#jackass x reader

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.”

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.

Every person on the cast of Jackass knows the number one rule of working with bulls. Never ever have a bad attitude, this wasn't just a set rule it was simply there for everyone's safety. Unfortunately the one time this rule wasn't followed I was on the receiving end of the consequences.

The morning of the accident started off as any other. I woke up in my apartment that I shared with my husband, but when I got out of bed I quickly realized that Johnny wasn't home. "Fuck" I say to myself getting my phone out and calling him. "hello?" I hear on the other end of the phone when he answers. "Hi Johnny, care to tell me, your wife, where the fuck you are?" I say more irritated then before.

"I went out with the boys last night and I guess I crashed at O's last night" he says still sounding half asleep. I cannot fucking believe him. I figured this morning would go well. Sure we haven't been spending as much time with each other as we used to but we've been busy. I had plans to make him breakfast and we could head to the shoot together and everything would be great.

But no, unfortunately for me I went to be alone, again. Which has become a common occurrence lately. "Whatever, let's just talk when you get home, preferably before filming today. I would like to see my husband at some point" I say. "Yep" he says into the phone. "I love yo-" before I can even finish my sentence he hung up. Instead of sulking on what seems like my dying marriage I decide to clean up both our messy apartment and my mind. I decide to pick up all of our dirty laundry and start a load of laundry for the first time in a bit. I also cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes finally wanting my life to feel put together again.

After making a grocery list, I decide to get in the shower and clean myself along with the rest of my home. I take my clothes off and set them in the hamper in our bathroom while the water heats up. I step into the shower and let the water flow down my body as my mind floods with thoughts. I try and clear the negativity away, knowing that I will be working with bulls later and knowing the consequences if things go wrong.

Once I'm done cleaning myself, I turn off the water and step out of the shower while wrapping a towel around my body and hair while also putting my slipper on my feet. I step out of the bathroom and go to the laundry room to see if my clothes are done in the dryer. Before I can even make it there I hear the door open, I look over and see my husband. "Hey baby, you look nice" he says coming over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I embrace him trying to forget my anger, as this is the first time my husband has been affectionate with me in who knows how long. I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss. "God I missed you" he says railing his lips down my neck. "Johnny baby we have to leave soon can I get dressed please?" I say looking into his tired eyes.

He stopped his actions and pulls away from me. "Whatever" he says before going to the fridge to pull out a beer. "Really you're drinking already? You do know we have to film later right, or are you too hungover from being out all night that you forgot" I say continuing my journey to the laundry room to get dressed for the day. "Oh for the love of god, I don't come home one night and wanna have one beer and suddenly your up my ass about everything I do!" he says taking a long sip of the beer. I grab a pair of jeans and a graphic tea to wear out of the dryer and walk into our shared bedroom to get dressed.

He follows me to the bedroom. "It's not just one night Johnny! You do it all the fucking time, I barely fucking see you! Today was the first time you even fucking kissed me in go knows how long!" I start to get loud but not quite yelling. Usually I wouldn't mind changing in front of him but at the current moment I don't want to be vulnerable around him. "Oh so this is about how I can do better right, why're you changing in the damn bathroom? I'm your husband for christ sake, do you really just not fuckin' like me or something" he says still drinking the beer.

"Yes this absolutely is about what you can do better. I wanted one fucking morning for you to actually be here! Is that so hard to ask Johnny? Is it so fucking absurd that I want to cook breakfast for my husband and do something nice for him? Clearly it is because my husband doesn't even want to fucking sleep in the same bed as me at night let alone come home!" I say coming out of the bathroom now fully dressed. "You were going to cook breakfast for me?" He says looking somewhat regretful of his previous decisions. "Yes! I was! I thought the reason why you don't come home is because you don't love me anymore! I just wanted to do something nice for you for once! And then MAYBE just maybe you'll actually want to spend time with me!" say say now yelling at him.

"Y/N I DO WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU!" he says yelling back. "JOHNNY IF YOU LOVE ME FUCKING SHOW UP FOR ONCE!" I say starting to cry. I grab my purse and car keys, not even caring that my hair is damp and I didn't do my makeup. "Johnny you need to pick between the bottle and having fun or me! I'm leaving to go to set, Please at least change your clothes from yesterday!" I say after putting on my shoes. I walk out of our apartment and out to my car.

When I get in my car I just sit there and cry for a second, the day I imagined going perfectly ended up going awful and its only ten am. I wipe my tears and drive to set. When I get there I get out and walk up to the bull arena where we will be working today. I take a deep breath and act like everything is alright. While waiting for everything to be set up I make easy conversation with Dave and Ehren talking about whatever came to our mind. When Johnny arrived I didn't notice but everyone else did. Anyone around could tell he was irritated. But, If you were one of the people around you could also tell he was wearing the same thing as me. I had one a plain black jackass t-shirt with the logo, a pair of blue jeans, and my black converse. Coincidentally he was also wearing a black jackass shirt, blue jeans, and black converse. He didn't talk to anyone at first just sat in a chair near me.

"Aww you guys are matching how gay" Bam says giggling with Ryan. "We are?" I say looking down at my outfit and at his. "Yes ma'am" Johnny says with a small smile, before standing up and walking towards me. "Is it wrong to love my wife? You guys need to hop off my dick" he says to the guys before walking up and putting and arm around me. I allow the gesture to happen, attempting to forget our fight. "Well this is news to me" Bam says with a cackle. "What the hell are you talking about?" Johnny says pulling me close by my waist. "Baby you need to calm down" I say placing my hand on top of his. "Nah Sweetheart I wanna know what the fuck margera's on about" he says with a southern twang peaking through as he got angrier. "What I'm saying is for the past few weeks you've been acting like she doesn't fucking matter, so I'm just shocked you even want to be near her" Bam says. I could instantly tell Johnny was a thousand times more upset than earlier. It is one thing for the two of us to argue but if someone else insults our relationship that just infuriates him.

"Ok Fuck you" Johnny says going to throw hands. Before he can lay a finger on him Jeff steps in to pull Johnny aside. "KNOXVILLE COME WITH ME NOW!" Jeff says not wanting to upset the bulls. When the two men are alone together they talk about the situation. "Knox c'mon man what's going on? You know the rule about the bulls. I don't give a shit about your problems put them to the side so we can get this bullshit over with ok?" Jeff says with irritation dripping from his voice. "Sorry man, I'm just having a day, don't worry I'll get it together especially since Y/n is apart of the stunt" Johnny says finally taking accountability and realizing he messed up.

As he walks back to the bull arena he calms himself down to prepare for the stunt. As much as he would love to talk to you before the stunt and apologize its time to do the stunt. "Ok Bam, Dunn, Knoxville, and Y/n please come get your hats for the toro trotter" Jeff says. I walk up to Jeff and grab both mine and Johnny's hats for the stunt. I go and find him and give him the hat "Here I grabbed this for you" I say with a sad smile on my face. "Thank you baby" He said putting his hand on the side of my face pulling me in for a kiss. After that the two of us walked into the arena getting on the trotter with our stupid little propeller hats.

"ROLLING" I hear from behind the cameras. "Hi I'm Johnny Knoxville and The last person on the teeter totter is gonna be the winner" he says. The contraption was really two teeter totters put together. On one set was Bam and Dunn across from each other, and me and Johnny on the other side also sitting across from each other. "It's gonna be a blood bath!" I say excitedly. "God I love you" Johnny says with a loud laugh.

As the Bull entered the ring we instantly locked in, maneuvering accordingly to avoid the attacks the bull was giving us. Dunn was the first one to fall off, I let out a big laugh enjoying this experience. Bam was the next to go instantly following Bam. "C'mon Baby, its just you and me" Johnny says with a laugh. Right after he says the the Bull lunges at me before I could go up in time. It hits me right in the leg, I let out the loudest scream imaginable. " FUCK MY LEG!" I scream. Immediate Johnny gets off of his end and picks me up to carry me to safety. The bull wrangler got the bull out of the ring and Johnny had placed me on the ground. "I NEED A MEDIC MY WIFE IS HURT" He yells towards the crew. "I got you baby the medic is on the way" He says starting to cry while putting his hands on either side of my face. "It hurts johnny, please make it stop hurting" I say while in immense pain. "I've got you sweetheart, the people are coming to make it stop hurting" he says with tears streaming down his face as the medics arrive. They put me on the stretcher and take me to the ambulance I end up passing out on the way to the hospital.

When I woke up the pain is almost gone but I feel funny from anxiety. I take a second and look around and see no one in my room. Parts of me start to panic. I hear voices outside of the room, but don't see anyone. Before anything else happens a nurse comes into my room. "Hi Y/n I'm your nurse, seems you took quite a tumble with the stunt you preformed today. I'm gonna take your vitals and as soon as your husband is back you should be free to be discharged" she says walking up to me taking notes on a clipboard. "Alright, do you know where my husband is?" I ask. "He went out for a bit but he should be back soon honey, It looks like your vitals are looking good and you should be free to go" she says before grabbing something by my bed. "Now you did end up fracturing your lower leg, its not severe, just a greenstick fracture which means the bone is not fully broken. However that does mean you will be put in a boot for 6 weeks maybe longer but I will set you up a follow up appointment in a couple of weeks with your physician" she says. "Oh sorry dear one more thing, be careful on your crutches and probably stay off your feet for a day or two, you took a nice bump to your head, you don't have a concussion but things will feel funny for a few days" she says as Johnny walks in holding flowers and a bag of things. "Well Mr. and Mrs. Knoxville feel free to gather your belongings and you are free to be discharged and go home" she says before leaving.

Johnny sets the bag down and walks towards me with the flowers, and sits on the chair next to my hospital bed. "Hi baby, how do you feel?" he says setting the flowers on my bed and placing his hand in mine. "I feel better now you're here, I wanna go home now" I say smiling at him. "Ok honey, I went home and brought you some clothes since yours were dirty. I also got you your favorite flowers" he says making up for our arguments earlier. "Johnny baby can you help me to the bathroom?" I ask him not fully knowing to use the crutches. "Yes ma'am" he says helping me stand up and put the crutches under my arms. He guided me to the bathroom. "Here lemme grab the clothes for ya" He says before walking out and coming back within a matter of seconds. "I figured you'd wanna be comfy so I grabbed my sweat pants and my big ole' shirt for ya honey" He says before moving the crutches out of the way and propping me up on the counter. "Can I take off your gown baby?" he asks still worried about how I didn't change in front of him earlier. "Yes please " I say wanting to get out of the ratty hospital gown as soon as possible.

Before he takes off the gown he slides the sweatpants up my legs and lifting my butt up of the counter to fit the pants around my hips. He then wraps his arms around me to untie the back of the hospital gown. "I've got you sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere" he says. He takes the gown off leaving me in just a bra I had thrown on this morning. He then gently puts his t-shirt on me as if he was afraid I was going to crumple in his arms. When he is done putting the clothes on me, before he takes me off the counter he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face into my neck. I instantly reciprocate the hug. "I'm really sorry about earlier" he says. "We'll talk later right now I just wanna go home" I say back to my husband. "Ok baby, ready to get down?" he asks waiting for my nod before taking me off the counter and helping me with the crutches. As I walk out of the bathroom Johnny grabs a wheel chair from beside the bed and wheels it over to me. I sit down and hold my crutches as he takes me out of the hospital.

When we make it to the car, he opens the door for me and helps me in, he even helps me with my seat belt. He puts the crutches along with the rest of our belongings in the back seat and then returns the wheelchair. When he gets in the car he sits there for a second before starting the car and just looks at me. He reaches out his hand and holds mine. Tight. "I love you so much, Y/n you have no idea" he says before leaning over to kiss me. He then starts the car and drives us home.

When we reach the apartment complex he lets me out of the car and helps with my crutches before grabbing our bags. When we got into our apartment he set me up in our bed, turned on my favorite movie, got me a cup of water and ordered my favorite dinner. "Ok, dinner should be here in 20" he says coming back into our room, sitting on the bed next to me. "Is there anything else I can get for you darlin'?" he asks me looking at me with puppy dog eyes. "No baby, but thank you for everything, you're the best husband I could ask for" I say leaning into his side as he wraps his arm around me. "No I'm not and that's the problem. There's something I need to get off my chest." He says turning more into me. "I need to apologize for the complete and utter baffoon I have been, I not only disrespected you, I completely abandoned you and my duties as a husband. Words can't describe how sorry I am for hurting you in so many ways, especially today. You were just trying to do something nice for me and I chose the bottle over you. I also put your safety at rick today, I knew we had a bull stunt and I still chose to be a complete jack off. From now on I'm gonna try and be not just a better person but a better husband" He paused for a second. By now tears were streaming down my face and his. "Today when you got hurt I didn't know what to do. You were in so much pain because of my recklessness. And the day we got married I took a vow to be with you in sickness and in health and came very close to breaking that promise. I'm so fucking sorry baby, I love you so much" He says wiping the tears from my face and putting his hands on either side of my face. "I love you too Johnny" I say as I pull him in for a kiss.

He takes it one step further by deepening the kiss, he moves so I'm on my back and he's over me. He moves so he is between my legs, while being cautious of my injured leg. I wrap my good leg around his waist as his hands go to my waist, my hands wrap around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I haven't loved you in the way you deserve" he says before kissing down my neck, only making me let out a small moan. "Uhh that's it baby, its been too long huh?" he says teasing me and letting out a groan that made the growing wet spot in between my legs even worse. His kisses travel from my neck down my chest. "God How I ever fumbled this is insane, You're so fucking gorgeous baby" He says while continuing to trail kisses down my body. As soon as he made his way between my thighs there was a knock at the door. "Fucking cock block" he mutters under his breath before placing a chaste kiss to my lips. "Be right back babydoll" he says before leaving the bedroom.

When he returns he has two plates of pasta from my favorite take-out place. "Here you go honey, I ordered you the Alfredo and garlic bread" he says handing me my plate. After having a nice evening of eating dinner in bed, and watching my favorite movies, some of them including Johnny in them just to tease him. "Can we please watch Men In Black 2 we already watched the first one, plus I would get to see double of your hot face"I ask with a cute face knowing he'll say yes. "anything for you dear" he smirks intensively with that look of love I've come to know all our years being together.