planetknoxville

[planetknoxville]

You’re not my dad (Johnny Knoxville x Reader ft Bam)

Under 18 do not interact 

Notes: I've read every bit of Knoxville fanfiction there is so im going to have to write my own. I need this man out of my head, it's becoming a problem. The time its set is kinda around movie 2 or 3 or 4 idk who cares. It's not quite fluff, not quite smut, just a kinda fatherly Johnny because I'm a sick sick individual. I made up a character called jess she a dickhouse chick i guess just made her up cause i hate the Y/N thing lol

Warning: Blood, drinking, swearing, reckless mentally ill behavior, daddy kink if you squint,  etc

Please drink responsibly 

words 2400ish

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on dipshit”

 I looked up to find Bam standing in front of me with a cooler in one hand and both of your skateboards in the other. I knew that cooler wasn't his and would have bet this month’s salary on it containing beers he'd stolen from catering that were meant for after filming had wrapped for today.

“A bit presumptuous that I’d want to hang out with you Brandon”, You said peering over the top of the trash magazine you’d been pretending to read. The day was going very slowly, as only a few people were actually on set and the ones that were here were absorbed in work you wanted absolutely nothing to do with. So, there you were lounging in a camp chair waiting for some dumb stunt that you knew was not happening today.

“Come onnnnn..” he whined, kicking you squarely in the shin.

“You’re a menace to society” you said through gritted teeth. Sighing in resignation you rose from your chair and immediately shoving him as hard as you could. He barely stumbled and looked back at me with disbelief, “ Is that all you’ve got Jess?”

We slipped behind the sea of large blue tents that shielded the expensive camera equipment and crew from the sun. We’d been filming in the paramount lot for two weeks now, there were several air conditioned warehouses but no, the holy trio of Jeff, Spike and Johnny had decided that outside in the boiling Los Angeles heat was far better. You began to think they were really pranking you with melanoma.

Filming was usually fun but there was a lot of waiting around. Get ready and wait, they always say. Bam and I were a lot alike, both liked skating and found it especially hard to do nothing or sit still so naturally, we became fast friends. In the first couple of days of mucking around we had found a few unused (hopefully) planks of wood, a large flat sheet of plywood, some milk crates and other assorted junk which we squirreled away and started building our very own skate park. It was precarious and constantly breaking but that was half the fun. It was tucked away in the corner of the giant concrete lot, our own private death trap. Just few bushes, a metal park bench with a plaque of remembrance for some executive that probably should be forgotten and the two dickheads dumb enough to fuck around and find out.

You both started throwing beers back like it was your job. If we couldn’t do our actual jobs then we had to put our talents to good use. Technically, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping away, and sweat was dripping down your face right into your eyes.

“Fucking hell”, you moaned, using your sleeve to mop your brow blinking rapidly as the salt made your vison blurry. “Take off your jacket, Numbnuts,” Bam shouted.

“It's part of the outfit dummy” you did a little turn.

“You look homeless Jess.”

 Unfortunately, it was kind of true. the black and white flannel you were wearing had more holes than you could count, the white crop was dangerously thin close to showing your nipple piercings and you'd patched up the knee of your jeans only last night. You'd done it drunk and after sticking yourself a few too many times declared it done and perfect. But you were afraid if you looked at it too close it would fall apart. The icing on the cake was the white bandana you had been wearing as a shitty ineffective mask to get past the covid police that was still tied around your neck. A plague neckerchief if you will.

"Fine" you slipped it off your shoulders. Bundling it up into a ball, you took aim throwing it at the metal bench but missed, landing it directly in the middle of a bush. “Good one” Bam sneered. You rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses, aware that he probably couldn't even see it, so you flipped him off to drive the point home.  

You heard the general chatter from inside the tent grow louder and the both of you froze, looking at each other in mild panic. It wasn’t necessarily a secret what you’d been doing, people generally knew where to find us but you weren’t super keen on having soul sucking executives know about the giant liability that the two of you had created (outside of the carefully planned stunts).

 “Shit” we both scrambled to throw our discarded beer bottles behind our friend The Bush.

Two men started walking around the tarps and into our janky club house. As they got closer, you both audibly relaxed. It was Spike and Johnny. “Calm down guys we’re not here to break up the party” Spike still looked annoyed “it’s not like we can go ahead anyway today”

Johnny touched him on the shoulder and said “bring the camera back here, one of these idiots is bound to eat shit" he looked over his stupid aviators at me, winking. “I’ll bet $100 it will be you Doll”.

My cheeks started to grow hot and not from the beer. How did he always know what to say, it took all your self-control not to turn and stare. Like most women alive you found him irresistible, but you were dealing with it by pretending he didn’t exist. The men continue to stand in the cool shade, chatting but also watching. You hated that. Please fuck off Knoxville let me look like shit in peace, you thought bitterly

We began skating again, trying to stick the landing of a ramp we'd built only the day before. You’d even “borrowed” the props department's power drill because Bam was moaning about going the extra mile. You took your run up and predictably the ramp bowed in middle causing you to bail half way through stumbling and tripping over your board. You could feel the four beers you’d sculled sloshing around in your stomach, cheering you on internally.  

Spike started to clap slowly, jeering sarcastic encouragement “You've almost got it”

 “It's looking like a really good doll” Johnny, not even trying to keep a straight face.

“This is not conducive to my success fossils” You got back on your board rolling over to the cooler. Johnny put a hand over his heart feigning emotional distress.

Cracking another beer, you saw Johnny raise an eyebrow. You'd think for a man with his history, he’d be a little cooler. “You want one Irving? You need to loosen up”.

Turning away from the death glare and back to Bam who was lining up for his turn.

 “That shit is wobblier than your ass,” you whined.

Bam laughed “You're leaning into it way too much”.

“Then you fucking do it” you shoved him as you passed continuing to circle the ramp draining your beer and throwing it into the bush. It missed hitting the side of the bench breaking into a million pieces.

“Jess!!!” a chorus rang out and I raised my hands in an admission of guilt. “Don't worry baby I'll clean it up”. Snatching up and popping the top off another beer, you made a show of putting it safely on the ground out of the way. You could feel Johnny's eyes burning right through as you and Bam began to giggle uncontrollably.

“You've got this right? I’m going home” Spike clapped Johnny on the back. “I will see you both tomorrow whether or not you’re hungover” he pointed his fingers at us. Simultaneously we both sprang to attention “Sir, yes Sir” arms raised in a salute. He walked away mumbling and rolling his eyes.

“Thank god”, you cheekily beamed, “because I'm drunk as fuck”. Bam grinned back “let's hang here for a while, I've got something special”. From his pocket he pulled a silver flask. Gleefully you grabbed it, downing a huge mouthful.

“Woahhhh” Johnny shouted “You need to take it fucking easy”.

“Alright precious” You handed the flask back reluctantly.

“Did you know I used to be a gymnast?” you shouted back, “Could put my legs behind my head”. Johnny's mouth fell open in what you didn’t know was shock or disapproval. Bam barked a laugh, half of his sip coming out his mouth, the other out his nose. You patted him on the back patronizingly as he doubled over coughing still laughing.

“I can still do some of the tricks”. You launched yourself forward in a cartwheel. “I used to be able to do this thing, we called it the Hawk Tony”.

 “Why?” Bam wheezed.

“Cause you skate upside down.”

 Lining up with the skateboard, you took a deep breath and let the liquor flood your body with electricity. You planted my hands directly in the middle of the grip, balancing carefully and flicking your legs up vertically. A pretty decent handstand you thought for a bitch ten years out of practice. You hear Johnny let out a low whistle “Why didn't I think of that”.

“Well well look at you go” Bam said “Can you move?” As if a handstand on a skateboard was not enough? “You bet” I balanced on one hand, using the other to push off the concrete. Balancing was a lot harder than you remember and you needed to push off several times, but you did a circle around the park, stood up with only the slightest wobble, then raised your hands in a proper dismount and bowed to the now clapping Bam and Johnny.

“Jess!!! Look at yourself” Bam shouted. Thinking my shoelace had come undone I glanced down only to see scarlet droplets raining down on the concrete. I pressed my fingers to my face as if to check for a nosebleed when I saw my hand.

A bloody gash with a shard of broken glass. Beer bottle glass. "If it isn’t the consequences of my own actions”. Johnny started walking over, Bam stood motionless with an unopened bottle in his hand.

“Seriously guys don't even worry it's not that bad” you looked over at Johnny and smiling like an idiot you took two bloody fingers and wiped it over your cheek like some kind of grotesque Eye Black that footballers wore.  You pulled the glass from your palm, undoing the bandana from around your neck and tying it around your hand, tightening it with your teeth.

Johnny reached his hands out for you, “Come here kid, let me look at it”. Very quickly and impulsively you chucked down your board and rode out of his grasp. “Are you shitting me, Jess? Come back here”.

“I'm fine, Mr Knoxville. It's just a scratch.” You teased. The alcohol had made you feel nothing but a warm confidence. Bam had unfrozen coming over to stand next to Johnny like two disapproving parents. “Seriously, dude. You're bleeding kinda a lot.” he said nervously.

“Oh no, someone is bleeding on the set of Jackass. What a tragedy. How will I ever survive??” You waved your hands around in the air dramatically, unaware of the blood slowly but surely dripping down your fingers. You continued skating around, deaf to their pleas to stop and come to the medical tent. You snagged another beer, this time using your teeth to open the bottle.

“You guys are being ridiculous, okay I’m fine” You downed most of the beer as a trophy for your misguided victory lap. Johnny turned to bam, whispered something to him. “What are you girls gossiping about?” You queried.

Bam nodded, got on his board and started skating around. Thinking he'd finally relaxed, you rode alongside him grinning. He was just a board length ahead of you when he sharply cut in front of you, and you had to abruptly stop, staggering sidewards. “Bam you fucking stupid cun...” Your stream of profanity cut off by legendary stuntman and actor Johnny Knoxville HOISTING you over one shoulder and hauling your bloody drunken ass towards the medic tent.

“Fucking put me down” you squeal wiggling desperately. This was the most mortifying thing you could have ever imagined, you’d rather drown in horse cum. You couldn't help noticing how effortlessly he carried you, like a ragdoll, he'd picked you up like you weighed nothing.

“Darlin, you should have come on your own when I gave you the chance”.

“Please put me down, I'll walk”. You whined now seeing the blood-soaked bandana, your head swimming from both the beer and being upside down. You could see the trail of red you’d left, staining the footpath and his white shirt where you were grasping at. He continued on his way ignoring your cries, leaving a bemused Bam to pour beer on the ground to wash away the literal crime scene you caused.

“Asshole You're not my dad”.

“Well, someone's gotta be, doll”, he drawled. God that accent, it pulsed straight to your core. You'd fantasized about him manhandling you sure but not like this. “PUT ME DOWN” you all but screamed at him. You pulled hard on his belt, hard enough to rip the stitches on his belt loops, leaving bloody smears on the white letters that spelled KNOXVILLE. You heard him hiss and then he slapped you hard, half on the butt, half on the top of your thighs. You were genuinely speechless. Humiliated and in increasingly more pain, tears filled your eyes and you finally stopped struggling.

“If I'd known spanking you would have gotten you to behave, I would have done it weeks ago” He chuckled, bending his knees slightly to enter the tent. He put you down on your feet with a shit eating grin plastered all over his smug, stupid, beautiful face. You stared at him blankly as his features blurred with the bright light they had illuminating the tent, your own head swimming and you could hear ringing. His strong muscular arms snaked out, grasping your shoulders as you swayed slightly forward, slumping your head against his chest.  “Baby it’s okay, Take it easy”. He held you gently and whispered the comforting words against the top of your hair as the confused but attentive medic pulled forward a stretch for him to lay you on. You moaned at the loss of contact, cringing internally that you’d made a sound like that out loud, but he held this small smile on his lips. He grabbed your other hand and murmured into the back of it “It’s okay,  I’ve got you”. As your head began clear, you started to sober up and the medic cleaned and dressed your wound, you looked over to see Johnny staring intently at you with a egotistical smirk plastered on his awful handsome face.

“What?” You groaned desperately trying to cover your face with your arm, but he held your fingers in a firm embrace. Forcing you to keep looking at him. How were you ever going to live this down.

“I guess you owe me that hundred bucks baby girl”.

#johnny knoxville #jackass x reader #jackass #bam margera #jackass imagine #johnny knoxville fic #Johnny Knoxville smut #johnny knoxville x reader #steve o #dickhouse