Damaged💔❤️‍🔥

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.



What's your heritage?

I’m mixed, half white (mom) and half black (dad). My mom is part Native American too, she got it from her dad and his side of the family. Not sure if I have any traces of Native American ancestry because yk dna is weird, but if I do it would be a very small percentage. My father is just Black American from what I’ve been told.

Hope this helps 🤷🏽‍♀️😭

happy birthday izzy love u so fuckin much old man 😭😭😭💕💕💕

Cry me a river series~ izzy x reader

Chapter two: Ghost Notes😬

Back Then – 1989

It was Vegas, and it was loud. Neon signs, fans screaming, the sound of your own heart cracking beneath the surface.

Izzy hadn’t come back to the hotel that night.

You waited. Curled up on the stiff bed with your boots still on and the TV flickering static in the background. You’d stared at the ceiling so long it started to look like it was moving.

When he finally showed, it was 5 a.m. He looked like hell. Smelled like perfume and smoke and something too sweet to be innocent.

He froze when he saw you awake. “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

You didn’t say anything.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his tangled hair. “It’s not what it looks like”.

You snorted, bitter and tired. “You don’t even know what I think it looks like”.

He turned his head toward you slowly, as if hoping the dark would hide the guilt in his eyes.

“Maybe I don’t wanna know.”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and headed for the door. You didn’t even know where you were going, just that you needed out before you said something you’d regret.

“Where the hell are you going?” he asked, voice sharp now.

“Out,” you said without turning around. “Maybe I’ll find someone who knows how to keep their promises.”

Now ~Present Day

You didn’t mean to see him again.

But three days later, he was waiting outside your building. Leaning against the hood of an old car like something out of a music video, cool, casual, and completely out of place in your carefully rebuilt life.

You stopped on the sidewalk, arms full of groceries, heart pounding like a drum solo in your chest.

“Izzy,” you said, flat and cold. “What are you doing here?”

He straightened up, hands in his pockets again, just like before.

“I owed you more than just walking into that cafe.”

You walked right past him toward the door. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than that.”

“I know,” he said quietly, following a few steps behind. “I just… I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You turned around so fast he almost bumped into you. “So you ran? Typical.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t. But now you’re here, dragging ghosts out of closets I locked up a long time ago.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked almost like he used to, raw, haunted, beautiful in that broken way.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

You stared at him. Really stared.

“You should’ve thought about talking then,” you whispered. “When I needed you. When I begged you not to shut me out.”

The wind picked up, rustling your coat, your hair. He didn’t move. He just looked at you like he didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“I’m not the girl you left behind,” you said. “So if you’re looking for her, go find someone else to haunt.”

You turned and walked inside.

And this time, he didn’t follow.

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.”

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

Cry me a river series🍸

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

Izzy Stradlin X Reader

~Chapter three: Rewind

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

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

You peek through the blinds.

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

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

But you don’t sleep.

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

By morning, he’s gone.

Or so you think.

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

You freeze. So does he.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, about five years too late.”

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

“You look good,” he finally says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you sit. Just for a minute.

But nothing about Izzy Stradlin has ever stayed small.

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.”

I’m not sure if this is too far and I couldn’t find anything that says what you write and don’t write but it has the talk of self harm and there is no need to write about it if you’re not comfortable with it! But I thought about it and I was wondering if you could write a story about Izzy Stradlin x Fem reader and they’re in the middle of sex (first time having sex so she’s nervous in general and about her scars, scared that he wouldn’t like her anymore) and he wanders down there and sees the scars from self-harm and she could see him looking at them so she gets embarrassed and flushed but instead he stares in awe and kisses her scars telling her it’s okay because he sensed and saw her embarrassed face? Then he gives her hickeys then gives her some love to her❤️

Hey! Yes I just finished it. I thought this was a really sweet and touching idea for a fic; haven’t really seen many that talk about this topic. So far I don’t have any boundaries when it comes to what I write, but if I do I’ll post about it. So, if you have anymore ideas like this one feel free to voice it😊

Nothing to Hide🩸

Izzy stradlin x fem reader

Warning ‼️ talks about self harm

Y/N POV~~

You were already nervous as hell, just from the fact that this was your first time. But being with him? With Izzy? That made everything feel even more real. He was kissing down your neck, taking his time, his hands soft and warm on your sides. You could barely think straight.

You trusted him. You really did. But still, part of you was scared. Scared he’d see them. The scars.

As his lips moved lower, over your stomach, you tensed without meaning to. He didn’t seem to notice at first, too focused on making sure you felt good and comfortable. But then his hand slid down your thigh… and stopped.

He saw them.

You felt your whole body heat up in panic. “Izzy—wait, just… don’t look at those,” you blurted, your voice way smaller than you meant it to be.

You turned your face, wishing you could disappear. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were messed up, or broken, or worse… that you’d ruined the moment.

But then he didn’t pull away. He didn’t freak out or say anything weird. Instead, he looked up at you with this soft, gentle expression.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said quietly, like he already knew exactly how you were feeling. “I see them, yeah. But I also see you. And I still want you.”

Then, out of nowhere, he leaned down and kissed one of the scars. Then another. You felt your throat tighten up, like you might cry, but not in a bad way. He wasn’t scared of them. He wasn’t scared of you.

“These don’t change anything,” he said against your skin. “If anything… they just remind me how strong you are.”

He gave you a few hickeys, teasing you like he always did, but still being gentle. Still letting you know it was okay.

And when he finally leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, it didn’t feel scary anymore. It felt like love.

You didn’t even remember when your nerves finally melted away, just that Izzy never once made you feel wrong or broken. He touched you like he meant it, like he saw you, all of you, and still wanted more. His hands were everywhere. Every kiss, every teasing moment, every breath against your skin reminded you that this was real. And that he was still here.

After, you were wrapped up in his arms, both of you tangled in the sheets, skin warm and flushed. His fingers lazily trailed up and down your spine, like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you yet. Like letting go wasn’t even an option.

“You okay?” he murmured into your hair.

You nodded, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Yeah… better than okay, actually.”

He chuckled softly, and you could feel the vibrations in his chest. “Good. I was kinda hoping I didn’t suck.”

You snorted. “You didn’t suck. Annoying as hell, maybe, but not bad.”

He tipped your chin up so you had to look at him, that familiar little smirk tugging at his lips. “Annoying, huh? Pretty sure I had you moaning my name like—”

“Izzy!” you hissed, smacking his chest, but he just laughed and caught your wrist.

He kissed your knuckles, then turned serious for a second. “Hey,” he said softly, brushing your hair back from your face. “Thank you… for trusting me.”

Your throat tightened again, but in the best way. You didn’t have words, so you leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft. He kissed you back like he had all the time in the world.

After a while, you tucked yourself under his chin again, his hand gently running over your thigh, fingers brushing over your scars like it was second nature now. Like they didn’t scare him, or change how he saw you at all.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, “if I could, I’d go back in time and sit next to you on whatever night those happened. Just sit with you. Make sure you knew you weren’t alone.”

That broke you a little, in a good way. You blinked fast to stop the tears, but one still slipped out.

You didn’t speak. Just held onto him tighter.

He pulled the blanket up higher around your shoulders and kissed your temple. “I got you now,” he whispered. “Okay? You don’t ever have to hide from me again.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to.”

He smiled against your skin. “Good. Now sleep before I make you fall for me even harder in the morning.”

“Too late,” you muttered, already half-asleep against him. “Way too late…”

All the time🤦🏽‍♀️