Slash Gnr - Blog Posts

Guns N Roses interview: Do your breast exercises and get that vaginal control.

RIP: Do you have any parting words for RIP readers?

AXL: Do your breast exercises and get that vaginal control.

STEVEN: I have something nice to say. Do anything that you want, as long as you think good and do it for yourself. You can do anything!

DUFF: And don’t give up.

STEVEN: Yeah! Don’t give up! Believe in yourself!

IZZY: Never miss Chanukah.

STEVEN: And for all of you drummers out there that want to be good, keep your hands tapping and your feet clapping.

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Words of wise men

Slash: ‘Not being sexist or anything, but it’s fucking amazing how much abuse girls will take.”

What did you do for money before you signed with Geffen?

“G-I-R-L-S.” Steven laughs.

Izzy: “Sold drugs, sold girls, sold… we just got it. We managed. In the beginning we’d throw parties and ransack a girl’s purse while one of the guys was with her.”

Slash: ‘Not being sexist or anything, but it’s fucking amazing how much abuse girls will take.” “Slash!” Izzy winces.

That’s not being sexist?

“He does it purposely,” Axl says with more than a hint of weariness. He attempts to cleat the air with a change of subject

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I really hate how Slash talks about women. In his book too. But oh well. The others werent much better.

IZZY STRADLIN: music or sex?

Q: Which is better: music or sex?

Izzy: Pherrrgh! Oh God, I'll have to think about it. sad, eh?! I was going to say 'sex' right off the bat, but I don't know. lately, both have been pretty even keel. That's a tough one. music or sex? I'd say sex, if I gotta choose!

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Guns N Roses interview: I dont even know anymore what its about

DUFF: You might want to inform your readers that we’re looking for.

STEVEN: The right girls.

IZZY: All those young, American women.

STEVEN: Big American breasts.

DUFF: For a HUSTLER layout with us and you. Who’s going to be the lucky chosen ones? Send all photos and re­sumes to 9000 Sunset, Suite 405.

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I mean.. yeah?

Axl likes square watermelon?? ^_^

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Rock stars are often known for their outlandish demands and unusual requests, but Axl Rose may have outdone his peers with his current tour rider.According to British tabloid newspaper The Sun, the Guns N' Roses frontman requests "wines, beers, vodka, red and white roses and a square melon" - an item that Axl says "absolutely can't be missed."

Perhaps the rider requests, which include a custom made Italian leather couch, are to ensure that venue staff read the rider carefully. Van Halen famously pulled a similar move in their hey day, asking for a bowl of M&M sweets with all the brown ones removed.It turned out that Van Halen were not adverse to brown M&Ms, but wanted to check that venue owners had read their complex stage show requirements in detail - not just so the show went off with a bang, but to ensure the safety of the band on-stage.

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Random but u thought its interesting...

"One time he told me that he had sex with over 2,000 women."

During a recent Reddit AMA, which also featured his mother Deanna, former Guns N' Roses drummer Steven Adler was asked whether he fell in love with any of the groupies

"The musician replied:

"Everyone of them. For the 3 minutes I was with them. Yes. If you got 4 out of me, god bless you.

You lucked out that day."Deanna: "One time he told me that he had sex with over 2,000 women."Steven: "I was on drugs."Deanna: "I say, 'What kind of talk is that? I'm your mother. Stop it.'"Steven: "I remember telling my grandfather, my grandparents. I brought a gold record to my grandma and grandpa one day and I said, 'Here grandma and grandpa. Look. I'm famous now.' And my grandpa says, 'Yeah, that and 50 cents will get you a cup of coffee.' And he's right."

"Im actually a nice shy kid"- Slash

Dude be so for real. Nice shy kid lmao

Pamela Manning talks about Axl Rose

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Axl as a person, to me: Deep, quick thinker, devoted, generous at times, sentimental at times. Yet if he cuts you out of his life, I’m not sure there is room to get back in. He believes in God, loves kids, more of a loner even if he is surrounded by so-called “friends.” He has adjusted in life and says he is happy. He makes it a point to enjoy life. I like the deep conversations with him. He gets it, and it’s great to have a friend who just gets it (whatever you’re talking about) when we connect. The downside to Axl is the big ego but that goes with rock stardom and that power. It’s crazy; when I am around him, he lifts one finger and people listen – pretty scary to me! He can pretty much do what he wants in his world. Except for the other people in the music business who try to control him. He finds ways to escape that too, not totally escape, but that is another story. To me, Axl needs to learn to trust again. I know this is a hard one when trust gets destroyed. Axl has a hard time with his past; there is a lot that gets in his way, and he doesn’t want to go back there! I totally understand that! Friends get hurt, people who want to be in his life, but he had to make choices he might not like for his own good. But if he made the other choices it would be worse; it’s kinda like that song “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” by The Clash. If you get in his way he warns you before he does anything, yet the people who don’t listen… well, they will get the Axl wrath! I pray for him and hope I been a good influence in his life. It’s nice to still have the friendship and I am thankful for that.

Axl has always been a true friend to me, telling me his deepest secrets and, yep, I have kept them today. I can’t and will not talk about the deep secrets he told me. That is just not me. But wow, if you only knew… I am sure some would understand him a little better. People judge him, and I can understand why. He has not been the best example, but I think if Axl would stop bottling all the secrets, he could be a great spokesperson and could help many.

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Ooo what a queennnn!! Gnr owes so much to the gurls that helped them.

Former Guns 'N Roses drummer Steven Adler was sentenced to 150 days in jail on Thursday for attacking two women in separate domestic violence incidents,

which also violates his probation from a 1997 conviction in another domestic violence case. He pled no contest to two counts of battery in a dating relationship and admitted the probation violation in West Los Angeles Municipal Court. Adler was also sentenced to three years of summary probation, with the conditions of undergoing a year of domestic violence counseling and a ban on using illegal drugs. Additionally, a protective order was issued by Commissioner Joseph S. Biderman in respect to both victims. Adler is required to turn himself in to the court at 1:45 p.m. on October 29 to begin serving his sentence or show proof that he's turned himself into a city jail.The two incidents in question occurred on January 27 and on June 7, respectively. The first erupted from a verbal argument spawned between Adler and a 43-year-old woman in his North Hollywood apartment over his alleged drug use. The victim was allegedly thrown against walls and furniture during the attack. She called 911 for assistance, however, Adler had already left the premises and couldn't be located at the time.He was eventually found in the spring, living in a condominium in Century City, California, where he was taken into custody on an arrest warrant regarding a probation violation. He was then booked and released after posting bail.The warrant had been issued in August of 1997 for failing to appear in court for a February of 1997 domestic violence case, which involved the woman he was living with at the time. In the 1997 case, Adler pled no contest to disturbing the peace and was sentenced to four days in jail. He was also placed on three years of summary probation, with a condition of attending 52 Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.In the spring arrest, Adler was charged with this probation violation as well as for the January incident. While he was awaiting his trial, he allegedly attacked another woman at his condominium on June 7. Adler allegedly pushed the 35-year-old woman's head into a wall and threw her clothes off a balcony during a dispute over money. 

Every time i learn something about GNR members its not good. This is the smiley Stevie? Even if he was on drugs.. crazy

AAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH

Axl rose ^_^

Guns and Roses we’re actually pretty good friends with N.W.A. Axl and Eazy-E

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Axl said in one of his 2008 forum chats that Slash made a demo tape of the song with Eazy and Axl has the tape but doesn’t want to release it cause it apparently sounds very unfinished and Eazy isn’t alive to give it his stamp of approval.

Guns and Roses we’re actually pretty good friends with N.W.A. Axl and Eazy-E we’re good friends and the two groups were planning to do a song together “the yellow roads of Compton”. Sadly the song was never produced. Axl Rose loves their stuff and wore their hats at shows.

Duff actually knew Ted Bundy when he lived in Seattle

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. Yes, Ted Bundy, the serial killer.He’s mentioned it twice: Raw Magazine (Sep ‘93) and Okej Magazine (Nov ‘93).

"“It was just a period of thinking that I’m not going to become a typical LA person. I’m not going to allow myself to become like that. It was just a matter of realizing that my life was a little bit different. So instead of going out and killing people…” (when Duff was growing up in Seattle, he knew the infamous serial killer Ted Bundy) “…I was lucky enough to be able to write tunes.” [Duff, Raw, Sep. 1993]"I'm happy that I can carry all these feelings and get rid of them in this way. Otherwise I might have ended up like Ted Bundy. He's from Seattle just like I am. I knew him when we grew up. Some people's thoughts drive them to kill, others write poetry, I rock!" [Duff, Okej, Nov. 1993]"

From reddit.

"WHEN AXL WOULD X START TO GO OFF ON A TIRADE, I'D KIND OF STAND THERE AND GO, "OH, COME ON. "LET'S GO, NEXT SONG, NEXT SONG." KIND OF EMBARRASSING"

My fav Izzy Stradlin interview!! I think this is the longest I've heard him talk... 18 minutes!!

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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

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.

Just GNR being GNR (pt. 2)

Just GNR being GNR

Axl Rose fanfics where are you 😔😔😔

Hi, I’m the anon who requested the Izzy fic, and I have to say—the alternate ending you wrote feels like the perfect setup for a continuation in a Slash fic😍. Could you please do that? I really love this ending because it seems like she could hook up with Slash again after this part:

~"'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.”~

Please let them become a couple after this but with slash being a bad boy😍

Hey anon! I gotchu!! Here is part one. I figured I would turn this story into a few parts because I want to take this into a messy direction. But, reader and slash will become a couple in the end so don’t worry lol. Hope you enjoy 😉

(Btw my inbox is open if anyone want to request a story or ask any questions)

Damaged… or not~ Part one

Slash x reader

Y/N POV~

“No, sweetheart. You did.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Because the truth stung more than his words. My throat burned, and I hated that it was Slash standing there looking at me like he’d won.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped finally.

“Like what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Like I’ve seen you fall apart before and I’m the only one who doesn’t lie to you about it?”

He was too close. The smell of cigarettes and whiskey clung to him like a second skin. His curls were half in his face, and that damn smirk he wore made it impossible to breathe.

“You think you’re better than Izzy?” I challenged.

Slash let out a low laugh, one of those husky, condescending ones that crawled up your spine and made you want to slap him and kiss him all at once.

“No,” he said. “I think I’m worse. But at least I don’t pretend.”

I hated that I was still standing there, trembling with whatever the hell this feeling was, rage, regret, maybe something worse. Or better.

He tilted his head again, the same way he had earlier, but this time his eyes dropped to my lips.

“Izzy’s not coming back,” Slash said, voice soft now. “You burned that bridge. But I’m still here. So what does that say?”

I stared at him. “That you don’t know when to quit.”

Slash stepped even closer, his body nearly brushing mine. “No, sweetheart. It says I know exactly when to stay.”

And just like that, I kissed him.

His hands were everywhere, rough and greedy, and mine weren’t any better. We were chaos and mistakes and something that felt too good to be right.

And when he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his grin crooked, and his voice low as he spoke.

“Careful,” he whispered against my ear. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’ll ruin you next.”

I didn’t care.

I think maybe I wanted to be ruined.

A few hours later…

I didn’t sleep.

I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot. Slash was passed out next to me, completely unbothered. Like what we did last night didn’t mean anything. Like it wasn’t messy as hell.

I pulled the sheet around me and sat up, trying to clear my head. My heart was still racing, and I felt sick, not from him, but from myself.

He shifted behind me, groaning. “Damn. You always this quiet in the morning?”

I didn’t answer.

He moved closer, his hand finding my thigh like it was no big deal. Like he had every right to touch me.

“I didn’t sleep,” I said.

He laughed a little. “You sure? You sounded pretty into it a few hours ago.”

I pulled away, annoyed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Slash sat up, resting on one elbow. “Why are you acting like this is some huge thing? It happened. So what?”

“This was a mistake.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t really believe that.”

I got up, grabbing my clothes off the floor. “You kissed me right after Izzy left. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“So did you,” he said. “You didn’t stop me. You kissed me back.”

I froze for a second, then turned to face him. “Izzy’s gone, and now I’m here with you. That’s messed up.”

He stared at me. “Izzy walked away. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t make you the good guy,” I said.

He stood up too, calm but serious now. “I never said I was the good guy. But at least I’m not the one pretending.”

I glared at him. “You ruined everything.”

Slash let out a breathy laugh. “No, sweetheart. You did.”

There he goes with that damn phrase again. I couldn’t even argue though because deep down, I knew he was right.

Forgot to post this yesterday butttt it’s never too late!! Slash reposted this on his instagram and I left the caption in there Incase anyone wanted to read that lol

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.

Hey, can you write an imagine where Y/N cheats on Izzy with Slash. When Izzy finds out, he is heartbroken, breaks up with her, and falls into a heavy alcohol addiction. Only then does Y/N realize how much she loved him and tries to win him back.

Including angst and fluff please, make it real long please ♡

Yess I gotchu! Sorry it’s late, I’ve been sick for the past week, but I finally finished it yay me! Hope you enjoy :) btw I have an alternate ending that I did for this, so if you want it let me know!

Damaged💔❤️‍🩹

Izzy Stradlin x reader

(featuring Slash | themes: betrayal, addiction, heartbreak, regret)

Warning ‼️ (angst, fluff, kinda long)

Y/N POV~

I never meant for it to happen. That sounds like bullshit, I know, but I didn’t. One minute, I was drunk, laughing too loud at one of Slash’s dumb stories, and the next, I was in his hotel room, tangled in sheets that didn’t smell like Izzy. They smelled like smoke and sweat and betrayal.

And now here I am, sitting on the floor of Izzy’s apartment, my back against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could claw the last 48 hours out of existence. He hasn’t said a word in hours. Just paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like he’s trying to walk it off, like heartbreak is something you can sweat out.

“Izzy…” My voice is small, and I hate that. I used to speak and make his head turn. Now I sound like a ghost.

He finally stops and looks at me. Really looks. Eyes red, jaw tight, that wild black hair falling into his face like it always does. Except now he doesn’t brush it away. He just stares, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Or maybe like he wishes he wasn’t seeing me at all.

“You fucked Slash.”

There’s no question in his voice.

I open my mouth to speak, to explain, though I have no explanation worth a damn, but he cuts me off before I can try.

“You fucked him, Y/N.”

“I was drunk”

So was I! Every night for the last four years. You don’t see me climbing into someone else’s bed.” His voice cracks, and that’s worse than if he screamed. I’d rather he throw a lamp or smash a guitar than break like this.

“Izzy, I’m sorry…”

He turns away.

And just like that, I know it’s over.

I didn’t see him for weeks after that. The guys said he’d holed up somewhere in L.A., sleeping on a friend’s couch, bottle always in reach. Sometimes it was whiskey. Sometimes vodka. Once, it was cough syrup and Coke.

Slash didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The smirk he gave me backstage after a show said everything. I was just another notch. Another story he’d laugh about. Another mistake.

But Izzy? I ruined him.

I started hearing things. That he missed rehearsals. That he’d fallen asleep during a recording session. That Axl threatened to kick him out if he didn’t pull it together. Duff tried to help, but even he was at a loss. “He loved you,” he told me once, shaking his head. “He really fucking loved you.”

I knew. God, I knew.

The first time I saw him again, it was pouring. The rain was heavy and mean, like it was trying to drown the whole damn city. I waited outside The Viper Room, soaked and shaking, because someone said he might show up. And he did.

He didn’t recognize me at first.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Hey,” I said, breathless when I saw him, cigarette dangling from his lips, coat clinging to his shoulders, eyes bloodshot.

He blinked. “Y/N?”

“Izzy… I need to talk to you.”

He just stared, swaying slightly, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

“I miss you.”

He laughed. It was empty. Hollow. “You miss me? What part? The part before or after you fucked my bandmate?”

I flinched. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a choice.”

We stood there in silence, rain hitting the sidewalk like a metronome. I reached for him.

“Don’t.”

His voice wasn’t angry this time. Just tired. Broken.

“I’m not okay,” I said softly.

“Neither am I,” he whispered. “And that’s because of you.”

I didn’t give up.

Call me pathetic. Call me delusional. But I loved him. I love him. And I couldn’t let it end like that. I started writing him letters. Leaving voicemails. Waiting outside shows. I became the girl I used to roll my eyes at, clingy, desperate, hopeful.

Weeks passed.

Then one night, I heard a knock on my door.

I opened it and nearly collapsed.

“Izzy…”

He looked different. Thinner. Tired. But there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, clarity.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

I stepped aside.

We didn’t talk much that night. We didn’t need to. He lit a cigarette and sat on my bed, fingers trembling just a little. I watched him. Studied him. Every line of his face. Every bruise I left on his heart.

“I still dream about you,” he said finally. “But in the dream, you always leave.”

“I’m here now.”

He looked at me. Long and hard. Then set the cigarette down and stood.

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire and pain and everything we never said. His hands were rough, callused, trembling. He pinned me to the wall, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice a low growl in my ear.

You ruined me,” he said, breath hot as he lifted my shirt. “You fucking ruined me.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, harder this time, like he wanted to forget. Like he wanted to punish me. Maybe he did. Maybe I deserved it.

Clothes fell to the floor. His body pressed against mine, hot and heavy, every thrust a reminder of what we had, what we lost. He held my wrists above my head, lips on my collarbone, moaning my name like it hurt.

“I hate you,” he gasped against my mouth.

“No, you don’t.”

And I was right, because he came undone with my name on his lips, burying his face in my shoulder as we collapsed together.

Fast forward ~

It had been almost a year since the night izzy came over.

Twelve months of silence, of blocked numbers, of showing up to the studio just to hear he’d left five minutes earlier. I had written letters. Sent messages he never opened. I even showed up at his old apartment once. Slash answered the door.

“You’re the last person he wants to see,” he said coldly, before slamming it in my face.

Izzy had fallen deep into it, alcohol, bar fights, late nights with women whose names he didn’t bother to learn. I heard the stories. Everyone did. He was burning out and didn’t care who watched.

But I still loved him. That never changed. Even as guilt gnawed away at me like rot under the skin.

And then one night, I found him.

Passed out in a back booth at some shitty dive off Sunset. Guitar case on the table, empty bottle in front of him. He looked like a ghost, pale, thinner, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Izzy,” I said, crouching beside him. My hand touched his shoulder. He flinched hard.

His eyes opened, bloodshot and slow to focus. “Why the hell are you here?”

“I needed to see you. I’m worried.”

He sat up, barely. “A little late for worry, sweetheart.”

“I know I hurt you,” I whispered. “But I love you. I never stopped.”

He looked at me, really looked, and I could see it all behind his eyes. The pain. The love. The memories.

“I believe that,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “And it doesn’t matter.”

My throat tightened. “Izzy…”

“You broke something in me. And no matter how much I want to pretend I can forgive you, I can’t.” He reached for his bottle, found it empty, and dropped it with a thud. “I hope you figure your shit out someday. But you and me? We’re done.”

And that was it.

He stood and walked away, guitar slung over his shoulder like a war wound. I didn’t chase him.

Because maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

Requested✨✨

Popcorn & Panties🥵

Warning ‼️ (Public smex, dirty talk, quiet moans)

Sorry this is kinda late, I was going to post this yesterday, but I had to catch up on some homework and I also had work this morning sooooo.. here’s a new story. Hope you guys like it especially @slashduffizzysgf 😘

Y/N POV

The lights dimmed and the movie started, but I barely noticed. My eyes flicked to the row in front of me, Duff, Slash, Axl, and Steven were already getting into it, whispering and tossing popcorn like overgrown kids.

But I was only focused on the man beside me. Izzy sat back, long legs stretched out, that usual slouch like he owned the whole damn theater. His hand rested casually on my thigh, thumb stroking slow circles through the fabric of my jeans. Just enough to drive me crazy.

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “You okay, baby?”

I nodded, but the truth was, I was yearning for his touch. The way his fingers teased, the smell of his leather jacket, the heat between us… it was too much.

“Izzy,” I whispered, my voice tight. “I need you.”

He looked at me, those dark eyes smoldering, jaw clenched like he was trying to keep control. I didn’t give him the chance to say no, I slipped from my seat and carefully slid into his lap, straddling him in the dark.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck, Y/N… here?”

I smirked, grinding my hips just enough to make him groan low in his throat. “Be quiet, baby,” I whispered, lips brushing his. “Unless you want the whole band to hear how good I make you feel.”

He didn’t need more convincing. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him. Our lips crashed, hot, desperate, messy. I kissed him like the world was ending, biting his bottom lip until he groaned again, quieter this time.

“I’ve been hard since you walked in here,” he hissed against my neck. “You know what you do to me, don’t you?”

I grind down again, feeling his thick cock beneath me. “Then do something about it.”

He didn’t waste time. One hand slipped up my shirt, fingers brushing over my tits, while the other fumbled with his zipper beneath me. The rustling of the movie masked the sounds, but my heartbeat thundered louder than any soundtrack.

“Goddamn, baby,” he muttered as I helped guide him inside me, slow and silent. My breath hitched, he stretched me perfectly. Full, deep. Dangerous.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled in my ear, barely audible.

His hands gripped my hips tightly as I sank down on him, slow and steady. My head tipped forward, resting against his shoulder, breathing him in. He smelled like leather, cigarette smoke, and that warm, musky scent that always drove me wild.

“You’re gonna kill me, baby,” Izzy groaned low, biting back a moan as I started to move. “Fuck… you’re so tight.”

I rocked my hips slowly, careful to keep quiet, but it was getting harder and harder. The thrill of it being right behind the guys, in a public theater, stuffed full of him while we pretended to be watching a movie… It was too much.

Every time I moved, he twitched inside me, his cock thick and hard, pressing against all the right spots. His hands slipped under my shirt, thumbs brushing my nipples through the thin lace of my bra.

“You’re so wet already,” he whispered, voice strained. “All this for me?”

“All for you,” I whispered back, trying not to whimper. “You feel so good, Izzy. So deep…”

His hands guided me as I picked up the pace, grinding in tight little circles. He kissed my neck, sucked on my earlobe and growled, “You better stay quiet, sweetheart… unless you want Slash turning around and seeing my cock buried in you.”

That image made me clench around him, and he felt it. He smirked against my skin, pulling my shirt up just enough to kiss down between my tits. His warm tongue flicking over my nipples as he thrust up once, deep, sharp, and toe-curling.

I gasped, hand flying to my mouth. “Izzy, oh my god…”

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Be a good girl and take it.”

My thighs shook with the effort of staying quiet. He kept fucking me, slow but hard, making sure every thrust hit that perfect spot. I was melting around him, trembling, so close I couldn’t think straight.

“You’re gonna cum for me, right here in this fucking theater,” he hissed. “While they sit right there… and you sit on my cock, dripping all over me.”

“I—I can’t hold it,” I whimpered, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the moan.

“Yes, you can,” he said, kissing me deep. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.”

His thumb slipped between us, rubbing fast, tight circles on my clit, and that was it. I broke apart in silence, shaking, thighs squeezing around him as the orgasm hit me like a freight train. My body tensed, clenching around him, and he groaned, losing it right after me.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, gripping my waist. “I’m gonna fill you up…”

And he did, pulsing deep inside me. I collapsed against him, trying not to laugh from the mix of thrill and afterglow.

Axl turned around for a second, eyes narrowed. “You two good back there?”

I coughed, straightening my shirt. “Yeah. Just—uh, he dropped his drink.”

Izzy smirked, still buried inside me, still throbbing. “Yeah. Big mess.”

Axl shrugged and turned back around. I glanced at Izzy, breathless, heart pounding.

“We’re not done yet,” he whispered, lips brushing mine. “I want a round two later, so I can hear you scream.”

And I believed him.

I see that you guys really enjoyed my birthday izzy story, so I decided to write another story, but this time it will be a series! It’s called “cry me a river”Lemme know if you guys like it 🤗

Cry Me a River Series~(izzy x reader)

Chapter one: Back Then

The soundcheck was chaos. Slash’s amp kept blowing out, Axl was late…again and Duff was already halfway through a bottle of vodka even though it wasn’t even 5 p.m.

Izzy found you behind the curtains, sitting cross-legged on the floor, twirling a guitar pick between your fingers. You wore his leather jacket even though it was too hot for it, but it smelled like him, cigarettes, sweat, and that earthy cologne he used sometimes when he remembered. You were tired, running on gas station coffee and tour-bus naps, but you still smiled when he crouched down in front of you.

“Hey,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t. The girls, the rumors, the phone calls he never returned when the band was in L.A. and you were stuck in New York. You told yourself none of it mattered as long as he came back to you.

He kissed your forehead like he always did after screwing up.

“I’ll make it up to you after the show, promise.”

You wanted to believe him.

God, you did.

Present Day~

The cafe was quiet, soft jazz playing from a speaker overhead. You were on your second espresso, scrolling through emails, when the door opened and you felt it, him… before you saw him.

Izzy Stradlin. Older, sure. A little worn down, a little less wild. But still him. Still dangerous in a quiet, slow-smile kind of way. He looked like the past, wrapped in denim and regret.

“Hey,” he said, voice low like he was scared to scare you off.

You didn’t stand up. Didn’t smile.

Instead, you stirred your coffee slowly, eyes locked on his.

“You’ve got some nerve,” you said calmly. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, hand in his pocket, eyes flickering with something he wasn’t saying.

“I was in town. Thought I’d see you.”

You laughed, dry, sharp. Like the sound of a glass cracking.

“You saw me. Now what?”

He looked stunned for a second, like he expected you to fall into his arms. Like time hadn’t passed. Like you hadn’t spent years learning how to forget the sound of his voice.

“You look good,” he muttered.

You leaned back in your chair, tilted your head, and gave him a look so cold it could’ve frozen the air between you.

“I am good.”

Duff reposted it on his story! Slash and the gnr page made a happy birthday post about izzy aswell 😊

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SLASH YOU SLUTTY MF!!!

I would talk about how amazing he is as a guitarist and his impact on music but that would take too long. Literally love him to death. That’s all I have to say.

He is NEVER beating them gay allegations