#the life of Jeff beck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelymina · 2 months

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shades of cool

content ꒰ 4.0k ꒱ damnation leon x female reader. unrequited love. slight age difference if ya nasty. hard angst. hurt/no comfort. mild smut (p in v). very very toxic behavior from leon. you just want to be loved. leon couldn't care less—but there's a catch. he says the thing !! could also be interchangeable with vendetta leon. not proofread. author's note shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for the endless support & help !! be sure to check her stuff out as well, they're a godsend. i listened to a weird mix of lana del rey and jeff buckley while writing this, so do with that what you will. reblogs & comments are highly appreciated !! ꣑ৎ

moonlight pours in through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the embrace of your bedroom. every night slowly began to feel longer than the last, sleep eluding you despite the exhaustion that lingered in your bones. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of leon's absence pressing heavily onto your chest. nine days of unrelenting radio silence.

you missed the comfort of his presence, the rough kisses he'd leave on your soft lips, the sweet nothings he'd coo into your ears as he thrusted in & out of you like his life depended upon it.

the darkness whispers into the tiny room, enticing your doubts and fears, weaving them into the delicate fabric of your thoughts. maybe he ran into ada. despite the sour taste the theory left behind, it made sense, much to your dismay.

you had nothing on her. how could a tough agent, known to be quick on her feet, be so naïve to think that leon truly was over the woman in red—did you seriously think he was in love with you now? it was pitiful by all means.

whatever you had going on with the man, it was anything but love. sure, you might've been so utterly transfixed by the man, enough to the point where you always at his beck and call. but he surely didn't feel as strongly towards you. you were just easy, so pliable in his calloused hands. leon was a cruel, broken man that simply took what he wanted and left you with nothing.

yet still, you'd be waiting for him with open arms—and legs.

you were like a moth, irresistibly drawn to a flame that would eventually burn you. a light that you'd always come crawling back to, even if it singed your wings.

rain pelted against your window, bathing the room in a comfortable silence, spare for the pitter-patter upon glass. it does little to quell the hollow beating of your heart, the racing thoughts in your restless mind. this week had been full of one too many sleepless nights. you just wanted to finally succumb to your exhaustion, pretend leon didn't exist just for a few hours.

but you were too damn weak. such a slave for his attention, for his "love." you'd do just about anything for the older man's approval. everything about your self-worth was based upon those icy blues. not even the desire to sleep could surpass the desperation for him.

leon's shoulders sagged as fatigue coursed through his blood, hot and heavy. rain splatters against the bottoms of his dark blue jeans, his motorcycle coming to a halt in front of your apartment complex. with a smooth twist of the throttle and a gentle squeeze of the brakes, the tires skid against the gravel, followed by the rumble of the engine fading into a soft purr.

his brown hair was sodden with water droplets, the strands sticking to his forehead. a sharp sigh left the expanse of his lungs as he swung his leg over the seat and dismounted from his bike. just his luck, leon thought with a grimace, that a storm hit mid-ride.

as he walked through the lobby, heading straight for the elevator, leon silently wondered what the hell he was doing. a part of him felt unbelievably guilty for taking advantage of your feelings like this, always expecting you to allow him into your place, even on a whim like this. especially after not bothering to send a single text to you for well over a week.

the pad of his thumb pushes the button, the elevator doors splitting open. leon pushes any feelings of shame to the far back of his mind, focusing on the main task at hand—sex. that's all this was to him after all. he couldn't be bothered with commitment.

years of slaving away for the government had etched a weariness into his bones, leaving him a hollow shell of who he once was. one whose heart, that once yearned for love—similar, if not identical, to the kind you felt for him—now laid dormant beneath a shroud of emotional detachment.

that kept the guilt that wrapped around his heart at bay, a poor excuse for how he treated you.

a few moments pass before the elevator's doors slide open with a soft hum. leon steps out, finding his way to your place as if it were second nature, which at this point, it was safe to say it was. his muscles memorized the entire way, every twist and turn. soon enough, he was right at your doorstep, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

a knock against the front door shattered the silence that encased your apartment, the sound of someone's fist rapping against the wood rippling through the quiet atmosphere. it causes you to jerk upwards, afraid of who might be waiting at the door at two in the fucking morning. it couldn't be leon, he was the last person you expected—then again, him showing up on a whim wasn't a foreign notion between the two of you.

expecting the worst, you kick the comforter off your body, allowing it to cascade to the ground as you carefully step outside your bedroom. swiping your handgun off the kitchen counter—because of course, you'd carelessly left it there—you then pad down the threshold, one foot in front of the other.

the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door isn't lost on leon, to which he furrowed his brows, wondering why you were taking your sweet time heading towards it. "it's me," he says gruffly, the deep baritone reverberating off of the hallway's walls.

you could recognize that voice from a mile away, unfortunately. your heart thumped in the confines of your chest, beating erratically at the knowledge of who was behind that door. you swallow hard, hand hovering over the cool metal of the knob before turning it slowly, revealing the man you had been longing to see.

remnants of the pouring rain outside glistened on his worn leather jacket as leon stood stiffly in the doorway, with a sullen yet exhausted expression sewn between his features. droplets clung to his hair, tracing rivulets down his face like tears mingling with the dark circles beneath his eyes. icy blues pierce through your own. he was so gorgeous, it physically pained you.

he was actually here, at your doorstep, in the flesh.

a puzzled look finds its way onto your face, mingling with the tiredness in your eyes. in disbelief, you mutter, "leon?"

"can i come in?" leon asks, not giving you any context as to why he just showed up after days of no communication. his eyes rake over you, taking in your appearance—tousled hair, thin tank top and shorts, sluggish demeanor. you looked so pretty in the dim light.

"it's two am." you say matter-of-factly, eyes now glued to the floor.

his jaw clenches, biting his tongue to hold back a snarky remark you didn't deserve. hell, you should've just slammed the door on his face, without a single word, and he would have no right to be angry at you about it.

so, leon resorts to simply inquiring, "is that a no?"

"not exactly," your voice was subdued, weak. should you let him inside? you mull over the thought, letting it ripple through your mind, like a pebble dropped in a pond. despite your better judgment, you step aside, letting him walk past you and into your humble abode. he mutters a quiet thanks as he shrugs his jacket off.

the living room held its breath along with the two of you, the air thick with unspoken words. the silence stretched like a taut wire, vibrating with the weight of your incessant thoughts. with a heavy sigh, leon collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. you hate how he's acting as if everything between the two of you was normal, like he hadn't been deliberately ignoring you for days.

"so…" you break the stillness, unable to take it anymore. "are you just going to pretend everything is okay, like you haven't been ignoring every single one of my calls?" despite how fragile you sounded, your misery was clear as day.

"here we go," leon grumbles to himself, still audible enough for you to hear. "listen, i was busy, okay?" his tone goes shifted from quiet to frustrated, refusing to look you in the eyes as you tentatively stood a few feet away from him.

bitterly, he adds, "and i'm not obligated to. i'm not your little boyfriend. how many times do i have to remind you?" sure, it might've been common courtesy, but leon was stretched thin tonight, leaving you demurred and him unbothered.

"i'm sorry," you sigh pathetically, feeling helpless.

but instead of easing his nerves, your apology only further agitates him, "oh, now you're gonna go all pouty baby on me? give me a break." leon hisses, each word a stab to the heart. "jesus, you're hopeless." his eyes meet yours again, only this time with displeasure glimmering solemnly.

desperate for a shred of salvation, you clung to what little self respect you had left in your bones, determined to salvage any dignity you still possessed after all this.

your brows knit in frustration, retorting back just as harshly, "you're the one who keeps showing up at ungodly hours, always expecting me to bend to your fucking will. you never call, never text, unless i do first, yet always expect me to welcome you in."

your fists clench, fingernails digging crescents into your palms. you couldn't stand it anymore, being his bitch, always so compliant, so understanding of his random bursts of insensitivity. you could just tell that deep down, he knew this meant more to you, giving him all the more reason to keep coming back—it didn't help that you were really pretty too. he was blatantly taking advantage of your love, and with zero remorse at that, as the cherry on top.

leon groans in pure frustration, eyes fluttering shut, as his head tilted backwards, "i'm too fucking tired for this shit." brown locks of hair partially obscure the side of his face, a perfect silhouette of his side profile on display—he was infuriatingly handsome. he stood up, fixing you a look that could slice through stone.

"i don't ever see you slamming the door in my face. you let me in like it's the one thing you're good at. always so fucking desperate to please someone who couldn't care less about you."

the words are crueler than he wished they'd be, regret instantly hitting him like a pile of bricks. he could say he didn't mean that all he wants, but the words flowed so seamlessly, without a single stutter or falter. it was plain as day that this was how he truly felt—the raw, unequivocal truth. once spoken, undeniably irrevocable. and you both knew this.

and it stung, like a hard slap across the face. you would've preferred for him to do that; at least the pain would've withered away far quicker than the mental anguish you were left with now. even in his fit of rage, the defeated, wide-eyed expression you donned tugged at leon's heartstrings.

uncomfortable silence lingers in the air like bad perfume. "don't look at me like that," leon mumbles softly. this wasn't how the script was supposed to unfold. you finally proved that you had some pride left in you, but he was so quick to shoot you down. everything had unraveled in the worst way possible.

his voice soft and gentle now, abandoning its previous ire. leon's mood always flipped like a light switch, annoyingly so.

"i'm sorry, doll." apologizing felt like pulling teeth, and to his dismay, it was falling upon deaf ears. leon wasn't cruel, just unbelievably damaged. and unfortunately, you happened to be the best outlet to release that misery onto. it wasn't an excuse for how awfully he treated you, but rather an explanation.

if you had half a mind you would've ended this charade long before it got to this level—for you, at least. things only seemed to be getting worse, and it was becoming more obvious that this was just a game to leon, while you were smitten.

"forget it, leon, you should just go." you say lowly.

"don't be like that." leon didn't want this trip to be a waste. "it's not my fault you're emotionally invested. i thought we made it crystal clear from the start that this wouldn't mean anything. zero commitment, zero obligations." a beat of silence passes, before he adds, "listen, if this is going to be a problem, we should stop this. now."

he could always find another girl to suit his needs. one that wouldn't cling to his leg like a lonesome child.

"i don't get it," you mumble, eyes finally meeting his. tears dew your lashline, but you wouldn't dare cry in front of him. "it's obvious that you've known for a while that i have feelings for you…" the realization finally creeps in like a cold draft through a cracked window. "you're using me?"

"using you?' he muses, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. leon has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "you women and your emotions." he chides. "how many times is it gonna take for you to get it through that pretty little head of yours? this never meant anything to me. it never will."

you bite the corner of your lip, pressing down hard, but not enough to bleed. you stood there, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, the cruel words washing over you like vehement waves, trembling hands fumbling with the hem of your shorts, as if seeking refuge from the storm of anger. no had ever made you feel this insignificant before.

leon's lips part slightly, suddenly becoming acutely aware of something you'd rather he didn't figure out. "...you thought i was going to eventually fall for you, didn't you? jesus, i didn't think you were that naïve." he laughs—the first smile he cracked tonight was at your misery. "i almost feel bad."

mr. i'm sorry. mr. i didn't mean that. mr. i'm just tired.

fighting back tears, you hiss, "just leave."

you could slap the smug look right off his face, the air of superiority that clung to him like heavy cologne being enough to piss you off. leon was well aware of the chokehold he held you in—he reaped the benefits of your feelings at every given chance. it felt good having a girl like you always at an arm's reach, spare for the times you'd get all "emotional" and "clingy" on him.

leon thinks about leaving, the mere idea pissing him off beyond belief—he rode all this way, in the pouring rain no less, just to make you feel like a piece of shit. no kisses, no sex, not even a single touch. deep down, he hated the reflection of his own bitterness that he spewed towards you. he hated how easily his words hurt you, how easily they spilled out of his mouth. this wasn't who he was, or at least, who he once was. after all, you were just a sweet girl who was irrevocably in love with him.

"fine," he ceases, concealing the anger he felt at his core—you didn't deserve anymore than what you'd already been cursed with tonight.

pathetically, you watch as he tugs his leather jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves quickly. you feel the urge to apologize bubbling up to the surface, but for what? you hadn't done anything wrong, simply stood your ground, defended what dignity you had left. he doesn't mean any of it, your mind feeds you lies, he's just hurt cut him some slack.

leon's hand lingers on the doorknob for a second too long, hesitating his next move. your eyes narrow in confusion. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him, each one feeling like a march to the executioner's chopping block.

"fuck it," leon huffs, hand abandoning the cool metal, and now seeking refuge on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours. this wasn't right, he wasn't thinking straight, clearly lost in a haze of frustration. but he couldn't help himself. you reciprocating the kiss didn't help his case either.

a soft, content hum left your lips as his mesh onto yours so seamlessly. it's anything but sweet and delicate, rather laced with hunger and raw unadulterated lust. his rough hands smooth up your stomach, your thin tank top riding up in their wake. you can feel the desperation oozing off of his lips, from the way his tongue pushes past the crack of your own lips.

you're like putty in his hands, forgetting all the spiteful things he'd just said to you, only focusing on how good this felt. he inadvertently called you his bitch—any sane person would've happily shoved him out the door, but here you were, melting into his unprompted kiss. the things you do for love.

lips still smothering yours, he mumbles, "this a good enough apology for you, doll?" his breath fans against your skin, mingling with yours as he shoves you up against the nearest wall.

"mhm," you're thinking with everything but your head, succumbing to the rush that coursed hotly through your veins. "i'm sorry," but leon shuts you up by plunging right back in. he knows you shouldn't have to apologize, but he doesn't care enough to tell you to give it a rest.

"such a sweet girl, always so understanding," he chuckles breathily. your lips were enough to calm his nerves. "i hate hurting you like this, but you just…" his tone grows solemn, but he pushes such thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing solely on making both of you feel good.

his words struck a chord in you. but you just… just what? you don't want to think too hard about it, that could be done in the morning, once your left all alone in a sea of white bedsheets. when the regret of surrendering to your self-indulgence had fully settled in.

sooner rather than later, you're sprawled out beneath leon, stripped down to nothing. a mix of both of your clothing are scattered across your bedroom floor, joining the rest of the pre-existing mess. your skin is slick with a thin layer of sweat, a testament to just how badly leon had you worked up. it's hard to muffle your breathy moans, to which he can only say:

"ah, come on. don't be shy." he teases, tilting his head while placing a sloppy kiss on your rosy lips. a sharp thrust is what finally draws out a loud moan from your lips, his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, "that's my girl."

calloused hands roam all over your soft skin, tracing your every curve, every dip, feeling you in your entirety. you hate how effortlessly he brought you to heaven, how you could feel every inch of him pumping in and out of you. seeing you like this, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted, reminded leon why he hadn't stopped seeing you yet.

the room is bathed with the sounds of your choked moans and his grunts. his name falls off your lips like its your only prayer, coupled with a slew of desperate pleas. your hands grasp onto his back for support, nails digging crescents into the skin as they drag down, leaving scratches in their wake.

his hips rolled against yours as his thrusts got messier and rougher, practically slamming in and out of you. your back arches against the memory foam of your mattress, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as you feel his tip kiss against your cervix.

"fuck, leon, don't stop," your nails dig even deeper into his skin.

"wasn't planning on it," leon groans, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock. "god, you're so perfect," another wet kiss planted upon your open lips. it's a blessing the bed hadn't given in and snapped yet.

you're seeing stars at this point, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust, pulled taut like violin strings. it's not until leon hits right there that your eyes snap open, glimmering with pleasure, earning a desperate mewl. a smirk plays on his lips. it was ironic how he could make you feel so awful, so miserable, but simultaneously brought you this.

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he grunts, hitting that same spot repeatedly, determined to make you cum all over his cock. "yeah, i bet you do. pretty thing like you doesn't deserve any less," sweat drips down his forehead, his hair sticking to it.

"i'm so close," you whimper, the mattress creaking beneath you.

"i know you are," leon takes pride in the scrunched up look of pure ecstacy on your face, white hot pleasure shooting through his own veins.

it only takes a few more thrusts before you cry out his name, mumbling a cluster of curses and pleas as you rode out your high. heaven was always a place on earth with leon—spare for the times the two of you weren't in bed.

it doesn't take long for leon to finish as well, shooting his load on your stomach, not particularly in the mood for an unwanted pregnancy from a girl he barely cared about. completely out of breath, leon sighs, rolling over to the empty spot next to you on your bed. his back falls against the mattress, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all a vehement maelstrom of regret.

i should've left he thought, eyes flitting over to you, who seemed like she was still on cloud nine. guilt pangs in his heart, no longer left in a lust-filled haze. he can only stare up at the ceiling, almost in a similar manner to the way you did only an hour earlier.

no one felt post-nut clarity like leon did.

you, on the other hand, felt like a million bucks. your chest rose and fell slowly, reeling back in after your orgasm. but nonetheless, leon's cruel words hit you like a freight train, coming back to you all at once in your state of bliss. the reality of your situation creeps in like a thief in the night.

all you are is—for lack of better words—his bitch.

as the first light of dawn kisses the horizon, the sun rises gently, painting the sky with hues of gold and rose, awakening the world in a tender embrace. left in nothing but a flimsy pair of lacy panties, you stir around in bed, eyes fluttering open as you take in your surroundings. despite the lack of sleep you got the night prior, the mere sunlight still roused you awake.

and of course, just as you anticipated, there's an empty spot right next to you. just one morning you wished to have strong arms caging you in their embrace. but no.

as long as you kept this charade up with leon, this was all you'd get.

frantically, you swipe your phone off of your nightstand—maybe he sent you a text? disappointment etches onto your face as the pad of your thumb presses the power button, only to be met with a handful of notifications, not a single one from leon.

jesus, you were hopeless.

#𐙚˖˚ mina's fics #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #resident evil damnation #resident evil x reader #i died a little writing this

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 6 months

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Rules of the Harem

Y/N lives a life not many women can say they have: she spends her days in a luxurious, gothic mansion with America's hottest gang of freaks at her beck and call. Now, how on earth did all of this begin?

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2.7k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, alcohol, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, drug use, injury, heavily implied sexual content, threesomes, premature ejaculation

An: Hello! This fic was inspired by this post by one of my friends, @xxxmargeraxxx! I couldn’t get this concept out of my head, no matter how hard I tried, and I think this has enough potential to become a series! Anyways, thank you so much for sending in requests, and please keep them coming!! :)

Upon hearing rumors of your living arrangements, people usually ask you one of two questions: ‘why would you do that to yourself?’ or ‘how the hell did all of this start?’. The former was pretty easy to answer- you liked it, however unconventional it seemed to others. You were like Hugh Hefner, only instead of living in the Hollywood Hills, your mansion was situated practically on the sand of the sunny, Miami coastline. The only other difference between the two of you was that instead of having flocks of girls in tiny satin one-pieces and bunny ears, you got your pick of the gaggle of half naked dudes running around your house. The latter question, however, that one’s a little trickier.

It started when, one day, out of the blue, one of your buddies from way back asked if he could crash for a week or two- said he was filming something in Florida and staying at your place would be cheaper than getting a hotel, which you happily obliged to because A: he was right and B: friends let friends sleep at their houses, especially when they have six guest rooms. You hadn’t seen him in a while, anyways- why not take the time to catch up a little? That night, over a few drinks, Johnny let you in on what he was working on - this pilot for MTV he was making with Jeff and Chris and the rest of the guys from that magazine he was writing for. “Hell, they don’t even know i’m here!” He chuckled, jabbing a thumb behind him, “Told ‘em I was stayin’ at the Motel 6 down the road.” You cracked a grin at his lie, sitting back in your patio chair as the blue light from the pool cascaded over the two of you. “When d’you gotta be up tomorrow?” Johnny shrugged, taking a swig of his beer, “Noon. As long as I get back there ‘round then, they won’t suspect a thing!”

So for the rest of the evening, you and Johnny went back and forth, talking for hours. He told you that they were going to meet this professional clown guy named Steve-O tomorrow who works with this flea market circus and who always gets great footage (or at least, really liked lighting himself on fire), and later that month they were flying out to Pennsylvania of all places to film with this professional skateboarder whose name you couldn’t quite remember given that you were pretty damn wasted by that point in the night. And as the evening went on, the topic of relationships came up, and you drunkenly relented to your best friend that the single life was torture. If you could die from not getting dick, you were on your last legs. Despite your dramatics, Johnny could sympathize with that- all those weeks on the road were wearing him pretty thin, he told you, looking at you from under those half lidded eyes which you couldn’t tell if they had grown that dark from exhaustion or desire. He cleared his throat, making eye contact with you, “Y’know, maybe there’s a solution that could help both’a us out…” Johnny proposed nonchalantly, “It’s just what friends do, y’know?”

Waking up in the same bed as your best friend made you realize something. Looking at the way the sunlight filtered in through the open, floor to ceiling antique stained glass windows made the tan muscles of his back just glow as he lay half-asleep, tangled up in your silk sheets made you realize how much you really liked having a man in your bed- not just any man, but him. And after a few moments he stirred a little, sat up with a tired groan, and then offered to cook you breakfast. Yep. That’s how your friendship with Johnny turned into a friends-with-benefitship.

Johnny didn’t return to Miami until after that pilot thing aired. Not only did they get the show picked up, but MTV wanted another season, and that meant more filming. The evening he flew in, he called you to meet up with him and the rest of his buddies from the show (minus those guys from Philadelphia- their flight was delayed till tomorrow) at this rinky-dink little shithole bar. But he didn’t introduce you as the lady who’s house he stays at and who he occasionally fucks- you were just Y/N. His awesome lady friend Y/N who lives in a mansion and has a pool- something that couldn’t be said about the hotel they were set up at, and that piqued Chris’ interest. It was the dead of summer in Florida, after all, and nothing feels better after a long day of banging yourself up than a nice cool swim. So when he asked to stop by sometime, you were eager to invite him over the next day they were off from shooting.

Peering out from your open kitchen window that afternoon Chris visited, you could barely believe what was happening. There you had two very attractive young men, one of which you were definately going to screw later, lounging around your pool in their swimsuits without a care in the world, all sun kissed and glistening. That’s the moment your idea of what you wanted changed- don’t get me wrong, you still lusted after Johnny like no tomorrow, but there was something with the idea of having more than one man to pick from that stirred something in you. It also helped that you were really into Chris’ whole long haired surfer dude thing he had going on- he was like a big, perverted golden retriever, and you weren't ashamed to say that you went for the dumb, jockish ones. Maybe you had him over for more than just wanting to help him cool off a little, but it’s not like you could blame yourself- he was right there. So as you finished whipping up the batch of strawberry daiquiris you were in the kitchen to make in the first place, you thought up a damn genius plan. And, taking a deep breath, you strutted out onto the pool deck in your little swimsuit with drinks in hand, sitting down at the edge of the pool deck to dangle your legs in the water right in front of Chris. Leaning forward, you asked him in flirtiest tone you could muster, “How’d you feel about stayin’ the night?”

Grinning, Chris took the drink you handed him and chuckled at your flirting, “Sure!” As you sat back with your own frosty drink, Johnny eyed you from the other side of the pool, his expression difficult to read due to those sunglasses that never left his face. You knew he wasn't the jealous type, but there was a distinct curiosity to his body language as he watched you (his friend) flirt back and forth with Chris (his other friend). As Chris started spending more and more time around the house, you discovered he had a talent for making you feel like the most perfect woman in the world, and not even just with his words or compliments. Whenever you’d walk in the room, he would just smile and look you up and down and give you that cute, sexy look. And you’d pinch his cheek and he’d laugh that dopey stoner laugh and it was just so sweet- he had this way of just anticipating whatever you needed to hear at a given moment.

So like that, the one guy you were screwing that night turned into two guys, and the next morning, before they slipped off to join back up with the rest of the crew, you let them know that they could come by anytime. Johnny and Chris told you they would be more than happy to stop by and pay their favorite girl a visit, and you felt a strange sense of pride at what you had. Sure, the arrangement was a little unconventional, but it was undeniably yours. Not to mention, you had something to look forward to. Pontius let it slip last night during pillow talk after Knoxville was out cold that they were starting work on a movie, and the two of them would certainly need a place to stay.

Filming for a movie is a lot different than filming for a tv show, namely that you have more time off. There would be days at a time where it would just be you, Chris, and Johnny at your beck and call, sitting around or doing whatever they felt like around the house until you gave them a wave of your hand and gave one of them an order: “Chris, honey- can you draw me a bath?” “Johnny, do you think you could rub my back?” “Both of you, meet me in my bedroom in five!” And they were both eager to jump at whatever you had in mind.

You know how Johnny was real discreet about what he and you got up to behind closed doors and the conditions your relationship operated on? Well, while he meant well, Chris just didn’t have it in him to keep secrets, especially from his best buddy Steve-O who he knew would just love this super sweet rich lady Knoxville was hanging out with. Once he started showing up (completely unannounced, by the way), you didn’t really say anything because you didn’t mind his presence and entertaining antics- what with all the jumping off of surfaces and lighting himself on fire. And you didn’t have to worry about Steve’s performance in bed not measuring up to that of the other two because he barely even made it to the bed in the first place. Sure, occasionally try to join you and Chris, but after taking about three steps into the room, he’d just stop for a second, turn around, and walk back where he came from, muttering to himself, “I’m out...” But that isn’t to say he wasn’t affectionate- in fact, due to his tendency to get his boxers glued to his left leg before the clothes came off, Steve compensated in other ways. If you weren't knocked out in bed with Johnny or Chris at the end of the night (or hell, even if you were), he would jump in under the covers next to you, wrapping those wiry arms of his around your waist and pulling you close to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. As unappealing as it may sound, you never slept better than with Steve, that ole’ cuddle bug.

However, as the days went on, you found yourself spending more of your time with the guys outside of the bed rather than in it. As you wandered around the mansion grounds, you took note of what you usually caught them doing because, after all, they would be staying with you for a while and you wanted to know how to keep your men happy. Johnny was easy, usually lazing around on the red velvet chaise lounge that sat in your living room while watching tv or nursing whatever fresh injury he got on set that week with a bag of frozen peas. You’d plop down on the couch next to him and idly chat about whatever was going on on Tv, while Chris was often found on your rooftop sun deck, working out and getting all bronze up there- a sight you never got tired of. Steve, on the other hand, really made it a struggle to keep track of him. He was all over the place, just sorta lurking around or high off of whatever he could get his hands on if he wasn’t attempting some ridiculous stunt. On the off occasion you could actually find him, he was usually sat slumped over against the wall or arch or column, and as you’d walk by, he’d chuckle a little or lay his head against your leg like some weird family dog. In fact, the four of you really were like a big, happy, kinda fucked up family.

Eventually, Bam started getting curious about where the hell those three kept screwing off to, but he never got a straight answer from Chris or Knoxville when he pressed them about it. On the other hand, Steve was more than happy to vividly describe that smokin’ hot rich lady Pontius introduced him to who lets them stay at her huge ass mansion in exchange for, get this- them letting her fuck them whenver she wants. It’s basically a porno set-up. You can kind of see how the words got twisted as they wound through the grapevine? But, of course, that sounded like a dream to Bam, and he just had to get in on that.

So he stood there on your doorstep in his swim trunks and t-shirt because he wanted to at least pretend he was coming for that pool he’s heard so much about. And god, when you opened the door you could hear his jaw hit the doormat. Bam knew you were hot before he showed up but, Jesus- this lady was hot. He was never one to be nervous around chicks, but you left him speechless. “Are you, uh- are you Y/N?” Sure, you’d never met the guy who was standing on your doorstep before, and it wasn't typical of you to invite strangers into your home, but you found the way he looked at you with those big ole’ eyes kinda cute. A plan started to form in your mind and you decided to mess with him a little, “Mmhm.” At that point, the guys had started to take notice of what was happening and started gathering around behind you to watch the show. Bam still tried to sound all cool and confident as he rambled, “I'm a friend’a Knoxville’s- you know, the skater one? He’s probably brought me up before.” That’s the guy? Leaning against the doorframe, you checked him out, “So you’re Bam, right?” He nodded quickly and you cracked a grin, “Well, we’ve gotta rule around here.” From behind you, Johnny raised his eyebrows and gave him a nod as you gestured with one hand, “No shirts for guys. So…” Bam blinked in delete if for a moment as he realized shit, this woman was serious. But all the other guys in the house were fully dressed? Ah, fuck it. Bam tugged off his shirt. Part of him didn’t wanna give in too quickly, but damn it, he just couldn’t get over the way you were looking him up and down like that- not that he would admit how much it got to him.

After you invited him in, that’s when things started getting fun. See, Bam was really eager for you to like him- and I mean really eager, so he spent the entire time trying to impress you. Like when everyone was sitting around the pool drinking or idly swimming, he’d ‘accidently’ flex his muscles while toweling off directly in your line of sight, or if you so much as mentioned that you were thirsty, he’d go running to grab you a drink from the cooler. You weren't in the market for a servant boy, but Bam’s restless pursuit of your attention was endearing, and you wouldn’t mind having something like that around the house. Sitting next to you on the other pool lounge chair, Johnny leaned over to whisper in your ear, “If I were you, Y/N, I’d keep an eye on him. Seems like he’s just dyin’ for your attention.” He certainly would liven things up around the place. It’d be like having a puppy around, only with less leg humping. Oh hell, he’d probably do that too if you gave him the word.

And that’s how everything came together. Now every time Jackass came to Florida to film, your house would be filled with life and chaos and all the men you could stomach for a few glorious weeks. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, there would be some hiccups along the way, and rules eventually had to be made, but we’ll get into those at a later time. For now, you had a new addition to your little menagerie, and you knew exactly how you wanted to celebrate the occasion.

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