He’s The Love Of My Life Wdym We’ll Never Get Married And Live Happily Ever After

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.

What's your insta, if I may ask?

Just message me on here and I’ll give it to ya as long as you ain’t a creep or under a certain age lol

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.”

Mood rn

Backstage Games✨

Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Warning!!! (Humiliation/degradation and jealousy)

Side note: long story, but full of sluttiness😈

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

You felt a presence before you saw him.

Izzy.

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

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

“Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked you a question.”

He grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to his.

“Yes,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

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

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

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

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

You nodded, heart pounding.

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

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

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

Another slap.

“Say it.”

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

“Louder.”

“I’m your slut!”

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

And oh, you would.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s fucking right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You belong to me.”

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

“Fucking love ruining you.”

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

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

“Y-Yours,” you stammered.

He tugged the belt tighter. “What else?”

“Your slut.”

“Louder.”

“Your dirty little slut!”

“That’s right. Say thank you.”

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

“Good girl,” he growled.

And then he really gave it to you.

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

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

And he felt it.

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

“Yes,” you cried.

He reached around and rubbed tight circles around your clit.

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

That was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.

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

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

“Good.”

So so so so so so so fineee😩😩😩😩

Steven finallyyy made his happy bday post to izzy!

So do you also accept smutty, kinky requests for Steven Adler x reader fics? Because you've never mentioned him before, so I figured i'd ask first 🫣

Yesss! Also, let me know if you’d like it to be a short or long fic orrr if you want multiple parts.

Requested✨✨

The Babysitter🧖‍♀️

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

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

Duff McKagan x Sassy Babysitter aka Y/N

Y/N POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you?

You weren’t about to make this easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t. Couldn’t.

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

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

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

You were already close to snapping at him when—

RING. RING.

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

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

You glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”

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

“Answer it.”

“Duff—”

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

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

“H-Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shoved his shoulder. “I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t answer.

You just kissed him again.