Jul 21, 2025
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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!!
these hands - j.k
𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒓
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌.
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 :3,400 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔.
-
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.
dog-eared | j.k
johnny knoxville x virgin!reader
MDNI
word count: 3.2k
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.
can't stop imagining this stunt w dunn'sgf!reader who is upstairs in the fuckin' shower when she hears the rocket and bazooka go off thru the house. poor thing. you almost slip & bust your ass trying to get a towel around your body and rushing down the stairs, missing the last two, actually eating shit as you're rounding the corner to see what's going on.
once you see phil alive and well (were ape & phil ever really well with all the shit these kids were doing?) you continues on to hear "you're kinda like not hearin' what i'm sayin', i'm sayin' the carpet's melded." taking a deep breath, water dripping you study the men as ryan starts explaining that it was dico shooting the rocket so yelling at bam is pointless.
"probably scared this poor girl half to death." april gestures to you, your knee scraped and bleeding from your fall down the stairs. hair sticking down your back, eyes red from trying to get the soap out of it after, i dunno, an explosive tore through the house?
"jesus christ, what happened?" ryan steps forward to look at you, a shit eating grin growing across his face.
"busted my ass coming down the fucking stairs to check on april & phil, i didn't know what was happening." you pant out of breath, your eyebrows knit together as he cackles, pulling you into a hug.
bam & dico are doubled over, damn near tears. dickheads.
"c'mon let's go look at the damage." he drums his hands on your back ushering you back towards the stairs, "what were you gonna do? play hero?" he's shaking his head, climbing the stairs behind you.
"where do you think i learned that?" you quip at him.
he just can't stop laughing, he loves you so much.
our love caught on camera
synopsis: you work on the jackass crew and the camera catches how you and johnny begin to fall for each other 1.4k wc
warnings: use of y/n, fluff, cursing, mentions of blood
a/n: this is lowk buns bc finals week is coming up, but i wanted to get something out before it soon becomes my final weeks 🥀 i swear to get better stuff out soon 🫡
being on the jackass crew was about as challenging as it sounded. you had to travel for work often and deal with stunts that made you nauseous and visibly cringe. however, it had its own perks. it allowed you to continue your passion in filming, and you were surrounded by people who made you laugh. the whole crew was like its own little family. there was also johnny.
johnny was like his own perk by itself. when you first joined, you never expected the relationship that would bloom between the two of you. you really only took the job because you went to high school with chris, and he practically begged you to come work on the crew. you figured that it would get you a good head start in the film industry, and hopefully give you some credibility in the future, so you finally accepted. in an instant, you and johnny were joined at the hip. whether on or off camera, where one went, the other was quickly trailing behind.
he was sitting on a lawn chair, a cold beer in hand, watching as bam and ryan rode around in shopping carts and ran over shit. even though it was technically your day off, you were still watching them perform all the stunts. you could always be found on set, even if they didn’t have anything for you to do. when johnny let out one of his loud laughs, it made you turn your head towards his direction. after almost a year of working with him, his laugh still created butterflies in your belly. you moved over to where he was sitting, and ruffled his hair to get his attention. without even looking up, he already knew that it was you, just by your touch. you always greeted him the same way. he turned his head up towards you, shooting you with his million dollar smile. “hey, darling. what’re you doing here? thought you had the day off?” he asked, with a hint of surprise.
you shrugged in response. “just wanted to watch you guys. not like i got anything better to do you. why? happy to see me?” you asked with a smirk. he stood up from the chair, his over six foot frame blocking the sun as he nearly towered over you. “‘m always happy to see you, you know that,” he replied, before pulling you into a hug. ever the sweet talker, you thought to yourself. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, while his wrapped around your waist. he then pulled you up and swung you around. you let out a spew of giggles, that steve-o noticed.
“man, look at this,” steve-o whispered to chris, tapping him on the shoulder. turning his attention away from bam and ryan, chris’s gaze followed to where steve-o was pointing. to really no surprise, there was you and johnny, talking each other’s asses off and laughing. by this point, johnny had already set you down, but one of his hands still lingered on your waist. “bro, they should just fucking kiss at this point,” he said. steve-o hummed in agreement, and instantly thought of a good idea when he noticed a camera laying abandoned in the grass. he kneeled down and grabbed it, quickly turning it on to capture the moment. “look at these damn lovebirds,” he mumbled, only loud enough for the camera to hear.
a few days pass by, and you’re now filming johnny as he introduces the stunt he’s about to do. “hi, i’m johnny knoxville, and today, i will have my good friend steve-o test out self defense weapons on me. and i also have the beautiful y/n as my camerawoman.” he winks at you with his dashing smile, and you laugh from behind the camera. “yeah, yeah, whatever. get on with it, johnny,” you said, shaking your head to hopefully hide the blush blooming on your face. to the side, steve-o was fake gagging while keeled over. you whipped the camera over to capture him. “get a load of this asshole.” you weren't really annoyed with your friend. if anything, you were a bit glad that it took the attention away from you and your obvious flusteredness from johnny’s compliment. as the stunt progresses, johnny is now rolling around on the ground and holding his stomach as he groans in pain. and maybe it’s been your time on jackass, or maybe it’s the fact that steve-o is cackling next to you, but you can’t help but laugh a little at his pain. yours and steve-o’s laughter combined seems to be contagious, because johnny quickly begins to laugh alongside the two of you. you lean down and hold out your hand to help him up, and he grabs it as you yank him to a standing position. he sways a bit from the two stun guns he just previously endured, so you hold his wrist to keep him stable. “how do you feel?” you ask from behind the camera. he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “i think ol’ steve-o is rubbing off on you. you’re becoming as bad as him, laughing at my pain.”
steve-o fake pouts and makes a kiss face towards johnny. “aw, you need me to kiss you better?” he leans in, but johnny playfully pushes him back. “oh, right, my bad. forgot you only wanted y/n to do that,” he retorts, before sticking his tongue out. steve-o’s comment makes you whip your head to look between the two of them, softly whispering ‘huh?’ you can see johnny’s feathers were a bit ruffled by his friend exposing his small (huge) crush on you, but tries to play it off. “you better watch it man, before i spray bear mace in your eye.” safe to say he does later on in the segment.
the tension between the two of you later comes to a halt when johnny and bam are riding on a golf cart, running into old statues and things like that at an abandoned golf course. the segment was going well so far. sure, you were out of breath a little bit from having to keep up with them, but you weren’t afraid of a little cardio. that was, until, they hit a ditch, which caused the whole cart to flip over. immediately you hurried over to them, your camera being sent to damnation when you carelessly threw it. if you weren’t so worried about johnny and bam, you would’ve cursed yourself.
part of the crew was checking in on bam, while you were solely focused on johnny. you knelt down and carefully held his head, gently moving it side to side to look for any injuries. warm blood trickled down your hand and forearm. fuck, definitely a concussion. “hey, johnny, you okay?” you asked softly.
he hazily smiled up at you, blinking rapidly from the sun shining behind you. “goddamn, darlin’... look at you. like an angel,” he slurred, his eyes slipping shut. you patted the side of his face to keep him awake. “don’t do that, you gotta stay awake, yeah? we gotta get you to the hospital.”
he just nodded, and limply moved his head to rest against yours. his eyes fluttered at your gentle touch as you pushed back his short strands of hair that stuck to his sweat ridden forehead. “love ya so much, you know that…?”
“yeah, i know you do, johnny. i love you too,” you replied. you figured it was just the concussion talking, and that he didn’t really mean it.
“no, sweetheart. ‘m serious. like, i love love you. so much. you're so sweet, and funny, and so fucking pretty. i think i loved ya ever since chris brought you on set…” he rambled on and on until his lips pressed against yours.
the kiss was about as good as you think it could be with a concussed man, but it was the best one in your life because it was with him. his lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care. not when his hand came up to cradle the back of your head. or when you could feel him smile against your lips as he let out a content hum. you pull back to breathe, and his lips instantly chase after yours. you shake your head ‘no’, and just lean your forehead against his.
“this whole concussion thing wasn’t a plan for you to kiss me was it?” you playfully ask. “nah, darling, this was just a plus,” he replied, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.
unbeknownst to the two of you steve-o and chris had picked up your discarded camera to video the two of you, and your guys’ first kiss. “yo, they better give me credits when they play all these clips at their future wedding,” steve-o mutters.
" good morning 😃"
yeah….
Hi! If you're taking requests, could you write a fluff story about Knoxville trying to ask out Fem! Reader, but he isn't able to due to the guys ruining the moment/embarrassing him? Can't wait to see more of your work! 💕
Hi! Yes of course I absolutely love this idea, fantastic request, I can't wait to write more for you guys!
Constant Interruptions| Johnny Knoxville x fem!reader
Warning: Swearing
Authors note: I had a lot of fun making this, I hope your happy with how it turned out, if you want a continuation of this let me know.
Ever since I started working as a part of the Jackass crew as both a writer and a coordinator of stunts, the boys instantly adopted me into their group.
Every time they go out drinking I join them without hesitation. Whenever they need help with a stunt, whether it was helping to prepare or clean up, I'm were always there as a support system for all of them.
I love being a part of their group. It feels like a big family, granted a family that always did stupid shit. I have a special relationship with all of the boys.
Bam and Ryan are great to hangout with and I think of them like my little brothers. They're little shits and reckless as hell, but I love them to death. When I first joined the group they were a little harder to accept me. Once they finally did, they looked up to me as their older sister and came to me advice. I often crash at their place as it felt the most like home and my apartment get's really lonely. Luckily for me, Bam has plenty of spare bedrooms that whenever I wanna stay I have a room of my own. Ape and Phil also instantly accepted me as one of their own.
Dave is super fun to party with, but he's also always there for me when I need to talk and he's very emotionally put together. Ehren is a lot like Dave in the sense that I can be crazy with him and serious. I tend to help him a lot when he gets hurt because I feel bad, when the other go kinda hard on him.
Preston and Wee-man are also really good friends and I enjoy being hanging out with them.
I'm also really close with Chris and Steve-o. I admire their friendship so much, even though they are probably the most dangerous and perverted of the group, they know when they take it to far. I love them because they are able to have the sense of being cafe free yet also controlled at time. They are also so funny, and I have the best time writing out bits with them, there is definitely no lack of creativity when around them. Every thought is outside of the box.
Lastly, there's the one and only Johnny Knoxville. I would definitely say out of everyone in the group he was my closest friend. He was the first one to welcome me. He always helps me write bits, and clean up after a stunt. I always am the first person to him after he does a stunt. I care about him so much. I've always admired him.
As I was sitting in my trailer, currently writing out a sketch, sitting on the couch my fingers moving restlessly on the keyboard of my laptop.
I stop when I here a knock on the door. I get up to answer it and set my laptop off to the side. When I open the door I am greeted with a delightful sight of Johnny.
"Hey darlin' do you have a second, there's something I wanna ask you?". He asks with a smirk of awkwardness on his face. Which is ironic considering how attractive he is. Especially on warm fall days like today.
"Yeah of course, come on in Knox", I say as I open the door wider for him to enter my trailer. As he enters my space I take in his outfit. He was sporting his signature converse, a pair of navy Dickies slacks with a chain on the belt loops. He was wearing one of his funny t-shirts with his dark hair a mess but in a hot way. Obviously you can forget his sun glasses.
"What's up?", I ask as I take a seat next to him on my couch, I turn to look at him with curiosity and sincerity in my eyes. Focusing on his every move.
"Well, I was wondering-", his response was cut short by Bam slamming open the door to my trailer.
"Y/N, DUDE YOU"LL NEVER GUESS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED" Bam yells as he slams the door shut.
"Jesus Bam, what is so important that you needed to barge in here for!", I yell at him obviously irritated that he interrupted Johnny.
"Yo dude, so like Dunn took a toy car and shoved it up his ass wanna see the X-rays?", as he asks I look at him not surprised at all.
"You know what, why not I'm having a hard time writing right now just gimme a sec, ok", I ask Bam before looking back at Johnny next to me on the couch.
"OK, well hurry the fuck up, besides Tremaine needs you two shitheads anyways", Bam says as he finally leaves.
I look back at Johnny, before I get up to grab my hoodie.
"I'm so sorry that happened Johnny, what where you saying before we were interrupted?" I say as he stands now towering over me. I look up into his eyes that are covered by shades, that only make my attraction to him worse.
"Listen darlin' I don't have time to say what I wanted, but uhm, the guys are having a bonfire at Bam's house tonight, you wanna leave set with me I gotta get some beer and other shit and want you to join me?" he asked looking down into my eyes.
I could feel myself blushing but I try my best to hide it, as well as the butterflies in my stomach that never went away as long as Knoxville is around.
Later on in the day, I was back in my trailer after a long day of work. To say I was stressed was an understatement. Tremaine is shortening my dead lines as adding onto my work load. I still have writers block and can't think of anything funny.
I hear a soft knock on my trailer door as i'm pack up my stuff to leave for the evening. I knew it was Johnny waiting to pick me up.
"Come in" I say grabbing the rest of my stuff.
"Hey there honey, you ready to go?" he asks reaching out to grab my work bags out of my arms.
"Yes, and you don't have to carry my bags Knoxville". I say relieved with the weight off my shoulders, but still not wanting to be a burden.
"Oh doll, my mama raised me better than to let a pretty lady carry heavy bags, now lets go", he says while holding the door open for me.
"Thank you Johnny", I say with even more blush spreading heat through my face from before.
As we were walking to his car, Steve-o and Pontius run up to the two of us.
"Yo Dude, I heard from a Birdy your giving the pretty lady a ride, me and Pontius were wondering if we could ride with you too?" Steve-o says.
Johnny rolls his eyes and looks over to me awaiting my approval, I nod disapprovingly"
"Fine you fuckers can come with, but Y/n get's shotgun or you shitheads can walk to Bam's" Johnny says opening the passenger door to his car for me.
"Thank you sir" I say as I get in.
Johnny puts my bags in the trunk, and Pontius and Steve-o get in the back. When Johnny gets in the front, he starts to drive to the nearest liquor store.
"So Knox why don't you have a girlfriend?" Steve-o asks from behind my seat.
"Well O it's none of your business", Johnny states as he puts the car into park.
"y/n you wanna run in with me real quick?" Johnny looks over to me and asks, I nod.
"You two shitheads stay in the car, well be back in a sec". Johnny says as he opens his door.
"Of course you wanna be alone with her, probably gonna cop a feel while your at it", Steve-o says.
"Shut up you fucking dork". Johnny says as he gets out of the car and opens up my door.
"Why you jealous O that it's not you copping a feel?" I question back at him with a snarky smirk on my face.
Once we get into the liquor store me and Johnny walk towards the beer. He turns to look at me.
"Look doll i'm really sorry about O being weird", he says looking at me with genuine care in his eyes.
"It's fine, If anyone's allegedly coping a feel I'm glad its you", I say as I pat his shoulder. We both giggle as we go to the front to pay for our booze and walk out.
When we get back in the car I get the privilege of keeping the beer away from the buffoons in the back seat.
"Please Y/n just one brewski?", Steve-o keeps pestering me.
"No, O you can wait till be get to Bam's like everyone else" I giggle as I slap his hand away from the bag in my lap.
"Please, if it as Knox asking for one, you'd give it to him" he wines behind me.
"Yeah well Knox hasn't been a jack off this whole car ride, bitching and making gross jokes. Besides we're literally pulling into the driveway" I say as we arrive at Bam's house. I finally hand them the bag of beer and O take off running into the house.
"I wanted to say sorry on behalf of O y/n, and myself we took it too far" Pontius says.
"That's very sweet of you Chris, I really appreciate it", I look back smiling at him as he opens his car door and gets out. I look over at Johnny and smile.
"Would you wanna go up to my room for a second of quite before the bon fire, besides I gotta take my bags up there?" I say looking at him longingly.
"Have I ever told you how amazing you are?", he looks at me with admiration.
"Maybe once..." I giggle at him.
He giggles maniacally back, he then opens his door and gets out of the car, only to come around and open my door. By now I had gotten used to Johnny being a gentleman and I loved every second of it.
While I got myself out of the car and grabbed my purse, he was already getting my work bags out of the trunk. We walk into the house together, I see Ape, bam's mom, as soon as I walk into the kitchen.
"Hi my dear, how was work" she asked me endeeringly.
"Oh Ape, the things your son and Dunn got up to you would not believe", I say as I walk further into the house.
"Oh dear I can probably believe it, Me and Phil are gonna run to the store soon to get snacks for you guys, if there's anything you want let me know honey." she says as she writes something down on a note pad.
"Thanks Ape, I don't know what we'd do without you, me and Johnny will be down in a sec, were just gonna take my bags upstairs".I say in response to her.
Me and Johnny walk up the stairs and reach my bedroom. I walk in first holding the door open for Johnny to enter holding my bags. I close the door behind him and for the first time all day I take a deep breath as he sets my bags down by my bed and comes to stand in front of me.
"You sound like you've been holding that in darlin', what going on?" he says as he looks at me and rubs the side of my arm.
"Everything I guess, Jeff is stressing me out, the guys can't give me a second to think and I just needed to breathe" I say looking up at him.
"I believe in you, everything is gonna be ok doll" he says looking down and pulling me into a hug. He wraps his long arms around my waist, I wrap mine around his neck and pull him close as if he's going to disappear.
We stand there still taking in a long awaited moment of peace.
"Listen doll, I still got something to tell you" he says into the crease of my neck.
"Yes Knox"I reply to him.
"Well, I was wondering if sometime we could-" yet again he was interrupted by pounding on my bedroom door.
"Fuck" he groans into my neck holding me tighter not wanting the moment to end.
"YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING IN THERE, APE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM THE STORE!" Ryan yells through the door.
Before I step away from Johnny I leave a kiss on his cheek showing my gratitude as I usually kiss all of the guys on the cheek.
I open the door gently, and look at Ryan annoyed.
"We were not fucking, calm your tits done" I say as me and Johnny push past him and go down the stairs.
"Sorry Ape, I needed a second to breath you son stresses me out, I don't need anything from the store, thank you though" I say walking away to grab a beer.
For the first time since I've been home, Johnny left my side to talk to April and I walked outside not wanting to intrude on their conversation.
I also just wanna sit outside and enjoy the campfire. After a couple of minutes Johnny joins me.
I sit in a camping chair nursing a bottle of beer in my hand, while Knox starts the fire, while the other jackasses are off doing god knows what.
A little while later I hear Phil and April come back home. I walk inside to help with whatever they bought leaving Knoxville in the comfort of the guys.
"Hey need any help" I say looking at all the bags that were placed on the island.
"Actually I have a bag just for you honey"She says handing me one.
I open it and it's filled with my favorite chocolates. I smile wide and look at her in gratitude.
"Thank you so much, how did you know these are my favorite?" I ask her in shock.
"Johnny mentioned you had a rough day and needed a pick me up so he suggested I brought you back some as a surprise"she says.
"Thank you Ape" I say as I hug her. After we put away the rest of the groceries besides the snacks for tonight, I walk outside with my chocolates in hand.
"Knoxville you snake" I say smiling at him.
"Woah there darlin' don't say snake too loud or Bam here might have a heart attack" he says looking up from his camping chair.
By now all the guys have settled into their spots around the fire.
I sit next to Knoxville and look at him with a huge smile on my face.
"Thank you I really appreciate it" I say grateful.
"Anything for my best girl" he says before taking a sip of his beer.
As the night carries on and the rowdy boys somewhat settle, Dave comes up with an idea on how to keep the fun going.
"Guys we should play truth or dare?"he says taking a sip of his beer.
"Im in"
"me too"
"I'll do it"
Everyone replies me and Johnny included.
"Ok, I'll go first cuz its my house, O truth or dare" Bam says.
"Uhh Dude, I'm not a pussy dare" he says looking at Bam from across the fire.
"I dare you to chug the rest of you beer and shotgun another" Bam says.
"Dude that's nothing what is this middle school" steve-o says as he completes the challenge easily.
"Ok, Y/n dude truth or dare?"he asks with a hiccupp.
"Dare"
"Ooooo nice" Dunn giggles.
"Alright I dare you to sit in Knoxville's lap the rest of the game" he says with an evil cackle. With that the whole group of people starts laughing.
Without hesitation I get up from my spot and sit in Johnny's lap. This wasn't the first time this has happened. I've done it when i've needed, like when there are no more seats in the van when filming. Neither of us were uncomfortable.
As soon as I sit the group goes quite, Johnny's hand immediately fly to my waist to steady me.
"Oh shit dude I didn't think she'd do it" Steve o says in a really cocky way.
"That's the thing with you man, actually with all of you, you always underestimate her" Johnny says from behind me. I smile as he grips my hips a little tighter as he talks.
"Yeah she's a one hell of a woman" Chris says.
"Thank you both" I say giving them both a smile.
"Ok Y/n your turn" Dunn says.
"Ok Dunn truth or dare?" I ask him.
"Dare" he says without hesitation.
"I dare you to make out with Bam" I say smirking. behind me I hear Johnny let out a maniacal cackle.
"What the fuck that's gay" Bam said.
"Yeah well so are we" Dunn says before he kisses Bam.
when the dare is done Bam runs in the house shouting "I'm done this game".
"Well guys it's getting late, i'm gonna head out" Dave says.
"Yeah me too" Ehren says.
"Well then I guess it goodnight" I say.
Everyone besides me and Johnny leave.
"Well Knox you finally have my undivided attention" I say finally getting off his lap and looking up at him.
He looks down at me now standing.
"Well doll, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a date with me. I really enjoy spending time with you but, I don't want wanna be just your friend. I love you darlin'" he says now grabbing my waist.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
"Johnny there is nothing else I want in the world, I love you too baby" say pulling him closer.
"Thank God, i've been trying to tell you that all day" he says tucking my hair behind my ear with one of his hands.
"shut up and kiss me" I say as I pull him in and place my lips on his.
"FUCKING FINALLY" Bam yells from the house.
"I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOUR A PUSSY KNOXVILLE" Ryan screams.
I ignore them and keep kissing Johnny.
the end<3