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
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the morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains of your little house up in the hills, the kind of place Izzy liked best â quiet, away from the noise, with enough space for his guitars to lean against the walls
it was april 8th and youâd 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 hadnât mentioned it
not once
Izzy Stradlin didnât do birthdays
heâd told you once âJust another day, darlinâ. Ainât worth makinâ a fuss over itâ but youâd seen the way his eyes softened when he talked about the little things that mattered to him â 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 â 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 youâd hidden in the back of the pantry. you werenât a professional baker but youâd 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, youâd already set the table with two mismatched plates you knew he liked â 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
ââŠWhatâs all this?â 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 âHappy birthday, Izâ
he blinked, then let out a soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head âYou werenât supposed to know about thatâ
âToo bad. Iâm very good at snooping through your old stuffâ you stepped closer, sliding your arms around his waist. he was warm and after a second his hands settled on your back â really gentle
âI wanted to do something nice. You always notice the little things for me. Let me do this for youâ you added
Izzy looked down at you for a long moment, his eyes searching your face. he wasnât great with big emotions out loud but you could see it â the way his shoulders relaxed, the faint pink that touched his cheeks. shy. sweet
âAlrightâ he murmured finally, voice low âBut only cause you put so much effort in all of thisâ 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 â 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
âAlready got everything I need sittinâ right hereâ 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 heâd 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 didnât 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 heâd pause to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear or press a slow kiss to your temple, murmuring:
âThis one always made me think of youâ 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 youâd worn the silver necklace heâd given you months ago for no reason other than âit reminded me of your eyesâ
he pointed it out softly âStill wearinâ that, huh?â and the shy pride in his tone made your heart flutter
âYes, cause it's really pretty and it reminds me of youâ
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 youâd 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 youâd found on his shelf. every few pages heâd 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 â 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
âYouâre too good to meâ heâd mutter once, almost to himself, voice sincere. dinner was eaten at the small wooden table by the window, candles flickering even though it wasnât 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
âThereâs still one present leftâ you said against his shoulder
he chuckled quietly âYeah? Thought the cake was the whole dealâ
âThat was just the warm-upâ
his head turned a little, curiosity waking slow in his eyes âYou better not have bought me somethin expensiveâ
you laughed under your breath âDonât worry, I didnât buy anythingâ
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
âThen whatâd you do?â he asked, though his voice already sounded like he had some idea and didnât quite know what to do with it
you smiled, a little wicked and a little sweet âCome upstairs with me and find outâ
he stared at you for one long second, then his mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin too hard âYeah, alrightâ 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. youâd 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
âYou did all this for me?â he asked, almost like he couldnât believe it
you walked to him slowly âOf course I didâ
his hand came up, brushing your hair back from your face, fingertips careful as glass âYou make it hard to know what to say sometimesâ
âYou donât have to say anythingâ
âYeahâ he murmured, his thumb tracing your jaw now âbut I want toâ
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
âHappy birthdayâ you whispered
he smiled, just barely âYeah,â he said softly âThink this oneâs gonna be hard to top next yearâ 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
âEasyâ 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 â 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
âOh God... Izzy...â he didnât 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
âI should be the one going down on youâ 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 didnât 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
âGood?â he asked, voice rough
âGod, yes, Iz â pleaseâ 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
âFuck⊠you feel so goodâ he whispered âAlways so fuckinâ perfect for meâ
then he started moving â 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 â
âThatâs it, baby⊠just like that⊠takinâ me so well⊠love how you squeeze around meâŠâ
â each word spoken soft and hoarse, like he couldnât 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 didnât 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 â 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
âBest damn birthday Iâve ever hadâ he said into the quiet, voice husky and spent âThe cake, the walk, the music⊠and youâ a soft, almost disbelieving laugh rumbled under your ear âYouâre makin me want to start countin down the days till next April 8thâ
you smiled against his skin, pressing a kiss right over his heart âThat was the whole point, Iz. Every year. Cake in the morning, lazy days with you and your guitar, walks⊠and nights like this. Just usâ
he chuckled lowly, the sound warm and content âGuess I can live with bein spoiled rotten like thisâ his hand kept stroking your back, slow and steady, like he never wanted to stop touching you âThank you, my love. For makinâ an ordinary day feel like⊠homeâ
âBut it isn't just an ordinary day Iz...â you murmured against his skin âItâs your birthday, it should feel special like thisâ
âYeah... right babyâ he chuckled softly and gave you a kiss on the temple
