Intro: Heyyy, new account after just observing and reading for ages I decided finally to make a posting account for writing X readers. I'm going to start off with only one fandom and slowly open up to more so I'll do the one I've been in the longest. Gnr.
Boundaries okay so no pedophilea, scat, rape from the top of my head I can remember there is probably more I'm uncomfortable with, and remember I will deny a request if it makes me uncomfortable.
I will be writing for the most known lineup only: axl, slash, Izzy, duff, Steven.
this is just a little “gift” because it's my beloved wife's birthday @lac3andleath3r
i'm so happy to be a part of your life and I couldn't ask for a better friend. i love you sm and I wish you all the best and that all your dreams come true sweetheart 🩷🩷
///
you weren’t stupid
the recording was real. his threat was real
so you played it smart
your grades in Izzy’s class shot back up. not just good—excellent. Only A papers dripping, thoughtful questions in class again, sitting front row like the perfect student. you even wore the short black skirt he seemed to like, crossing your legs slowly when you knew his eyes were on you. you gave him sweet, innocent smiles while your ass still remembered the sting of his palm
BUT
in Professor Gilby Clarke’s class? you were fucking unstoppable
you needed air. you needed to feel like you still had some control so when Mr. Gilby Clarke—another professor in the Music Department—offered you extra credit help on a project, you said yes
Gilby was everything Izzy wasn’t — quick with a charming grin and easier praise
he taught advanced guitar techniques and production and from what he told you he was Izzy’s longtime rival. the tension between them was campus legend: two former Guns N’ Roses guitarists now stuck in the same department, constantly sniping at each other’s methods. Gilby loved pushing the technical, polished side of music. Izzy preferred raw feel and attitude. they hated each other in that polite, professional way that made everyone else uncomfortable
so you decided to use it
in Gilby’s class, your work was flawless. you stayed after his lectures too, laughing at his jokes, asking for extra feedback, letting him lean over your desk to point things out on your sheet music. your latest project with him came back with a glowing 100 and a handwritten note:
Exceptional work. Proud to have you in this class
you made sure Izzy saw it
you left the graded paper face-up on your desk during his lecture, the bright red 100 impossible to miss. when he walked past your row, his jaw tightened visibly. his eyes flicked from the paper to your face. you met his stare with a tiny, sweet smile
the two could play the jealousy game
thursday afternoon, the hallway outside the music wing was quiet. most students had already left. you were leaning against the wall just outside Gilby Clarke’s office, talking to him about your upcoming presentation. he stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smiling down at you
“You’ve got real talent” Gilby said, voice warm “That last solo you submitted was amazing. Whenever you'll need extra studio time, my door’s always open”
you tucked your hair behind your ear “I’d love that, Professor Clarke. I feel like I learn more in your class than anywhere else”
“And you’ve got a good ear” he said “Stradlin’s tough on students but I can tell you’ve got real potential. If you ever want to transfer sections—”
you smiled, feeling bold “Maybe I should consider it. Izzy can be… intense”
Gilby chuckled “Careful. Stradlin might hear you say that”
before you could reply, a low, familiar voice cut through the hallway like a blade
“Hear what, exactly?”
you both turned. Izzy stood ten feet away, hands in his pockets, dark hair loose and messy. his expression was calm but his eyes burned. he looked at Gilby first, then slowly dragged his gaze over you, taking in how close you were standing to the other man
Gilby’s smile didn’t falter but it sharpened “Stradlin. We were just talking about student projects. Nothing that concerns you”
Izzy ignored him completely, staring at you “My office. Now.”
you swallowed, heat flooding your body despite the cool tone of his command “I’m kind of in the middle of something, Professor Stradlin”
Gilby raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this “She’s free to talk to whichever professor she wants, Izzy. Or are you having trouble keeping your students attention these days?”
the air crackled. Izzy’s fingers flexed in his pockets
Izzy’s eyes slid to you. slowly “She's my student. She has a standing appointment with me right now”
you swallowed hard. you hadn’t even scheduled anything with him
Gilby raised an eyebrow, glancing between you two “She’s welcome here anytime. Unlike some professors, I don’t scare talent away”
“Office hours are over, Clarke. I’ll take it from here”
Gilby looked at you, clearly confused of why Izzy's acting like that “You good?”
you nodded quickly, cheeks burning “Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Clarke”
he lingered for a second longer than necessary, then adjusted his jacket “Anytime, sweetheart”
the second Gilby’s office door clicked shut, Izzy’s hand closed around your upper arm—not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to remind you who was in control. he marched you down the hall to his office in silence, unlocked the door and practically pushed you inside before locking it behind him
the moment the lock clicked, the tension exploded
Izzy backing you up against his desk until your ass hit the edge. he caged you in with both hands planted on the wood, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. you could smell his cologne and the faint trace of cigarette smoke on his clothes
“You just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?” he hissed “Talking to him. Laughing with him. Calling me ‘Izzy’ like we’re fucking friends while you bat your lashes at this complete idiot”
you smirked sweetly, even as your pulse hammered “I was just getting help on a project”
“You think you’re so fucking clever?” he growled “Parading around in Clarke’s class like a desperate little slut, flashing your perfect grades in front of me?”
“My grades in your class are excellent, Sir. Just like you wanted”
his eyes darkened at the word 'Sir'. one of his hands moved to your neck, gripping hard
“And yet you’re practically sucking Gilby’s dick for extra credit” he said, voice rough “Letting him call you ‘sweetheart’. Laughing at his stupid jokes. You’re trying to make me jealous, little girl?”
you bit your lip, slick heat gathered between your thighs “Is it working?”
he let go of your neck but Izzy’s hand slid lower, bunching your skirt up your thigh, fingertips brushing the edge of your panties but not going any further. he teased the sensitive skin there, slow and deliberate, until you squirmed
“You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over this desk right now and fuck the attitude out of you” he murmured against your ear “Spank that pretty ass until you’re crying, then edge you until you’re begging to be allowed to cum on my cock. Remind you exactly who you belong to”
you let out a shaky breath, gripping his shirt “Then do it”
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes piercing through you “No. Not today”
you stared at him, stunned “What?”
“Brats who flirt with other professors don’t get rewarded. So you’re going to fix this little mistake” Izzy straightened up, adjusting the obvious bulge in his jeans with zero shame “You want to play games? Fine. We’ll play”
he stepped back, leaving you flushed and aching. from his pocket, he pulled out his phone. the same one with the video. he tapped the screen, turning it toward you just enough for you to see a frozen frame of yourself on your knees, lips wrapped around his cock, eyes glassy with lust
“Delete the conversation with Clarke. Block his number. Then you’re going to send me a nice, detailed apology tonight. Voice note. Telling me exactly why you’re sorry and what you deserve for it”
your mouth went dry, your eyes widened
Izzy stepped close again, sliding his hand down your body—over your breast, your waist, teasing your thighs
“And if I see anything like you smiled at him...” he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper “I’ll send this video to the entire department. Maybe even forward it to Gilby himself so he can see what a desperate little slut his ‘talented’ student really is”
he brushed his lips against yours—barely a kiss—then pulled away completely
“Fix your skirt. You’re dismissed. Now get out”
you left the office on shaky legs, behind you, you heard as the door clicked shut
That night, back in your apartment with the lights low and your heart hammering, you sat on the edge of your bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. your pussy was still slick from the way he’d teased you in his office
you opened a conversation with Izzy, hit record and let the words spill out in a shaky, breathy whisper
“Professor Stradlin… I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for provoking you. For flirting with Gilby Clarke just to make you jealous. I knew he was your rival and I used it anyway because I wanted your attention — your anger, your hands on me. I acted like a spoiled, desperate slut. I let him call me sweetheart. I laughed at his jokes while thinking about how much better you fuck me. How much I crave your cock, your spanking, your hands on me…”
you swallowed hard, fingers slipping between your thighs without thinking as you continued
“I deserve to be punished. I deserve you bending me over your desk again, spanking me until my ass is purple and I’m crying. I deserve to be edged for hours, your cock buried inside me while you refuse to let me cum. I deserve you using my mouth, my pussy, my throat however you want. I deserve you owning me completely. I’m yours, Sir. Only yours. Please… forgive me. Or don’t. Just please use me”
you ended the recording and sent it before you could chicken out. then you deleted every single message and conversation with Gilby, blocked his number and turned your phone face-down
Izzy listened to it almost immediately. the typing indicator appeared, then disappeared. no reply. just a single thumb up
you barely slep that night and the next morning you woke up to chaos
your phone was exploding with notifications. group chats from the music department, private messages from classmates, even a couple confused texts from friends outside the major
the video had been sent to the entire department and the main senior groupchat at 7:42 am
it was the one he recorded — you bent over the desk, ass red from spanking, moaning and crying “Sir, please—” as a thick cock fucked you from behind. your face had been blurred and was only 10 seconds long but everyone could still make out the shape of your body, the curve of your ass, the way your back arched, the desperate tremble in your thighs., the audio thank God wasn't crystal clear, but you could hear your begging, whimpering, calling him “Sir” over and over while you got fucked and edged
the messages were flooding in:
“holy shit who is that???”
“that voice sounds familiar…”
“is this real??”
“blur is so fucking tease, now everyone’s trying to figure out who she is”
“that ass though… jesus”
some people were already playing detective — comparing it to girls known to be close with certain professors. your name hadn’t been said yet but it was only a matter of time. the blurred face and audio made it worse
it turned the video into campus porn everyone wanted to solve
your phone buzzed again
Izzy: Voicenote was sweet. But bad girls don’t get forgiven that easily
Izzy: Front row today. Wear the black skirt. No panties
you stared at the screen, thighs pressing together. the worst part? You were soaked
you walked into Izzy’s lecture hall fifteen minutes early, black skirt barely covering the curve of your ass, no panties underneath. the room was buzzing. people were still whispering about the video. a couple guys glanced at you longer than usual, like they were trying to match the body in the video to yours
Izzy entered exactly on time, looking unfairly calm and hot in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled. his eyes found you immediately. he gave you the smallest smirk before starting the lecture like nothing was wrong
halfway through he casually said “Some of you seem distracted today. Too busy watching things you shouldn’t instead of focusing on actual music”
his gaze landed on you. you squirmed in your seat, the cool air teasing your bare, dripping pussy
after class, he didn’t even have to say anything. you stayed behind automatically
the door locked
Izzy leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching you approach
you exploded the second you two were alone
“You fucking asshole!” you shouted, voice cracking “I sent you the apology! I did everything you said! Why did you—!”
Izzy looked completely unbothered. almost relaxed
“Because I wanted to” he said simply “Because you still thought you could play games with Gilby Clarke yesterday. Because hearing you beg in that little voice note made my cock hard and I decided you needed a real reminder that I own you”
“You fucking asshole!” you tried to push him but he quickly grabbed your wrist, spun you around and bent you over the nearest desk. your cheek pressed against the cool wood. he yanked your skirt up and ran his fingers through your folds but then his hand cracked across your ass — hard, merciless
“Count”
“Fuck you—!”
another brutal spank. then another. he didn’t stop until you were sobbing out the numbers between gasps
by fifteen your ass was blazing. by twenty-five you were dripping down your thighs
“Everyone’s trying to figure out who the whore in the video is” he murmured between spanking “They’re comparing voices. Comparing bodies. And here you are, bent over in my classroom with your pussy soaked. Every time someone tries to guess it’s you… you’re going to get wetter. Because you know the truth”
Izzy kicked your feet wider apart and slid two fingers through your soaked folds without warning. you moaned loudly, pushing back despite yourself
he pulled his fingers out and pushed them into your mouth, making you taste yourself
“You’re such a pathetic little girl”
next he finger-fucked you roughly, bringing you right to the edge in under a minute—then stopped. you cried out in frustration. he pulled his fingers out and smeared your own wetness across your stinging ass cheeks
“You’re going to fix your behavior” he said, voice low and commanding “Every single night this week, you’re coming to my apartment after dark. No panties. No fucking attitude. You’re going to spend hours on your knees making this up to me”
he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, lips against your ear
“And if your grades slip even one point… or if I see you near Gilby Clarke again… I’ll post the unblurred version next”
Izzy stepped back, leaving you bent over, exposed and shaking
“Pull your skirt down. Wipe your tears. And get the fuck out of my classroom. I’ll text you my address tonight”
you stood on trembling legs, face burning with humiliation, ass throbbing, pussy aching as you composed yourself
as you reached the door on shaky legs, Izzy’s voice followed you, soft and dangerous:
“Oh, and sweetheart? Tell anyone about this and the whole video goes viral. Nod if you understand”
you nodded without turning around
“Good girl”
you stepped into the hallway, feeling dozens of eyes on you even though the corridor was mostly empty. your phone kept buzzing with new notifications
you barely made it back to your apartment before the weight of everything crashed down on you
pacing barefoot across the small living room, you kept replaying it all:
the video — now circulating through the entire music department — of you getting fucked and begging on repeat
the whispers in the hallways
Izzy threat to send the unblurred one
your grades were perfect again in his class but... at what cost?
he had you by the throat. literally
you should hate him. you should report him. you should block his number and transfer out of his class
instead, you were soaked just thinking about going to him tonight. the power he held over you was terrifying… and intoxicating. part of you wanted to run. the other part wanted him to ruin you completely
you showered, shaved, lotioned every inch of skin, telling yourself you were just “thinking about it”. but deep down you already knew you’d go if he asked
then the text came at 9 pm sharp
Izzy: 1423 Riverfront Lofts. Apartment 4H. Door unlocked. Black skirt only. No panties. No bra. Phone on silent. Don’t make me wait.
you stood outside his building for nearly fifteen minutes, stomach twisting with a toxic mix of fear and sick arousal. the short skirt felt obscene in the night air — every breeze teasing your bare, already dripping pussy. your ass still burned from the spanking he’d given you after class. by the time you pushed open the door to 4H, your thighs were slick
the loft was dim, lit only by a few lamps and the city lights filtering through large windows. Izzy stood by the kitchen island in a tight black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his thick cock already half-hard and outlined against the fabric. his dark hair were loose around his shoulders. he didn’t smile. he just stared like he already owned every inch of you
“Close the door. Lock it. Then crawl to me”
your face burned with humiliation but you dropped to your knees on the hardwood and crawled across the floor like a bitch in heat
when you reached his feet, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back
“Just look at yourself. Fucking pathetic” he looked at you disgusted “Strip. Everything except that slutty little skirt”
you peeled off your top and bra with shaky hands. your nipples were rock hard. Izzy reached down and pinched one viciously, twisting until you gasped in pain
“Hands behind your back”
you obeyed and he used a thick leather belt he had to prepare earlier, wrapping it tightly around your wrists and buckling it so your shoulders were pulled back, tits pushed out obscenely. then he dragged you over to the couch and bent you over the back of it. the skirt flipped up on its own, exposing your soaked pussy
Izzy stepped behind you
“Fuck, look at this sloppy cunt. The whole department is hunting for the whore in that video and here you are, presenting your holes to your professor like a cheap slut you are”
he dragged two fingers through your folds, collecting your slick, then shoved them roughly into your mouth
“Suck. Taste how disgusting you are for me”
you sucked desperately. he pulled them out and immediately plunged his two thick fingers deep into your pussy, curling them right. the wet squelching sounds were filthy and loud
“Oh my god— S-sir— ”
he finger-fucked you brutally for a minute, palm slapping against your clit with every thrust, then ripped his hand away right as your pussy started clenching
you screamed in frustration “Please! Please don’t stop—”
smack
his hand cracked hard across your already bruised ass
“You don’t tell me what to do”
first denial
then he dropped to his knees behind you and buried his face in your cunt. his tongue was merciless — long, sloppy licks from your clit all the way up to your asshole, sucking noisily on your swollen folds, spitting on your holes before diving back in. he ate you out like a starving man while you sobbed and tried to grind back against his face
“Sir— Sir I’m s-so close— please... let me cum on your tongue— please Sir I’ll be so good!—”
he pulled back completely, leaving you gaping and twitching. a thick string of your own arousal mixed with his spit dripped down your thigh
second denial
by the third denial you were shaking uncontrollably. tears and mascara ran down your face. your voice had gone hoarse
fourth denial — he stood up, pulled his thick cock out and started rubbing the fat, leaking head up and down your slit, smacking it hard against your clit. he’d push just the tip inside, stretch you open, then pull out and slap your pussy with his heavy dick
“Sir please~” you wailed, voice cracking pathetically, babbling like a broken toy “Please please please let me cum… I’m losing my mind… I’ll suck your cock every day… I’ll send you videos of me touching myself thinking about you… just please— please let me cum, Sir, I’m begging you!!—”
then he pushed three fingers inside you and then he ripped his fingers out at the last possible second and slapped your swollen, gaping pussy hard — three vicious smacks
you broke completely
sobbing hysterically, drooling onto the couch, hips humping the air desperately
Izzy grabbed your bound wrists and yanked you upright, then spun you around and forced you down onto your knees. his cock — veiny, throbbing, slick with your juices — slapped against your tear soaked cheek
“Open that fucking mouth”
he fucked your face without mercy, balls slapping your chin, forcing his cock deep into your throat until you gagged and choked. he pulled out, stroked himself furiously and came all over your face — thick, ropey spurts painting your cheeks, lips, tongue and dripping down onto your tits
you knelt there shaking, covered in his cum
Izzy crouched down, grabbed your jaw hard and forced you to look at him. his thumb smeared his cum across your bottom lip and pushed it into your mouth
“Swallow”
you obeyed
“Look at the state of yourself” he smiled “Tied up, covered in spit and cum, pussy drooling all over my floor like a brainless fucktoy. And you still don’t get to cum”
he stood up, cock still half-hard and grabbed you by the arm
Izzy dragged you by your across the loft into his bedroom. cum still dripped from your chin and tits as you stumbled after him. the bedroom was dark, dominated by a large king bed with black sheets. he shoved you onto it roughly
“Lay on your back. Legs spread as wide as you can. Show me that ruined hole”
you obeyed instantly, wrists still tightly bound behind you. your skirt was bunched uselessly around your waist. Izzy stripped off his shirt and sweatpants, his thick cock rock-hard. he climbed between your trembling thighs and slapped his heavy cock against your swollen, leaking pussy a few times before lining up
“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember Gilby’s fucking name”
and without a warning, he slammed into you in one brutal thrust
you screamed, back arching violently as he stretched your overstimulated cunt wide open. he didn’t give you time to adjust. he started fucking you hard — deep, punishing strokes that made the bed slam against the wall. the wet, filthy sound of his balls slapping your ass filled the room
“Fuck— Sir— too much—!” you gasped, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes
“Take it like a good pet you are” he growled, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise “This is what you wanted. This is what brats who flirt with Gilby get”
he folded you nearly in half, pounding you mercilessly. every thrust dragged against your g spot, making your eyes roll back. your pussy was so wet it was foaming around his cock, creamy white ring building at the base. he spat on your clit and rubbed it roughly with his thumb while destroying you
you were already a broken, babbling mess after all the earlier edging. your body was shaking, muscles exhausted but he kept fucking you without mercy for long minutes — switching between brutal deep thrusts and grinding his hips in slow, cruel circles that kept you right on the edge again
your vision started to blur. your head felt light. the room spun
you were passing out
your eyelids fluttered, body going limp beneath him as exhaustion finally crashed over you like a wave
Izzy noticed immediately. he slowed, then pulled out completely with a wet pop. your gaping pussy clenched around nothing, leaking everywhere on the sheets
he leaned over you, one hand gently cupping your tear-streaked face
“Hey” he murmured, voice suddenly softer “Stay with me, sweetheart. Breathe”
you whimpered weakly, barely conscious. he untied the belt from your wrists quickly, rubbing the sore skin with his thumbs. then he leaned down and kissed your forehead, surprisingly tender
“Beg” he said quietly against your ear “Give me the last of your energy and beg like the desperate little slut I know you are. If it’s good enough… I’ll let you cum”
something primal sparked inside you. you gathered every last drop of strength, eyes glassy and unfocused as you looked up at him
“Sir… please…” your voice was hoarse from screaming, crying, begging “Please let me cum… I’m I need you so much… my pussy hurts… I’ve been so good for you all night… please let your pathetic little toy cum… I’ll never look at anyone else again… I’m yours… only yours, Sir… please let me cum on your cock… please…”
Izzy groaned softly, clearly pleased. he pushed back inside you — this time slow, deep and deliberate. every inch stretched you perfectly. he settled into a steady, sensual rhythm, rolling his hips so his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you
“That’s it” he murmured, voice low and soothing now “Take it slow, baby. I let this sloppy cunt cum”
he put a pillow under your hips and hooked your legs over his hips and fucked you with long, luxurious strokes. one hand reached between you to rub slow, perfect circles on your swollen clit. his mouth found your neck, sucking and biting gently while he praised you
“You feel so fucking good… so wet… such a good girl when you break for me. Cum for me, sweetheart. Squirt all over my cock like the nasty little baby you are”
the orgasm hit you like a freight train
your whole body seized up. a broken, guttural cry tore from your throat as you came harder than you ever had in your life. your pussy clamped down around him, squirting clear fluid all over his cock and stomach. you squirted hard — soaking his abs, his thighs and the sheets beneath you in messy pulses while your body convulsed violently
Izzy kept fucking you through it, slow and deep, drawing it out until you were shaking and sobbing with pleasure
then he pulled out, dropped down between your legs and buried his face in your dripping, twitching pussy. his tongue lapped up every drop of your squirt, sucking on your oversensitive clit and folds with filthy, wet sounds
you twitched and jerked uncontrollably from the overstimulation
“Sir—! Too much— fuck— please—!” you cried, trying weakly to close your legs but he held your thighs open and kept licking you clean like a man possessed, groaning at the taste of you
finally, when you were a whimpering, twitching wreck, he pulled back. his face was shiny with your juices
he smiled softly at the state you were in because of him. then he scooped you up easily in his arms and carried you to the bathroom
the shower was warm. he held you against his chest under the spray, washing your body gently — cleaning the dried cum from your face and tits, soothing your sore pussy with careful fingers, massaging your aching shoulders and wrists
you were barely awake by the time he dried you off with a soft towel. he carried you back to the bed, changed the ruined sheets quickly and laid you down. then he climbed in behind you, pulling your back against his chest
“Try to rest, baby” he whispered against your hair, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to hair “You did so good tonight”
exhausted, sore and completely used up, you drifted off super quickly
you woke up slowly, disoriented by the unfamiliar weight of a heavy arm draped across your waist and the scent of clean sheets mixed with cigarette smoke
for a few seconds you didn’t even remember where you were
then it all hit you — the brutal edging, the way you’d sobbed and begged, the violent orgasm that made you squirt all over his cock and sheets… and falling asleep in his bed like you belonged there
your eyes snapped open
Izzy was pressed against your back, breathing slow and deep, clearly still asleep
panic and shyness hit you like a truck. even though he had seen you in the most degrading positions possible waking up naked in his bed felt different. more vulnerable
you tried to slip out from under his arm without waking him. you needed clothes. you needed a minute to breathe and process what the fuck had happened last night
the second your feet touched the floor, his low, raspy morning voice stopped you cold
“Where do you think you’re going?”
you froze, one arm instinctively covering your breasts. your cheeks burned
“I… I should go home” you mumbled, voice small and nearly gone from all the screaming the night before “I have classes later and… this is weird and—”
Izzy sat up in bed, the sheet pooling around his hips. his hair were messy his eyes sleepy
“Weird?” he smiled softly “After you spent half the night crying and begging all over my cock, now it’s weird?”
you shifted uncomfortably, thighs pressing together “Can I at least put some clothes on?”
“Okay, turn around, go to my wardrobe and take whatever you want”
you did what he said and took some shirt so it would cover your chest and reached halfway your thighs
when you came back to his room he looked really good lying there and watching you like a hawk
then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, completely naked. he walked toward you slowly. you backed up until your back hit the wall
Izzy placed one hand beside your head, caging you in. his other hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him
“You’re not leaving yet” he said calmly “You’re staying right here until I say otherwise”
“But I—”
his thumb pressed against your lips, silencing you
“You think you can just crawl out of my bed like a scared little virgin after I spent hours breaking that pretty cunt?”
your face went scarlet "Okay I'm sorry, Sir"
“Good girl” he praised softly “Now get back in the bed. On your back”
you hesitated, still shy
Izzy’s expression hardened
“Don't make me repeat myself. Unless you want me to tie you to the bed again and spend the whole morning edging you until you pass out for real this time”
your breath hitched. you crawled back onto the bed, laid down and slowly spread your legs for him, arms resting above your head, his shirt riding up
Izzy stood at the foot of the bed, staring shamelessly at your exposed, used pussy
“That’s better” he murmured “Look at that pretty, puffy cunt. Fucking beautiful”
he climbed onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs, pulling off you his shirt but not entering you. instead he just hovered over you, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your breasts — slow, almost lazy kisses while his fingers dragged through your slick folds
“You’re staying until at least noon” he decided, voice muffled against your skin “Maybe longer if you keep acting this shy and cute. I like you like this… all nervous in my bed after I ruined you”
you whimpered softly, hips twitching as he teased you
“Sir… what about classes?”
“Fuck classes” he growled, nipping your nipple “You're not going anywhere like I said”
I sit on my floor, I had crawled out of bed to my record player 15 minutes earlier. As I sat in front of my mirror in just my underwear I brushed my hair and put on a bit of eyeliner and mascara. I was going to the beach with my friend later today but this morning I was set out to get some chores done.
I love having days off because I don't have them too often, I stand up and shake my hair slightly as I make my way to my dresser. I clip on a bra and pull on a jean skirt. As I loop a dark leather belt through my belt loops I hear a little thud on the ground beside me.
I look down to see a rock laying on the carpet, confused I reach down and pick it up, who the fuck would be trying to get my attention. Just as I pick it up another one lands just in front of me. thats when I hear it,
"Steven! wake the fuck up." a male voice calls from below my window, very close to my window actually. who the fuck is Steven I think to myself as I turn down the volume on my record player to hear somebody just outside my window. Now that wouldn't make any sense.. I'm three stories up in this apartment.
and as I stand there in pure confusion. I look up to my window, and I see a pair of brown eyes looking back at me. I yelp and jump back,
"I didn't know Steven had a girlfriend." the man in my window laughs. he pulls himself up so now I can see his whole torso, he's wearing a loose red button up and a his messy black hair is tucked under a black leather newsboy cap.
My mouth rests agape as I look up at him, quickly releasing I only have a bra on too, my face goes a bit red as I ask,
"who the fuck are you. and who the fuck is Steven." "well shit," he groans just as he gets his feet in through the window, he sits on the sill in a pair of dark jeans and leather boots.
"are you apartment 109?" he asks catching his breath, his hands rest on his knees.
"no? this is 108." I say, pulling a shirt from my floor to pull on. buttoning it up quickly to hide my white lacy bra. a bit of pink on my cheeks, but now I'm feeling a bit angry, who the fuck was this boy climbing through my window.
I stand across from him, hands on my hips waiting for him to explain himself.
"nice place.." he says awkwardly, trailing off as he looks me up and down, he doesn't even try to hide it. I raise an eyebrow but thank him none the less.
"so are you gunna tell me why you're in my room?" I say, still skeptical.
"Well I'm looking for Steven." he says, his eyes meeting mine, he's got an innocent look to him, doesn't seem like he's trying to murder me or something.
"well do I seem like I know who the fuck Steven is..." "well he could've just told you to lie." he shoots back, sitting up from his perch on my window and taking off his boots.
"oh getting comfy?" I laugh, almost a scoff at his arrogance.
"I'm really sorry ok, I just wanna check cause' I gotta talk to him about smth real important, k?" he says, patting my shoulder before he wanders off into my home. I trail behind him as he opens the bathroom door and makes his way to the kitchen.
After he looks around for a while, with me following close behind him, who knows he could be a thief. He finds my record collection. he squats down to peek inside the shelf, flipping through a few of my record. I stand behind him with my hands on my hips once more.
"if I was a robber I'd take this stuff." he laughs, it almost seems like he belongs in my home.
"well good thing you wouldn't dare." I say, narrowing my eyes "no but seriously, you've got some good stuff here." he mutters as he flips through the last few on the shelf. he stands and puts his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
"uhmm, I'm sorry. he's obviously not here." "yeah no shit." "well where's your front door, might be better to leave through there." he laughs, grinning down at me. "yeah maybe."
I guide him to the door, he follows close behind me, I can feel his eyes on me, I admit maybe I added a bit of sway to my hips. I can't believe I'm trying to act hot for a guy who just broke into my house.
"so are you gunna tell me who you are?" I say, studying him as he slides on his big leather boots.
"maybe I shouldn't." "huh? why?" "what if you just want to tell the cops." he says, a cheeky grin crossing his lips. I know there's no chance of him telling me who he is.
"bye, sorry again." he laughs, before kissing my cheek, like he's known me for years and than he opens my door, and strolls off. acting like he hasn't left me dumbfounded in my own doorway.
I stand there, my eyes wide as I get one last glimpse of him as he glances back as he saunters down the apartment hallway. his hands are still shoves in his pockets and his black hair bounces a bit when he walks. thanks to his long legs he's not in my sight long.
I shut the door and spend he rest of my day confused and longing to know who the fuck he is.
About a week later I went to the reception desk of the complex and asked the lady, Judy, she was a nice lady. I'd asked her if she knew if a Steven lived in 109 and she told me the strangest thing.
she told me that apt. 109 had been vacant for years.
who the fuck was the black haired boy that climbed into my window?
hear me out younger reader (adult ofc) x older izzy as teacher
reader would be teacher’s pet at first, but then she will start failing her classes (maybe on purpose) just because she starts to dislike izzy (?)
he will tell her to stay after classes to talk about the grades and and stuff like that but the real reason would be punishment for her behaviour
i hope i explained it right
love you, w<3
i love you and this request my dear wife
𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓽
𝒾𝓏𝓏𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
the lecture hall smelled like old wood, chalk dust, and the faint metallic tang of guitar strings that Professor Izzy Stradlin always seemed to carry on him
he leaned against the front desk in his usual faded black button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark hair falling messily around his shoulders like he’d just rolled out of a studio session instead of grading papers
you were a senior, twenty-three
and for the first half of the semester you had been the undisputed teacher’s pet
you sat front row. your notes were perfect. you stayed after class to ask thoughtful questions about chord progressions in his tracks. Izzy would give you that slow, half-lidded smile and actually answer—sometimes even for twenty minutes—while other students filtered out
he remembered your name
he borrowed your annotated copy of a biography of The Rolling Stones once and returned it with a tiny scrawl in the margin:
„Good eye for the rhythm section”
you’d nearly combusted
you lived for those moments. the way his fingers brushed yours when he handed back papers. the low timbre of his voice when he said
“Solid work, as always” and let his gaze linger just a second too long. you told yourself it was innocent. you told yourself you were just a dedicated student
until you weren’t
it started small. a Tuesday afternoon when Izzy spent ten extra minutes helping Kayla—some bubbly girl with perfect eyeliner and a habit of twirling her pen between her fingers—figure out her fingering on an acoustic passage. he leaned over her desk, one hand lightly adjusting her wrist position, murmuring something that made her laugh softly
you watched from your seat, stomach twisting. he never touched you like that. e never lingered with that easy, warm patience when you asked questions
the jealousy hit you like a freight train
after that, it snowballed. you noticed every smile he gave to the girls who giggled at him. every time he let a female student call him “Izzy” instead of Professor Stradlin. the way he’d nod approvingly at their half-assed analyses while your researched essays only earned a quiet “Good” and nothing else
so you decided to make him notice you again. only this time, not the way you used to
you started failing. on purpose
first it was little things—missed assignments you “forgot” to turn in. then quiz answers that were extremely shallow. your once-perfect midterm came back with a glaring C- and a note
„What happened here?”
you felt a sick thrill reading it
he’d noticed. finally
by the time the final third of the semester rolled around, your grades in his class had tanked. you still sat front but now you slouched, arms crossed, eyes defiant whenever he glanced your way. you caught him watching you more often—brow furrowed, jaw tight. he looked… frustrated
good
one particularly humid Thursday, the class was discussing blues influences on hard rock. Izzy paced slowly as he spoke. you hadn’t taken a single note. your pen tapped restlessly against your notebook, which remained blank except for a doodled heart you’d angrily scratched out
after class, most students shuffled out. you packed your bag slowly, deliberately taking your time. you half-expected him to call you over right then but he didn’t. he simply leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching you
you felt his stare on your back like a physical touch as you finally headed for the door
“Stay behind a minute”
his voice was low, calm. uou paused, heart hammering then turned with what you hoped was an indifferent expression
“Something wrong, Professor?”
he didn’t answer immediately. The door clicked shut behind the last student, leaving the two of you alone in the big, echoing lecture hall. late afternoon light slanted through the high windows
“Your grades have gone to shit” he said bluntly “Midterm. Quizzes. The last two papers were barely coherent. You’ve been acing every other class. So I’m going to ask you one and last time. What’s going on?”
you shrugged, leaning against a desk “Maybe I’m just bored”
his eyes narrowed “Bored”
“Yeah” you met his gaze, defiant, even as heat crawled up your neck “Or maybe I’m tired of watching you play favorites with every girl who bats her eyes at you. Must be nice to have that kind of attention, hmm?”
the words hung in the air. for a second, Izzy looked genuinely surprised. then something shifted—his expression darkened, lips pressing into a thin line. he took a slow step closer, then another, until he was right in front of you. the scent of him—clean sweat, faint cologne and something undeniably masculine—filled your lungs
“That’s what this is about?” his voice dropped lower “You’re sabotaging your entire semester because you’re jealous?”
you didn’t answer. your pulse was roaring in your ears
Izzy’s hand came up as he braced his palm on the desk beside your hip. he leaned in, eyes locked on yours
“Careful” he murmured “You’ve been acting like a spoiled little brat for weeks. If you wanted my attention…” his gaze flicked down to your mouth, then back up “You’ve got it now”
the silence stretched, thick and electric. part of you wanted to push him further. the other part—the one that had fantasized about him for months—was already imagining what came next
“Office hours are over” he said finally, straightening up “But you’re staying after class tomorrow. We’re going to have a long talk about your… behavior. And how you’re going to fix it”
he turned away before you could respond, gathering his things with deliberate calm. but you caught the way his jaw clenched
the next day dragged like the worst nightmare
Izzy barely looked at you during the entire lecture. he entered the hall in a dark shirt rolled up to his forearms and jeans and launched straight into the material without his usual sweeping glance across the room. especially without pausing on you
instead, he focused on
Kayla
he called on her repeatedly, praised her shitty comments with that low, approving murmur you used to crave “That’s a sharp observation, Kayla. Come up here—show the class what you mean on the guitar” She practically skipped to the front, and Izzy stood close behind her, guiding her hands on the fretboard, his voice soft near her ear. the class watched but you sat there burning, nails digging into your palms
every laugh she drew from him felt like a slap. every time he said her name, your stomach twisted tighter
he was doing it on purpose
you knew it but still it burned a hole inside your stomach
by the end of class, you were seething, thighs pressed together under the desk, equal parts furious and shamefully wet
students filed out. you stayed seated, arms crossed, jaw clenched. the door shut with a heavy click
Izzy leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression. the silence stretched
you stood up abruptly, bag slung over your shoulder “I don’t fucking care” you spat, voice shaking with anger “Go fuck with that bitch Kayla if you want her so bad. I’m done with this bullshit”
his eyebrows rose slightly. then a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips
“Watch your mouth” he said quietly “Lock the door”
you hesitated, heart pounding. part of you wanted to storm out. the other part—the one that had been aching for his attention—walked over and turned the lock with a soft click
“Good girl” he pushed off the desk and stalked toward you “Now strip from the waist down. Bend over my desk”
your face burned as your bag slipped from your shoulder but you obeyed, shoving your jeans and panties down your legs, kicking them aside. the cool air hit your bare skin as you bent over the wide wooden desk, forearms braced on the surface, ass presented to him
Izzy stepped behind you. his hand smoothed over the curve of your ass, almost gentle—then cracked down hard
the first spank made you jolt and gasp
“Count them” he ordered, voice low and rough. “And address me properly”
“One, Sir” you hissed through gritted teeth
another sharp smack landed on the other cheek “Two, Sir—fuck!”
he spanked you methodically, ten on each side, until your ass burned hot and stinging, tears pricking your eyes. between strikes he rubbed the sore flesh, spreading you open, humming in approval at how wet you already were
“Look at this dripping little cunt” he murmured, sliding two fingers through your folds without warning “All this attitude and you’re all soaked for me. Pathetic”
you moaned, pushing back against his hand. he pulled away just as you started to rock on his fingers
“Not yet” he said sharply
he unzipped his jeans, pulling out his thick, hard cock. it was longer than you’d imagined—veined, flushed, already leaking at the tip
“On your knees”
you dropped instantly, knees aching against the floor. Izzy gripped your hair, not too rough but firm and guided his cock to your lips
“Suck, sweetheart. Show me how sorry you are”
you took him eagerly, lips stretching around his girth, tongue swirling over the head. he tasted salty. you bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks, taking him deeper each time until he hit the back of your throat. Izzy groaned, hips flexing
“That’s it… fuck, you look better with my cock in your mouth than with that bratty scowl”
he fucked your face steadily, controlling the pace with the hand in your hair. saliva dripped down your chin. your pussy throbbed, empty and desperate. every time you tried to touch yourself he slapped your hand away
when your jaw started to ache, he pulled out, breathing hard
“Lay back on the desk. Legs spread”
you scrambled up, sitting on the edge then lying back as he pushed you down. Izzy hooked your legs over his shoulders and lined up his cock, rubbing the thick head up and down your slick folds, teasing your clit mercilessly
“Please, Sir” you whimpered
he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open until he bottomed out with a deep groan. the fullness was overwhelming
he fucked you deep and slow, grinding against your clit on every thrust, building you higher and higher—only to pull out completely when you got close, slapping your pussy lightly with his wet cock
again and again
you cried out in frustration, tears slipping down your cheeks “Sir—please, I—fuck, please— let me cum S-sir—”
“No” his voice was sharp but controlled “Brats don’t get to cum until they’ve learned their lesson”
he flipped you over again, spanking your already-red ass while he thrust into you from behind, one hand reaching around to circle your clit torturously slow. every time your walls started fluttering, he stopped moving, buried deep, holding you right on the edge until you sobbed
after the fourth or fifth denial, you were a mess—whimpering, babbling apologies, ass glowing red, pussy swollen and leaking down your thighs
“Then beg, if you really want to come” he growled, buried halfway inside you, holding perfectly still while you clenched desperately around him
“Please—Professor Stradlin—please let me come. I’m sorry—I won’t fail anymore, I won’t act like that, just please—”
only then did Izzy finally retreated
he gripped your hips hard and fucked you properly—fast, deep, punishing strokes that made the desk creak “Cum for me then. Let the whole fucking hall hear what a desperate slut you are for your beloved professor”
the orgasm crashed over you violently. you cried out, clenching around his cock, vision whiting out. only when you were shaking and oversensitive did he pull out, stroke himself twice and come across your reddened ass with a low groan
for a minute the only sounds were both of you catching your breath
Izzy finally softened. he cleaned you up with a tissues from his bag, surprisingly gentle, then helped you pull your panties back up and jeans too. he cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears
“You’re still my best student” he murmured, voice rough but warm “But if you pull that jealous shit again…” he kissed you once, slow and claiming “I’ll edge you for an hours next time. Understood?”
you nodded, dazed and sore and strangely content
but before you left, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. you heard your own voice—moaning, begging, calling him “Sir”—filled the small space. the video showed only you: bent over the desk, on your knees, face flushed with pleasure and tears. Izzy was nowhere in frame. just your voice, your body
your stomach dropped
“What is this…?”
“Insurance” he said calmly, slipping the phone back into his pocket “Like I said you pull this failing bullshit again—on any exam, any assignment—I send this to the entire department. Maybe the group chat. Everyone will see what a filthy slut you truly are”
he stepped close, cupping your chin, thumb brushing your swollen lower lip
“Fix your grades and behave” his eyes darkened “Or everyone will see. Your choice”
you nodded frantically “I will, I promise”
“Good girl” he smirked faintly “Now I expect an A on the final”
he unlocked the door, letting you slip out first with a possessive hand on your lower back
you already knew you’d be sitting front row again tomorrow
Hii, could you do one with Izzy(since it's his birthday today)
Okay so, Izzy doesn't care much about his birthday and then reader got to know about it, she decided to do something that will make Izzy wait for his birthday every year.:)
Like in the morning of his birthday she will bake him a cake then they will enjoy his birthday. Then in the night his big present will be her.
im so sorry it took me sooooooooo long but i have hard time writing izzy fics forgive me
but i hope it turned out pretty well :3
𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓑𝓸𝔂
𝒾𝓏𝓏𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
the morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains of your little house up in the hills, the kind of place Izzy liked best — quiet, away from the noise, with enough space for his guitars to lean against the walls
it was april 8th and you’d only found out it was his birthday two weeks ago, when an old ID from the 80s had slipped out of one of his beat-up notebooks while you were cleaning old stuff from the attic
he hadn’t mentioned it
not once
Izzy Stradlin didn’t do birthdays
he’d told you once “Just another day, darlin’. Ain’t worth makin’ a fuss over it” but you’d seen the way his eyes softened when he talked about the little things that mattered to him — the way he always remembered how you took your coffee/tea or how you liked the window cracked open at night. he paid attention. always. and today, you were going to pay it back
in the morning you slipped out of bed carefully, his arm sliding off your waist with a sleepy murmur. he looked peaceful like this — hair messy against the pillow, his eyes relaxed, no trace of the old chaos that used to live there
in the kitchen, you moved quietly, pulling out the ingredients you’d hidden in the back of the pantry. you weren’t a professional baker but you’d practiced this cake twice in secret. vanilla with a hint of bourbon extract. you hummed softly under your breath as you mixed the batter, the smell of sugar and vanilla filling the air
by the time the cake was in the oven, you’d already set the table with two mismatched plates you knew he liked — the ones with the tiny flowers on the rim. fresh coffee/tea made. a small stack of his favorite records waiting by the player. nothing over the top. just… thoughtful
Izzy padded in sometime after ten, barefoot in an old faded t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. he stopped in the doorway when he saw the cake cooling on the counter, candles already placed
“…What’s all this?” his voice was still rough with sleep but there was a flicker of surprise and almost boyish in his expression. he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, watching you
you smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel “Happy birthday, Iz”
he blinked, then let out a soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head “You weren’t supposed to know about that”
“Too bad. I’m very good at snooping through your old stuff” you stepped closer, sliding your arms around his waist. he was warm and after a second his hands settled on your back — really gentle
“I wanted to do something nice. You always notice the little things for me. Let me do this for you” you added
Izzy looked down at you for a long moment, his eyes searching your face. he wasn’t great with big emotions out loud but you could see it — the way his shoulders relaxed, the faint pink that touched his cheeks. shy. sweet
“Alright” he murmured finally, voice low “But only cause you put so much effort in all of this” he smiled softly as his eyes followed to the cake
the rest of the day unfolded slow and easy, the way he liked things to be. you ate breakfast together on the back porch — scrambled eggs, toast and then that cake (which turned out pretty damn good, even if the frosting was a little lopsided). he blew out the candles after you sang to him happy birthday (he found it kinda funny and you smacked his arm to be quiet cause he was making you laugh while you sang) and when you asked him to make a wish, he just smirked and said
“Already got everything I need sittin’ right here” and you blushed and said that it's too cheesy and he just blew out the candles and kissed you deeply
after that, Izzy disappeared into the living room for a moment and came back with one of his old acoustic guitars that he’d had since the early days, the one with the worn pickguard and the tiny scratch near the bridge from some long-forgotten tour bus incident
he didn’t say much, just settled on the worn leather couch and patted the spot beside him. you curled up against his side, head on his shoulder, as his long fingers started picking out soft, lazy chords. every so often he’d pause to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear or press a slow kiss to your temple, murmuring:
“This one always made me think of you” when a particularly sweet progression floated through the room
when his fingers needed a break, you pulled him outside for a walk along the overgrown trail behind the house. the path was perfect: narrow, shaded by old oaks, with wildflowers pushing up through the dirt. he walked with his arm slung loosely around your waist, thumb rubbing absent circles on your skin through your thin sweater
he noticed everything: the way the light dappled across your face, the tiny lizard that darted across the path (he stopped to watch it with quiet fascination), the fact that you’d worn the silver necklace he’d given you months ago for no reason other than “it reminded me of your eyes”
he pointed it out softly “Still wearin’ that, huh?” and the shy pride in his tone made your heart flutter
“Yes, cause it's really pretty and it reminds me of you”
back home, the afternoon melted into golden laziness
you made iced tea (his with a splash of lemon, exactly how he liked it now that he avoided anything too sweet) and sprawled out on the big quilt you’d thrown over the grass in the backyard. Izzy lay on his back, one arm behind his head, the other hand resting possessively on your thigh as you read aloud from the paperback you’d found on his shelf. every few pages he’d interrupt with a quiet comment or a lazy smile, his fingers tracing patterns on your leg or hip
as the light began to soften into that hazy late-afternoon glow, you moved back inside. Izzy helped you in the kitchen — not because he was particularly skilled but because he liked being close. he chopped vegetables with careful, deliberate movements while you stirred the sauce for a simple marinara, his free hand occasionally brushing your lower back or stealing a quick, soft kiss against your neck when you least expected it
“You’re too good to me” he’d mutter once, almost to himself, voice sincere. dinner was eaten at the small wooden table by the window, candles flickering even though it wasn’t quite dark yet. he kept refilling your water glass without being asked, remembered you liked extra basil and when you laughed at one of his dry jokes his eyes crinkled in that rare, genuine way that made him look years younger
by the time evening rolled around, the house had gone gold at the windows, all that late-day light turning everything softer. he was standing at the sink rinsing out a couple of plates when you came up behind him and slid your arms around his waist. you were now wearing a robe that covered your body
he leaned back into you instantly, like his body had already learned home from you
“There’s still one present left” you said against his shoulder
he chuckled quietly “Yeah? Thought the cake was the whole deal”
“That was just the warm-up”
his head turned a little, curiosity waking slow in his eyes “You better not have bought me somethin expensive”
you laughed under your breath “Don’t worry, I didn’t buy anything”
that made him look at you properly, a faint flush rising in his face before he even had a chance to hide it. he set the dish towel down and faced you, hands settling carefully at your waist, looking curiously at your body in the robe up and down
“Then what’d you do?” he asked, though his voice already sounded like he had some idea and didn’t quite know what to do with it
you smiled, a little wicked and a little sweet “Come upstairs with me and find out”
he stared at you for one long second, then his mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin too hard “Yeah, alright” he said, quiet and almost shy about it, like he was walking into something precious
upstairs, the bedroom was dim and warm, bed had his favorite sheets on, the lamp on by the bed and the windows cracked just enough to let in the evening air. you’d already lit a few candles earlier, not because you needed them but because you knew he liked the way candlelight made a room feel cozy
Izzy paused in the doorway, looking around like he was trying to take in the whole setup at once
the look in his eyes changed so fast it nearly made your breath catch. not hungry, not rushed. just stunned in that quiet way he got when something touched him deeper than he knew how to say out loud
“You did all this for me?” he asked, almost like he couldn’t believe it
you walked to him slowly “Of course I did”
his hand came up, brushing your hair back from your face, fingertips careful as glass “You make it hard to know what to say sometimes”
“You don’t have to say anything”
“Yeah” he murmured, his thumb tracing your jaw now “but I want to”
he kissed you then, slow and deep and careful, like he was unwrapping a gift he intended to treasure instead of tear open. then he carefully slipped the robe of your shoulders onto the ground, revealing you wearing his favorite lace bra and panties set
when you pulled back, both of you breathless, his hands wandered to softly tug on your panties, smirk softly playing on his lips
“Happy birthday” you whispered
he smiled, just barely “Yeah,” he said softly “Think this one’s gonna be hard to top next year” he smirked fully and brushed lace on your bra with his thumb
you laughed and he kissed you once more. his mouth moved against yours with that same deliberate patience, tongue sliding warm and slow along yours until your knees felt a little unsteady
you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he let you pull it over his head, arms lifting easily, the candlelight catching on the lean lines of his chest. your palms skimmed over his skin and he shivered, a soft, involuntary sound slipping out of him
“Easy” he murmured against your lips but his hands were already working on your bra, fingers cupping your breasts as soon as your bra hit the floor. then he was kissing down your neck, then your chest, open-mouthed and unhurried, sucking lightly at your nipples. when you moaned quietly he smiled against your skin
he walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed, then eased you down like you were something breakable. his hands never stopped moving — tracing your ribs, cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they tightened under his touch. he watched your face the whole time, cataloging every flutter of your lashes, every little gasp, like he was memorizing the exact way you came apart for him
you reached for his belt and he helped you, kicking his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion. when he was bare he crawled over you, settling between your thighs but not pressing in yet. instead he kissed your skin until his mouth hovered right where you needed him most. he played softly with the hem of your panties; looked up at you once and when you nodded he pulled down them down and dipped his head
the first slow drag of his tongue made your back arch
he took his time, licking broad and flat, then circling your clit with the tip of his tongue in lazy drags that had you threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. he hummed in approval at the taste of you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. two long fingers slid inside you, curling just right, stroking that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids while his mouth kept working you open
“Oh God... Izzy...” he didn’t speed up even when your hips started rolling against his face; he just held you steady with one hand on your thigh and kept going until you came hard around his fingers, thighs trembling, his name falling from your lips
“I should be the one going down on you” you reminded breathless
but he didn't answer instead just kissed his way back up your body while you caught your breath, lips shiny, cheeks flushed. when he settled over you again his cock was heavy and hot against your entrance but he still didn’t rush. he kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and only when you were whining softly into his mouth did he reach between you and line himself up
“Good?” he asked, voice rough
“God, yes, Iz — please” you begged
he pushed in slow, inch by inch, eyes never leaving your face. the stretch was perfect, full and burning in the best way, and when he bottomed out he stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he breathed shakily against your neck
“Fuck… you feel so good” he whispered “Always so fuckin’ perfect for me”
then he started moving — long, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. no frantic pounding, just steady, purposeful thrusts that built heat
you wrapped your legs around his waist and he groaned low. one of his hands found yours, lacing your fingers together and pressing it into the mattress above your head while the other slid under your ass, tilting your hips so he could go even deeper
the room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin, the creak of the old bed and the quiet, filthy praises he kept murmuring against your ear —
“That’s it, baby… just like that… takin’ me so well… love how you squeeze around me…”
— each word spoken soft and hoarse, like he couldn’t stop himself from telling you exactly how you made him feel. sweat slicked your bodies; when you clenched around him especially hard he cursed under his breath and buried his face in your neck, hips stuttering for just a second before he found the rhythm again
you came a second time with his name on your tongue, nails digging into his back and the feel of you pulsing around him finally pushed him over. he thrust deep once, twice more, then stilled, groaning long and low as he spilled inside you, hips pressed tight to yours like he never wanted you to leave
afterward he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed there, softening inside you, kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth while you stroked his hair — lazy, sweet presses of lips while his thumb stroked over the back of your hand still tangled with his
eventually he eased out carefully and rolled to the side, pulling you against his chest without a word. his arm wrapped around you, fingers tracing slow, idle patterns along your spine
“Best damn birthday I’ve ever had” he said into the quiet, voice husky and spent “The cake, the walk, the music… and you” a soft, almost disbelieving laugh rumbled under your ear “You’re makin me want to start countin down the days till next April 8th”
you smiled against his skin, pressing a kiss right over his heart “That was the whole point, Iz. Every year. Cake in the morning, lazy days with you and your guitar, walks… and nights like this. Just us”
he chuckled lowly, the sound warm and content “Guess I can live with bein spoiled rotten like this” his hand kept stroking your back, slow and steady, like he never wanted to stop touching you “Thank you, my love. For makin’ an ordinary day feel like… home”
“But it isn't just an ordinary day Iz...” you murmured against his skin “It’s your birthday, it should feel special like this”
“Yeah... right baby” he chuckled softly and gave you a kiss on the temple
When you get the time if you would like to ofc could you maybe do a fic where it’s like a slow morning really sweet and some light smuttt
Only if you want to ofc 🫶🏼
I COULDNT WRITE IT IM SORRY BUT I DID SOMETHING BETTER AT LEAST IN MY MIND ITS BETTER (i tried my best i swear)
𝓦𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂
𝒾𝓏𝓏𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
the apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the city traffic far below
you’d spent the evening the way you always did now — groceries unpacked, simple pasta eaten on the couch, your legs over his lap while he traced lazy circles on your thigh without saying much. just the occasional “good?” when he refilled your water or a quiet tug on your hand to pull you closer.
Izzy isn’t the guy who fills the room with pretty words. he showed you in the way he moved, in the way he looked at you like you were the only thing worth paying attention to. you were already blushing when he stood up, took your hand and led you to the bedroom without a single explanation
just that small half-smile and the gentle squeeze of his fingers around yours. your heart hammered the whole way. this was only your third time ever having sex — the first two had been awkward, rushed things with your high-school boyfriend back when you were younger
you’d told Izzy that weeks ago, curled up on his couch, face buried in his shirt. he’d just nodded once and kissed your forehead. no big speech. just “okay, baby”
now the lights were low, just the red lamp from his studio that he’d brought over last week. he sat on the edge of the bed first, pulling you between his knees so you were standing in front of him
“Come here” he said low, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs under the oversized flannel shirt of his you wore. you were already squirming, cheeks burning
“Izzy… I’m not — I mean, I’ve only done this twice before and it wasn’t… I don’t really know how to—”
“Okay, baby. That’s okay if you’re not experienced” his voice stayed steady, almost casual, while his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties
“We go slow. You tell me if anything feels off” you nodded, biting your lip hard, face on fire
he tugged you down into his lap so you were straddling him, then flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion — not rough yet, just effortless, like you weighed nothing. your breath caught. he leaned over you, kissing the corner of your mouth once
“I’m gonna put a condom on now, okay?” (ik crazy for izzy to wear a condom) you nodded again, too flustered to speak. he stood just long enough to strip his shirt, shove his jeans down and roll the condom on with the same calm efficiency he used for everything
when he crawled back over you, his eyes dropped between your legs where your panties were already damp “Look at this pretty pussy needing me inside” he murmured, two fingers hooking the fabric aside. you whimpered, hips twitching, face so hot you thought you might actually die
“Izzy please…” the words came out tiny and breathy, eyes wide and glassy
“Please what, baby?” he said it so simply, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner, while his thumb wandered through your folds. you squirmed harder, thighs trying to close around his hand
“I want you Izzy — please” he gave you that tiny smile again. then he moved. he threw you around, careful and controlled and so fucking good
one minute you were on your back with your legs over his shoulders, your tits bounced under the flannel so he shoved it higher so he could watch everything; the next he flipped you onto your stomach, pulled your hips up and slid in deep from behind. then onto your side, one leg hooked over his arm while he fucked you slow and steady. every position felt like a new song he was teaching you and he never rushed.
hour of him moving you exactly where he wanted, hands firm on your waist, your thighs, your ass. he just took his time, groaning low when you clenched around him, whispering the occasional “good girl” or “that’s it, baby” in that same hot voice that made you melt
you came twice — shaking, whimpering his name, face pressed into the pillow because you were too embarrassed and too turned on to look at him. he didn’t care. just kept going, steady, relentless, until your legs were jelly and your voice was hoarse
when he finally came it was with a quiet grunt, hips snapping once, twice, then cumming deep inside you. he stayed there for a long second, breathing hard against your neck. then, exactly like you’d expected, he pulled out carefully, tossed the condom, grabbed a pair of gray sweats from the floor and slid them on. he didn’t say anything just got a clean tshirt for you and then just yanked the comforter up over both of you. he pulled you against his chest, sharing a single cigarette he lit for you. you leaned against his chest, blushy and sweet and so in love it hurt
you were still trembling, cheeks burning, legs tangled with his “Izzy… that was…” your voice cracked, shy and sweet and completely wrecked. he just hummed, one arm tight around your waist, the other stroking slow lines down your back. no romantic speech just “Sleep, baby” he said after he put out the cig. you pressed a tiny kiss to his jaw, still blushing and let your eyes close
hey guys as i am re-reading my book series i did on Izzy Stradlin i realize a lot of it is very cringey lmfao…i’m so sorry yall had to read though some of these chapters I think I was in a weird phase with writing so I just rushed it but , so far i have only revised chapter 1&2 i plan on doing each of them. it will take me awhile but i would love for yall to read them again once regarding chapter 1-2 and let me know what you all think! 💘💘💘💘💘💗💗💗
