authors note: biggest fixation on bam right now so i’m blessing you all with this. ALSO- i’m currently writing a johnny x reader one shot fic and apologies it’s taking so long 🫣 also not proofread.
pairings: bam margera x fem!reader
warnings: mature content, sexual content
• protective bf final boss
• matching tattoos OF COURSE
• would be the one to teach you how to skate and would be very patient with you
• low key would steal some pieces of your jewellery and outfits
• the brattiest man to exist, especially in bed.
• loves to be kissed on the neck and his hair pulled
• april LOVES YOU, you both get along so well and it makes Bam’s heart so happy.
• during filming he’d make sure your always there to watch his stunts and skits. always sure to make you laugh.
• you can debate this. but god i’m so sure this man is a munch. this man would die between a pair of thighs. but he also loves to receive, he would def be a head pusher
• you’re the only one that’s allowed to yell at him and call him Brandon when your really mad, and tell him off when his being a dick.
“Brandon Margera stop acting like an asshole it’s not funny anymore”
• walk him like a dog diva 💅
• He likes total physical proximity. hands under your shirt, and keeping a firm grip on your waist or thighs whether you're sitting in bed or standing around on set.
• would call you babe, sweetheart.
• also definitely an ass man. always finding a way to sneak a feel whenever he can.
• hickeys, scratches, and visible bruises are a constant theme. He loves leaving a mark on your neck or collarbone right before you both have to go out into public
• Bam drives fast and he drives constantly. Dates often involve getting in his Lamborghini at midnight
• always awake at the strangest times, would find him wide awake at 2am writing stunt ideas.
Could I request Ryan x Reader where they're FWB and sneak around in each other's hotel rooms when filming jackass or CKY 🤭🫣 lots of smut and making out maybe kinks or fluff included bc it's Ryan but also filthy bc it's Ryan 😮💨
sneakin’ around
warnings: fem!reader, camera(wo)man reader, play fighting as foreplay, ryan being vaguely submissive occasionally, handjob (m!receiving), size kink if you squint really hard, hair pulling, kinda breeding kink (?), not proofread.
a/n: i’m workin through all my requests slowly but surely!! im in nyc rn for a journalism internship so unfortunately i have very little time to write ryan fics which is so totally bumming me out. i will make it work though!!! written specifically w/ first jackass ry in mind and lowkey inspired by the ending of haggard <3
*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
“You sure you don’t wanna go?” Bam asks, standing in the doorway, tossing up his car keys and catching them repeatedly.
“Yeah, man, I’m sure.” Ryan responds, snubbing out his cigarette in the motel room’s ashtray.
Bam, for the past fifteen minutes, has been trying to convince Ryan to go to the bar with him, Steve-O and Pontius. He’s been brushing it off the entire time, to Bam’s bewilderment. “Last chance,” He says, putting his hands up, “You are one-thousand percent sure you do not want to go.”
“Yes,” Ryan mocks, “I am one thousand percent sure.”
Really, Ryan isn’t opposed to tagging along. He would any other night, but when he’s sharing a room with Bam like this it’s harder to sneak around with you, and he cares about that more than going out right now.
Bam tends to stay up too late for Ryan to get away with sneaking out like a lovesick teenager. He’s also far too nosy to let his best friend get away with leaving their motel room for an extended period of time without telling him why. And if Ryan dared to lie to him about going out, he would immediately invite himself. It’s impossible to get past the man.
So, you two, in recent days, out of desperation, have resorted to quickies behind the trailers or in various small, cramped bathrooms. Of course, that’s exciting and all, but he misses the soft comfort of falling back on a cheap motel bed after fucking you.
“Your loss, man.” Bam shrugs, spinning his keys in his hand so fast that Ryan is afraid they’re going to fly off his finger and hit him, “See ya.”
Ryan gives a half assed wave, turning his attention back to the television in front of him until Bam slams the door shut and walks out to his car. Ryan creeps over to the window, peeking out the blinds and watching Bam get into his car. He stays in place until Bam is entirely out of the driveway, then a while after that just to make sure he’s not coming back for something he forgot.
After a solid fifteen minutes, he grabs his room key, shoves it in the pockets of his checkered shorts and walks out to the vending machines to meet you.
You’ve been doing this for a while, at least a year at this point. The result of a drunken makeout session at one of Bam’s parties that snowballed pretty fast. Both of you had agreed, early on, that none of your mutual friends could know. The constant teasing would rip apart your genuine friendship and make everything seem a little more romantic than either of you would like.
Plus, if Bam knew, God only knows the pranks he would pull on the both of you.
Honestly, Ryan would like it if things were a little more romantic, but he’s beyond okay with the situation you have now, for fear of you rejecting him. Having you, if only sexually, is better than not having you at all.
The thought, however, is immediately slammed out of his mind when he sees you, back pressed against the brick wall, between two vending machines that no doubt no longer work. You kiss his cheek, hugging him tighter than two friends would.
“Greatest goddamn thing to happen this whole trip,” You grin, “Thank god for Steve-o.”
“First person to ever utter those words,” Ryan remarks, lazily wrapping his arm around your waist, “My room or yours?”
“Mine,” You reply, with ease, “Imagine if Bam walked in.”
Ryan exaggerates a shudder, shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. As soon as you giggle, he grins wide, completely content with himself.
You grab his hand and skip back to your hotel room, he laughs, shocked that you’re daring to even do something like this so openly. He wonders if any of the guys have peered out the window and noticed the two of you, silently praying that Johnny or Tremaine aren’t still up and staring out their windows as if waiting for something like this.
You, however, seem completely unbothered by the action. While he’s lost in thought, you drop his hand, jamming your key into the motel door and pushing the door open, hands held wide in mock show at the mediocre room.
“Clearly they spent most of their budget on my room,” You grin, “Look at how nice this is. We’ve got my clothes all over the floor, my camera that Pontius almost broke earlier also on the floor, stunt ideas Bam has poorly drawn all over every surface. Really a luxury suite.”
Ryan rolls his eyes, “Yeah, nice and clean for me.”
“Oh, please,” You scoff, hitting his chest, “Like you’re even showered.”
He scowls at you, immediately, jokingly, lunging for you, pushing you back on the bed with a THUNK noise. You attempt to fight back, and he immediately pins your arms above your head.
“Why didn’t you fight this hard against that women’s kickboxing champion?” You remark, jokingly.
He kisses you, sloppily, with far too much tongue. The way he always does that you’ve become deeply affectionate of, no matter how drool-y it is. “Mm, she was gonna kick my ass even harder if I did, are you kidding?”
“Scaredy cat.” You laugh, kissing him, softer than he does to you. A soft whimper falls from his mouth as it’s against yours, cock already aching in his pants from just the small interactions.
He’s been waiting for this eagerly all day, maybe he’s getting a little ahead of himself, but he’s sure you are too.
“You’re already hard?” You laugh.
He snakes his hand down your sweatpants, cold calloused skin against your stomach, trailing down to your cunt and running two fingers over it, “You’re already wet?” He mocks. Your face flushes in embarrassment, head falling in his shoulder. You admit defeat fast, ego crumbling.
“Awe, it’s okay, baby,” He says, voice condescending, “You can’t help it, I know.”
“You’re such an egotistical fucker,” You scoff, in response, he pulls your head up out of his shoulder, kissing down your neck like a man starved, “And a perverted one at that.”
“I’m the pervert?”
“Yeah, you’re the pervert,” You reply, “I know what you do for a living, I film it for fucksake.”
“So you’re a voyeur?” He retorts, effectively shutting you up.
He brings his big hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head and exposing your chest to himself. He lets out a full body sigh, eyes filling with adoration. “God, I’m so lucky.” He moans while kissing you, palming your breasts in half-baked, sloppy movements.
You make quick work with his belt buckle without even pulling away from his mouth, unzipping his pants as desperately as you can. Sure, you both thought you’d savor this a little more, all things considered, but it’s always been a little hard for you two to not turn into horny teenagers when you’re alone for more than a couple minutes.
You pump his swollen cock in your hand, his mouth falls open against you in pleasure, letting out a deep moan from the back of his throat, “Just like that,” He sighs, “Fuck.”
You keep a steady pace at his encouragement, you’ve done this enough times to know exactly how he likes it. Your hand slowly glides over his cock, from base to tip, repeatedly, occasionally running your thumb over his slit.
His blonde hair falls in his red face, breathing heavily and shaking his head, “I can’t.” He babbles, “I can’t, baby, I gotta be inside of you. I have to be inside you.”
You conceal a smile at the desperation in his voice, pulling your hand away and placing both palms down onto the mattress. He immediately pulls your sweatpants and underwear off in one swift motion, lining his cock up with your throbbing cunt and resting his forehead against yours.
He’s still breathing just as heavily, his mouth wide open in the wake of his own pleasure. He takes a minute to calm himself down, then murmurs, “Is this okay?”
“Mhm,” You hum, “Perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Ry.”
With that confirmation, he pushes himself deep inside you, letting out a shaky moan of your name louder than he means to. You gasp at the feeling, hands instinctively gripping onto his back to steady yourself, nails digging into his back hard enough to draw blood. You breathe in sync with him, completely by mistake, bodies both heaving, taking a moment to soak in the feeling of each other.
You don’t have to rush with your underwear around your knees and your back up against the cold trailer walls, you don’t have to beg for him to go faster so you can both get back to set in time, you don’t have to let out muffled moans against his palm in an attempt to stay quiet. You can just be together.
He rests his forehead against yours, you trail your hand from his back to his hair, fingers entangling in his curled dirty-blonde locks, scratching your nails against his scalp. He lets out a sigh of content, kissing you before he finally begins to roll his hips into your body.
“Holy fuck, you’re s’tight,” He gasps, “You’re perfect. Feel s’fucking tight n’ wet n’… Fuck, you’re so goddamn perfect, holy shit.” If he heard anyone else talking to their girlfriend (friend, he corrects himself in his mind, repeatedly), he would laugh in their face for being so horrifically corny and shallow. Nobody is perfect, but somehow when he’s saying it to you he means every single word, and you know it.
You moan, muffling your voice in his shoulder out of instinct, mouth falling open against his band-tee, drool staining the white of it into a light gray. He, gently, pulls you away, by your hair, “Come on, I wanna hear you. I don’t care if the rest of the guys in the goddamn motel hear, I wanna hear you— fuck.”
At first, you consider shaking your head no, the possibility of Tremaine, who you’re sharing a wall with, hearing is too great. If he hears, he’ll tell Johnny, then Johnny will tell Steve-O and Steve-O will tell everyone. Then, not only are you the butt of every joke, you’re no longer a camera operator, you’re just the girl Ryan is fucking.
But as soon as you see the look in his soft, downturned eyes though, you push the thought away. You can’t stand the idea of saying no and seeing the disappointment in his face. So, instead, you allow yourself to let out the loud moans you’ve been restraining, letting out a whine of his name.
“There you go, sweetheart,” He grins, kissing your cheek, “Sound so pretty.”
His hand trails back down to your cunt, fingers finding your clit with ease, rubbing small, tight circles over it in an attempt to rouse an even louder noise from you.
He succeeds, obviously, because he always does when it comes to you. You let out a cry of, “Fuck, Ryan!” so loud that you sound, to your discontent and to Ryan’s glee, straight out of a porno.
“Tremaine is on the other side of this wall, Ry,” You say, voice pathetic and breathless, “I don’t want… He’s gonna know.”
Ryan shakes his head, kissing your neck, “Ah, fuck him. I got a gorgeous girl underneath me, the last thing I need to think about is fucking Tremaine.”
You roll your eyes, his stubbornness is so endearingly stupid that it somehow rounds into being attractive. You assume whatever makes you attracted to it is the same thing that makes you attracted to all the dumbass things he makes a living doing. “You’re a fucking idiot.” You comment, off handedly.
He responds, you know he does because you see his mouth move, but as soon as he begins to speak, he hits a spot so deep inside you that your vision feels like it goes blurred, your mouth falling open with desperate, wanton moans that are loud enough to fully cut off his sentence. Your hand, which has remained stagnant with fingers wrapped around his hair, tightens from the pleasure, yanking on it so hard that he lets out a shaky gasp, scrunching his face up in discomfort. His cock, twitching desperately inside you, tells a different story than the pain in his face.
“Fuck,” You gasp, “Fuck, Ryan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“
He shakes his head, letting out a breathless, “I liked it. I liked it, it’s okay. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
At his words, you grab his head by the hair, and guide his mouth to yours. He slips his tongue between your lips, as if devouring you (or, more fittingly, as if he never learned how to properly kiss). You find that you don’t really care whether it’s the former or the latter.
“I love you,” He gasps, pulling away from the kiss with a spitty-popping sound, “God, I love you.”
Before he can see how your eyes widen with the words, he kisses you again, completely wiping the suddenness of it all from your mind.
He begins, again, to rub steady circles over your clit, just the way he knows you like, as he rests with his forehead against yours, breathing heavily into your mouth, occasionally kissing you again. “Ryan,” You gasp, against his lips, “‘m close. ‘m so close.”
“Cum for me, baby,” he coos, voice soft in a way that only you’ve ever heard, “You’ve got it, sweetheart, cum on my cock.”
Within moments, you’re clenching around him, babbling out hiccuped moans of his name over and over like it’s the only word you know. One hand tugging his hair, another digging deep into the skin of his back, so hard that you feel the skin break. It’s undeniably loud. If nobody had heard you before, they definitely had now.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please let me cum inside you,” Ryan begs, face falling in your shoulder, “I have to cum inside you, please. Oh god, please, I’m so close, I can’t…”
You let out a hum, something more akin to a whine in the back of your throat, too fucked out to let out an actual, spoken yes.
His mouth falls open against your shoulder, pulling your body tight against him as he cums, letting out a shaky sob of your name and then collapsing on top of you.
You rest together for a moment, his cock still buried deep inside you, breathing heavily and in sync.
“Did you mean that shit?” You blurt when your mind stops being so fuzzy, chest rising and falling rapidly, “About loving me?”
He pulls up a little, looking at you with a bright red face, “I… I dunno. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean to make anything weird—“
“No, it’s okay, I just—“
He cuts you off, unable to hold it in anymore, “Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow night? Like an actual—“
BANG, BANG, BANG!
The aggressive knocking on the wall interrupts him, it’s followed by a voice that is unmistakably Knoxville’s, arguably a worse person to overhear the two of you than Tremaine, “Dunn! Get the hell off’a her!”
“Oh, fuck.” Ryan sighs, rolling off of you and collapsing onto the bed. You cover your mouth, stifling laughter. He sits up, slamming his palm to the wall against the bed, “Mind your fucking business, Knoxville!”
You let out a chorus of giggles, resting your head on his chest as soon as he lays back down, scowling with his arms crossed. “The fucking nosey asshole.”
“I’d really like that.” You murmur in response, scared that if you speak the words too loud he’ll suddenly change his mind and decide that continuing being fuck-buddies is better.
“Like what?”
“The date, you dumbass.”
“Oh,” He says, then, much more enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah! After work tomorrow, we can go get something to eat. It’ll be great, I promise.”
“Ehh, maybe not dinner,” You say, “God only knows what you guys will be doing on set tomorrow.”
