Could u do a Johnny smut where her nipples are pierced and he gets turned on by it???
Barbells and Bitemarks (Johnny Knoxville x Fem! Reader) (18+!)
Summary: “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.
“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.
“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.
“Do I gotta spell it out for you, doll?” Johnny’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked, “I’m into girls with piercin’s, and I’m much more into them when they’re on your gorgeous ass.”
Content Warnings: Graphic Smut, 18+, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Johnny is a massive whore here, Oral (Fem Receiving), Mild Dacryphilia, Semi Public Sex, Daddy Kink
Word Count: 4,285
AN: MY FIRST EVER ASK EEEEEEEEE!!!!! I literally wanna kiss this anon on the mouth for giving me this idea /j. Thank you so much for requesting something from me, and my inbox is ABSOLUTELY still open for more requests. I may have forty documents open of smuts but I will absolutely drop them for a request. This is high key the most fun I’ve had writing a story in a while :3 again no beta reader we die like men. Also I’m posting this at 4:00 in the morning so MANNNNNNN I’m tired. Prolly gonna pass out after this LOL. Okay here we gooooooooo! ✨
You huffed out a sigh, resting your head back against the wall you were leaned up against. Jeff’s voice droned on and on, giving information and safety on a stunt that you weren’t thrilled about being a part of. So you had tried to tune Jeff out as much as possible, but his loud and booming voice wasn’t letting you zone out. You kicked a leg over your other one, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. You looked over, seeing Johnny leaned over on the opposite wall from you. You smiled slightly, and an easy smile graced his lips as well. He pushed himself off of the wall, coming over to where you were standing. He dipped his head down, his voice hushed in your ear.
“Well ain’t you the vision of bein’ enthused?” Johnny asked, his lips quirked up in a smile. You snorted out a laugh as you looked up at him.
“I’m not exactly thrilled about being up on your shoulders, Knox. I’m fuckin’ terrified of heights, and you’re not exactly short.” You smiled at him, and he shook his head, laughing.
“I promise I ain’t gonna drop you, doll.” He gave a smile that had your stomach doing somersaults, and you growled uneasily.
“I’m holding you to that.” You wrinkled your nose, a smile on your lips, and he clapped a hand on your shoulder. Jeff’s booming voice caught your attention and you cast your gaze back towards where Jeff was standing.
“Hey lovebirds, you two wanna join our conversation?” Jeff called, and the amount of hoots and hollers from the rest of the cast had you pulling your beanie down to cover your face, “Anyways - Johnny, Bam, Ryan, and (Y/N), you guys are gonna be next up for shooting. We’re going to go ahead with Steve-O, Dave, and Ehren’s stunt.” Jeff looked down at his clipboard, nodding to cement what he had just said, “But stay on deck, I’m thinking this one’ll take about an hour. Go ahead and get changed into different clothes, and be on standby. Your guys’ stunt involves mud, and we’ve still got a whole day of shooting.” Jeff clapped his hands and you were all sent on your separate ways. You headed to the trailer they had set up specifically for you, Johnny on your heels like a lost puppy. Your feelings for Johnny were… confusing, to say the least. On one hand, he was your absolute best friend in the whole wide world; You were nothing but comfortable around him. You both laughed until you cried, leaned on the other for support, and you loved each other fiercely. On the other, you were beyond in love with him. Any laugh he gave at your jokes, any smile cast your way, and anytime he touched you (albeit all of them were innocent) lit you up from the inside out.
You entered the trailer, propping the door open with your foot as you waited for Johnny. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he stepped into your trailer.
“You gotta follow me everywhere I go like a lovesick puppy?” You teased, watching as Johnny flopped down on the small couch set up in the trailer.
“Hey, I’m makin’ sure no one fucks with you, doll. You know how these boys are.” Johnny shrugged, resting one of his arms on the back of the couch. You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorframe with your hands behind your back. You kicked one leg over the other, rolling your eyes hard at Johnny’s comment.
“And you act like I’m not scared to beat anyone’s ass.” You snorted out a laugh, pushing off of the wall and going to the small wardrobe that was set up for you. You looked through the clothes, humming. Each outfit was marked with a name of a stunt, and you got to the one for this stunt. It was a sheer, white tank top with jean shorts. You held it up, looking at the outfit with scrutinizing eyes.
“Really?” Johnny barked out a laugh, shaking his head, “I mean - Sex sells, but if we’re sticking our only female cast member in somethin’ like this…” He chuckled again, letting out a puff of air from his nose. There was something unreadable in his eyes, and as you stared at him, trying to figure it out, he looked away, avoiding your eyes, “I dunno what they’re thinkin’.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” You tore your eyes away from him, rolling them hard. You heaved out a sigh, giving the outfit one last scrutinous glare, “But I don’t think I really have that much of a choice.” You hung the hanger on the back of a chair, your hands coming to your hoodie’s hem. You pulled your hoodie off over your head, but you failed to realize you had grabbed the bottom of your shirt as well. Immediately, you were standing in a sheer, lace bralette in front of Johnny.
Time seemed to freeze as his eyes raked over you - how the bralette pushed your boobs together, the black lace against your skin, and the two barbells pushed through each of your nipples. You yelped and covered your chest with your arm, your face flushing a bright red.
“Shit! I’m fucking sorry!” You cried, moving your arm from over your chest to try and get your shirt out of the hoodie. Your hands trembled as frantic apologies tumbled from your lips, when suddenly Johnny’s hands were covering yours.
You looked up to see him standing in front of you, his face the same shade of red as yours. His face was calm, however, and a smile ghosted over his lips.
“Doll, you ain’t gotta freak out.” His voice was quiet, a murmur, as he helped you pull the shirt out of the hoodie, “But when were you gonna tell me you’ve got piercings?” He asked, a wolfish grin on his lips. You smacked his arm with a hand, your other hand covering your chest with your shirt.
“You’re an ass!” You chuckled, your face still feeling warm, “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.
“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face, looking for any sign he was joking, but there was nothing more than a cool smirk on his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.
“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.
“Do I gotta spell it out for you, doll?” Johnny’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked, “I’m into girls with piercin’s, and I’m much more into them when they’re on your gorgeous ass.”
Your head was absolutely swimming, the thoughts swirling through your head nothing that would be considered safe for work. But Johnny’s voice brought you back down to Earth;
“Now, you gonna let Daddy see my babygirl’s piercin’s?” He purred, his hands tracing circles on your shoulders. You shuddered under his hands, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
He leaned forward, dipping his head down, and captured your lips in a kiss. Immediately, all of the breath was stolen from your lungs, and your hands scrambled to his shoulders. The kiss started off as slow and soft at first, but it slowly progressed to bruising and passionate.
He growled against your lips, something primal flaring in his chest. This wasn't just some casual kiss; this was a decade of suppressed emotions and desires erupting to the surface for the both of you. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him firmly, as if he was afraid of you slipping away.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to tease at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You opened your mouth, accepting his tongue to touch around. You were secretly very thankful that he didn’t try and jam his tongue so far down your throat that you gagged. His free hand moved up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you captive against him.
Finally, you broke the kiss, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, and your cheeks were flushed a brilliant red. You searched Johnny’s eyes for a moment, a small, breathless giggle leaving your lips. Johnny had the same breathlessness you did, his lips quirking up in a half smile.
“Well, if I didn’t know any better, doll, I’d say you’ve been waitin’ for me to do that for a while.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hand cradling your face. You looked up at him with humor filled eyes, giggling.
“Good thing you know better, hmm?” You asked, giving him a teasing smile. His smile darkened and before you knew it, he had you up in the air, his arms locked around your waist. You squealed and giggled, as Johnny walked over to the small couch that was in your trailer.
He tossed you on the couch, your back pressed dully into the cushions. He crawled in between your legs, his face ghosting over yours. His breath was stolen from his lungs as he looked down at the goddess laid before him, your cheeks flushed the prettiest salmon. You looked up at him, pupils blown wide with lust and want. It intoxicated him in the best way possible, and it made him want more.
More he got, as your hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down roughly. Your lips reconnected and Johnny grunted against your lips, his hands going to your hips to raise them up against him. In this new angle, you could feel the hard press of the growing bulge in Johnny’s jeans.
He pulled away from the bruising kiss, his breath fanning heavy over your face. A smile tugged at his lips, his head dipping down to your neck. Hot opened mouth kisses were pressed into your skin, the sharp edges of his teeth pressing gently into your neck. You writhed and whimpered under him, his hands tracing your sides with the softest of touches.
“This okay?” He murmured against your skin as his fingers danced at the hem of your bralette, “Wanna make you feel good.”
“Yeah, ‘m good.” You breathed out, helping him take off your bralette. He threw it into a random corner, his hands shaking as they ghosted over your breasts.
His eyes stayed stationary on the black barbells pushed through either of your nipples. Slowly, as if he was hesitant, his hands came to your breasts, kneading them. You let out a shaky breath, your heart hammering in your chest. His nimble fingers danced over the barbells, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth.
“Yeah? Sensitive, ain’tcha?” He breathed out, his eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your breasts, “My pretty girl.” He breathed out, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts.
His head dipped lower, his lips attaching to one of your nipples. It was like an electric current was sent through your whole body, the warm feeling of his mouth on the cold barbell made you shoot up. Your back arched, as a shaky wail came from your mouth. Johnny pulled back immediately, his face flashing with concern.
“No, no, no!” You babbled, whining deep in your throat, “Pl-Please.” You begged, your breath coming out in pathetic sounding pants.
“Well, I gotta listen when you’re beggin’ so pretty for me.” Johnny chuckled, dipping his head back down. His mouth went back to your nipple, the warm feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple making you wail again.
His hand dipped to your jeans, fumbling with the button as he tried to undo it with one hand. A huff of breath left his nose and he pulled off of your breast, focusing his attention on your jeans.
“Fuckin’ - goddamnit.” He cursed under his breath, making you giggle. You gently covered his hands with yours, helping him undo the button on your jeans, and you started to push them off of your hips. He caught the hem of your panties in his blunt nails, practically ripping both of them off of your legs. He threw both pieces of clothing to a random corner of your trailer, pushing your legs open. You tried to close your legs, a flare of embarrassment running hot through your veins, but he was much stronger than you were.
He growled, his lips kissing down your stomach, along your hip bone, tasting the cream of your skin mixed with the salt of sweat. He kissed down along your thigh, stopping just before where you needed it the most. You watched as his cheek pressed into your thigh, as he watched how you dripped and keened.
“Look at you, little one,” Johnny purred, causing you to whimper, your fingers tightening in his hair, “You got this wet just from Daddy playin’ with them sexy piercin’s?” The southern twang in his voice drove you crazy, but the fact that he bit into the soft of your thigh caused you to keen again.
“Jesus, don’t fucking tease me.” You whined, your voice coming out breathless and needy. Johnny nipped at the junction where your thigh met your pelvis, and the feeling made you shudder underneath his hands.
“You ain’t got a single idea how bad I’ve wanted you like this.” His breath fanned hot over your clammy skin, his lips kissing lower and lower until he was right above your clit, “Hearin’ you say my name like it’s the only prayer you’ve known.” He groaned, his tongue darting out and kitten licking across your clit.
His lips attached to your pussy, his tongue exploring every single part of you. You whined, throwing your head back against the couch, as his movements were slow, agonizing in the best way possible. He switched between his tongue thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy and sucking on your clit. You let out a strangled moan as he offered a hard suck of your clit.
“Goddamn, babygirl. You taste just like honey.” He grunted against you, pulling back slightly, and wetting his middle and ring finger with his own saliva, “Could spend the rest of my life right here, face pressed into this fuckin’ pussy.” He murmured, lowering his head again. His lips attached to your clit, his middle finger slowly dipping into your pussy.
You came lighting up off of the couch, wailing out his name as he curled his finger, finding the spongy tissue that had you seeing stars. He chuckled against you, the vibration of his laugh making your heart flip in your chest.
His ministrations were eager, and before you knew it, he was adding the second finger into you. He curled his fingers hard, the pleasure thrumming through your veins hitting an all time high. Your hands came to his hair, your hips rolling against his face.
The coil inside your core started to wind tighter and tighter, as you shamelessly grinded against his face, trying to pull yourself closer to an orgasm. He moaned eagerly against you, clearly enjoying the entire situation himself. Tighter and tighter the coil inside you wound, Johnny’s little grunts and moans against you doing nothing to help the situation.
The coil snapped, your orgasm rattling through your bones - your moans breathless and high pitched - as Johnny drank up all of your slick. Your breaths were heavy and ragged, Johnny’s face still firmly planted between your thighs. The feeling started to border on overstimulating, so you tapped his head three times shakily. Johnny finally pulled his head back, his chin and lips wet.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re gonna kill me, doll.” He grunted against your hipbone, laughing shakily, “Usin’ my face like your own personal throne, I could get used to that.” He looked up at you with humor filled eyes, crawling back up towards your lips.
You kissed him breathlessly, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned shamelessly into his mouth, your hands making quick work of ripping his shirt off of him and pushing his jeans down to his knees. He kicked off his shoes, awkwardly shoving his jeans off of his legs, the denim falling unceremoniously to the floor.
You adjusted on the couch, laying flat on your back horizontally, and Johnny slotted himself between your legs, the thick press of his cock against your weeping slit making you mewl. He fumbled around for a moment, trying to find his jeans.
“I’m on the-” You raised your arm, tapping your bicep, “-thing in arm. Good for three years.” You dropped your arm, your hand running down his chest. “You’re good. I’m clean.”
“You sure?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours, “Can’t promise I’m gonna last long feelin’ this pussy raw.” He admitted, laughing awkwardly.
“I’m sure. No babies.” You pulled his face down to yours, kissing him breathlessly, “Pump me full of cum, Daddy.” You purred.
“Jesus Ch-“ He let out a strangled grunt, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned hot against your face, his breath shaky, “You tryna give an old man a heart attack?” He asked, his voice shaking. He opened his eyes, silently asking if it was okay again. You nodded, and he slowly started to push into you.
The feeling of his thick cock stretching you out made you wail into his shoulder, your blunt nails digging into his shoulders. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed in until he bottomed out. His breath was catching in his throat, his arm twitching as he gripped onto the back of the couch for dear life.
“Fuckin’ hell, babygirl.” He grunted out, letting out a trembling exhale of breath, “Pussy’s like a goddamned vice around me.” He spoke through gritted teeth, staying still to let you get used to the feeling of him inside you.
It was a silent couple of seconds before your muscles started to relax and he was able to start thrusting shallowly in and out of you. You whimpered and keened underneath him, and he hadn’t even gotten started yet.
“Harder…” You whispered, your voice begging helplessly, “Daddy, please.”
“Anything my babygirl wants.” Johnny whispered back to you, his hands moving to wrap around your neck, pulling himself impossibly closer to you. His hips slowly sped up, the pace rough but not brutal. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy in your ear.
“Shit, Johnny.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth, whimpering in his ear as he set a steady pace. His hipbones smacked against your ass, causing a dull pain that only accentuated the pleasure.
It was a few moments of this steady pace before Johnny suddenly pulled back from where he was buried in your neck. You looked up at him with dazed eyes, confusion etching into your features. He shuddered out a breath as he met your eyes, a shaky smile crossing his face.
His hands shoved your thighs back, pushing your knees almost to your chest. In this angle, you could feel every inch of his cock as he pounded into you. You threw your head back, wailing out a mix of his name and a guttural scream. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you threw your head back against the small couch.
“Yeah, that’s it, my sweet girl.” He grunted through gritted teeth, his breath coming out in bursts, “You take Daddy’s cock so fucking well. This goddamned pussy was made for this cock - Fuck!” He snarled, his hips speeding up. All you could do was hold on for dear life, your mind swimming with nothing but him and how fucking good this felt.
His hands came to your breasts, his fingers tweaking one of the barbells. Between his nimble fingers on your nipples sending waves of heat to your core, and him making a complete mess of your pussy, you felt yourself coming undone at the seams. The familiar coil in your core was winding tighter and tighter by the second, and the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes fell down your face. The pleasure was starting to border on the perfect blend of amazing and almost cruel. You met his eyes, your vision blurry from the tears, and you could see he had a wolfish grin on his lips.
“Yeah, that’s it. Cry over how fucking good this cock is.” He snarled, dipping his head down to your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses against your skin, “Could fucking live in this pussy, babygirl, Jesus Christ-!” His thrusts were getting sloppy, and you wailed out his name again, the coil suddenly snapping in your core. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your body trembled, your pussy fluttering around him. Your body felt taut, as your orgasm rippled through your bones.
“Oh fuck, babygirl-“ He grunted out, his thrusts brutal and rapid, “Just like that… Daddy’s gonna fucking cum all in this pussy.” He growled in your ear, and all you could do was hold on for dear life.
A couple seconds later, he stilled, letting out a moan that would make a pornstar blush. His cock twitched and pulsed inside of you as thick, hot ropes of cum filled you. You writhed, still trying to come down from your high.
It was a silent couple of seconds as the two of you remembered how to breathe, and you were the first to make any form of a sound. You chuckled breathlessly, meeting Johnny’s eyes.
“Well, remind me to accidentally strip in front of you more often.” You panted out, bringing your arms up and pulling Johnny into a kiss. His hands cradled the back of your head, holding your lips to his. He broke the kiss, laughing softly against your lips.
“Ain’t gotta be accidental no more, doll.” He pressed kiss after kiss to your lips, “You got me hooked around your lil’ finger.” He smiled down at you, before the sound of someone banging on the door made you both jump. You swore under your breath, your heart racing.
“Ye-Yeah?” You called, putting a finger to Johnny’s lip to shush him.
“Hey, are you two done fucking already? Your guys’ stunt is about to start.” Ehren’s voice, which had the edge of awkwardness to it, rang out through the door and it took everything in you to not want to melt into the floor from embarrassment.
“Why, you wanna join?” Johnny called and you smacked his arm, his loud cackle of a laugh making you roll your eyes.
“Gross! Fuck no!” Ehren’s voice was high pitched, and you could almost see him cringing, “Fucking hell, Knox. Just get dressed and get your guys’ asses out here. Jeff’s pissed.” Ehren walked away from the door, and you could hear his soft muttering as he walked away. You snorted out a laugh, cringing as Johnny pulled out of you. He grabbed a couple of tissues from a table nearby, getting you as cleaned up as possible.
“Well, I’m gonna have my own cum running down my neck.” He joked, and you groaned.
“Ew! Johnny!” You whined, and he barked out a laugh.
“What? I’m right!” He had a twinkle in his eye, helping you get up from the couch. Your hair was a mess, and your neck was covered with all sorts of love bites, “I ain’t the one who decided you were gonna wear shorts that barely cover your ass while you’re up on my damn shoulders!” He helped you get dressed, putting on his own clothes quickly afterwards.
“So…” You trailed off, letting him run a brush through your hair. You smiled at the odd intimacy of the action, and he hummed, a question of ‘Go on?’, “When’s round two?” You asked, the question hanging thickly in the air.
“Let’s win this stupid chicken fight ‘tween Bam and Ryan, and maybe then we’ll talk.” He chuckled darkly in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Don’t worry, babygirl. I’ll have you walkin’ funny sooner rather than later.” He growled in your ear, sending a rush through you. He patted your butt, shaking his head, “But come on. Before the Almighty Tremaine slits our damn throats for fuckin’ up his perfect lil’ schedule.”
You exited your trailer, and if it wasn’t for the love bites on your neck and the flush that covered your cheeks, you were sure no one would have pegged you for having just had sex with Johnny. You, of course, would have been wrong.
“How big’s his cock, (Y/N)?” Bam all but screamed at you when you and Johnny made it to the set, and you bristled for a moment, “Come on, everyone heard you screamin’ his name!”
“Jealous, are we?” Johnny asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Too bad she ain’t gonna ever scream your name, Bambi.”
You chuckled, trying to pull your beanie down to hide your face in embarrassment. But as you looked up at Johnny, who was harassing Bam about being jealous still, that weird love you had for Johnny settled in your stomach again. But those were feelings for another day. You had more pressing matters, namely throwing Bam and Ryan off of a wooden beam so you could get round two.
You had a pretty good feeling you’d be getting what you wanted, regardless of what Johnny had said.
Do you think you can write a story where the female reader is dating one of the jackass guys and the female reader has a little kink for hands and one of the jackass guys doesn’t notice it until one day during a stunt he notices how the female reader pays a little closer attention to his hands so he decides to confront her then TURNS INTO SMUT😛
IM SORRY THIS IS BAD I TRIED! i made this like they're sort of flirts instead of dating, hope that's okay!!
The first thing you notice when Johnny walks into any room is his hands. You’ve known him long enough to see them in action—the way they grip the railing, the flick of his fingers as he gestures, even the subtle calluses from years of stunts. It’s not just admiration; it’s a little thrill that runs through you every time your eyes drift down to them. You catch yourself tracing the shape in your mind when he isn’t looking, imagining how strong they must feel wrapped around yours.
“Hey, you hiding over here?” Johnny’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. He’s grinning like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and for a second, you freeze.
“Uh, no… just checking out the set,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.
He leans against the railing beside you, and your heart skips. There’s something magnetic about him, the way he carries that reckless energy, like he’s always on the edge of chaos but somehow still in control. You glance down at his hands again—knuckles slightly scraped, veins prominent from gripping the stunt gear—and you can’t stop yourself from imagining them on you, moving with that effortless strength.
Johnny notices your gaze. “You staring at my hands again?” he teases, nudging you lightly with his elbow.
You flush but don’t look away. “Maybe,” you admit softly, the word barely audible.
He laughs, low and rumbling, and it makes your stomach flip. “You’re such a freak,” he says, shaking his head. Then his fingers brush yours accidentally as he passes you a roll of tape, and the spark is immediate, electric. You feel it from your fingertips all the way up your spine.
The day on set moves in its usual chaotic rhythm. Cameras whir, crew members shout directions, and Johnny moves through it all with that unshakable energy that draws everyone’s attention. You stick close, pretending to help with props or handing him water, but really, you’re watching his hands, how they grip the pole before a stunt, the way he adjusts his gloves, the casual flick of a wrist as he jokes with someone.
Every small touch sets your nerves alight. When he laughs and slaps your hand lightly in a playful reprimand for holding a prop wrong, you can feel the heat pooling low in your stomach. You bite your lip to keep from reacting too obviously, but it’s hard when every motion, every glance from him, seems to tease something deeper inside you.
During a break, he sits beside you on a crate, stretching his legs out lazily. You can’t resist letting your eyes linger on his hands as they rest on his knees, fingers curling slightly. He notices, of course. Johnny always notices.
“You like looking at these, don’t you?” he asks softly, tilting his hand so you can see the knuckles and scars more clearly. The teasing in his tone makes your pulse quicken.
“I… maybe,” you whisper, trying to sound casual but failing.
He grins, leaning closer, letting his hand hover near yours, just close enough to make your skin tingle. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, and you can feel it—not just the thrill of his proximity, but the slow, simmering heat that builds whenever his hands are near yours.
As the crew calls everyone back to set, he grabs your hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in your mind like fire. All day, you catch yourself sneaking glances, imagining those strong, familiar hands tracing over you when no one is looking.
By the end of the shoot, your thoughts are entirely consumed by him. His hands. How they move, how they feel, and the way he seems to know exactly how much to tease without crossing the line—except in your imagination, where the line doesn’t exist.
You catch him watching you as you walk back to the trailer. His eyes glint with mischief, and you know he’s already aware of the effect he has on you. A small, private thrill rushes through you at the thought. One day soon, you’re pretty sure he’ll do more than just tease. And just the idea makes your pulse race as you picture what might happen when those hands finally get your full attention.
The next morning you’re back on set, and it’s the same chaos you’ve come to expect—props scattered, cameras being adjusted, everyone buzzing with energy. Johnny’s already in the middle of it all, cracking jokes, hyping everyone up, that familiar reckless smile plastered across his face.
You try to focus on the stunt board in your hands, but your eyes betray you the second you see him pulling on his gloves. The leather creaks under the strength of his grip, and the veins along his forearms stand out as he flexes his hands, stretching them before another wild idea takes shape.
You swallow hard.
Johnny catches you. Of course he does. His dark sunglasses slide down just enough for you to see the smirk tugging at his lips.
“You’re not even pretending to hide it anymore,” he calls out, loud enough for a couple of crew members to glance over in confusion.
Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face in the clipboard.
He laughs, the kind of laugh that makes everyone else around him grin, but his attention doesn’t leave you. As the crew disperses to set up the next shot, Johnny wanders over, leaning his weight on the crate beside you.
“You know, most girlfriends stare at their boyfriend’s ass or chest,” he teases. He holds his hands out deliberately, wiggling his fingers in front of your face. “But not you. You’ve got a thing for these beat-up paws, huh?”
You roll your eyes, trying to play it off, but your pulse betrays you. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re busted.” His voice drops lower, just for you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I swear, every time I catch you looking, it makes me wanna—” He cuts himself off, grin widening. “Well. Maybe I shouldn’t finish that sentence out here.”
Your stomach knots at the way he says it, casual but heavy with suggestion.
The day moves on, but Johnny doesn’t let it drop. Every chance he gets, he teases you with those hands. Passing you a bottle of water, he lets his fingers graze over yours a beat too long. During a break, he stretches, making a show of cracking his knuckles. When you hand him a helmet, he deliberately brushes his thumb across your palm as he takes it.
By the time the last stunt wraps, you’re wound tight with tension.
Later, when the crew clears out for the evening, you find yourself lingering in the quiet. Johnny is leaning against the hood of a beat-up production van, his hands shoved in his pockets, hair messy, sunglasses gone now that the sun’s dipped lower. He looks relaxed, but you know better—he’s waiting.
“You gonna come over here, or you gonna keep pretending you don’t want to?” he asks, voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
Your feet move before your brain catches up. He smirks as you step closer, until you’re standing between his knees. His hands slip free from his pockets, and your breath catches automatically.
“God, you’re predictable,” he says, watching the way your gaze drops instantly. He tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Say it.”
Your voice shakes. “I like your hands.”
His grin is wicked. “I know you do.” He trails the back of his knuckles slowly down your cheek, and the simple touch is enough to make your knees wobble. “You’ve been staring at them like they’re the only thing holding you together.”
You bite your lip, your breath quickening as his fingers trace your jaw, feather-light, before brushing down the side of your neck.
“Maybe I should put them to better use,” Johnny murmurs.
The words hang between you, thick with promise. His hand slips behind your neck, tugging you closer until your foreheads touch. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the slow drag of his thumb across your pulse point, the tension strung so tight it feels like a wire about to snap.
And just before he kisses you, he pulls back with that infuriating grin. “But not out here. Gotta give the crew something to wonder about.”
He lets go, slipping his hand back into his pocket as he walks off toward the trailer, leaving you breathless, buzzing, and already imagining what’s going to happen when he finally stops teasing and gives you exactly what you’ve been craving.
By the time you make it back to the trailer, your chest is tight with anticipation. Johnny has that effect on you—leaving you wound up, flustered, desperate, but still laughing through it all. It’s infuriating, and addictive.
The trailer door creaks open, and you step inside, the faint scent of cigarettes and leather lingering in the air. Johnny’s already there, sprawled across the couch like he owns the world. He glances up from whatever he’s fiddling with, that slow grin spreading across his face when he sees you.
“Knew you’d follow me,” he drawls. His voice is lazy, cocky, but the spark in his eyes says he’s been waiting.
You shut the door behind you, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice.”
Johnny pats the spot beside him. “Come here, darlin’.”
You move toward him, but before you can sit, his hand shoots out and catches your wrist. The grip is firm but not painful, and the simple feel of his fingers curling around you makes your breath stutter. He watches your reaction with that same mischievous glint.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, tugging you closer until you’re standing between his knees. His thumb brushes lazily against the inside of your wrist, dragging across your skin like he’s testing how far he can push. “You’re shaking already. Just from this?”
You swallow hard. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, my ass.” He chuckles, low and warm. “You’ve been eye-fucking my hands for weeks, and now you can’t even stand still when I touch you. You’re so easy, baby.”
Your cheeks burn, but the heat in your stomach only coils tighter.
Johnny leans back, pulling you with him until you’re straddling his lap. His hands settle on your hips, heavy and commanding. You bite your lip as his fingers dig in, dragging you closer against him.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, almost in awe. “All this over a pair of busted knuckles and calluses.” He lifts one hand, holding it up between you like evidence. The skin is rough, a faint scar cutting across his index knuckle, veins rising as he flexes. “This what you’ve been drooling over?”
Your eyes lock on it before you can stop yourself, and he laughs, shaking his head. “Jesus. You’re hopeless.”
But instead of teasing more, he presses that same hand to your cheek. The contrast of rough skin against soft makes your whole body tremble. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, tugging it down just slightly.
“Open.”
The command is soft, but you obey instantly. His thumb slips past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, and your eyes flutter shut as the taste of salt and skin fills your mouth. You suck gently without even thinking, and the groan that rumbles from Johnny’s chest makes your thighs clench around him.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “That’s what you want, huh? You wanna suck on my fingers like a good little slut?”
You nod, cheeks heating, your lips wrapped tighter around his thumb. His grin is wicked, approving. He slides another finger into your mouth, stretching your lips around them both, and you moan at the sensation.
“That’s it,” he says, voice roughening. “Look at you. So fucking needy for my hands.”
His other hand slides down your spine, pressing you firmly against his lap. You can feel him hard beneath you, the heat radiating through his jeans. Every shift of his fingers in your mouth, every subtle scrape of calloused skin against your tongue, only makes the ache between your legs sharper.
When he finally pulls his fingers free, a strand of saliva connects them to your lips. He smears it across your cheek with a grin. “Messy girl.”
You can barely catch your breath before his hand closes around your throat. Not tight—just enough to hold, to remind you who’s in control. His thumb rests against your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.
“You think I didn’t notice?” he whispers, leaning in close. “Every time I touched you, every time I passed you something on set. You were practically shaking with it. I’ve been dying to see you like this.”
His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond. The kiss is rough, hungry, all teeth and tongue, his hands framing your face, holding you still like you’re something precious and breakable. Your fingers claw at his shirt, desperate to anchor yourself.
Then those hands are everywhere—on your jaw, sliding down your throat, gripping your waist, sneaking under your shirt. Each touch is deliberate, worshipful in its own filthy way, and you can’t decide if you want to melt or explode.
“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your shirt. You yank it over your head, and his palms are instantly on your bare skin, dragging over your ribs, cupping your breasts through your bra. His thumbs flick against your nipples, and you gasp into his mouth.
“God, I love how responsive you are,” he mutters. “I barely touch you, and you’re already soaked, aren’t you?”
You nod breathlessly, grinding down against him.
“Prove it.”
Before you can ask how, his hand is between your thighs, palming you through your jeans. The pressure makes you whimper, and Johnny smirks. “Thought so.”
His fingers make quick work of your button and zipper, sliding into your waistband. You arch into his touch, desperate, as he drags his rough fingertips over your panties. The friction is unbearable, perfect.
“Johnny—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Let me take care of you.”
His hand slips inside, finally pressing against your wet heat. You moan, clinging to his shoulders as he teases you, circling your clit with maddening precision. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, thicker, stronger, and every stroke feels like it’s pulling you apart piece by piece.
“You feel that?” he whispers against your ear. “That’s what you’ve been waiting for. My hands all over you, exactly where you need them.”
When he slides two fingers inside, the stretch makes you cry out. He groans at the sound, pumping them steadily, curling just right to make your whole body tremble. His palm grinds against your clit with every thrust, and you can’t hold back the shameless moans spilling from your lips.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re gripping me so tight. Bet I could make you come just like this, huh? Just from my fingers.”
You nod frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes—please, Johnny—don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. His pace quickens, the wet sounds filling the trailer as he fucks you with his hand. He keeps his eyes locked on your face, watching every reaction like it’s the best show he’s ever seen.
“That’s it, darlin’. Take it. Take my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.”
The filthy words make your walls clamp down harder, and you’re spiraling, your body strung so tight it’s about to snap. His thumb circles your clit with ruthless precision, and you break—crying out his name as you come, shaking around his fingers.
Johnny growls, dragging it out, fucking you through it until you collapse against his chest, panting and trembling.
He pulls his hand free slowly, deliberately, and holds it up between you. His fingers glisten with your release, and his grin is feral.
“Look at that,” he says. “All from these hands you’re so obsessed with.”
Before you can recover, he pushes those same slick fingers into your mouth. Your eyes roll back as you taste yourself, sucking greedily. Johnny watches, groaning low in his throat.
“Fuck, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.”
When he finally pulls his hand away, he cups your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. His kiss is softer this time, almost reverent, but his words are anything but.
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “These hands? They’ll ruin you if you let me.”
And the worst part—the best part—is that you want nothing more than to let him.
all day, all night, all afternoon, 24/7, 365. on the counter, over the toilet, in the shower, on the bathroom floor, hanging from the shower rod, on the couch, on the coffee table, up against the wall, over the stove, on the patio, on the balcony, on the drive way, in the garage, on the neighbor’s lawn, til the room stinks, till the paint starts to bubble, boil, and peel off the wall, til the headboard breaks, til the neighbors know mine AND his name, til they call the police on us, til I bleed, til the sun explodes, TIL PIGS FUCKING FLYYYYY!!!!
content: established relationship, jealous johnny, possessive johnny, names (sweetheart, sweet stuff, honey, sugar, baby), implied nsfw, little bit of nsfw
notes: i’m going insane
you were on set, running around half naked and damp with the group of men. the segment being filmed currently was set at a waterpark. everyone was in their swim gear, red in the face from the heat. just because the cast was sweating and sticky due to the sun did not mean they weren’t chipper.
especially with you prancing around. none of them were outright looking at you in your bikini, but you knew they were. it wasn’t your fault that you were just so attention grabbing and gorgeous. even more so with those short ass daisy dukes unbuttoned and just barely revealing your own little v line.
finding yourself unneeded, you were lounging in a lounge chair with your arms behind you head like you had not a worry in the world, that was until a shadow was blocking the sun above you.
your eyes fluttered open, it was just johnny. his stood above you looking down at you, admiring that little bikini of yours. glancing over his own abs yourself. soon your eyes were closed again, though he continued to stand over you before clearing his throat and speaking.
“why don’t you come with me to the trailer,” his voice was low. like he was demanding something. you could almost feel something else lingering in his tone but you couldn’t put your finger on it.
“i’m tanning.” you replied, not wanting to get up from the perfect spot you had scored. right under the sun and away from the camera crew over by the waterslides. “no, sweetheart, i ain’t asking.” he said as you felt his had. graze your chin, tilting your head up toward him. “open your eyes and come with me.
and before you knew it your hand was in his own larger one and he was guiding you back over to his production trailer. he opened the door, letting you go in first, patting your ass as you stepped up the stairs.
as soon as the door was closed he pressed himself behind you, hands on your hips before he turned you around to face him. “whaddya’ need anyways?” you tilted your head as you looked up at him. “oh nothing, just wanting to know why you think it’s okay to prance around the guys like you are,” his voice showed no distaste.
you raised an eyebrow, “oh, i’m not-” it was no secret you were a dime piece and that whenever you joined the show it was like god had graced the cast himself. he shoved his sunglasses from over his eyes.
“it’s okay, i don’t blame them, sugar.” he hummed before you could finish your sentence. “i mean, look at you. so fuckin’ perfect.” okay, so, you weren’t in trouble? you took a breath of relief. you gazed up at him. “can i go back out to my chair then?”
“no, honey, i’m not done. i’ve seen them all smiley with you and it just makes me think. you think they ever think about you? like more than just a coworker or a friend?”
that you could not answer.
“well, i know i don’t think of them like that.” you shrugged as you gazed up to your boyfriend. he licked his lips, his hand running up your side and to the nape of your neck. “makes me feel real lucky, real grateful.”
“yeah?” you smiled. well, jealousy ridden johnny was still a sweetheart. “yeah, sweet stuff. lucky that i get you in a way they won’t ever get you. i get to wake up next to you. not any of them,” he looked you over, your body heating up more than it was as he did so, you leaned into his touch.
“that you’re mine, and so are these,” he said as he kneaded your bikini clad breasts in his hands.
your breath hitched, “johnny, we’re filming.” he shushed you, his thumbs running over your now hard nipples. slow circles that made your stomach not up. “the boys skateboarding down waterslides… i don’t think anyone’s gonna notice if we’re gone for a bit.” his voice was steady.
“are you sure…” yours was the opposite. you were practically melting from his touch yet so nervous about messing around on the job.
“i’m sure, sweetheart,” he could sense your nervousness, it almost made him chuckle. “no one’s gonna see you all hot and bothered, baby, i promise. not that it matters anyway, these daisy dukes you got on cover damn near nothin’.” his hands still kneaded and rubbed at your almost bare breasts.
“why dontcha’ let me give you a reminder of how i make you feel? since you wanna go flaunt what’s mine to the whole cast and crew.” before you could answer, his hands were pushing your bikini off your shoulders and exposing your perfect tits to him.
he let out a deep groan. the sight of your new little tan lines were making him more feral than he already was for you.
CW: smut! Unprotected PiV (please don’t guys, fun in theory not in practice), nicknames like “baby” and “sweetness,” references to breasts, reader is described as a woman, feminine pronouns used throughout
Synopsis: After Reader and Ryan Dunn have a one night stand, Dunn tells Reader he just wants to be friends. Johnny hears this, and decides he should be the one to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.
AN: okay! Little fic! Little smut! Reader refers to Johnny as PJ because I’ve noticed others do when they’re not in “jackass mode” so of course she would too. I don’t usually write smut but I fear I popped off a bit with this one.
The sun shines down on this hot, muggy Tuesday afternoon. Bam, Ryan, Jeff, and Johnny stand around with a few beers. They discuss the possible outcomes of the stunt they were about to partake in.
“So you’re really okay with branding a dick on your ass?” Jeff laughs, pointing to Bam, who lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head.
“No, I’m not o- fucking- kay with that,” Bam laughs, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “But it’ll be fucking funny, so let’s do it.”
The boys cheer as Bam agrees to the stunt. Hearing the laughter, you walk over from your trailer to the group of boys. Smiling, you greet them.
“What’re we over here laughing about?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest casually.
“Bam’s going to get a dick branded on his ass,” Jeff answers, still laughing. You look to Johnny, who nods his head in agreement, then Bam, who groans at the thought, and then to Ryan, who doesn’t seem to meet your gaze fully. Weird.
“Well thank god you didn’t ask me to do this one,” you laugh. “But I definitely want to see it happen.”
“Okay, let’s get everything in order and do it today,” Jeff says, clapping his hands and turning to walk away.
“Wait, today?!” Bam yells, running after Jeff, Johnny following behind them. “Oh come on, Bam Bam!” Johnny laughs.
You let your laughter die down as they run away. You then turn to Ryan, giving him a small smile. “So, your best friend is going to have a dick on his ass… You going to do the brand?” you ask.
“Depends what Jeff wants,” he shrugs, still not quite meeting your gaze. You quirk an eyebrow as he lets out a sigh, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“What are-” you begin, but he cuts you off.
“Listen, (Y/N),” he starts. “I think we had a kickass night together the other night, but I’ve been ignoring you on purpose. I’m sorry, I should’ve just told you, but we’re just better as friends.”
Before you have time to respond or even really process what he said, he walks away. You stand there, eyes stinging slightly as tears threaten to spill.
“Bam is going to regret this stunt so badly,” Johnny laughs, making his way back to you. “Woah, what happened?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly, wiping your eyes quickly. “So who all is in this stunt?” you ask, trying to change the subject.
“Me, Bam, and Ryan,” Johnny answers. “But I’m just going to watch. Ryan is the one who actually is doing the branding.” You nod along in interest, but it’s clear your mind is drifting.
“Do you want to tag along and watch the stunt?” Johnny asks, trying to assess your reaction when you quickly shake your head no.
“I’m actually not feeling too well,” you sigh. “I might head back to the hotel and try to sleep off whatever is going on. See you later, PJ,” you wave to Johnny, turning and walking away before he can interject.
He watches you walk away, eyes squinted slightly in curiosity. He shrugs to himself lightly before jogging off to his trailer, getting prepared for the stunt of the day.
~Later that night~
The clock strikes 10 as you plop on the hotel bed, searching through the channels for something to watch, robe wrapped around your body after your shower. All the boys have been blowing up your phone today, asking where you’ve been, but you haven’t answered a single one yet.
Your cellphone rings, a familiar name popping up on the little screen. You sigh and flip it open, answering with a soft “hello.”
“I’m coming over,” Johnny says. “What’s your room number?”
“PJ, you don’t have to-“ you begin, but he cuts you off.
“Not what I asked,” he says. “What’s your room number?”
“503,” you answer. Before anything else is said, you hear a click on his end, him ending the call.
“Shit,” you breathe, looking around the hotel room. You quickly gather some of your things, trying to make the room look a little presentable. As you throw your suitcase into the hotel closet, a hard knock rings at your door. You open it to reveal Johnny standing there, still wearing his outfit from set. “No time to change?” you try to joke, but you can see his jaw clicked tight.
“It was Ryan, wasn’t it?” he asks, looking to your eyes. “Tell me you didn’t feel sick earlier. Tell me it was because of Ryan.”
“It was because of Ryan,” you confirm, nodding your head, eyes glued to his.
“Tell me it’s over between you two,” he says lowly, breathing a little heavier.
“It’s over between us,” you whisper.
That’s all Johnny needs to hear. He surges forward, hands grabbing the sides of your face, lips locking together. Your hands fly up to grab at his arms, pulling him back with me into the room, lips never disconnecting. Johnny kicks the door closed behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hotel hallway.
“God, he’s stupid,” Johnny mutters in between kisses, lips still touching with every word, noses smashed together. “Letting a sweet thing like you go just like, fucking dumbass…”
He backs you up to the bed, his hands moving from your face to your hips. He pulls back slightly to look you in the eyes.
“You are worth so much more than what that man gave you,” he breathes.
“Oh, I mean, it was just one night, no strings attached type of ordeal,” you try to justify.
“No no, listen to me,” he speaks, towering over you still. “He’s a dumbass, baby. Any man who lets you go is.”
“I don’t understand,” you shake your head. “If you feel this way, why are you only now telling me?”
“Because you were off limits,” he admits, rolling his eyes at the idea of that now. “When you joined the crew, Jeff said no playing footsy with the new girl. When you played footsy with one of us first, that rule went out the door. Dunn was just the lucky bastard who got to you first.”
You think back to all the times the boys flirted with you, and you thought it was all in good fun. Never did you imagine any of them were telling the truth. You smile to Johnny then.
“Well then,” you begin, hands pressed to his chest. “Guess you’re the lucky bastard who gets to finish with me, huh?”
Johnny let’s out a groan at your words, moving quickly to crouch in front of you, hands on the back of your thighs, and hoists you up onto the mattress.
“Baby, I ain’t ever gonna be done with you,” Johnny grins, southern accent peaking through in his lustful words.
You watch as Johnny crawls up on the bed, spreading your legs so he can settle between them, the robe falling open at the bottom. Johnny grins up at you, a wicked type of grin.
“Now, sweetness,” he drawls. “Did you know I was coming over? Or do you always hang out in nothing but a robe?”
You blush at his words, forgetting about the lack of clothing underneath the thick fabric. “I- well- I just got out of the shower,” you try to explain, a nervous giggle escaping your lips.
“Mhm,” he hums teasingly, lowering his body onto yours, lips grazing your neck as he dips in. “So I’m just a welcome surprise then?”
“Very welcome,” you groan out, eyes fluttering closed as he kisses your pulse point, teeth softly grazing the flesh. His hands grab at your hips again, this time grinding his hips down and pulling yours up.
“Tell me what you want,” Johnny mutters, voice thick with need.
“I want you, PJ,” you whimper, hands grabbing at the sheets as he grinds against you. “Need you…”
He leans back, looking down at you, smirking. “That’s what I like to hear,” he chuckles. His hands move off your hips, moving down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You set yourself up on your elbows to watch him shimmy out of his pants and shoes. Next goes his shirt, thrown somewhere in the room. As he reaches up to take off the cowboy hat Jeff had him wear for the brand stunt.
“Wait,” you reach out, grabbing his arm as his hand grabs the hat. “Leave it.”
Johnny gives a knowing smirk, leaning back down to you. “You little minx,” he teases, lips then locking on yours again. “Baby thinks she’s got a front row ticket to the rodeo.”
You let out a laugh against his lips at that. You push him over slightly, him falling back on the bed, facing up. His grin grows as you move to straddle his lap, robe falling open again.
“I’ll show you a rodeo,” you smile, untying the robe and letting it fall from your shoulders.
“Yeehaw,” Johnny says, hands grabbing at your hips again. You smile down to him, slowly grinding your bare core against his boxers. Now it’s his turn to let out a groan as his eyes roll back.
“Can I?” you ask, hand snaking down his torso to the top of his boxers. He hurriedly nods his head yes, pushing his hips up. You quickly move up as well, sliding his boxers down his legs.
“Wow,” you breathe, watching his cock bounce to his stomach. You grin, reaching a hand and gently stroking him. He lets out a whiny moan.
“Please, sweetness,” he begs. “Don’t tease me.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” you smile, positioning yourself on top of him. The world stops as you sink into his length, inch by inch. You both let out a collective moan as you settle at the bottom, completely filled to the brim.
“Fuck me,” Johnny breathes, hands gripping your hips so tight he’s worried he’ll leave bruises.
He reaches a hand up, taking the cowboy hat off his head and putting it on yours. He smiles up to you.
“Giddyup, cowgirl,” he grins, moving your hips for you slightly.
You place your hands on his chest for leverage as you begin moving your hips, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you throw your head back. You move faster, harder, longer than before. Johnny groans from underneath you.
“God, look at you,” he moans, hands sliding up to grab at your breasts as they sway with each bounce. “So perfect for me.”
The room is filled with praises from Johnny mixed with the moans and whimpers of the both of you.
“PJ, I’m so close,” you manage to squeak out.
“I know, sweetness, can feel it,” he breathes. “Squeezin’ the hell out of me…”
As your eyes roll back, mouth dropping into the familiar “o” shape, Johnny's excitement grows. He bucks his hips up against yours with fervor as your legs start to buckle.
“That’s it,” he grits out. “That’s fuckin’ it. Just like that, baby, fuck!” Johnny lets out a yell as he meets his high right in the middle of yours.
You collapse on top of him, chests heaving as you both try to gain some semblance of breath. He wraps his arms around your back tightly, holding onto you like you’ll disappear.
Once you both catch your breaths, he carefully pulls out of you, wincing at the contact.
“Now that is my kind of rodeo,” Johnny chuckles, earning a weak laugh from you as well. The two of you stay laying just like that for what seems like an eternity, talking about nonsense, as Johnny gently plays with your hair.
“I can’t believe Dunn saw that face, and didn’t want to see it again and again,” Johnny chuckles.
“Well, if you’re referring to the face, it’s because he didn’t see it,” you confess. That makes Johnny sit you both up, looking to you like you just told him he was getting branded next.
“Dunn didn’t make you finish?” Johnny asks, voice almost cracking with disbelief. You shake your head no, and he lets out a laugh. “Oh I am so telling the others Dunn can’t make a woman cum.”
You hide your face in your hands as you laugh at Johnny's words. “Please don’t,” you giggle.
“Fine, I won’t,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands and peeling them from your face. “But I’m going to make you cum over and over until you can’t anymore, hope you know that.”
You bite your lip at his words, then leaning forward to steal a kiss. “Promise?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your lips. He then grabs your legs unexpectedly, hoisting them up in the air as you fall to your back, pressing his groin against your wet heat again. You can already feel him growing hard again.
summary: working at a bookstore can get pretty boring—until johnny knoxville walks in and suddenly you can’t stop looking at him. and maybe, just maybe, he can’t stop looking at you either.
warnings: SMUT, age gap (reader is in her 20s and johnny is in his late 40s), virginity loss, p in v, dirty talk, kinda really fluffy, oral f!recieving, fingering, let me know if i missed any!
Working at a bookstore wasn’t usually thrilling.
Until Johnny Knoxville walked in.
You knew he was coming, obviously—the staff had spent a week prepping for the Q&A and signing event tied to the release of his memoir, Broken, Bruised, and Loving It. But no amount of emails or floor plans or advance copies could prepare you for the real thing: 6 feet of chaos, swagger, and bruised-up charisma in a denim jacket and chipped sunglasses.
He entered like he owned the joint, and maybe in a way he did—half the crowd here tonight was buzzing for him. You watched from the staff counter, silently reciting all the ways you were not going to lose your cool. You weren’t going to fangirl. You weren’t going to blush. You definitely weren’t going to tell him that you used to rewind the “rocket sled” scene like it was your favorite film.
Then he looked right at you.
“Hey,” he called out, pointing from across the room like he recognized you from a dream or a mugshot. “You look like you’ve seen someone fly into a tree before.”
You froze, halfway between setting out bookmarks and forgetting how to breathe. “I, uh… maybe once or twice.”
He smirked and kept walking, but your hands shook for five minutes after.
⸻
The Q&A was chaos in a can. Knoxville told stories like a drunk uncle on a roll—animated, inappropriate, wildly entertaining. He balanced on the edge of a display table, flirted with elderly fans, and mimed multiple stunts with what looked like real trauma in his eyes. The crowd was in love.
So were you, kind of.
Not in the poster-on-your-wall way you’d been in high school. This was worse. This was adult-level infatuation—the kind that came with deeper tension, heavier curiosity, and the unbearable awareness of his mouth when he licked his lips after laughing.
And worse? He kept glancing at you.
Not just once. Repeatedly. Like you were the only calm thing in the whole damn room and he couldn’t stop circling back to it.
⸻
After the signing ended and most people had filtered out, Knoxville lingered behind, sipping from a bottle of water and flipping through a poetry book someone had gifted him.
“Hey,” he said again, sidling up to the register where you were half-cleaning, half-hiding. “You a fan or just immune to weirdness by now?”
You looked up, pulse spiking. “I grew up on your stuff. The old DVDs. The MTV reruns. I watched Jackass 3D in the theater like three times.”
He grinned. “So you’re telling me I was part of your sexual awakening?”
You nearly dropped the pen in your hand. “I—no—what? That’s not—”
“I’m just messin’ with you.” He leaned on the counter, smile wicked but eyes sincere. “Mostly.”
You swallowed. “You want me to get someone to box up the extra copies for you?”
“Nah. I came over to talk to you.”
That pulled your gaze up.
“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said easily, no accusation, just fact. “But not like the others. You weren’t waiting for a selfie. You weren’t screaming. You were just… there. Calm. Cool. Smart.”
You gave a small, breathless laugh. “You got all that from how I arranged a stack of books?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had enough concussions to develop weird instincts.”
A beat passed. You watched each other.
Then he asked, gently, “You seeing anyone?”
You blinked. “What?”
“I’m asking if it’d be wildly inappropriate to ask you out while I’m technically on a book tour.”
Your heart thudded. “Not inappropriate. Just… unexpected.”
He leaned in, voice a little lower. “You’ve got this whole… sweet and dangerous vibe. Like you’d blush if I said something filthy but you’d remember it word for word.”
You were absolutely blushing.
He grinned. “See?”
You hesitated, then blurted, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Worked in a bookstore?” he teased.
“No.” Your voice was soft now. “Like… this. The flirting. The being noticed. The maybe saying yes.”
His teasing eased off instantly. “Shit. You serious?”
You nodded.
He straightened, less wolfish now, more curious. “Okay. Alright. So you’ve been flying under the radar and I’m your first close call?”
Something in his voice made the hair on your arms rise. You felt exposed but not unsafe. Nervous, but not panicked.
“I’m not asking for anything,” he added. “Not tonight. Not unless you want it. I just… don’t meet people like you often.”
You exhaled slowly. “Maybe you should ask.”
His eyes lit up.
“Would you,” he said carefully, “like to grab a drink with me? Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can still say no to anything you want, but maybe… maybe yes, too?”
Your lips parted, a smile creeping in despite the racing in your chest.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I would.”
⸻
Johnny picked the dive bar like he’d been born in it.
It was tucked three blocks down from the bookstore, half-lit and humming with the low murmur of locals nursing drinks. No cameras. No screaming fans. Just a jukebox, a dartboard, and a worn booth in the back that looked like it had survived a few bad decisions.
You slid into the seat across from him, pulse still high.
“Alright,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Now that we’re off the clock, you can tell me what it’s like working at a bookstore full of dusty hardbacks and horny college kids.”
You laughed. “Mostly quiet. A little chaotic during finals. Occasionally I have to stop someone from reading smut aloud in the corner.”
His eyes lit up. “Wait—people do that?”
“More than you’d think.”
“I knew bookstores were kinky,” he said, grinning wide. “Something about all those dog-eared pages and unspoken tension.”
You sipped your drink, raising a brow. “Is that your professional analysis?”
“Babe, I’ve been launched into the air in a porta-potty. I majored in unspoken tension.”
You smiled, but your fingers were still trembling slightly around your glass. It wasn’t nerves exactly—it was that awful, wonderful feeling of anticipation. Like your body already knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.
Johnny noticed.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, all the playfulness gone soft around the edges.
You nodded. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
“Tell me what’s in your head. I got time.”
You paused. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why you’re even interested in me. You’re—you know—you. And I’m just… the girl who alphabetizes Bukowski collections and secretly watches your movies on sick days.”
He leaned in, folding his arms on the table, eyes steady on yours.
“I’ve had a lot of girls scream for me,” he said. “A lot of parties. A lot of noise. It’s easy to get lost in that. But you—” he tilted his head—“you looked at me like I was real. Not just a dude in a shopping cart with fireworks taped to his ass.”
You bit your lip, heartbeat thudding.
“And if I’m being honest,” he added, “it’s been a long time since someone made me want to slow down.”
The silence stretched between you, thick with meaning.
You barely noticed the way your hand drifted across the table—until his fingers brushed yours, warm and rough and strangely reassuring.
“I’m not good at this,” you said softly.
“I don’t care if you’re bad at it,” he replied. “I just care that it’s real.”
⸻
By the time you stepped out into the night air again, you weren’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t either.
So when he asked if you wanted to walk back with him to his hotel, you said yes.
Not because you were sure. Not because you felt like you should. But because something about him—about tonight—made you feel safe in the mess. Seen.
The walk was quiet. Comfortable. The occasional car passed. The city hummed around you. And Johnny, somehow, didn’t fill the silence with jokes. He just matched your pace and held the door for you like he hadn’t once jumped off a roof for a laugh.
⸻
His hotel room was too nice for someone like him. Sleek. Minimal. Very un-Jackass.
He dropped his keycard on the counter, turned to you, and scratched the back of his neck.
“This part’s always awkward,” he admitted. “The, uh, figuring-out-what-happens-now part.”
You swallowed. “I know I said I haven’t… done anything like this before, but I’m not scared. Just…”
“New,” he finished.
You nodded.
He walked over slowly, giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn’t. You stood your ground as he reached out and gently took your face in both hands.
“I’m not gonna rush this,” he said, eyes flicking between yours. “You say stop, it’s stop. You change your mind, it’s cool. But if you want me to kiss you—”
“I do,” you whispered.
And he did.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss you expected from someone like him—wild, erratic, full of adrenaline. It was slow. Focused. His lips were softer than they had any right to be, his hands steady as they cradled your jaw. He kissed you like you were the only thing holding him to the earth.
You sighed into it, letting your arms slide around his waist.
He deepened it just a little—just enough to make you feel it in your knees—before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.
“I could get used to that,” he said, voice rough.
You smiled, heart pounding. “So could I.”
His lips were still brushing yours when you whispered, “I want this.”
Johnny paused.
Not because he didn’t believe you. But because you were trembling just enough for him to feel it through your clothes.
He pulled back slowly, resting his hands at your hips, like he was anchoring himself there. “You sure?”
You nodded, heart pounding in your throat. “I’ve thought about it before. Not just… sex. But with someone who makes me feel something.”
He gave you a small, crooked smile. “And I make you feel something?”
You laughed softly. “Johnny, you make me feel everything.”
That grin faltered for a second, replaced with something deeper—something almost reverent.
He kissed you again, slower this time. No urgency. Just the weight of possibility passing between you.
Then he whispered, “Let me take care of you.”
You found yourself being guided gently toward the bed. Johnny’s touch never rushed, never forceful—just steady, warm, patient.
“You good?” he asked, hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.
You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”
That did something to him. You could see it in his eyes—how careful he became. Like the weight of that trust mattered more than anything.
He tugged your shirt over your head, pausing only to kiss the bare skin just above your heart. Then he let his hands drift down your arms, eyes tracing every inch like he was memorizing you.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question.
Your breath hitched. “You’ve probably said that to a lot of girls.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, kissing the top of your shoulder. “But never like this.”
His fingers worked at your jeans, slow and precise, giving you time to breathe, time to change your mind—but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see where this went.
He kissed every inch of exposed skin as he helped you out of them, his palms firm but gentle at your hips, down your thighs.
When you stood in front of him in nothing but your underwear, he stepped back just slightly, looking you over with genuine admiration.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to behave now?”
You bit your lip. “Maybe don’t.”
That made him laugh, low and warm, as he reached for the hem of his own shirt. You watched, spellbound, as he peeled it off—revealing that lean, wiry frame you’d seen a hundred times onscreen, now real and right in front of you.
Faded bruises. Scars. Tattooed chaos.
And still, something soft in the way he looked at you.
“C’mere,” he said, pulling you close again, skin to skin.
The first time his chest pressed against yours, you gasped at the heat of it, the feel of him—all bone and muscle and heartbeat.
He kissed your temple. “Still okay?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”
The bed dipped beneath you both as he climbed in, settling beside you instead of over you. His touch stayed exploratory—not demanding.
“You nervous?” he asked quietly, fingers tracing your ribs beneath the curve of your bra.
You nodded. “A little.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your neck. “No pressure. No rush. Just me, and you, and this.”
Your fingers dug lightly into his back as he moved lower, lips trailing warmth down your collarbone.
He whispered everything he was doing—where he was touching, why—like a guided meditation with a dirty mouth. And God, it worked. It grounded you. Made you feel like this wasn’t just happening to you—it was something you were doing together.
When his hands slid beneath your bra and cupped your breasts, he groaned softly into your skin. “You feel even better than I imagined.”
You tilted your head, flushed. “You imagined this?”
“Babe,” he said, grinning into your cleavage, “I’ve been imagining it all day.”
You laughed, breathless, as he undid the clasp and tossed your bra aside.
Then he paused, just for a second—eyes meeting yours—before he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth.
You cried out softly, hips twitching at the sudden spike of pleasure. He groaned at the sound, sucked a little harder, then switched to the other side, hand trailing down your stomach.
“Still good?” he murmured.
“Yes,” you gasped.
He smiled against your skin. “Then hold on, baby. ‘Cause I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“Relax,” Johnny whispered as his hand slid down between your legs. “Let me feel you.”
You were already soaked, the cotton of your underwear clinging to you in a way that made him groan against your neck.
“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “You’re so wet. You been holding onto this for a while, haven’t you?”
You couldn’t speak—could barely think. You just nodded, hips rocking into his palm.
He touched you through the fabric first, slow. The pad of his finger traced the shape of you, finding your clit with practiced ease. He didn’t rush—just circled, barely-there pressure, teasing you until your thighs started to shake.
“You’re doing so good,” he said softly. “Let me take these off, baby.”
You lifted your hips and let him slide your underwear down your legs. When you were finally bare beneath him, he took a second—just looked—and exhaled like the sight physically did something to him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, fingers dragging gently through your folds. “All of you.”
Then his mouth replaced his hand.
You gasped—loud—as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, then did it again, like he needed the taste.
“Oh my God—” you panted, hips lifting.
He grinned against you. “You taste even better than I imagined. Think I could stay here all night.”
And he almost did.
His tongue moved in slow, teasing patterns, sucking and flicking until your moans filled the room. He didn’t rush your build-up—just watched you unravel, voice full of praise every time you whimpered his name.
When you started to tighten, he slowed down.
“Not yet,” he said, voice gravel over honey. “I wanna be inside you when you come.”
You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling. “Are you sure? I—what if I’m not good?”
He smiled, the kind of soft, warm grin that made your chest ache. “There’s no such thing as bad when it’s real.”
Then he kissed you—deeply, like you hadn’t just had his mouth on you seconds ago—and when he pulled back, you felt stripped down to your soul.
“Okay,” you whispered. “I want you.”
He reached into the nightstand, rolled on a condom, then came back to you—slower this time, gentler. He hovered above you, arms caging your head, eyes locked on yours.
“I’m gonna go slow,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”
You nodded.
Then he pushed in.
Your breath caught—stretch, pressure, a little ache—and your hands fisted in the sheets.
Johnny didn’t move.
He just kissed your jaw, whispered praise, waited until your muscles stopped clenching around him. He was warm, solid, grounding.
“You okay?” he asked again.
You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just… full.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, baby. You’re perfect like this.”
When he started to move, it was so slow—shallow thrusts, hips rocking just enough to make you feel everything. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together, grounding you.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured. “you’re taking me so well.”
You moaned at the words, and he grinned. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” you gasped.
“Good. ‘Cause I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”
He began thrusting a little deeper, the stretch easing now, your body melting beneath him. The ache had turned into something else entirely—hot and thick and needy.
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and strained. “Can’t believe this is your first time. You feel like a fucking dream.”
You whimpered, pulling him closer. “Johnny—please—”
“I got you,” he promised. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
It hit like a wave—your orgasm crashing through you, sharp and sweet, clenching around him until he groaned deep in his chest and buried himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “You feel so good—I can’t—”
He followed with a loud, broken moan, hips jerking once, twice, then stilling.
He stayed inside you for a while, kissing your cheek, your temple, brushing your hair back from your sweaty face.
“You okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah,” you whispered, still dazed. “I feel amazing.”
He pulled out carefully, kissed your knee, then got up to grab a towel and clean you gently.
You watched him move—naked, sweet, ridiculously tender—and felt something deeper than lust settle in your chest.
When he came back, he crawled under the sheets and pulled you into his arms without a word.
You curled into his chest, fingers tracing the ink on his ribs.
“Thank you,” you said quietly.
He looked down at you, brow furrowed like you’d said something wild. “For what?”
“For being so…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “Kind.”
His grin was soft this time. “Hey. You made it easy.”
You fell asleep on his chest, his arm around you, his fingers idly stroking your spine. For a man who once got punched by a bull on camera, he held you like you were made of glass.
And maybe, just maybe, you’d let him do it again tomorrow.
summary: Y/n begs her boyfriend Kuroo to build a blanket fort only for things to get a little complicated.
A/N: I’m not sure if I really wrote his character well enough, but I tried my best. I feel unsure of posting this one as I think it isn’t very good, but everyone I had beta read it said it was good, so here it is. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Please?” You beg, as you clasp your hands together, staring up at your boyfriend, his dark eyes staring down at you
You were currently on your knees on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, your head tilted up to look at the man that sat on the bed in front of you. The faint sound of the TV playing a random movie sounded in the background as you both looked at eachother.
“Please Kuroo? Just this one time I swear” You beg, a large pout resting on your face as you looked up at him
You watched closely as his cat-like eyes scan your face, a smirk etched onto his face. Leaning down a bit, his face comes closer to yours, your breath hitching in your throat as his face becomes only inches from yours. His warmth breath fanning over your face as his eyes meet yours, his smirk somehow growing.
“You know” Kuroo begins, moving his arms from the bed to now rest on his knees “I could get used to you begging on your knees” He finishes, your e/c eyes widening, a blush rushing over your face
Genre: Fluff (slight NSFW towards the end???), friend to lovers trope
Warnings: N/a
Word Count: 3.2k
Summary: Stargazing with Kuroo
A/N: I want to thank my friend @socialxcatastrophe for helping me write the end when I got stuck and for proof reading this.. go read her stuff that she’s posting today because she is an amazing writer. Enjoy this bit of cringe and bad writing As usual if there is anything wrong or messed up let me know. Enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~
The TV echoed softly in your room, the cringy reality show playing quietly, as light filled your dark room. You were laying on your bed, your back resting against your headboard as you held a large stuffed animal in your arms. Your eyes watching the TV screen, a bored look etched on your face as you took in the rather awkward show. It was a Friday night, and here you were watching shitty TV and cuddling with a stuffed animal, while your friends were all out practicing for a game or studying. Your eyes shifted from the TV to your black phone screen, waiting to see if it would light up with a notification. You brought a hand from your pillow to your phone, tapping on the screen to check your messages between you and your friend Kuroo, hoping maybe he had texted you.
Your eyes blinked quickly as they adjusted to the brightness of your screen, eventually clearly seeing the white messenger and only seeing your last text to him
There’s a nasty winter storm that’s going to hit most of the central regions of the US tomorrow (21 December 2022), especially tomorrow night. Please check your local forecasts if you live anywhere west of the rocky mountains, even down as far south as Texas. In some areas of the Plains region, windchill is likely to be -50F to -70F. That is so cold that you will develop frostbite in minutes. You will lose extremities without protection if you are exposed to windchill that cold. -70F is “surface of Mars” cold.
My part of the US is going to be below freezing all next week. This is normal for some. Not so normal for others.
If your area is likely to be impacted by the storm, please prepare now. The most important thing is staying warm and staying inside until things warm up outside. Specific tips I can offer, as somebody who regularly deals with cold winters are:
Put blankets over windows and doors. This will help your house retain heat.
Stay well-fed. Buy food now. You will get hungry faster because your body will burn calories to stay warm.
Stay hydrated. If your lips are chapped you’re probably dehydrated.
Stay dry. Remove wet clothing as soon as possible. It is better to be naked than wet when it is cold.
If it is going to get below freezing for more than an hour or two, run your water at a trickle or drip to prevent your pipes from bursting. The colder it gets the faster your pipes will freeze.
Y’all I haven’t been on tumblr in so long that I literally forgot how to do everything 👁👄👁
Adding a link in a bio? Nope
Changing my theme? nope
Making my dividers? NoPe
Making my profile pic? NOpE
Adding a gif as my header? sure as fuck don’t remember that
I never even learned how to add a song on my page, but that wasn’t ever really super big for me.
I’ve lost my touch and now I’m sad because I just realized how decent and creative I had finally got with Tumblr and then ended up leaving for over a year 🙃
Also in order to make up for my absence I now will present you with one thing that has taken up a lot of my time since October and no it isn’t a child
Meet Nacho 🧡
I adopted him from AARF after seeing him at Petco and he was the cutest fucking thing I had ever seen. He’s 7 months old, and originally his name was Bruno but um..no thanks 🧡 and yes that one picture is him in a sweater…it was cold and he was about to go outside 😤
