Izzy Stradlin Gnr - Blog Posts

freaking missed another birthday...

Happy Birthday, Izzy mfkn Stradlin ✨

happy birthday izzy💗🎂

⋆˚ izzy stradlin and bernard fowler , cir. 2015 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

omg love love love LOOOVE YOUR BLOG. 😍😍

I honestly think it‘s so beautiful, so satisfying. And it fills a bit of my hunger for IZZYYYYYYY AHHHHHH!!!

Also i noticed that we have the same „style“ for the izzy posts lol. I know it looks like copying but i literally never saw your posts before and i think it just proves that izzy just gives off that vibe and we need to edit our posts like that. I LOVE THAT!! 😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

You literally just got into my top 3 of blogs on here within 3 mins of me browsing your blog ♡

OH MY GOODNESS , THANK YOU !!!! this genuinely makes me feel so fulfilled and happy . thank you so much for supporting me and my blog , you're such a sweetheart !!! im probably going to be thinking about this message for days . ive just scrolled through your blog and i honestly love it , and its funny that we have the same kind of ideas !! anyway , thank you again 🫶🏻🫶🏻 i really appreciate messages like this .

need him

happy pride month !!!

ೀ izzy stradlin in 'train tracks' mv

Drop your fav childhood pic of Izzy 💗

these ones!!! i just want to give him a hug so badly 😭😭

never there

dream boy ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I had an idea and went to the wayback machine!!

These are screenshots from 2013 it says its a fanmade site.

But try it its really cool to scroll through there :))

I need to talk about this song,

the phrase “chop away”, god, it's killing me.

I have a question.. I seem to remember that Izzy used to have a website or something called “chopaway.com” or something like that, but I don’t know if it was his or a fan’s.

What was that blog about?

If you are looking for the page it no longer exists, I have tried before. 🫠

(I think the page was for sale or something (I don't know, or I think someone bought it) 🤔

So so so so so so so fineee😩😩😩😩

Forgot to post this yesterday butttt it’s never too late!! Slash reposted this on his instagram and I left the caption in there Incase anyone wanted to read that lol

Popcorn & Panties Part 2😝

This is a re-upload⚠️

So I had a request for a part two of this izzy story. Can’t find the request anymore😭, but if you enjoyed the first one hopefully you’ll enjoy this one :)

Warning ‼️ contains (public smex, choking, a bit of praise/degradation, dirty talk)

Y/N POV

The movie ended, but the tension didn’t. Izzy kept his arm slung around your waist as you all walked out of the theater, trying to act casual even though your legs still trembled from the orgasm you’d ridden out in his lap.

Duff tossed an empty popcorn bucket at Steven. “Told you that chick was gonna die.”

Slash lit a cigarette and snorted. “I could hear you losers whispering the whole time.”

But Izzy didn’t say a word. He just kept walking. Only you noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand dug a little tighter into your hip like he was barely keeping it together.

He barely waited for the others to around the corner before his hand was around your wrist, dragging you down the side of the theater like a man possessed.

“In here. Now.”

The alley was barely lit, smelled like beer and smoke, but you didn’t care, because he spun you around and pinned you to the wall with his body, mouth already crashing into yours.

“You know what you fuckin’ did to me in there?” he growled, already shoving his hand between your thighs. “Got me so fuckin’ hard I couldn’t think straight.”

You gasped as he put his hand up your dress and yanked your panties down your legs, letting them fall around your ankles. His fingers plunged into your soaking wet pussy without warning, and you moaned into his mouth, legs trembling.

Look at you,” he hissed, rubbing tight circles on your clit with two fingers inside you. “Dripping like a slut. You wanted someone to hear you in there, didn’t you? Wanted Slash to turn around and see me ruining you.”

You bit your lip, nodding shamelessly, and he laughed.

Nasty little girl,” he said, low and filthy. “Bet you’d let me bend you over the hood of their car right now, wouldn’t you?”

Izzy….” you whined, breathless.

Shut the fuck up,” he growled, yanking your shirt down to expose one tit, biting hard at the soft flesh. “You wanted it nasty, right? That’s what you’re gonna get.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not hard, just enough to make your head spin, just enough to say “you’re mine”. Then he spat in his free hand, stroked his cock once, twice, and shoved it into you from behind, fucking you rough and fast without any warning.

You cried out, back arching, nails scraping the brick.

That’s it, baby. Take it. Take this cock like the filthy little slut you are.”

He was brutal, fucking you deep, hands bruising your hips, sweat dripping down his head. His hips slapped against your ass, echoing down the alley like the world didn’t matter. Like he didn’t care if someone walked by and saw it all.

You like this? You like me fucking you like a dirty whore behind a goddamn movie theater?” he panted, one hand back around your throat, pulling you up against his chest.

“Yes! fuck! yes!, Izzy, I love it”

That’s right you do. You love my cock. You love being full of me. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Make a mess all over me like a desperate little bitch.”

His fingers reached around and rubbed your clit fast. You broke in seconds, shaking, and moaning shamelessly as your orgasm ripped through you, walls closing around him.

He hissed, lost in that tight pussy of yours. “Fuck…fuck, baby! I’m gonna cum in this tight pussy. Gonna fill you up right here, so the next time you walk, you’ll be dripping my cum down your thighs.”

And he did. Thrusting deep, cumming inside you, swearing against your ear as he spilled every drop.

You stayed against the wall, panting, legs weak.

He slapped your ass and laughed. “Still think we’re done?”

You turned to him, cheeks flushed, spit on your lips, his cum already leaking down your thighs.

“I hope not,” you whispered. “You owe me a round three.”

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…”

nice izzy fic!

can you post the alternate ending too? Not that it wasn't good or something but I'm just curious🥰

Yess ofc! Here is the alternate ending to the damaged izzy fic! (Yes it is still a sad ending lol) Let me know if you guys liked the original ending or the alt ending better :)

Damaged💔❤️‍🔥

Izzy stradlin x reader| featuring slash

Alternative Ending~~~

It had taken everything in me to not reach out again.

After everything, after the betrayal, the nights of silence, the rumors of Izzy nearly drinking himself into the hospital, I still loved him. Still saw him in everything. In the songs we used to listen to. In the worn denim jacket still buried at the back of my closet. In the aching hollowness I hadn’t been able to fill with anyone else.

He finally agreed to meet.

A quiet café on Sunset. Middle of the day. Neutral ground. He walked in late, sunglasses on, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his worn black hoodie. He looked exhausted.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He slid into the booth across from me. Didn’t say anything for a long minute. Just stared.

“You look… better,” I offered.

Izzy scoffed. “That’s a lie.”

I reached for his hand across the table, but he pulled back.

“I’m not here for a reunion,” he said, voice low. “You said you had something to say.”

I nodded, throat tight. “I still love you. And I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but—”

He cut me off. “Why now?”

“Because I never stopped thinking about you. About us.”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to believe me, and hated himself for it.

And then the bell above the door rang.

We both turned.

Slash.

Leather jacket, dark shades, that cocky smirk like he owned the world.

“Wow,” he drawled. “Didn’t think I’d find both of you here.”

Izzy’s entire body went rigid.

Slash walked right up to our table, hands on the edge, leaning in. “Cute little meeting. What is this, closure?”

“Leave,” I said quickly, my stomach dropping.

Izzy stood up slow, eyes hard. “You followed her?”

Slash shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Just figured she’d go crawling back eventually.”

Izzy stepped forward. His voice was calm, but deadly. “You’ve got five seconds to walk out before I do something we both regret.”

Slash smiled like a devil. “Don’t forget, man. She came to me. You were just too fucked up to see what was right in front of you.”

I grabbed Izzy’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

But the damage was already done.

Izzy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes were glassy, not with tears, just rage and heartbreak barely contained.

“You know what?” he said, looking at me. “I thought maybe… maybe we had a chance. That something real was still buried under the wreckage.”

“There is,” I whispered. “Izzy, please.”

But he shook his head.

“I can’t compete with ghosts. And I won’t compete with him.”

He walked out without another word, the door slamming behind him like the end of a chapter I’d never get to rewrite.

Slash let out a breathy chuckle. “He’ll get over it.”

I turned on him, eyes burning. “You ruined everything.”

He tilted his head. “No, sweetheart. You did.”

And just like that, I was alone again.

Hey, can you write an imagine where Y/N cheats on Izzy with Slash. When Izzy finds out, he is heartbroken, breaks up with her, and falls into a heavy alcohol addiction. Only then does Y/N realize how much she loved him and tries to win him back.

Including angst and fluff please, make it real long please ♡

Yess I gotchu! Sorry it’s late, I’ve been sick for the past week, but I finally finished it yay me! Hope you enjoy :) btw I have an alternate ending that I did for this, so if you want it let me know!

Damaged💔❤️‍🩹

Izzy Stradlin x reader

(featuring Slash | themes: betrayal, addiction, heartbreak, regret)

Warning ‼️ (angst, fluff, kinda long)

Y/N POV~

I never meant for it to happen. That sounds like bullshit, I know, but I didn’t. One minute, I was drunk, laughing too loud at one of Slash’s dumb stories, and the next, I was in his hotel room, tangled in sheets that didn’t smell like Izzy. They smelled like smoke and sweat and betrayal.

And now here I am, sitting on the floor of Izzy’s apartment, my back against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could claw the last 48 hours out of existence. He hasn’t said a word in hours. Just paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like he’s trying to walk it off, like heartbreak is something you can sweat out.

“Izzy…” My voice is small, and I hate that. I used to speak and make his head turn. Now I sound like a ghost.

He finally stops and looks at me. Really looks. Eyes red, jaw tight, that wild black hair falling into his face like it always does. Except now he doesn’t brush it away. He just stares, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Or maybe like he wishes he wasn’t seeing me at all.

“You fucked Slash.”

There’s no question in his voice.

I open my mouth to speak, to explain, though I have no explanation worth a damn, but he cuts me off before I can try.

“You fucked him, Y/N.”

“I was drunk”

So was I! Every night for the last four years. You don’t see me climbing into someone else’s bed.” His voice cracks, and that’s worse than if he screamed. I’d rather he throw a lamp or smash a guitar than break like this.

“Izzy, I’m sorry…”

He turns away.

And just like that, I know it’s over.

I didn’t see him for weeks after that. The guys said he’d holed up somewhere in L.A., sleeping on a friend’s couch, bottle always in reach. Sometimes it was whiskey. Sometimes vodka. Once, it was cough syrup and Coke.

Slash didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The smirk he gave me backstage after a show said everything. I was just another notch. Another story he’d laugh about. Another mistake.

But Izzy? I ruined him.

I started hearing things. That he missed rehearsals. That he’d fallen asleep during a recording session. That Axl threatened to kick him out if he didn’t pull it together. Duff tried to help, but even he was at a loss. “He loved you,” he told me once, shaking his head. “He really fucking loved you.”

I knew. God, I knew.

The first time I saw him again, it was pouring. The rain was heavy and mean, like it was trying to drown the whole damn city. I waited outside The Viper Room, soaked and shaking, because someone said he might show up. And he did.

He didn’t recognize me at first.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Hey,” I said, breathless when I saw him, cigarette dangling from his lips, coat clinging to his shoulders, eyes bloodshot.

He blinked. “Y/N?”

“Izzy… I need to talk to you.”

He just stared, swaying slightly, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

“I miss you.”

He laughed. It was empty. Hollow. “You miss me? What part? The part before or after you fucked my bandmate?”

I flinched. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a choice.”

We stood there in silence, rain hitting the sidewalk like a metronome. I reached for him.

“Don’t.”

His voice wasn’t angry this time. Just tired. Broken.

“I’m not okay,” I said softly.

“Neither am I,” he whispered. “And that’s because of you.”

I didn’t give up.

Call me pathetic. Call me delusional. But I loved him. I love him. And I couldn’t let it end like that. I started writing him letters. Leaving voicemails. Waiting outside shows. I became the girl I used to roll my eyes at, clingy, desperate, hopeful.

Weeks passed.

Then one night, I heard a knock on my door.

I opened it and nearly collapsed.

“Izzy…”

He looked different. Thinner. Tired. But there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, clarity.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

I stepped aside.

We didn’t talk much that night. We didn’t need to. He lit a cigarette and sat on my bed, fingers trembling just a little. I watched him. Studied him. Every line of his face. Every bruise I left on his heart.

“I still dream about you,” he said finally. “But in the dream, you always leave.”

“I’m here now.”

He looked at me. Long and hard. Then set the cigarette down and stood.

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire and pain and everything we never said. His hands were rough, callused, trembling. He pinned me to the wall, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice a low growl in my ear.

You ruined me,” he said, breath hot as he lifted my shirt. “You fucking ruined me.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, harder this time, like he wanted to forget. Like he wanted to punish me. Maybe he did. Maybe I deserved it.

Clothes fell to the floor. His body pressed against mine, hot and heavy, every thrust a reminder of what we had, what we lost. He held my wrists above my head, lips on my collarbone, moaning my name like it hurt.

“I hate you,” he gasped against my mouth.

“No, you don’t.”

And I was right, because he came undone with my name on his lips, burying his face in my shoulder as we collapsed together.

Fast forward ~

It had been almost a year since the night izzy came over.

Twelve months of silence, of blocked numbers, of showing up to the studio just to hear he’d left five minutes earlier. I had written letters. Sent messages he never opened. I even showed up at his old apartment once. Slash answered the door.

“You’re the last person he wants to see,” he said coldly, before slamming it in my face.

Izzy had fallen deep into it, alcohol, bar fights, late nights with women whose names he didn’t bother to learn. I heard the stories. Everyone did. He was burning out and didn’t care who watched.

But I still loved him. That never changed. Even as guilt gnawed away at me like rot under the skin.

And then one night, I found him.

Passed out in a back booth at some shitty dive off Sunset. Guitar case on the table, empty bottle in front of him. He looked like a ghost, pale, thinner, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Izzy,” I said, crouching beside him. My hand touched his shoulder. He flinched hard.

His eyes opened, bloodshot and slow to focus. “Why the hell are you here?”

“I needed to see you. I’m worried.”

He sat up, barely. “A little late for worry, sweetheart.”

“I know I hurt you,” I whispered. “But I love you. I never stopped.”

He looked at me, really looked, and I could see it all behind his eyes. The pain. The love. The memories.

“I believe that,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “And it doesn’t matter.”

My throat tightened. “Izzy…”

“You broke something in me. And no matter how much I want to pretend I can forgive you, I can’t.” He reached for his bottle, found it empty, and dropped it with a thud. “I hope you figure your shit out someday. But you and me? We’re done.”

And that was it.

He stood and walked away, guitar slung over his shoulder like a war wound. I didn’t chase him.

Because maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

Cry me a river series🍸

Izzy Stradlin x Reader

~Chapter Four: One drink

You tell yourself it’s just one drink.

Just one drink because you’re curious, because you’re restless, because you want to prove to yourself that seeing him doesn’t matter anymore. That you’re over it… over him.

He orders a beer. You go with something lighter, just to keep your hands busy. The air between you is thick, humming with old tension and words that never got said.

“So,” you say, tracing the rim of your glass. “Still writing songs no one gets to hear?”

Izzy smirks. “Still pretending you’re not dying to ask why I left?”

You go quiet. He notices.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters, taking a sip. “That wasn’t fair.”

You shrug, staring down at the scratched wood of the bar. “It’s true, though.”

A long pause.

“I didn’t know how to be in something real,” he says suddenly, catching you off guard. “Didn’t know how to stay.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So disappearing was the easier choice?”

“No,” he replies, voice quieter now. “It was the coward’s choice.”

You study him. His eyes don’t dodge yours like they used to. There’s a rawness in his voice you don’t recognize. Or maybe you just never got to hear it before.

“I thought about you every day,” he adds. “But I figured you were better off.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the thing about people like you, Izzy. You always think you get to decide what’s better for everyone.”

He leans back, wincing. Like your words landed where they were meant to.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m here now.”

“And what exactly does here mean?” you ask, finishing your drink. “You want forgiveness? Closure? A do-over?”

He looks at you like he’s trying to figure that out himself. Then he leans in just slightly, voice low and rough.

“I want to know if you still feel it.”

Your breath catches. Your body remembers before your brain can argue. But you push the feeling down, like you’ve trained yourself to do.

“You don’t get to ask that.”

He doesn’t press further. Doesn’t need to. The spark between you is already burning at the edges, slow and dangerous.

“You walked away once,” you say softly. “And if I let you back in… if I feel anything again… don’t you dare do it twice.”

Izzy nods, jaw tight. “Then don’t let me back in… yet. Just let me stay here, at this bar. One drink. One night. No promises.”

You look at him. Really look at him.

And for tonight… you don’t get up.

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.