. You became more social and wanted to make friends with everyone. Izzy became more alive, you don’t know if you will remember him like this, if in the morning when the carriage turns into a pumpkin you will remember his happy eyes, saturated with euphoria. Remembering the fact that he threw off the shackles, running away with you from the imaginary guards of your prison with him inside your reality. Now in your heads there was not a single negative thought or guilt for actions, you felt good. And it doesn’t matter what the world thinks, because only you exist.

Somewhere in the distance, music was playing from some old convertible crookedly parked on the side of the road, spraying Bowie or Prince songs everywhere, you did not catch the familiar melody with your ears, not even having time to look back as Izzy pushed you after him into a dim alley lit only by neon and light from the windows of people who lived above. The air around you smelled of gasoline, burning, cheap street food and cigarettes, making the space just a thick impenetrable flow of mixed smells that your nose did not perceive well. Lifting your chest up, then down and then up again, you opened your mouth wanting only to inhale more air than everyone else, collecting a large armful of the remaining pure oxygen. It’s not real in places like this and soon it will be sold in bags along with drugs, because substances trick our brains, making us feel a constant need for something that our bodies do not need. Air is needed more than cocaine. One to live, another to not die. Izzy has the same reaction to you, especially now when his tall figure like a shield pushed everyone around, trampling a path for you through the tall grass and helping you further to the very corner of the alley where a red neon sign awaited you: “Backbeat Karaoke Lounge”. Slightly blinking, as if all the life was sucked out of it. The two letters “K” in the karaoke didn’t glow, which is why you couldn’t immediately read what was written there, already feeling like everything was swimming before your eyes. The other letters were still shining, like stars at the end of their lives, indicating the fact that soon no one would even guess what was written on this damn sign.

Izzy pushed the heavy wooden door with his shoulder, directing it forward. It was covered with leatherette like in underground clubs. Inside, behind this door, it generally smelled of cheap beer, overheated bodies and cigarette smoke that blurred the vision. Heat rushed into your body. You didn’t imagine Izzy’s brain being the genius of bad ideas, but in the last few days he began to show his bad side too often. Maybe this is for the best, fate screams run, but your brain says otherwise and begs you to stay. The impossible is possible, especially now when you realize that it’s already been several days since you met him and during this time you managed to spend more time together than apart. It says something, but you don't know what it is yet. It might be bad, it might be good, but it doesn't matter how fast your story does, it matters how deep it goes into your skin. And Izzy will stay there because he can't get his satisfaction.

Familiar pupils caught yours when you found yourself in place where everyone around you was free. Or rather, substances gave them wings of freedom sending them to heavenly heavens of pleasure while black filled the blooming surface of irises. Your euphoric wings of MDMA had long been digging in your brain, like a stick in an anthill releasing dopamine into free fall throughout the body while the world acquired colors and unusual softness, like moss. There was nothing under your feet and muffled music sounded in your ears, you feel it with every cell like a drowning man. Your senses were indeed the drowning Brian Jones. Yes, you are drowning just like him because breathing has become harder with every step. Like light through water, a neon sign on the wall meets you with Izzy inside "Sing your heart out" through this whole black hole of hedonism and damn prostitution of the soul. The ceilings were low, the walls were knocked off and only along them there were a few peeling booths with old posters - KISS, The Clash, Rolling Stones and many others that could be named during all evening. You liked them and now especially wanted to become one of them.

Izzy bought you drinks to sing karaoke for free, succumbing to another promotion and provocation to attract customers, selling more drinks. Karaoke evening once a week and you are already like Sherlock removing the mask from the false offers of an unpopular bar that is so eager to increase revenue. You looked around with your jaw lost somewhere as if you had never been to karaoke. In front of you was a small stage with two microphone stands, on the sides there were speakers on tripods, so old but powerful. They were so similar to guards. Behind the stage there was a TV with a convex screen and sometimes it seemed to you that it was about to pour out forward like liquid but solid magma. From the inside, there were low-res background videos of some beaches, random night shots of fireworks, waves and Tokyo. You wanted to jump right into the screen and be there among the azure waters and attractive pictures, only not here among the sweating crowd. A LaserDisc player, cassettes with soundtracks, a large remote control for selecting songs and a film were at your disposal when some idiots walked away realizing that real rock stars had come to replace them. You immediately took up the wired microphones with a metal grill and a power button, feeling like a real star. If only you could change your suit, you would be a real Freddie Mercury. Izzy was fiddling with the equipment when he returned from the bar counter, holding two large glasses of refreshing beer in his hand, which he left next to the screen, knowing for sure that both of you would sing until the end. What a tech geek. This guy knows his stuff and it seems he is not here for the first time.

- «Take on me.» you said out of the blue to which Izzy turned to you with a half-smile.

-«Is this flirting?» he asked in his usual raspy voice that jumped an octave higher, making him clear his throat. It was like he was hoping you meant something. Sometimes he was such a teenager that it made you smile and ruffle his hair with a smirk.

-«This is a song.» you pointed to the disc that laid out in a line with hundreds of others to which he turned his high eyes to you with disapproval not wanting to start with pop songs but noticing how your own puppy-like irises were looking at him, he nodded inserting the tape into the player, adjusting everything with the remote control as needed while you smiled with anticipation and nervously chattered your teeth. Familiar music came out of the speaker and it made you jump with anticipation, there was a small crowd around and you didn't care about them simply because Izzy and those songs meant more to your cheerful, high and exploratory view than a couple of idols that came to stare at you.

Izzy tuned in knowing that pop was definitely not what was on his playlist, but he decided to give you what you wanted. After all, it was his turn later. Anyway, he was here for one reason and that reason was reflected in his eyes as the first words appeared on the screen. Your voice was like that long yellow line, eating up the words, reproducing them from the screen into reality and pushing Izzy in the shoulder so that he would sing too and not stare at you.

- «…Today is another day to find you.» he blinked, returning to the screen and trying to catch the rhythm after the lost equilibrium he had just experienced when you had knocked him back into reality with your punch. Okay, lost social rating points again, he can give his cup back and run to the locker room in tears. How embarrassing, why was he staring at her? Okay..time to sing

- «Shying away.» Your voice complemented it and you turned to him as if apologizing for the awkward start. «I'll be coming for your love, okay?» such irony, such a sick and dishonest irony connected your views, which made you smile when his usual nut colored gaze caught yours. He sang it too and maybe it just seemed that way to you because you were high and all the people around you were your friends. But he clearly wanted to tell you something with this, because you weren't just joking around at the bar, but experiencing a small catharsis where even a small song is a confession.

- «Take on me.» Izzy's voice caught this chorus, which made you remember Morten Harket and his performative video where he calls a blonde girl with him to the world of comics on the other side of existence. Now this scene was similar to yours, it seemed that you were both about to run away to where no one would find you.

- «Take on me.» you smiled, catching his voice like a shooting star. Even if you couldn't sing, even if it didn't sound like Harket's, you both complemented each other. You weren't afraid to embarrass yourself, even if you were high, just because Izzy was there and he was in the same situation. 1:1.

-«Take me on.» such a cigarette and hoarse voice, completely unsuitable for a pop star, sounded from his thin and so desirable lips. Everything in the world seemed possible under the influence of drugs, even if from the outside you looked like idiots. You just wanted to forget and clasp his neck, giving him the opportunity to do everything he wanted with you.

-«I'll be gone... In a day or two» you tried to raise a high note, looking at the screen, then at Izzy, from which you got confused, feeling how laughter came out of your mouth by itself. Everything seemed so funny and simple. Even the fact that this phrase sounded ironic from your lips, you already forgot about everything looking into these deep brown or dark olive eyes, they changed color in the dark. You wanted to jump inside them, diving to the very depths, to his very heart. This feeling was repulsive knowing that you haven't even known each other for a week, but so what? No one cares.

The song continued and you began to dance when the melody began to gain momentum, pop music sometimes made you subconsciously shake your limbs and, like a hypnotized zombie, catch the rhythms in time with your heartbeat. Even despite your great love for rock, pop was sometimes the source of your joy, also doing magical things with your consciousness. A couple of people around you were also singing along, looking at you and nodding to the beat, someone was filming with a Panasonic camera, someone was laughing hysterically in the corner of the bar with a group of friends , some couple at the bar were kissing while the bartender was dusting himself askew, wiping glasses and having a strange hairdo like Elvis. You knew that you didn’t regret coming here at Izzy’s request, knowing that he has good taste in such places. He knows that music is a form of speech, and perhaps by sharing it with you this evening he was sharing words that none of you can say. The room was periodically filled with flashes of light, constantly illuminating your faces in different colors, while you tried different versions of Izzy on your tongue. Like a multi-colored Polaroid painted with different markers. The sounds of clicking, blinking screens and the muffled voices of those who chose songs danced around your temples. Your and Izzy’s song, came to an end with the cherry blossoms in the background as you sang the last line, your voice carrying through the room, feeling like it was your last day. You were so close, smelling the cigarettes on his body, dusting his skin with sugar, tasting the cherry gloss on his lips and the sheen of sweat on your collarbones. One touch and fate would chop his head off and burn you with the fire of karma, making you feel guilty for losing clear control in the midst of the musical and drug adrenaline.

-«Now it's my turn to choose.» Izzy said, pulling away and grabbing his glass of beer to ease the dryness in his throat.

-«What will you choose?» you asked, pulling the tape out of the player, still trying to get your breathing back to normal.

-«Gimme Shelter.» Izzy said as he picked out the right one from the stack of tapes and replaced pop with the Stones while you quickly gulped down your beer, returning your gaze back to the screen.

- «Classic.» You nodded back at him, getting ready to sing as the familiar guitar sound began to hit your chest so dryly with a rhythmic beat. Your fingers grabbed the microphone with a tremor, not from fear or excitement but from a feeling of dizziness, it seemed like you were about to fall when the Stones began to play, you loved this band so much and knowing that you were singing their song with Izzy gave your body a signal to lose gravity as the words began to appear on the screen one by one.

- «War, children, yeah..» He sang with you in unison as the words appeared on the screen again. The Stones really knew how to bring people together with taste.

- «It's just a shot away, it's just a shot away» you sang along feeling like Mick Jagger, as if your chest was about to fry in the hellish flames of submission to fate while the song, like a scream, pierced the ashes of war and desperation through a long slow motion.

- «It's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away..» Izzy sang along, closing his eyes and letting the music flow through his veins like heroin throughout your duet.

- «Kiss away, kiss away, hey!» you raised your hand up, feeling the energy of the melody only to splash it out of your body with different movements, understanding why the lead singers were dancing on stage. The culmination of the melody and different pictures on the screen did not take long to come and smiles of euphoria spread across your face again, washing it all down with more sips of beer, feeling how the glass empties quickly with the same speed as the pain, joy and adrenaline in your body after the «performance».

- «It's your turn to choose.» Izzy said, returning with another batch of drinks, using your wallet. Money was pouring out of it in stacks, although its joke, no, because you won't let him know that it's not even equal to what you have. Time is ticking fast again, not obeying your power.

- «Whole lotta love.» You smirked with a note of defiance in your voice while Jagger's voice and his sticky as gum Gimme shelter still pulsated in your temples. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were crazy.

- «Ohh..» Izzy whistled, replacing old glasses with new ones and leaning over the tapes, changing the Stones to Zeppelin. «Not bad, not bad.» The sound with a bad mix went through the speaker again, but with such soul. In the second minute of the song, you regretted that you were alive when sounds similar to moans went through your ears, you did not turn around to Izzy, not giving him a chance to look at you in a moment of vulnerability. But it wasn't long before the guitar sounds came to your aid, drawing your attention back to the lyrics. You still liked the song despite that small aspect, especially the fact that Izzy sometimes imitated the guitar with his fingers during the solo, making you smile at him. Someone lit a cigarette at the bar, and the smoke hung in the air, swirling in spirals under the very ceiling, letting imaginary clouds form, as if a karaoke machine was releasing smoke at the end or your and Izzy's minds. It all felt like an emotional episode. From Take On Me, where everything is still sweet and naive, to Gimme Shelter, where there is threat and desire, and to Whole Lotta Love, where everything becomes frankly physical and dangerous. The first is about escape, romanticism and illusion, the second and third are about threat, passion and an apocalyptic breakdown. Like your situation with Izzy, first a light hallucinogenic euphoria, then something much heavier and deeper, just like now.

Your hands, covered in glitter, then wrapped around each other as you drank glass after glass, song after song, losing your voice for hours. But you didn't care, because everything around you was floating. People - not people, but colored spots. The bar - not a bar, but a black room with lights, like a ship during a storm, screams, words and lyrics mixed, changing personalities like cards. You were two social chameleons exchanging yourselves for other people, becoming singers of fortune and world stages. Satisfaction, Stupid girl, Come together, Dude, Dream on, Light my fire, Somebody to Love, I love Rock’n’Roll… followed one after another eating up the minutes on the clock and erasing the passers-by, making people in the bar come and go, the places empty and faces spinning before your eyes, crossing out the exact contours. And yellow words appeared on the screen with white shadows, slowly emerging against the background of a murky view of Tokyo in the 70s, cars, women in kimonos, lights of night streets and meaningless shots, but it didn’t matter when the song was playing, all that was needed was the words and the rustling recording on the camera with the name of the song/band. Holding the microphone with both hands as if it were a life preserver, you danced, fooled around, half-hugged and just had fun with each other while the alcohol mixed with the drug, erasing any perception of shame. Your wallet didn’t lag behind the fun either, no longer supporting your and Izzy’s drunk faces. The last song of the night or already the morning, you don’t remember exactly, was because your pocket money that you took with you “just in case” betrayed you, leaving you on the sidelines of torn memories, barely moving carcasses and plastic cups with cocktails left by someone on the edge of the stage that trembled from the sound.

MDMA whispered under the skin and caressed, so pleasant and so satisfying. The heart beat out a rhythm, dancing in the middle of your chest, ready to jump out from there while your eyes were intertwined with each other among hundreds of others. Around nothing entered the memory, the brain seemed to block the ability to remember what happened next, everything was like a slow motion movie. As if the truth or a lie retold from mouth to mouth, playing a broken phone. Hot skin felt every touch three times stronger, everything went through goosebumps through the fabric of clothes, coming out as an acid kaleidoscope.

- «You are beautiful.» Izzy whispered through the broken film of neurons feeling how no logical thought would pass through your head.

- «It's a pill.» You answered, turning your gaze to him, half-open eyes, so sleeping, so drunk and so desirable. He, like Medusa Gorgon, turns you into stone with his gaze, grinding you into powder and inhaling it. All the songs grew like petals from your eyelashes, every blink like flowers bloomed in front of your eyes, letting the butterfly of his own eyes sit there and take all the feelings, like bees collecting pollen of secrets from where no one else has ever managed to get it.

- «No.» Izzy answered. «It's you.» His lips were next to your ear whispering a secret that only you will remember, only you will hear hoping that you will understand and he will not have to chew everything like for others. He knew that you will understand him more than others. They will not understand. You looked at him without blinking. The world seemed to be silent, only the projector clicked, the microphones hummed, somewhere in the distance someone was laughing, knocking over a beer bottle and a huge meteorite was already rushing towards the world, ready to blow up the planet. But even then there will be no silence, even then the music will continue to click on the temples bleeding from wounds, then the flowers will begin to grow again from the sent soil of the bloody rain of the dead. Then looking into his eyes you will find peace that no one has ever been able to give you, there the gardens will always be greener and life will be better.

He ran his fingers over your cheeks letting himself breathe in air while his lips greedily cut the distance breaking the rules and stealing your kiss in the silence of minds. Izzy was not a stupid guy and missing an opportunity is definitely not about him. You answered without thinking while your lips danced in an intimate tango of secrets and his hands outlined your body like a map wanting to know where was what. Your cheeks, then shoulders, then your back where he slowly slid to the very bottom of your waist. Alcohol and drugs mixed into one whole clouding your gaze completely, closing it with imaginary curtains when his tongue slid into your mouth. You couldn't think straight anymore, your hand slipped under his shirt, leaving you wanting more, until he let out a short groan, lowering his hand from your cheek to your arm.

-«Hold up, tiger...» he muttered, pushing his lips away from yours, causing his black curls to tickle your face and drool to form a line between your lips.

-«Izzy what the-» you didn't have time to express your displeasure when he grabbed you by your shameless hand and dragged you away from the hall itself, pushing you away from all of those people again.

Disappearing from the stranger's view, he pushed the first door open that was indeed the staff room. Fuck everyone when he closed the door with the latch, leaning you against the door, no one would dare come in here while he was here with you.

- «I'm not done with you yet.» He whispered, connecting your lips again, his tongue immediately slid between them, meeting yours, to which he squeezed out a quiet but such a pleasant moan. This sound warmed the bottom of your stomach while butterflies flew up in goosebumps on your skin. Your tongues played with each other, tasting, while his hand was the first to begin the unfinished, sliding under his T-shirt to feel your skin. You did not lag behind him, playing with his black hair on the back of his head, gradually going down to his shoulders to take off his leather jacket, to which he ran his tongue along your lower lip, biting it.

- «Izzy?!» You gasped and whispered in surprise, slightly pushing him in the chest but not having anything against it in your head.

- «Sometimes I want to eat you alive. Just like that pill so that you will fill me completely, and not just my brain.» he whispered, freeing you from your stylized long-sleeved top, leaving you up in just your bra, feeling the cold of this damn room.

-«I never thought of you as a cannibal.» you whispered back with a smirk as he pounced on your neck, biting and licking you like a hungry animal, wanting so desperately to leave hickeys. His hands slid under your skirt, squeezing your butt brazenly.

-«Well…I am but with very precise tastes and they only include you. The rest are garbage.» he whispered in your ear, making you bite your already wounded lower lip. You raised your hand to grab his hair and gently rip him off you, to which he only responded with a groan and disapproval in the form of a frown. «Hey-»

-"Then stop testing me and go for it.» you said through an irritated grin, to which he only raised an eyebrow again, sensing your annoyance.

- «Say the magic word.» He smirked without moving but you could feel how hard it was for him to keep everything in his pants when you were around.

- «Now.» You looked into his eyes while grabbing his belt on his pants to which he only sighed heavily.

-«How bossy...but alright. Time to release that tiger from its cage.» He smirked giving you free rein to which he unfastened your bra freeing you from your main female problem and sucking on that place with such impudence that you stopped halfway to unzip his fly. His tongue licked your nipples so precisely and so skillfully that you had to sell your soul to the devil after seeing the stars right in front of your eyes. You pulled his pants down so they fell down where they belonged. Your fingers grabbed his hair again to which he only continued his game of being a milksop. «Your cherry is the best.» he stated from which you snorted.

- «You’re high.» you responded to his strange ramblings.

- «On you. And I want to OD.» he answered again greedily kissing you and pressing you to the door lifting your skirt up and tights down to feel you. When his fingers slid where they shouldn’t you moaned into his lips. His smirk started to turn you on so much that he just continued without wasting a second and turning the corner of your panties to slip where you want him.

- «Motherfucker..» you mumbled into his lips through groans at his obvious teasing, feeling how your whole body went numb and touch became more sensitive.

- «I don’t think you will accent me having it with your mom rather than with you.» he inserted one finger, pushing away from you and checking your reaction. Sometimes he was so annoying and you wanted to hit him.

- «Than..Than…ugh! You piss me off!.» you sighed it at his movements, trying to release your energy from within and not die from an excess of emotions, looking into his eyes, to which he just amusingly snorted. Damn you, Stradlin.

- «I’m not and you know it.» His movements were impatient but very precise which made you wonder how much of experience he really have. Then the second finger entered and then you just kissed him while he pressed himself against you letting him feel how much you were the reason for his desire. He pulled away again and every time he did it, you wanted to press him back like an oxygen tube without which you can’t live. His long tongue licked those fingers that he pulled out of you with satisfied grin at which you laughed.

-«Tasty?» you joked at which he nodded.

- «As it should be.» and here again his lips and yours connected while his hands lifted you up by your thighs freeing themselves from any fabric and what had been bothering you before. Thoughts didn’t add up and common sense died before your eyes as he slowly entered you, making you both feel the highest kind of pleasure. You knew what sex was but he knew more. Your understanding did not go beyond groupies or rock stars. You just understood how much this thing was needed when the adrenaline was jumping up to the ceiling. His hands grabbed your thighs so tightly, pushing into you while your back was pressed against that very unfortunate door. Gasp, moans, short sighs and ragged breathing filled the room while you and Izzy were a puzzle for each other, the air you both breathe and the food you both consume.

- «So who are we now?…Who are we to each other?» you suddenly asked him through the blur, smeared images and incomprehensible sounds that came from inside your ears, pollinating your mind with fear that someone might catch you. But even if this happens, no one will remember your faces, but you wanted to remember Izzy's face. You didn’t know what to think or feel, but you knew that you wanted Izzy and you must stay with him until the very end. Until the north star goes out.

- «You are my oxygen. You are what I want to breathe every day.» He admitted through heavy and ragged breathing, feeling how with each push the knot in his lower abdomen was getting tighter. His immunity became stable because of you, you became the one who gives him the opportunity to breathe evenly.

- «Naive to the point of horror.» You answered through a giggle, to which he didn’t stop, continuing to mix your bodies together, like forbidden chemicals that do not work with each other but cannot react without each other. Paradox.

- «Whoever told you this is a complete idiot.» Izzy muttered, pressing his lips to your ears and making the last push with a rather drawn-out groan, releasing himself and letting you know that he was not joking, even under a pile of substances the picture is washed away, but you will not forget his words.

«I will love you very much even under the effect of the vitamin in my head.» he whispered to end this long night.

“Good swimmer”

(Not really a) Fun fact (nobody asked for): So basically when I was a kid, my dad was driving me somewhere and like there was that one song that came up, it was “Something Special” by De-Phazz. So we were talking about the people mentioned in that song and how funny Pat Appleton used references in it like Doris Day ect. And when the first refrain came up, I heard “Brian jones” and I asked my dad who it was. And he told me “Brian? Brian Jones? Yeah, he was a really good swimmer” (HELP MY DAD-)and like since then I remembered him like this and years later when I grew up a little bit and started listening to The Rolling Stones. I heard Brian jones again, and I was like: what? Isn’t it the swimmer? So I started my search and found out who he is and how he died…and you should have seen my reaction when I realized many years later that Brian Jones isn’t a swimmer, and my dad is clearly the biggest dark humorist of this century.😭😭🔫

That one refrain btw(Brian fans let’s cry together):

“If there's no chance to reach you

No bridge, no boat, no stones

Then I would swim the waters

Just like Brian Jones”

Just GNR being GNR (pt. 2)

Me and Izzy girlies be like:

Just GNR being GNR

I honestly think that this pookie wookie over here would’ve love vinted if he lived in our generation cause look how proud and happy he is about this shirt omg😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻 (im just genuinely obsessed with this app that’s why it crossed my mind help)

“𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅…𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 “𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔”𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉.” - 𝑰𝒛𝒛𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒏(𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔)

“𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈…𝒓𝒆𝒅.” - 𝑨𝒙𝒍 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆(𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈)

Me when this part of dumb but instrumental version comes on or just the song in general:

Popcorn & Panties Part 2😝

This is a re-upload⚠️

So I had a request for a part two of this izzy story. Can’t find the request anymore😭, but if you enjoyed the first one hopefully you’ll enjoy this one :)

Warning ‼️ contains (public smex, choking, a bit of praise/degradation, dirty talk)

Y/N POV

The movie ended, but the tension didn’t. Izzy kept his arm slung around your waist as you all walked out of the theater, trying to act casual even though your legs still trembled from the orgasm you’d ridden out in his lap.

Duff tossed an empty popcorn bucket at Steven. “Told you that chick was gonna die.”

Slash lit a cigarette and snorted. “I could hear you losers whispering the whole time.”

But Izzy didn’t say a word. He just kept walking. Only you noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand dug a little tighter into your hip like he was barely keeping it together.

He barely waited for the others to around the corner before his hand was around your wrist, dragging you down the side of the theater like a man possessed.

“In here. Now.”

The alley was barely lit, smelled like beer and smoke, but you didn’t care, because he spun you around and pinned you to the wall with his body, mouth already crashing into yours.

“You know what you fuckin’ did to me in there?” he growled, already shoving his hand between your thighs. “Got me so fuckin’ hard I couldn’t think straight.”

You gasped as he put his hand up your dress and yanked your panties down your legs, letting them fall around your ankles. His fingers plunged into your soaking wet pussy without warning, and you moaned into his mouth, legs trembling.

Look at you,” he hissed, rubbing tight circles on your clit with two fingers inside you. “Dripping like a slut. You wanted someone to hear you in there, didn’t you? Wanted Slash to turn around and see me ruining you.”

You bit your lip, nodding shamelessly, and he laughed.

Nasty little girl,” he said, low and filthy. “Bet you’d let me bend you over the hood of their car right now, wouldn’t you?”

Izzy….” you whined, breathless.

Shut the fuck up,” he growled, yanking your shirt down to expose one tit, biting hard at the soft flesh. “You wanted it nasty, right? That’s what you’re gonna get.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not hard, just enough to make your head spin, just enough to say “you’re mine”. Then he spat in his free hand, stroked his cock once, twice, and shoved it into you from behind, fucking you rough and fast without any warning.

You cried out, back arching, nails scraping the brick.

That’s it, baby. Take it. Take this cock like the filthy little slut you are.”

He was brutal, fucking you deep, hands bruising your hips, sweat dripping down his head. His hips slapped against your ass, echoing down the alley like the world didn’t matter. Like he didn’t care if someone walked by and saw it all.

You like this? You like me fucking you like a dirty whore behind a goddamn movie theater?” he panted, one hand back around your throat, pulling you up against his chest.

“Yes! fuck! yes!, Izzy, I love it”

That’s right you do. You love my cock. You love being full of me. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Make a mess all over me like a desperate little bitch.”

His fingers reached around and rubbed your clit fast. You broke in seconds, shaking, and moaning shamelessly as your orgasm ripped through you, walls closing around him.

He hissed, lost in that tight pussy of yours. “Fuck…fuck, baby! I’m gonna cum in this tight pussy. Gonna fill you up right here, so the next time you walk, you’ll be dripping my cum down your thighs.”

And he did. Thrusting deep, cumming inside you, swearing against your ear as he spilled every drop.

You stayed against the wall, panting, legs weak.

He slapped your ass and laughed. “Still think we’re done?”

You turned to him, cheeks flushed, spit on your lips, his cum already leaking down your thighs.

“I hope not,” you whispered. “You owe me a round three.”

nice izzy fic!

can you post the alternate ending too? Not that it wasn't good or something but I'm just curious🥰

Yess ofc! Here is the alternate ending to the damaged izzy fic! (Yes it is still a sad ending lol) Let me know if you guys liked the original ending or the alt ending better :)

Damaged💔❤️‍🔥

Izzy stradlin x reader| featuring slash

Alternative Ending~~~

It had taken everything in me to not reach out again.

After everything, after the betrayal, the nights of silence, the rumors of Izzy nearly drinking himself into the hospital, I still loved him. Still saw him in everything. In the songs we used to listen to. In the worn denim jacket still buried at the back of my closet. In the aching hollowness I hadn’t been able to fill with anyone else.

He finally agreed to meet.

A quiet café on Sunset. Middle of the day. Neutral ground. He walked in late, sunglasses on, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his worn black hoodie. He looked exhausted.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He slid into the booth across from me. Didn’t say anything for a long minute. Just stared.

“You look… better,” I offered.

Izzy scoffed. “That’s a lie.”

I reached for his hand across the table, but he pulled back.

“I’m not here for a reunion,” he said, voice low. “You said you had something to say.”

I nodded, throat tight. “I still love you. And I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but—”

He cut me off. “Why now?”

“Because I never stopped thinking about you. About us.”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to believe me, and hated himself for it.

And then the bell above the door rang.

We both turned.

Slash.

Leather jacket, dark shades, that cocky smirk like he owned the world.

“Wow,” he drawled. “Didn’t think I’d find both of you here.”

Izzy’s entire body went rigid.

Slash walked right up to our table, hands on the edge, leaning in. “Cute little meeting. What is this, closure?”

“Leave,” I said quickly, my stomach dropping.

Izzy stood up slow, eyes hard. “You followed her?”

Slash shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Just figured she’d go crawling back eventually.”

Izzy stepped forward. His voice was calm, but deadly. “You’ve got five seconds to walk out before I do something we both regret.”

Slash smiled like a devil. “Don’t forget, man. She came to me. You were just too fucked up to see what was right in front of you.”

I grabbed Izzy’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

But the damage was already done.

Izzy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes were glassy, not with tears, just rage and heartbreak barely contained.

“You know what?” he said, looking at me. “I thought maybe… maybe we had a chance. That something real was still buried under the wreckage.”

“There is,” I whispered. “Izzy, please.”

But he shook his head.

“I can’t compete with ghosts. And I won’t compete with him.”

He walked out without another word, the door slamming behind him like the end of a chapter I’d never get to rewrite.

Slash let out a breathy chuckle. “He’ll get over it.”

I turned on him, eyes burning. “You ruined everything.”

He tilted his head. “No, sweetheart. You did.”

And just like that, I was alone again.

Cry me a river series🍸

Izzy Stradlin x Reader

~Chapter Four: One drink

You tell yourself it’s just one drink.

Just one drink because you’re curious, because you’re restless, because you want to prove to yourself that seeing him doesn’t matter anymore. That you’re over it… over him.

He orders a beer. You go with something lighter, just to keep your hands busy. The air between you is thick, humming with old tension and words that never got said.

“So,” you say, tracing the rim of your glass. “Still writing songs no one gets to hear?”

Izzy smirks. “Still pretending you’re not dying to ask why I left?”

You go quiet. He notices.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters, taking a sip. “That wasn’t fair.”

You shrug, staring down at the scratched wood of the bar. “It’s true, though.”

A long pause.

“I didn’t know how to be in something real,” he says suddenly, catching you off guard. “Didn’t know how to stay.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So disappearing was the easier choice?”

“No,” he replies, voice quieter now. “It was the coward’s choice.”

You study him. His eyes don’t dodge yours like they used to. There’s a rawness in his voice you don’t recognize. Or maybe you just never got to hear it before.

“I thought about you every day,” he adds. “But I figured you were better off.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the thing about people like you, Izzy. You always think you get to decide what’s better for everyone.”

He leans back, wincing. Like your words landed where they were meant to.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m here now.”

“And what exactly does here mean?” you ask, finishing your drink. “You want forgiveness? Closure? A do-over?”

He looks at you like he’s trying to figure that out himself. Then he leans in just slightly, voice low and rough.

“I want to know if you still feel it.”

Your breath catches. Your body remembers before your brain can argue. But you push the feeling down, like you’ve trained yourself to do.

“You don’t get to ask that.”

He doesn’t press further. Doesn’t need to. The spark between you is already burning at the edges, slow and dangerous.

“You walked away once,” you say softly. “And if I let you back in… if I feel anything again… don’t you dare do it twice.”

Izzy nods, jaw tight. “Then don’t let me back in… yet. Just let me stay here, at this bar. One drink. One night. No promises.”

You look at him. Really look at him.

And for tonight… you don’t get up.

Cry me a river series🍸

I’ve been slacking a bit on this series, so here is chapter three and chapter four will come out later tonight.

Izzy Stradlin X Reader

~Chapter three: Rewind

You slam the door behind you, the echo of it shaking through your tiny apartment like a warning. Don’t open it again. Not for him. Not for the man who once lit you up and then left you in the dark.

You pace the living room, your brain buzzing, heart racing. Izzy. On your street. After all these years. Like time didn’t pass, like your heart didn’t crack, like the silence he left behind wasn’t loud as hell.

You peek through the blinds.

He’s still out there, leaning against that same rusted Harley, cigarette glowing in the night. Like he’s got nowhere else to be but five steps from your life.

You clench your jaw and turn away. No way in hell you’re letting him in again. You’ve spent too long stitching yourself up to let him rip the seams.

But you don’t sleep.

You lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, his face burned behind your eyes. The stupid smirk. That unreadable stare. The fact that he said your name like it still meant something.

By morning, he’s gone.

Or so you think.

You walk into the dive bar two blocks from your apartment that night, just looking for noise, a drink, maybe some peace in the distraction of strangers, and there he is. Sitting at the bar like fate has a sick sense of humor.

You freeze. So does he.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you mutter.

Izzy turns slowly on the stool, eyes raking over you like he’s not sure if you’re real.

“I wasn’t following you,” he says, as if reading your thoughts. “Didn’t even know you came here.”

You narrow your eyes. “So what, this is your neighborhood now?”

He shrugs. “I was here first, technically.”

“Yeah, about five years too late.”

That hits. You see it in the slight twitch of his jaw. The silence stretches.

“You look good,” he finally says.

You cross your arms. “You look the same. Still think cigarettes and leather solve everything?”

He chuckles, low and tired. “Only the stuff therapy can’t.”

You blink. That’s… not the Izzy you remember. Or maybe it is, just one that got older, quieter, a little more real.

“What do you want, Izzy?” you ask, voice low.

He meets your gaze. “A minute. That’s all.”

And despite every part of your brain screaming no, your heart whispers one minute can’t hurt.

So you sit. Just for a minute.

But nothing about Izzy Stradlin has ever stayed small.

Requested✨✨

The Babysitter🧖‍♀️

Warning ‼️ (Enemies to Lovers, lots of banter😏, smex ofc)

Hey y’all! So I was supposed to post this last night, but I fell asleep whoopsies @slashduffizzysgf hehe. So, here’s a lil something to kick your morning off! This story is kinda long so hope y’all enjoy. Oh btw if anyone has requests you can always put it in the submission box or just message me directly 😊

Duff McKagan x Sassy Babysitter aka Y/N

Y/N POV

You weren’t expecting to spend your afternoon in the McKagan household babysitting their little girl. You’d gotten a call earlier in the week from a family friend of theirs, who mentioned their daughter, Lily, needed a sitter for the day. What they didn’t mention was their 21-year-old son, Duff.

You had met some of the most outrageous rockstars in your life, guys with egos as big as their fame, but this guy? This guy was something different.

When you first arrived, the house was quiet, almost eerily so, and you thought maybe you’d hit the jackpot with a peaceful gig. That was until Lily fell asleep for her nap, and you heard it. Guitar riffs, loud drums, and the unmistakable sound of chaos above.

Curious, and with no plans of leaving early, you decided to investigate. You followed the sounds of the ruckus up the stairs, to a room at the end of the hall. You knocked lightly, but it didn’t stop the music. So you pushed the door open, just a crack, enough to peek inside.

The sight before you was nothing short of rockstar madness. Duff McKagan, guitar in hand, was standing in front of a drum kit where a guy, presumably his bandmate Steven, was going absolutely wild on the drums.

Duff was lean, tall, and dressed in a way that screamed “rock ‘n’ roll”, black leather pants, spiked bracelets, black tank top, and cowboy boots. His messy, blonde hair cascaded over his eyes, but even from the doorway, you could see his confident grin.

When he finally noticed you in the doorway, his strumming slowed, and he tilted his head back, catching your eyes. “You the babysitter?” he asked, his voice deep and dripping with that cocky charm you’d come to expect from rockstars.

“Yeah. Didn’t realize you were part of the deal,” you said with a dry smile. “But you mind turning it down a little? I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet.”

Steven, sitting behind the drums, chuckled under his breath, but Duff’s smile only grew wider. “Peace and quiet? I think you’ve got the wrong house, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you shot back, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in your voice. “I’ll just go grab a drink or something.”

But Duff wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Nah, don’t go just yet. It’s rare I get someone with this much… attitude,” he said with a grin. “Stick around. I won’t bite.”

“You sure about that?” you countered, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I’m not so sure you can handle all this attitude.”

Duff let out a low laugh, amused by your defiance. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I’ve handled much worse than you.”

“Careful now, McKagan,” you shot back. “I’m not the one you want to mess with.”

“Not even a little?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your sass.

You met his gaze head-on, not backing down. “Not even a little.”

Before either of you could exchange more words, Steven finished his solo and glanced over at you. “You’re a lot more interesting than this guy,” he teased, grinning at you before looking at Duff. “Maybe we should give her a lesson or two.”

“Yeah, that’s real funny,” Duff muttered, rolling his eyes but never breaking his confident grin. He’d definitely been in situations like this before, but something about you kept pulling his attention. He finally broke away from his instrument, his gaze not leaving yours. “Alright, fine. You want peace and quiet? I’ll give you a little.”

You thought the exchange was over. It wasn’t.

After a while, Steven left, and you were left alone with Duff. You were trying to keep the babysitting gig going, making sure Lily stayed asleep, but Duff’s presence was making it impossible to concentrate. The house felt too quiet now, and the tension between you both simmered under the surface.

Duff, having not taken his eyes off you, moved closer. “Still here? I figured you’d be out by now.”

“I have a job to do, you know?” you replied, turning toward him with a sly smile. “Some of us actually work.”

He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve always found that people with your kind of attitude are the most fun to break.”

You scoffed, keeping your ground. “You can try, but good luck. You’ll need it.”

“You’re a stubborn one, huh?” he teased, taking a step closer to you. The air between you grew thicker as he closed the distance. “I like that.”

“Don’t get too cocky, McKagan. You won’t win me over that easily.”

“I’m not trying to win you over,” he replied with a confident grin. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

At that moment, the tension cracked. Before you knew it, Duff was pulling you closer, his lips crashing onto yours. The kiss was everything: raw, passionate, and daring. You pulled away for a second, catching your breath, but when he leaned in again, you couldn’t help yourself. Something about him…the cocky attitude, the relentless charm, made you want to see just how far this could go.

You didn’t know how long it had been before the sound of a door creaking open and the tiny steps of Lily waking up brought you back to reality.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling away from him. “I gotta—”

Duff raised a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. “We won’t wake her. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t know how long it had been before the creak of a door down the hall reminded you that Lily was just a few rooms away. You broke the kiss, breathless, your hand flat against Duff’s chest. “We shouldn’t…”

Duff didn’t budge, just smirked as he leaned in again, voice low and rough. “She’s out. You really wanna stop now?”

Your eyes narrowed, heart racing as his fingers teased the hem of your shirt. “If she wakes up, you’re explaining why I didn’t answer the damn phone.”

He chuckled, cocky and calm. “Fine. I’ll just tell them you were… busy.”

You shoved him back slightly, but it only made him grin harder. “God, you’re such an ass.”

“Yeah?” he rasped, pushing you gently back onto the mattress. “You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

His hands slid under your shirt, mouth hot on your neck as he murmured, “Still don’t hear you telling me to stop.”

You bit your lip, stubborn as ever, even as your hips lifted to meet his. “Don’t think this means you’ve got me, McKagan.”

He kissed you hard, all teeth and heat. “Nah, sweetheart. Just means you’ve got terrible self-control.”

You moaned against his mouth, gripping the back of his hair as you whispered, “You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up,” he growled, and you did, pulling him back in, every touch daring him to try and tame you.

He was cocky, relentless, and way too full of himself.

But you?

You weren’t about to make this easy.

He groaned against your mouth as you pulled him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist like second nature.

Duff broke the kiss just long enough to look down at you, flushed and breathless beneath him, a smug tilt to his lips. “You sure you’re not gonna start crying halfway through and tell me this was a mistake?”

You snorted, tugging on his shirt until it was over his head and tossed somewhere across the room. “You wish you were that unforgettable.”

He laughed, low and rough. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna be walking funny tomorrow.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, biting back a smile as he dipped his head to your neck again, teeth scraping lightly at the spot that made you gasp. “You seriously never shut up, do you?”

“Nope,” he said smugly, voice muffled against your skin. “But you like it.”

You tried to retort, but your thoughts scattered the moment his hand slipped past the waistband of your jeans, fingers finding just how ready you were for him. You hissed in a breath, and that damn smirk of his returned.

“Well, well,” he murmured, teasing but dark with desire. “And here you were acting like I wasn’t getting to you.”

You gripped his hair, tugging just enough to make him look at you. “I still don’t like you.”

“Sure,” he breathed, eyes locked with yours as he popped your button and dragged your jeans down. “Say that again after I’m inside you.”

Your breath caught at the sound of his zipper, the shift of fabric, the weight of him settling between your thighs.

“Duff…” you warned, trying to sound firm even as your body betrayed you, arching into him, heat pooling low in your belly.

He ran his nose along your jaw, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Just say the word, baby. Or stop me now.”

You didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you pulled him down, lips crashing into his like you were trying to burn away every inch of the tension between you. He didn’t waste another second. He shoved his cock in slowly, watching every expression flicker across your face with great satisfaction. He filled you up just enough to stretch, not enough to break.

Your breath came in shaky gasps, hands clutching his shoulders. “Shit…”

“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled, rolling his hips with a deep thrust that made you bite your lip to stay quiet. “Can’t wait to hear you when you’re not trying to be quiet.”

You were already close to snapping at him when—

RING. RING.

Your eyes flew open, panic flashing. “No. No. No—”

Duff froze, that shit-eating grin back on his face. “Guess who that is.”

You glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He reached over you, grabbed the cordless phone off his nightstand, and handed it to you with the smuggest look you’d ever seen.

“Answer it.”

“Duff—”

“Pick. It. Up,” he murmured, hips still pressed snug between your thighs.

You hesitated for a split second before snatching the phone from him and pressing it to your ear, trying to keep your voice level.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N! Just checking in. Is Lily alright?”

Duff’s next thrust had your hand flying to his shoulder, nails digging in. You clapped your other hand over your mouth, eyes wide as he buried his face in your neck, biting back a groan as he moved again, slow, deep, and relentless.

You forced a shaky smile into your voice. “Yes. She’s… s-sleeping. Everything’s great.”

Duff chuckled softly against your skin, and you slapped his arm with the hand not holding the phone. He didn’t stop… of course he didn’t. He was enjoying every second of it. Watching you struggle to stay composed while he made it impossible.

“Are you sure?” his mom’s voice asked kindly. “You sound a little out of breath.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to moan. “Oh, uh—just went upstairs to check on her! That’s all. Everything’s fine, I swear.”

Duff grinned wickedly and pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, watching as you choked on a gasp and smacked his arm again. “Asshole,” you mouthed.

“I’m so glad,” his mom continued. “Thanks again for helping us out, Y/N.”

“No problem!” you said quickly, voice an octave too high. “Happy to help! Okay—bye!”

You hung up and threw the phone at the foot of the bed.

“Done?” Duff asked, voice low and smug.

You shoved his shoulder. “I hate you.”

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Then hate me harder.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Duff dragged your mouth back to his. It wasn’t sweet or slow, he kissed you like he owned you, like he was still laughing at the way you squirmed through that phone call and didn’t regret a damn second of it.

His rhythm picked up, deep and steady, dragging another moan out of you that you had to muffle into his shoulder. His name slipped past your lips more than once, half-curses, half-whimpers, and every time you did, it only made him smirk harder.

“That’s right,” he muttered against your throat. “Say it again. Louder this time.”

You gritted your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Not a chance.”

Duff chuckled darkly. “Still playing stubborn, huh?” He shifted his angle, going deeper than he was before.

Your fingers clawed into his back as your body arched up into him. “God—Duff—”

“Yeah, there she is,” he growled, picking up the pace. “You gonna come for me, or you still pretending you don’t want to?”

“Shut up,” you gasped, nails raking down his shoulder blades. “You’re so full of yourself”

“I told you,” he panted, lips grazing your jaw. “You’d be the one begging. Not me.”

“Keep dreaming,” you snapped, even as your walls clenched around him.

He felt it, of course he did, and grinned against your mouth. “That feel like dreaming to you, baby?”

Your breath hitched as a wave of pleasure hit. You came hard, legs locking around his waist as you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out his name loud enough to wake the whole damn house. He cursed under his breath at the feel of it, hips losing rhythm as he was cumming too.

Duff came with a rough groan into your neck, arms tightening around you like he couldn’t get close enough. His cock was buried deep as he spilled into you, breath hot and uneven.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of both of you breathing hard, skin sticky and hearts still racing.

Then—

“Well,” you panted, pushing damp hair off your forehead. “That was… something.”

Duff lifted his head, hair wild, still catching his breath. That smug grin was already creeping back. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You gave him a flat look. “You are so annoying.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your collarbone, “you’re still under me.”

“Purely for scientific purposes,” you quipped. “Studying the effects of sleeping with a cocky dumbass.”

He laughed, that deep rasp of his filling the room. “Yeah? And what’s your conclusion, professor?”

You smirked, fingers playing with a strand of his hair. “That maybe I’ll let you do it again, if you behave.”

Duff raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I don’t behave. But you’ll still be back.”

You pushed at his chest, even as a smile tugged at your lips. “You really think you’re that irresistible?”

He leaned in, lips brushing yours, his voice soft and teasing. “You tell me.”

You didn’t answer.

You just kissed him again.



Backstage Games✨

Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Warning!!! (Humiliation/degradation and jealousy)

Side note: long story, but full of sluttiness😈

The air backstage was electric, sweaty, loud, thick with smoke and leftover adrenaline. GNR had just finished their set, and the crowd was still screaming like animals out in the arena, but you were tucked away in a quieter corner of the chaos, drink in hand, casually chatting with one of the guitarists from a supporting band. He was charming, kinda cute, and clearly interested, leaning in close, laughing at everything you said.

You felt a presence before you saw him.

Izzy.

His eyes were dark. Not just annoyed. Possessive. The kind of look that made your stomach twist and thighs clench. He didn’t say a word, just watched, jaw tight, cigarette hanging from his lips, like he was deciding whether to ruin you or the other guy first.

“Hey, man,” the guy greeted him casually, clearly unaware of the storm about to break. Izzy didn’t respond. He just tilted his head toward you.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was low. Final. You didn’t argue, you knew that tone. You followed, heart racing, every step toward the exit laced with anticipation and dread. You could feel his silence pressing against you in the car. That dangerous stillness.

By the time you got to the hotel, he was already gripping your wrist, dragging you into the room, the door slamming behind you. You barely had time to speak before he had you pinned against the wall, breath hot against your ear.

“You like acting like a little slut in front of everyone, huh?”

His voice was venom, rough and low, and your body reacted instantly, heat pooling low even as your face burned.

“Did you think I wouldn’t see you? Letting that loser touch your arm, laugh at your stupid fucking jokes? You wanted me to see, didn’t you?”

You swallowed hard, breath shaky, not answering because you had wanted him to see. You liked what it did to him.

“I asked you a question.”

He grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to his.

“Yes,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

He spun you toward the mirror over the hotel dresser and pushed you down so your hands braced against the wood. His hand slid up your skirt, rough and impatient, yanking your panties down.

“Look at yourself,” he growled. “Look at the filthy little slut who can’t even keep her legs closed backstage.”

You whimpered, heat flooding your cheeks as you stared at your reflection, eyes glassy, lips parted, already wrecked just from his words.

“You like when I talk to you like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, heart pounding.

He laughed, dark and cruel. “Fucking pathetic.”

And then his hand cracked across your ass, loud and stinging. You gasped, and he did it again, harder.

“Every time you moan, I’m gonna remind you what you are. My slut. My filthy little plaything. No one else touches you. No one else even looks at you.”

Another slap.

“Say it.”

“I’m your slut,” you whispered, broken and breathless.

“Louder.”

“I’m your slut!”

He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back so you couldn’t look away from your reflection. “That’s right. And you’re gonna thank me for putting you in your place.”

And oh, you would.

He didn’t let go of your hair. If anything, he gripped tighter, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp, forcing you to hold eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“Look at that,” he sneered. “Already dripping and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You love being treated like this, don’t you?”

You whimpered something like a yes, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“No, no,” he snapped, delivering another sharp smack to your thigh. “Say it. Say you love when I humiliate you.”

“I love it,” you gasped. “I love it when you humiliate me”

“That’s fucking right.”

He shoved his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he was through his jeans. You tried to grind back, desperate, needy, but he slammed his hand down on your lower back, pinning you in place.

“Not so fast,” he muttered. “Sluts don’t get to make the rules.”

He moved behind you, undoing his belt with slow, menacing clicks. The sound alone made your knees weak. Then he wrapped the belt around your throat, tight enough to make you gasp.

“Hold still,” he warned, lips brushing your ear. “Or I’ll tie you up with this instead.”

Your body trembled, but you held your breath, loving the way the leather bit against your neck, loving the way you had no control.

“You think that guy backstage could do this to you?” he growled, pressing his body against yours, now skin-to-skin. “Think he could break you open and make you beg the way I do?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. One rough thrust and he was inside you, no warning, no mercy. You choked on your moan, body clenching around him as he slammed into you again, deeper, harder.

“Dirty little toy,” he hissed, fucking you like he was punishing you. “Moaning for me after flirting with some no-name loser like a cheap backstage groupie.”

Each word was another thrust, another slap of his hips, another crack of his hand across your skin.

“You belong to me.”

He pulled back just enough to spit, spit, on your back, watching it slide down your spine before he shoved in again.

“Fucking love ruining you.”

You could barely breathe, barely think. Every word, every movement, every humiliating detail had you dizzy with need. You hated how much it turned you on, how being treated like this made your body sing.

“Tell me what you are,” he demanded, breath hot and filthy in your ear.

“Y-Yours,” you stammered.

He tugged the belt tighter. “What else?”

“Your slut.”

“Louder.”

“Your dirty little slut!”

“That’s right. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Izzy,” you choked out, broken and breathless, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks.

“Good girl,” he growled.

And then he really gave it to you.

Fucking you hard, rough and fast. Your moans turning to cries, the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall.

You didn’t even notice how loud it got, how unhinged he sounded as he groaned your name, calling you every degrading, filthy thing he could think of because you were so close.

And he felt it.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you? You’re gonna fall apart like a pathetic little toy just ‘cause I’m fucking you like trash.”

“Yes,” you cried.

He reached around and rubbed tight circles around your clit.

“Cum. Cum for me now, or I’ll leave you aching all night.”

That was it.

You shattered with a scream, body convulsing around him as you came hard, still pinned to the dresser, belt tight around your throat, tears streaking your face in the mirror.

Izzy groaned behind you, hips jerking, spilling inside you with a deep, growled curse. He didn’t pull out right away, just leaned against your back, breathing hard, hand still tangled in your hair.

The silence that followed was thick, the kind that made your head spin even harder than the orgasm had.

Then he slowly loosened the belt, letting it fall to the floor. His arms came around you, unexpected, rough fingers suddenly gentle.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured against your neck, voice rasped from effort. “Was I too rough?”

You shook your head, still trying to find your breath. “No… it was perfect.”

He turned you around, pulled you into his chest, kissed your forehead like he hadn’t just degraded you six ways from Sunday.

His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.

“You really drive me crazy, you know that?”

You smiled against him, lips swollen and sore, legs trembling.

“Good.”

Steven finallyyy made his happy bday post to izzy!