stasia

I <3 gnr

[appetiteforfiction]

Hello everyone! My name is Stacey!

I’m so excited to share my writing with you guys! My inbox is officially OPEN for Guns N’ Roses fanfiction requests. I love writing almost anything (smut, fluff, agsnt, all!), so feel free to ask me! I write pretty much anything for Reader x Character. The only thing I won’t write is obviously weird stuff like r4pe or g0re.. anyways lovelies!

my dms are open mwah

💋

[appetiteforfiction]

he’s so beautiful

[appetiteforfiction]

he’s perfect

[appetiteforfiction]

NEON LIGHTS

warnings : slight agnst and mild smut

The humidity in the backstage dressing room is thick enough to choke on, smelling of stale cigarette smoke, spilled Jack Daniel's, and the expensive perfume you’d sprayed on hours ago. Outside, the roar of the stadium crowd is still echoing like distant thunder, but inside these four walls, the storm is entirely local.

And it's wearing a bandana and a torn graphic tee.

"You weren't even looking at the stage," Axl snaps, pacing the length of the worn leather couch like a caged tiger. He flings his leather jacket onto a chair, his long, reddish-blonde hair damp with sweat from the two-hour set. He’s completely wired, running on pure adrenaline and whatever frustration has been brewing between you two all week. "I look out into the VIP section during Rocket Queen, and you’re talking to some photographer. Do you have any idea how that looks?"

You cross your legs, leaning back against the makeup vanity. As a model, you’re used to dealing with high-intensity personalities and chaotic schedules, but Axl in 1988 is a whole different level of unpredictable. The fame is hitting him like a freight train, and tonight, you’re the one tracks.

"I was talking about a shoot, Axl," you say, your voice cool, contrasting his fire. "It’s my job. Just like yours is up there. I don't check my mind at the door just because I'm sitting in your section."

"Your job," he scoffs, stopping his pacing to glare at you. His blue eyes are sharp, practically vibrating with heat. "Right. So your job means ignoring me? I write those damn songs about you, and you can't even lock eyes with me for five consecutive minutes?"

"Oh, don't turn this into me not supporting you!" You stand up, the heels of your boots clicking sharply against the concrete floor, matching his stride. "I fly out to these miserable, sweaty cities on my only days off. I sit through the soundchecks, the delays, the riots—and the second you step off stage, you find a reason to pick a fight with me!"

"Because you're miles away even when you're standing right in front of me!" he yells, closing the distance between you.

He stops barely an inch away. You can feel the literal heat radiating off him. His chest is heaving, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles are ticking. He looks completely infuriated, but beneath the anger, there's that desperate, intense possessiveness that drives him.

"You think you're so detached," Axl mutters, his voice suddenly dropping from a shout to a low, gravelly hiss that sends a shiver straight down your spine. "You think you can just stand there looking perfect and not let any of this touch you."

"Axl—"

"Shut up," he breathes.

Before you can fire back, his hand shoots out, fingers tangling firmly into your hair to tilt your head up. He doesn’t give you space to breathe, let alone argue.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s not gentle—it’s a direct continuation of the argument, full of all the built-up tension, the exhaustion of the road, and the terrifying weight of his sudden fame. It’s hot, gritty, and completely overwhelming.

You gasp against his mouth, intending to push him away, but the second his other hand grips your waist, pulling your hips flush against his, your resolve completely melts. Your fingers find the soft fabric of his shirt, bunching it up in your fists as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

Axl is already shoving you down against the vanity with his pants half unzipped. He didn’t bother with warming up. The pure feeling of needing you was eating him alive.

“You think I’m not enough? Huh?”

Axl drawled placing his palm on your back as he lifted up your delicate black dress. He shoved in with one brutal thrust, all the way to the hilt. He stayed for a second, your knees buckled, feeling so completely full of him. All you could think of was him.

“Baby you’re all that I want..”

He grunted as he leaned his chest against your back. You let out soft pants and whimpered as you clutched onto the edge of the vanity. Axl soothed you, he stroked your hair. “Shhh shhh.. it’s okay baby..”

Axl started to move, slow, deep, agonizing strokes. You arched into him.

“I’m sorry Axl, I’m right here.. I only love you..”

You breathed, he didn’t stop, but a genuine smile crept across his face.

“I know.. s’okay.. I’m so sorry too baby.. i love you to much to lose you.”

Axl gently lifted her up so you were sitting on the vanity, his arms around your waist as he made love to you. Not fuck.. making love. You wrapped your long legs around him and kissed him gently. Axl picked up the back which made you bounce and jerk with every hard thrust, finally you came in his arms.

He kissed your forehead as he continued through it, finally after getting off on going into your overstimulated pussy, he came. His come spilled down your thighs and Axl just fingered it back in.

The two of you didn’t say anything, Axl just held you. You both whispered sweet promise to not fight, to change.. but deep down they knew they’d be here again. And they loved it.