All Good Things - Joe Burrow
all good things - joe burrow
summary in the morning light, where all good things come to an end
content 18+, smut, angst, language
You met Joe the spring he got drafted.
It was a fluke, one of those nights that wasn’t supposed to be anything special. You were bartending part-time at a rooftop lounge downtown, working your third double in a row, already dreaming about the frozen pizza in your freezer and the bath you’d promised yourself if you made it through the night.
Despite it being late, past midnight, the Louisiana air was still hot and thick with it’s signature humidity. Your first sign something was different should’ve been the way the crowd didn’t thin out like it usually did.
He was sitting in the corner booth when you finally noticed him. Shoulders raised, baseball cap low, head bent toward the guy across from him.
You wouldn’t have recognized him if not for the table of college girls at the other end of the bar whispering about it, zooming in with their phones, giggling behind drink menus.
You’d heard the name before of course (everyone in the city had), but you didn’t follow football and you didn’t really care. You were too busy trying to make rent, finish school, survive.
He tipped well. That was the first thing you liked about him.
He also didn’t stare at your ass when you walked away, which already made him better than 90% of the guys who came through there.
The second time he showed up, it was just him. He sat at the bar and asked if you remembered his order. You did. And when he left, he asked for your name.
By the end of the summer, he knew the shape of your bedroom window and you knew how he liked his eggs in the morning.
It was never supposed to last. You both knew that. He told you from the beginning there wasn’t room for anything serious—he was leaving in a couple months, and you weren’t the type to follow anyone across the country.
You told him you never would, like you were proud of it. Like you weren’t already half in love with the way he smiled when he was trying not to.
That was over a year ago.
Now you’re sitting on the edge of a hotel bed in a city you don’t live in, wearing one of his shirts and trying not to let your makeup smudge from the tears that won’t stop welling up behind your eyes.
You shouldn’t have come. You told yourself that on the flight over and again when he met you in the lobby without a kiss or at minimum a hello.
The sex was good. It always is. Good enough to make you forget, for a minute, that none of this means anything. That you’re not his girlfriend. That you’ve never met his friends. That he only calls you when he knows you’re alone.
And the worst part is—you answer every time.
You let him push your hair back and call you “baby” in the dark even though he never says it in the daylight. You let him whisper things into your neck that sound too much like maybes, even though you both know they’ll never turn into anything more.
And then you get dressed and go back to your real life, pretending none of it matters to you.
You used to think you were good at pretending.
Lately, not so much.
You hear him moving around in the bathroom. Nothing purposeful, just the soft shuffle of routine. You stare down at the comforter, absently smoothing the wrinkles beneath your thighs, and try not to read too far into the fact that he hasn’t said a word since he pulled out of you twenty minutes ago.
That’s always how it goes.
You touch, and then you don’t talk.
Or you talk, and then you don’t touch.
But rarely both.
He comes back out with a towel in his hand, wiping his face like he’s hoping it’ll hide him. The glow of the city hits his shoulders just right—he looks good. Tired, but good.
His hair is damp from sweat, flushed along the collarbone, a few faded scratches visible on his ribs. You left those. He hasn’t looked at you since he stepped into the bathroom, but he tosses the towel onto the chair by the window.
The tension between you and Joe is thick enough to chew on. His back is to you as he grabs a bottle of water from the counter and drinks half of it without stopping, his throat working in tight swallows. You watch him from your place on the bed and try not to say what you’re thinking. Try not to say anything at all.
“You leave tomorrow morning?”
You nod even though he’s not looking. “Early flight,” you say, your voice scratchy.
He hums in acknowledgment, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed. You don’t think he knows, either.
Joe walks over to the foot of the bed and stops like he’s not sure if he wants to sit. You think maybe he’ll say something else—ask you to stay, tell you this feels different this time, something dramatic and stupid and out of character—but he just stretches one arm across his chest and winces at the tightness there.
“Are you okay?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
It’s not what you meant and you think he knows that, but you let it go.
The silence stretches between you. You let your head fall back against the pillows, sighing softly as your legs shift beneath the sheet. Your body’s sore in the places he touched you. Your heart feels worse.
You stare up at the ceiling.
“You know this isn’t working, right?” you ask.
It’s not a question, really. You say it too calmly for it to be a fight, too softly for it to sound like an accusation.
Still, Joe flinches.
He finally looks at you then, brows tight, mouth a little open like he’s about to say something but doesn’t know where to start.
You sit up slowly and cross your legs under you, pulling the sheet higher even though he’s already seen all of you. You hate that you feel like you need to cover up now. Hate that you always feel that way after.
You swallow. “I know we said this would be easy. That we could do this—long distance, no pressure, just when we feel like it…”
He nods, watching you carefully. You hate how good he looks to you even in this moment.
You let out a humorless laugh. “But I don’t feel like it anymore.”
His expression doesn’t change, not at first. But you see it in the way his jaw ticks. The way his shoulders roll back. The way he sets the water down on the nightstand like it’s something delicate, even though his hands are anything but.
“I didn’t ask you to come,” he says eventually, voice low.
You stare at him, blinking.
“You didn’t ask me to stay either,” you shoot back, and it sounds sharper than you meant it to.
He closes his eyes, dragging a hand over his face. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” you say, and your voice cracks just a little. “What’s not fair is pretending like this is still nothing. Like it hasn’t been months, Joe.”
He exhales hard through his nose and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to you now. His elbows rest on his knees, hands laced together like he’s bracing for something.
You don’t know why you keep going, but you do.
“I don’t want to feel like some layover between everything else in your life. I don’t want to keep flying across the country just to fuck you in a hotel room and go home pretending like we’re strangers.”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch and you feel your heart fold in on itself.
“I know you’re busy,” you whisper. “I know this isn’t the right time. But it’s never going to be the right time with you, is it?”
Another beat of silence.
Then, finally, he says, “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
You freeze.
Joe turns around, meets your eyes, and for the first time in hours—maybe days—he looks like the version of him you almost let yourself fall in love with. Tired and a little lost, like he knows he’s fucked it all up but doesn’t know how to fix it.
You could say something. You could forgive him. You could slide closer and touch his jaw and kiss him like it’s a promise and not a mistake.
Instead, you sit there, staring at each other across the bed, letting the weight of the moment crush everything that used to feel easy and careless.
It’s hard to say how long you two are caught like that. Long enough for the air in the room to shift. Long enough for the space between you to start feeling like something tangible.
Joe lifts his body from the edge of the bed to sit beside you. His thigh brushes yours, just barely, but it's enough to make your breath catch. He doesn’t reach for you, or touch your hand, leg, or the small of your back like he would if this were still just about sex. He sits there, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them, eyes on the carpet.
You’re quiet for a while, thinking that maybe this is where he apologizes. Where he says it’s been hard, that he didn’t mean to make you feel like this. That he missed you. That he doesn’t want it to end.
But that’s not who he is. Joe doesn’t talk when things are hard. He shuts down. Retreats inward. You’ve seen him do it on TV after a bad game—answering questions like they don’t matter, smiling without humor, eyes heavy with something that never makes it to his mouth. You should’ve known that if he couldn’t say it then, he wouldn’t say it now.
Still, you wait.
Because part of you wants to believe he’ll surprise you. That this version of him—vulnerable and two inches from the edge—might actually say something this time.
But all he says is, “I don’t know how to do this.”
His voice is low and quiet enough that you almost miss it. You lift your head slowly. His thumbs are rubbing over the calluses in small, distracted circles. “Do what?” you ask, even though you already know.
His jaw flexes. “Be something.”
You blink. “Is that what this is?”
He doesn’t answer.
You let out a breath through your nose and look away. Your throat feels tight again.
“I didn’t come here to trick you into a relationship,” you say. “I just… wanted to know if this thing we’ve been doing meant something. If it was ever going to be more than… than this.”
Joe nods like he hears you, but doesn’t say anything else. And that hurts more than if he had just said no.
You stand up, knees wobbling slightly from how long you’ve been sitting. Joe’s t-shirt hangs low on your frame and you hate how much you’ve come to think of it as yours. You open the closet, pulling your suitcase out.
“I’ll grab a ride to the airport early,” you say, more to the wall than to him. “There’s no point in staying.”
You expect him to let you go. He always has. That’s been the thing about Joe—he takes and takes and takes, but he never asks you not to leave.
Which is why it nearly undoes you when he says, “Don’t.” He exhales, long and uneven. “You don’t have to go tonight.”
Your hands hover over the suitcase, trembling just a little.
“I don’t want to wake up in the morning and feel like you’re already gone.”
You close your eyes.
It’s the first real thing he’s said all night. And that should be enough. Maybe it should feel like progress.
But it’s not a promise. It’s not even clarity. It’s just another thread in the tangle you’ve both been pulling at since last April—sweet, sincere, and ultimately useless.
You turn slowly, meeting his eyes across the room.
“I don’t want to stay because you’re lonely,” you say.
He shakes his head. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Joe’s mouth opens and closes once. He looks up at you like he wants to say something even bigger, something even truer, but it dies on his tongue.
You cross your arms over your chest, heart thudding so loud it’s hard to breathe. “I’m not asking for you to give me something you don’t have. I just—I need to know if there’s something here. Something worth staying for.”
Joe doesn’t say anything at first. He looks at you like he’s trying to find something in your face that he’s never been brave enough to name. Like he’s measuring the quiet, trying to decide if it’s safe to speak into it. When he finally does, his voice barely carries.
“There’s everything here.”
It’s not a dramatic confession but the weight of it settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected, like maybe it took more out of him than he’ll ever admit. You don’t move because you don’t trust yourself to, but you watch him, caught in the space between wanting to believe it and knowing how long it took to hear.
“I just don’t know how to let it in,” he adds, and this time the words sound smaller. Less certain.
Your throat tightens. You blink, hard and fast, but one tear slips through anyway, trailing hot and slow down your cheek. He sees it. You know he does.
He stands carefully, like even his own body might betray him if he’s not gentle with it. When he steps in front of you, he pauses. His hand lifts to your face, it’s cautious, thumb catching the tear before it can fall any further.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
And you believe him.
You always do.
But it doesn’t change the room you’re standing in. Doesn’t change the months you spent pretending that crumbs were enough, that touches without words didn’t leave marks.
The hotel is still unfamiliar and your heart still aches in the same places. But when he leans in and kisses you with a certain tenderness you haven’t felt from him in weeks—you let him. Because for now, this is what you have.
At some point, the shirt comes off. You think he takes it off you, though it’s hard to remember. It’s all hands and shifting weight and his mouth brushing the side of your neck like he’s trying to tell you something without saying it out loud.
The sheets pull around you as he guides you backward, one hand braced near your shoulder, the other skating down your body like he needs to relearn what he’s spent the last year forgetting. His forehead rests against yours for a breath longer than it needs to. His eyes stay closed the whole time.
Later, when the lights are out and the room has settled into a deeper kind of quiet, his body curves around yours like it always has. One arm drapes over your waist, bare legs tangled beneath the sheet, your cheek pressed into the crook of his bicep. His thumb traces a slow, absent path across your stomach, like he’s touching you just to make sure you’re still there. You don’t say anything. Neither does he.
His breathing evens out eventually. Yours doesn’t.
And still, you stay curled into the shape of him long after sleep should’ve taken you both.
By the time dawn cracks through and the sounds of the morning begin to crawl in under the door, you’ve already been awake for hours.
There was a softness to the room that morning, the kind that made you move quieter than usual, as if anything louder than a breath might rupture whatever peace had settled into the corners overnight.
You’d already showered and dried your hair, fingers pulling slowly through the damp strands as the sky outside changed from gray to something even paler—washed-out and undecided. The kind of light that didn’t reveal much, only dulled the edges of what it touched.
It never quite sharpened into morning, just hovered across the room casting everything in a glow that made things look softer than they were. It slid over the floorboards, caught faintly on the edge of the mirror, and never reached far enough to feel like a reason to stay.
Standing in the bathroom in a tank top and underwear, you dab moisturizer beneath your eyes with your ring finger, watching your own reflection like she might say something first. Your skin was still flushed in certain places, warm to the touch where his hands had pressed down too hard without realizing it. You didn’t bother covering it up. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like erasing the evidence would’ve been dishonest.
Somewhere behind you, the low creak of the mattress echoed softly. Sheets shifting. A familiar breath pulling in through his nose as he stretched somewhere just beyond the bathroom door. You kept your eyes on your reflection and reached for your mascara.
When he appeared in the mirror a moment later, he moved with the kind of unhurried weight that only came after a full night’s sleep—when the body was still heavy with it, slow to catch up to the present.
His hair stuck up slightly at the back, his jaw shadowed, shoulders broad and relaxed in the way you never got to see during the day. He crossed to the sink beside you without saying anything, brushing past your arm with the kind of easy closeness that felt instinctive now.
He reached for his toothbrush while you leaned over to sweep mascara through your lashes, your hip nudging his absently when you adjusted your stance in front of the counter. There was something oddly domestic in the way you both moved around each other, even if this was only your second morning waking up together in this hotel, this city, this version of whatever it was you kept doing.
After spitting, he rinsed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and didn’t say a word. You weren’t in a hurry to break the silence either.
You were still smoothing your fingers along your collarbone, checking for any trace of product left behind, when his hand reached for yours. His thumb brushed lightly over the curve of your arm, and in a voice low enough to get lost in the silence, he murmured, “Come here.”
You let him guide you, stepping back without protest as he pulled you gently in front of him. You stopped when your back hit his chest and your eyes met his in the mirror.
His hands settled at your hips first, palms spreading slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold you still or simply remind himself that you were there. One hand traveled higher, skimming beneath the hem of your tank, grazing the edge of your ribs before settling just beneath the swell of your breast. You could feel his breath shift behind you and his lips hovered near your neck without touching.
Neither of you said anything for a long time.
He watched you in the mirror while you watched yourself, jaw set slightly, chest rising slower than usual. Every part of your skin felt lit up under his hands, like you were waiting for something you knew you shouldn’t be.
A brush of his thumb across the underside of your breast made your mouth part on instinct. He pressed closer, his body curving around yours like the thousand times before. You could feel the heat of him through the thin cotton of your underwear, his hips steady against your own.
“I like seeing you like this,” he murmured. His hands continued their path, easing your tank up and over your breasts, bunching the fabric just beneath your arms before his hands returned to your skin.
He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle either. His touch landed somewhere in between confident, like he knew what you liked, but thoughtful enough to make you feel like this wasn’t just a reaction. Like it wasn’t just about getting off this time.
Your head tilted back slightly when his fingers rolled over your nipple. He breathed in at the same time you did. You could feel the tightness building already, low in your stomach, the kind that came not from what he was doing but how he was doing it. Less like a transaction, more like an answer to your questions.
There was something quiet in the way his hands slid lower, how he dipped his fingers past the waistband of your underwear without looking down, just watching your reaction in the mirror. Two fingers moved through the wet heat between your legs, the motion of his wrist barely visible, but enough to make you shift back into him without meaning to.
His free hand flattened across your stomach, thumb anchoring just above your navel. That steady weight kept you grounded while he circled your clit in slow, purposeful strokes—just the edge of pressure, just enough to make your breath stutter and your thighs twitch.
The tempo never changed. Not when his fingers slipped inside you, not even when your hips started moving in rhythm. Your eyes fluttered half-shut and your mouth fell open, the softest sounds slipping out before you could swallow them down. He held you against his chest with one hand and fucked you with the other, and all of it felt impossibly close—like there was no part of you he wasn’t inside of.
“I think about you more than I should,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Even when I try not to.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. It felt too close, too exposed. But he held you with his body flush to yours, breath uneven now as he whispered, “You feel so good like this. Always do.”
You came with a soft, broken sound, his name catching somewhere between your tongue and the back of your throat. The orgasm moved through you slowly, one long, rolling wave that left your legs shaking and your body slack against his. He didn’t stop, one arm tightening around your waist while the other stayed between your thighs, still moving, coaxing you through every last aftershock. Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, breath catching, muscles quivering, skin hot where it touched his.
He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on you in the mirror, watching the way your body responded to him, the way you unraveled without a word. Like he needed to memorize it, maybe if he studied you closely enough, he might be able to hold onto something this time.
You weren’t sure what made your chest ache more—that, or the fact that you wanted him to.
He stepped back just long enough to drag your underwear down your legs, hands moving slow, fingers grazing the backs of your thighs like he couldn’t stand losing contact for even a second. Rising behind you, he pressed his chest close, his hand slipping to rest low on your stomach.
You leaned forward, palms braced against the counter, spine arching instinctively when his hips aligned with yours. When he pushed in, it was one long, aching glide that left no part of you untouched.
He filled you like he was made for it, like his body already knew the way yours would take him. Your breath hitched on the exhale, mouth falling open, fingers curling tight around the countertop. He stayed buried to the hilt, not moving yet, just letting you take in every inch, one hand planted beside yours for balance and the other tight at your hip.
Every inch of him was inside you, and it now didn’t feel close enough.
He started to move—shallow at first, then deeper, the pace measured, like every thrust was something he’d been trying not to ask for. You clenched around him, the burn twisting into something heavier and needier, the kind of pressure that lives beneath the skin.
His grip shifted, fingers threading through yours on the counter. The other arm wrapped tighter around your waist as he drove into you again, harder, more certain, holding you open as you shuddered beneath the weight of it all. Each thrust pulled something out of you, soft and silent and old. Like the months had carved a space in you that only he could reach, and now he was trying to fill it all at once.
Through the mirror, you watched the flush spread across your chest, the way your mouth parted, how your eyes fluttered like you were trying to stay inside your body and outside of it at the same time. His hand dragged up your side, fingertips skimmed over your ribs, settling on your breast.
His thumb circled over your nipple with a pressure that felt more like a question than anything else. Not asking for permission. Just wondering if you’d still let him have it—your softness, your silence, the parts of you he doesn’t deserve.
His mouth dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing the edge of your neck.
“I don’t say shit the right way,” he whispered. “But I’m better when you’re here. You know that, don’t you?”
It would’ve hurt less if he’d stayed silent. Tears started to pool, but you blinked them back, not wanting to break the moment—not wanting him to see.
Still, you didn’t stop him. Couldn’t. Your body kept reaching for his, falling back into the rhythm like you’d never left it. His pace stayed steady, every movement felt heavier than the one before. He slid his hand down to your stomach again, pulling you back into him with each thrust, guiding your hips as if he needed the friction just to breathe.
He pressed his forehead to the side of your head, breath spilling into the curve of your jaw. There were no more words. Just the desperate sounds that tumbled out between you. Your name on his lips, his name on yours, softer and softer until you gave in to it completely.
You came again with your hands gripping the counter, voice breaking, thighs trembling as you pulsed around him, hips locking back into his. He followed seconds later, groaning into your skin, hands tightening and hips pressing in one final time as he spilled into you, holding there like he never wanted to leave.
Neither of you looked away from the mirror.
His eyes were on you. Yours were on him.
And for a second, it almost felt like enough.
One of his hands caressed your skin, the other lifted to your face, fingers curling beneath your jaw. His thumb brushed away the single tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded and let him believe it.
He kissed your cheek, then your temple, then once more just beneath your jaw.
From the bedroom, his phone rang. The sound broke the stillness in a way that felt almost nauseating.
He sighed. “Give me a second.”
The hotel room door clicked softly behind him, and you were alone again.
Your hand was still resting lightly on the edge of the counter, your other arm limp at your side. The silence felt different now. Not empty, exactly—but momentary. A pause you had to move through.
Then came the buzz of your own phone, faint against the marble behind you.
You turned your head slowly, eyes drifting to where it sat beside the sink, screen lighting up once before fading back to black.
Your driver has arrived.
No sound left your mouth, but something in your chest cinched tight. You moved before you could talk yourself out of it—pulling on a pair of jeans, not bothering with socks as you slipped into your shoes.
The sweater you’d laid across the chair went over your tank. A charger still tangled on the nightstand was shoved into your bag. You tucked your earrings into the side pocket without much care. Everything felt half-packed and hastily folded, but in the moment, it didn’t matter to you. You weren’t planning to look back.
The suitcase handle made a soft sound as you lifted it off the floor.
And that’s when the door opened.
Joe walked in, still rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, phone no longer in sight. At first, his expression was neutral. But then he saw you, and everything changed in an instant.
He stopped short in the doorway, brow creasing as his eyes dropped to the bag at your feet.
“…What are you doing?”
You froze.
“I—I just got a text,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “My ride’s downstairs.”
His shoulders dropped slightly, like someone had knocked the wind out of him. “Wait. You’re— You’re actually leaving?”
“You knew I had a flight.”
“That was before.”
He took a step forward. Then another. His voice picked up—still low, but sharper now. “I thought we were good. I thought we figured it out.”
“I didn’t—” you started, then stopped. “I just… it’s already been booked. It’s done.”
“So cancel it,” he said, motioning toward your phone. “Who gives a fuck? I’ll get you another one. I’ll buy you five. Just—why now?”
The hurt was there now, pressed into the edges of his words. You saw it in the way his mouth moved, in the way his hands hung stiff at his sides. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“I have to leave,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your voice level. “This is what we said we were doing. No pressure, no expectations. Just this.”
“Right. But last night wasn’t just that,” he snapped. “You know it wasn’t.”
You stared at him.
“I told you how I felt,” he said, voice breaking in places he tried to hold steady. “I showed you. I don’t say that shit to just anyone.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But you didn’t say it in time.”
His breath hitched and his eyes twitched.
“Oh,” he said, voice going flat. “Right. So there was a deadline.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He laughed once—cold, quick. “Sure it is. That’s exactly what you meant.”
You looked down, fingers tightening around the handle of your suitcase.
“You made up your mind before I even woke up,” he said, and this time his voice cracked for real. “Didn’t you?”
“I had to.”
“Bullshit.”
“I did, Joe.”
He stepped back like your words had physically hit him, hands now clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, the muscles in his neck twitching with effort as he tried to hold himself together.
And then his eyes—red around the edges, shining just enough to betray him—finally lifted back to yours.
“I thought you were gonna stay.”
“I know.”
“I thought—” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “I thought this meant something to you.”
“It does,” you said, barely audible.
“Then why the fuck are you leaving?”
You didn’t answer.
That was when something in him gave out. His chest rose hard with a breath that didn’t sound like breathing at all, and he turned halfway toward the door, like he couldn’t stand to look at you but couldn’t walk away either.
“Fine,” he muttered, jaw tight. “Go.”
You teetered back on the heels of your feet.
“Joe—”
His hand was already on the door. “You wanna leave?” The knob turned fast under his palm. “Then leave.”
The door swung open with more force than it needed, catching the wall with a soft thud that echoed into the hallway. He didn’t look at you, standing there with his hand still on the handle like that counted as letting you go.
With your grip impossibly tight around your suitcase handle, you took a step and rolled it toward the threshold without a word.
As you passed him, the space between your bodies didn’t close—not even by accident this time. Your shoulder didn’t brush his. Your hand didn’t graze his arm. You didn’t move around each other the way you had moments ago, when it was quiet but not like this. And when your foot crossed the doorway, he didn’t move.
The hallway stretched quiet ahead of you. The undecided light from the windows had settled against the walls, clearer now—no longer undecided. It didn’t reach for you. It didn’t soften anything. It just watched as you walked past. Your footsteps landed too softly to interrupt the silence. Not loud enough to be final. Not loud enough to be forgiven.
You didn’t look back. Not once. And when the door slammed, somewhere down the hall, it didn’t startle you.
You’d been waiting for it.
And still, you kept walking.
Because last night, for the first time, he let something real slip through—words he’d never said before, touches that felt like they meant something more. And part of you wanted to believe it could finally be different. That maybe this was where the shape of things changed. But then the sun came up, the silence set in, and you remembered how many times you’d already convinced yourself that wanting was the same as having.
He meant what he said, you believe that now. But belief isn’t the same as trust, and it’s not the same as timing. You didn’t leave because you stopped feeling anything. You left because you finally did. And this time, you knew better than to wait around hoping he’d catch up before it faded.
More Posts from Joeyshiesty0 and Others
Lines We Cross - Joe Burrow
Summary: A small lie in the heat of the moment leads to unforeseen consequences. Sometimes, pretending feels a little too real.
Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, mentions of injury
Author’s note: This fic was inspired by the events of Bengals vs Steelers game. This is only a work of fiction. Also not proofread.
The stadium buzzed with electric energy as you settled into your seat at the paycor stadium. The air was crisp, the perfect night for football, and the roar of Bengals fans clad in orange and black, on their feet, waving banners, faces painted with tiger stripes, echoed through the stands. The smell of beer, popcorn, and adrenaline hung heavy in the air. It was chaos, but it was also magic—the kind of energy that could make you believe anything was possible.
You couldn’t help but feel the excitement coursing through your veins as you watched Joe step onto the field, his usual confident swagger on full display. The crowd erupted, chanting his name, and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him. It was a big game, and the stakes were high.
It had been a wild ride for him since his LSU days, and you’d been there every step of the way. Watching him thrive in the NFL felt surreal.
To the rest of the world, Joe Burrow was the golden boy quarterback, the face of the Bengals. To you, though, he was just Joe—your best friend since elementary school, the guy who put glue in your hair as a prank, then spent the whole afternoon trying to fix it with water and paper towels.
You sat in the stands with your Bengals jersey pulled tight and your heart beating harder than it probably should. This wasn’t your first time at one of Joe’s games, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was because every time he threw a pass or took a hit, you felt it like it was happening to you.
Being Joe’s best friend was hard enough—being secretly in love with him was a whole other level of torture.
Not that you’d ever admit it to him.
The game was intense. Joe was in the zone, moving the ball downfield with precision, but the opposing team wasn’t letting up. You cheered with the rest of the crowd, your voice hoarse from shouting. The Bengals were up by three points in the third quarter when it happened.
The pocket collapsed in a split second, and before Joe could release the ball, he was hit. Hard. One defender wrapped him up around the waist while another came barreling in from the side, slamming him to the turf.
The stadium fell silent as he stayed on the ground longer than he should have.
Your stomach dropped.
The medical staff rushed onto the field, and your world narrowed. Without a second thought, you stood, your legs moving before your brain could catch up.
You wove through the stands, brushing past strangers who barely seemed to notice you, all their attention fixed on the field. You didn’t care about the looks you got, didn’t care about the rules. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a frantic rhythm driving you forward.
By the time you reached the tunnel, your breath was coming in short gasps, your pulse roaring in your ears. But just as you tried to push forward, two security guards stepped in front of you, hands raised to stop you.
“Sorry, miss, you can’t go through,” one of them said.
“I need to see him,” you said, voice trembling. “I need to know he’s okay.”
“I'm sorry but only medical personnel and team staff are allowed- ”
“I have to see him. I’m his girlfriend!” you blurted, the lie tumbling out faster than your brain could stop it.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and your palms grew clammy as you felt the weight of what you’d just said. The words felt foreign, wrong even, but they were out there now, hanging in the air like a challenge.
The staff exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of skepticism and uncertainty.
“Wait here,” one of them said curtly, before disappearing down the dimly lit tunnel.
You let out a shaky breath as he walked away, but the relief was short-lived. What were you going to say to Joe? That you’d panicked and lied to get back here? That you couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him? The lie had spilled out before you could stop it, but there was no taking it back now.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, wringing your hands, every nerve in your body wound tight. And then, at last, you heard footsteps echoing down the tunnel.
Joe emerged, limping slightly, his gait uneven but otherwise he looked fine. Relief crashed over you like a wave, and a shaky breath escaped your lips before you even realized you’d been holding it.
His gaze found yours instantly, locking onto you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken all over again. Even from a distance, you could see it—the faintest curve of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, equal parts mischief and reassurance.
“They told me my girlfriend was demanding to see me,” he said, his grin widening as he approached.
Your arms folded across your chest, more out of reflex than defiance. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck and settling on your cheeks, but you ignored it.
“I had to say something,” you replied quickly, your tone defensive. “They weren’t going to let me through otherwise.”
He stopped a few feet in front of you, his head tilted to the side in mock curiosity, those blue eyes of his sparkling with mischief.
“So, you’re my girlfriend now?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the upper hand despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.
“Don’t get used to it, Burrow,” you shot back, your voice sharp, though the edge was dulled by the waver you couldn’t quite hide.
His laugh—soft, low, and undeniably boyish—filled the space between you, and your resolve nearly cracked. That grin, the one that had been the undoing of countless defenses, was aimed squarely at you. It made your heart ache in a way you’d never admit, not even to yourself.
“Well, girlfriend,” he teased, leaning slightly closer, “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
You frowned, refusing to let him charm his way out of this.
“You didn’t look fine when those guys landed on you,” you muttered, your eyes darting to the trainers hovering just a few feet away. “You should’ve been more careful.”
His amusement softened into something gentler, and he took a step closer, closing the already small distance between you. His voice was quieter now, meant just for you.
“You were worried about me.”
“Of course I was worried.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cursed yourself for how raw they sounded. Desperate to cover the slip, you stumbled over your next sentence.
“You’re my—” You hesitated, your heart thudding in your chest. “You’re my best friend.”
Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. He didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Your frustration flared, partly at him but mostly at yourself. “Don’t read into it, Joe. It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh, I won’t,” he said smoothly, though his tone told you he already had. “But for the record, you’re a pretty convincing girlfriend. Might have to keep you around for emergencies.”
You scoffed, but the way his eyes softened when he looked at you made it hard to stay mad.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning slightly to hide your face and the heat you knew was there.
“And you care more than you want to admit,” he countered, his voice following you.
Before you could muster a response, one of the trainers called Joe’s name from the sidelines, motioning for him to return. His head turned in their direction, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he lingered, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant for you and you alone. “Since you’re my girlfriend now, I think it’s only fair you give me a good luck kiss before I go back out there.”
Your heart lurched, a sudden fluttering that stole your breath and left you momentarily stunned. You narrowed your eyes, hoping to mask the way his words sent a thrill through you.
“Don’t push your luck, Burrow,” you shot back, your voice steadier than you expected.
“Come on,” he teased, his tone as smooth as silk. “Just a little one. For good luck. You don’t want me going out there unlucky, do you?”
For a second, you hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment hung between you and then, without thinking any further, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
The second your lips made contact, Joe froze, his body stiffening slightly as if your touch had short-circuited his usual easy confidence. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he didn’t move, the surprise in his expression almost comical.
You pulled back quickly, your pulse racing in the quiet that followed.
“There. Happy now?” you said, your voice slightly breathless, hoping to deflect the sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you.
Joe blinked a few times, as if trying to recalibrate, before his lips curved into a slow, dazed smile.
“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m more than happy.”
Before you could let yourself process the way his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you—the trainer called his name again, more insistent this time.
Joe sighed dramatically, throwing one last glance your way. “Duty calls,” he said.
“Try not to get sacked again, Joe.”
“I’ll do my best, girlfriend,” laughter in his voice.
As he jogged back leaving you standing there, you caught the way he glanced over his shoulder, that grin still firmly in place.
As you made your way back to your seat, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just Joe being Joe. But deep down, you knew better.
And from the way he’d looked at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew it too.
Hello?!
In NYC for Bodyarmor
any (lsu) joe fic recs?
yes ma'am this is my favorite genre!
horns down 1-4 - @ladyluvduv
on your doorstep - @yelenasbraid
guilty as sin - @joeyb1989
study date - @eternalsunrise
goodies - @v6quewrlds
too proud - @v6quewrlds
we never tell - @honeyncherry
back to friends - @joeyb1989
and there's a good bunch of lsu joe in my so high school fic and nghyb series ;)
I just know y'all are itching for some MNF... Monday Night Fanfic that is 😛
splitting this shit into two parts sooo burreaux pt I (16k words) is scheduled for 8:15pm est
what are joe and songbird doing on this beautiful day?
a/n: wrote this on the way home from the beach <3
they’re doing everything and nothing, again. wrapped in that honey-gold kind of day that stretches on forever, like time has softened just for them. everything slows in this pocket of the world, tucked into the sleepy rhythm of her home state’s coast. it’s the kind of place where the sea smells like memory—salt and driftwood and sunscreen—and the warm wind combs gently through her hair like an old friend. the beach house is perched just above the shore, all sun-bleached shingles and sea glass tones, with crisp white curtains fluttering in every window and wood floors warmed by the morning light. everything inside smells like coconut, linen, and a trace of her vanilla lotion—soft and familiar, like the inside of a hug.
they wake tangled up, limbs strewn carelessly, skin warm from shared body heat and yesterday’s sun. joe’s voice is gravel-soft as he murmurs a lazy good morning against her shoulder, breath fanning over her skin. he’s shirtless, golden shoulders touched by the sun, a pair of charcoal drawstring shorts slung low on his hips. his hair’s all fluffy from sleep, sticking up in tufts she immediately runs her fingers through. she’s wearing one of his old cotton t-shirts, so long it brushes the tops of her thighs when she pads barefoot into the kitchen. her legs are warm and tan, her lips still kiss-bitten from the night before.
breakfast is quiet and unhurried, bare toes brushing beneath the counter, sunlight pouring across the countertops. she makes toast with honey and soft scrambled eggs while he digs through the fridge for juice, drinking straight from the carton. an old playlist—summer anthems from their high school years—plays from her phone on the windowsill. they slow-dance barefoot on the cool tile, orange juice forgotten, his hands splayed on her lower back, hers looped loosely behind his neck. when her favorite summer song comes on, everybody wants to rule the world, he lifts her off the ground like it’s instinct, spinning her in slow, giggly circles until she’s breathless and flushed.
by late morning, they’re wandering down to the beach. the air is thick with salt and heat, the sand warm and soft beneath their feet. he’s carrying a speaker and their little red cooler, she’s tucked under his arm with a paperback novel in one hand and their striped beach towels over her shoulder. they set up beneath the wide umbrella—she sprawls on her stomach in a bikini with her sunglasses sliding down her nose, he stretches out beside her, head tilted toward the sound of her voice. they take turns reading aloud from her book, her cadence smooth and musical, his voice low and scratchy, a little shy at first until she nudges him with her foot and smiles.
when he gets hot, he drags her into the ocean with a laugh, the water biting at their ankles before soothing into something balmy and blue. she wraps her legs around his waist, arms looped behind his neck, squealing when he pretends to lose balance in the surf. he kisses her, deep and slow, the taste of salt clinging to their lips. then he dunks her, and she comes up shrieking, hair stuck to her face, swatting at him with all the strength of a seaweed-wrapped noodle. he swears he didn’t mean to. they make up with kisses and clumsy sand angels, their backs damp and sticky with sun and sea.
in the afternoon, they throw on easy clothes, her in denim shorts and a loose tank, him in a worn tee and flip-flops, and head to the boardwalk. the wood planks are hot beneath their feet, the scent of funnel cake and fried shrimp thick in the air. they stop for soft serve—chocolate-vanilla swirl with rainbow sprinkles, melting too fast under the heat—and take turns feeding each other, licking stray drops from fingers and grinning like they’re on their first date. they wander into little beach shops, trying on matching sunglasses, holding up cheesy t-shirts that read “i’m with him ➡️” and “i’m with her ⬅️,”. she ties a cheap woven bracelet around his wrist—bright blue and yellow—and he pretends it’s designer. he wins her a tiny stuffed dolphin at the ring toss, and she squeals like she’s never been given anything more precious.
as the sky begins to dim, they board a little rented boat just in time for the sunset. her legs are slung over his lap, head resting against his shoulder, hair tousled from the breeze. he’s one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh, lazy and warm. she hums along to her favorite songs—her voice soft and sweet over the gentle lapping of the waves. the sky turns gold, then pink, then a deep lavender, like something straight out of an album cover she’d dreamed about, and she turns to catch his profile against it and swears she’s never loved him more than in that exact moment.
they eat dinner tucked into the back corner of a dockside restaurant, the scent of citrus and garlic in the air, the glow of string lights overhead. her legs are draped across his, her foot tracing idle patterns on his calf. he feeds her a bite of his seafood pasta and makes a face when she steals one of his fries. they split a slice of key lime pie, the crust buttery and the filling cold on their tongues. she wipes whipped cream from the corner of his mouth with her fingertip and kisses him soft and slow, just because.
when they’re home again, windows open to the lull of waves, they light a candle on the kitchen table and play cards with their shoulders bumping every time they laugh. she beats him at uno, twice, and talks so much shit he throws a pillow at her. they settle into the couch with mario kart and fuzzy blankets, legs tangled and heads tipped together. every time he loses, he turns to press a kiss to her temple, and she pretends it doesn’t melt her every time.
they fall asleep like that, blankets pooled at their feet, her hand splayed over his chest, the wind whispering through the open windows, and the ocean just beyond, steady and constant. a day full of heat and kisses and sugar and sand, the kind of day that stitches itself into their bones and stays there forever.
Rich Uncle
Operations series Father’s Day special!
Admittedly, he loved the title at first. Uncle Joe. All the perks, none of the responsibility. He could rile the kids up with sugar and loud toys, earn a few giggles and “you’re the coolest” points, and then hand them back over without a second thought. To this day, he could proudly say he’d never changed a diaper. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure where to start if he had to.
Kids made sense when Jamie had them. He was barely a senior in high school when he became an uncle for the first time. That was different. His brothers are way older, they were fully settled—the kind of adults who knew what “sleep training” meant. That phase of life belonged to them.
But then all his guys started having kids. Ja’Marr, somehow even more grounded now that Little Uno was around. Ted was always bringing his kids to team events, wearing soggy Cheerios like a badge of honor. Cam and Mike, chasing toddlers around the family room at the stadium, pausing mid-conversation to dish out high fives and open juice boxes like pros. Joe would play along, drop a few Christmas presents when it mattered, and then head home. To peace. To quiet. To clean furniture and uninterrupted sleep.
Your lives were yours. No diaper bags or nap schedules. You could book a flight on a whim, sleep in whenever you wanted to, eat late dinners without cutting someone’s food into tiny pieces first. And during the season, especially, Joe needed that. Sleep, structure, his routine—non-negotiables. Kids were cute, but they weren’t in the equation.
Until maybe they were.
That afternoon, drained and sore, he came home to an empty house. You were still at work, so he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, cold enough to make his hand ache, and padded upstairs. The AC hummed low through the vents, and the tiles were cool under his bare feet as he stepped into the bathroom. Steam curled up around him as the hot water hit his back in the shower, loosening the tension in his shoulders.
He barely remembered lying down afterward. Just a flash of pulling the comforter up, his body sinking into the mattress.
The nap wasn’t supposed to be long.
Joe had only meant to close his eyes for a minute or two. Just enough to recharge after practice, maybe before you got home. But somewhere between the quiet hum of the ceiling fan and the weight of the comforter pressing him deeper into the mattress, sleep hit hard.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard it: a soft, high-pitched wail, muffled at first, like it was coming from behind a closed door.
A baby.
Still half-asleep, Joe barely cracked one eye open. His brain sluggishly pieced together possibilities, someone visiting you, probably. He sighed and rolled over, pulling the blanket higher. It wasn’t his problem. Not his kid.
But the crying didn’t stop. If anything, it got sharper. Closer.
Joe groaned, face smushed against the pillow. “Babe?” he called out, voice hoarse and half-hearted. “You home?”
No answer. Just that cry again—piercing, rhythmic, insistent. Like it was meant for just him to hear.
He blinked a few times, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and dragged himself out of bed. The floor was cold under his feet. The house felt quiet otherwise, still and golden in the late afternoon light. That kind of eerie calm that didn’t make sense with the sound of a crying baby echoing through the hallway.
The sound led him to the room closest to the master,the one that had always been a catch-all guest room. Only… it wasn’t anymore.
He stepped inside, slow and confused.
The walls were a soft sage green now. There was a rocking chair in the corner, one of those cream-colored ones you’d pointed out at that baby store once. A mobile dangled above a white crib, casting gentle shadows as it turned. And inside—angry-faced, squirming, and real—was a baby.
Joe froze. His mouth went dry. His heart slammed into his ribs.
What the hell is going on?
He took a step forward. Then another.
The baby blinked up at him, tears clinging to their lashes. Their tiny fists opened and closed like they were reaching for something or…someone.
And then he saw it.
Your eyes.
Wide and glassy and unmistakably you.
Every thought emptied from his head in an instant. He didn’t know how or why this baby was here, didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but his body moved before his brain could catch up. He leaned down, arms trembling slightly, and scooped the baby into his chest.
They fit there like they belonged.
The crying stopped on contact. Instantly. Like someone had cut the sound from the room.
A soft exhale puffed against his collarbone. The baby’s cheek pressed into his chest, warm and damp. Their tiny fingers tangled into the front of his shirt like they’d done it a hundred times.
Joe didn’t breathe.
His arms closed instinctively around the small body. His heart felt like it might tear open from the inside. Something about the weight, the heat, the smell, faintly powdery and sweet, cracked him wide open.
He started to rock, not even thinking about it. Back and forth. Back and forth. The motion was awkward at first, but then…natural. Soothing.
Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do.
His throat tightened. There was a burn behind his eyes as the baby’s tiny fingers clutched his shirt like they knew they were safe. Somehow, in that impossible moment, Joe felt like he knew them too.
Not just in a dream. But in his bones.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” he whispered, voice cracking as he looked down at the baby in his arms.
But they didn’t care. They were safe. Warm.
Joe jolted awake.
His eyes snapped open, chest heaving. The bedroom was back, soft gray walls, the ceiling fan still turning lazily overhead. He ran his fingers through his hair with the sheets twisted at his waist and his heart pounding in his ears.
The house was still.
No crying. No crib. No baby.
Just him.
He sat up slowly, pressing his hands to his face, trying to piece himself back together. His arms still tingled. His chest still ached. The feeling, that strange, aching warmth, lingered.
It didn’t scare him. It didn’t make him want to run.
It made him want.
Not just a baby in theory, not just a distant someday, but a real, warm, squirmy little person with your eyes and his lopsided grin. A world that wasn’t just the two of you anymore.
Joe exhaled slowly, letting the thought settle.
Maybe this wasn’t just some weird dream.
Maybe it was the universe, finally telling him out loud what he’d been quietly thinking for weeks now.
He wanted to be a dad.
And he wanted it to be with you.
Joe knew he couldn’t deliver earth-shattering news like he was calling out a play. Not this time.
Two days had passed since the dream, and he was still reeling, not from fear or doubt, but from how right it had all felt. He’d been trying to make sense of it, tracing the way it had his heart pounding out of his chest. He definitely wasn’t the signs-and-symbols type, but since that afternoon, it was like the universe had grabbed him by the collar.
Everywhere he looked there were baby reminders.
A diaper commercial as soon as he turned on the tv. A buybuy Baby billboard he’d probably passed for weeks without noticing, now felt like it was practically winking at him. Even his Instagram algorithm had turned against him. Every third ad was for strollers, pacifiers, or sleep sacks.
And every time, his chest would tug just a little bit.
It wasn’t a coincidence. He didn’t believe in those anymore.
When you got home from work that night, he was on the couch in a hoodie and shorts, legs stretched out, iPad balanced on his knee, scrolling through camp film with laser focus. At least, pretending to be.
You dropped your bag and toed off your shoes, already grinning. “Hey sunshine. Still locked in? Even on your day off?”
Joe barely looked up. “Can’t go to sleep with everyone acting like Dax is the second coming of corner Jesus.”
You snorted and plopped down next to him, thigh brushing his. “God forbid you throw a couple offseason picks, Mr. Perfectionist.”
“Perfection in June could mean orange confetti in February. I’m willing to sacrifice my sanity for that.”
“Okay well, between your football-induced psychosis,” you teased, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table, “we should go somewhere. Maybe…Greece?”
He glanced at you, one brow raised. “Greece? Babe, you say that like it’s down the street.”
You shrugged. “It’d be so fun. I feel like we need something big. Jess called this morning, and she was covered in baby puke. It was horrifying.”
Joe swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. There it was, the opening.
“How’s she doing? With, y’know…”
“The baby?” You chuckled, twisting to face him. “She’s actually really happy. Tired, yeah, but she said it’s the best thing she’s ever done.”
He nodded, quietly. “Sam’s over the moon. He always wanted to be a girl dad, and now he’s basically in baby heaven.”
There was a pause. He looked back down at his screen, then slowly locked it and set it aside.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, voice lower now.
You looked up. “About what?”
He hesitated. “Having a baby.”
You blinked. “Sorry. I don’t think I heard that right,” you squint at him, “the last time your mom mentioned kids, you practically gagged into your mashed potatoes.”
Joe laughed under his breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I know. I know, okay? But something…shifted.”
You leaned in a little, curious. “Shifted how? What happened?”
“I had a dream,” he said quietly.
“Alright MLK…what was this dream?” You laugh.
He gives you a deadpan look and shakes his head. “It was a weird one. A good one. We had a baby, like, a real baby. And it was just me and them in this room, and I was holding them and…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands like he could still feel the weight there.
“It—I don’t know—it felt natural. It felt like they were already mine. And they looked just like you, and I didn’t want to put them down.”
He paused, breathing through it.
“I know it was just a dream. But I woke up, and I swear, I missed them. Like I was grieving someone who hadn’t even been born yet.”
You sat quietly, your amusement fading into a puddle of emotion.
“I’m not saying we need to have a baby tomorrow,” he added, his voice gentle. “Or ever, if you don’t want to. But I think…I think I’m ready. Not just to be a dad. But to do it with you.”
His hand found your knee, thumb brushing lightly back and forth. “You’re my person. I love you more than anything in the world. And the idea of creating someone who’s half you, half me, that’s been in my head nonstop. But like I said, no pressure. Just…honesty.”
You stared at him, heart thudding, a little overwhelmed. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. In your entire life.”
Joe smiled sheepishly, but you weren’t done.
“And since we’re being honest,” you said, eyes sparkling now, “I have always wanted to make you a DILF.”
He burst out laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners, the tension in his shoulders easing like a thread had finally been cut. “Guess we have to go to Greece now.”
You nodded, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. The room was quiet except for the soft tick of the clock and the low hum of the fridge down the hall. And the constant wheels turning in your head as you tried to come to a decision.
The night before your trip, Joe padded upstairs expecting to find you half-packed, maybe wrestling with a suitcase or tearing apart your closet looking for that one sundress he loved. Instead, the bedroom was lit softly by the bedside lamp, and you were kneeling on the floor, surrounded by papers, planners, and a very intense-looking ovulation tracker open on your phone.
Sticky notes, highlighters, and three different pens scattered around like you were preparing for finals all over again. A calendar had dates circled in red, little hearts scribbled in some corners, and numbers counted out in weeks.
Joe leaned on the doorframe, blinking. “Um… hey,” he said slowly. “As much as I want to understand what all this is…you’re making me nervous.”
You looked up at him, a little sheepish but mostly proud. “Don’t be. Come here.”
He stepped in, and you stood to meet him, taking his hand and guiding him to the floor like you were unveiling some master plan.
“This,” you said, gesturing to the colorful chaos, “is the baby board. Target due dates, best time to start trying, timelines, everything.”
He looked down, eyes wide, and then back up at you. “You’ve got, like…phases and windows and strategies.”
“Exactly. Because the last thing I need,” you said, poking his chest lightly, “is to be taking care of a newborn by myself while you’re in your office breaking down coverages and watching Ja’Marr run a go route for the millionth time.”
Joe winced like he’d been caught. “I can’t help myself. It never gets old.”
“When we do this,” you continue, folding your arms with mock authority, “it’s gonna be during the offseason. When you’re home. And you…” you raised a brow, “…will be changing every single diaper.”
His eyes widened in mock horror. “Every one?”
“Yes. Until I feel like lifting a finger. I’m not birthing an entire baby just so you can swoop in for the fun cuddly stuff and peace out when it smells weird.”
He laughed, stepping closer, slipping his hands around your waist. “So—does this mean…”
You smiled up at him, soft and sure. “Yes, Joe. I want to have a baby with you.”
For a second, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you like he’s still wrapping his mind around the fact that this is real. Then he leans in, presses his forehead to yours, his hands warm on your back.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s do this. Uncle Joe is getting promoted.”
i need more 😫
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - Blind Dates and Ice Packs
Eighth instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc
Full AU masterlist here -> ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden
Summary: Daisy is finally forced into Bella's blind date, and Daisy and Joe's arrangement changes even further following the highly anticipated game against Ole Miss.
⋆｡˚ word count: 5.4k
A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, I've been crazy busy but hoping to get some more parts up in the next few weeks:) Next part may be a big one!
18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, drug use, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚
The conversation the morning after halloween was a simple one. The rules of the arrangements had been mutually agreed to change, only slightly.
Rule One - It remained the same, no strings and no attachments.
Rule Two - This had been abandoned, they weren't exactly doing a great job of hiding the thing between them anymore. The news of what had happened in the bathroom of the halloween party was the juiciest piece of campus gossip all year and by the following evening it had spread everywhere. Daisy was getting dirty looks from practically every girl on campus, some out of conservative disgust but most out of jealousy. The boy's had also changed the way they looked at her, she didn't like that. They would gawk, and she would shrink into her own skin once again. It made her hide away from the world, spending more time in Joe's room than on campus.
Rule Three - Daisy was still not allowed to wear the 'i'm horny' longhorns t-shirt.
Rule Four - A new one, and the most important. No physical intimacy with other people. The arrangement had become an exclusive one, it felt simpler that way. Joe wasn't bothered about having sex with other women, not when Daisy was available for him whenever he needed her. Daisy wasn't exactly wanting to pursue any other boys either. The whole agreement just felt easier if they kept it between them, and it wasn't because they were developing a forbidden attachment to each other. No. Absolutely not. This was just the best thing for them at this current moment. If they wanted to stop, they could at any time and nothing--no feelings or swelling of the heart would occur.
They lazily shook hands on it as Joe had his heavy hungover arm draped across her bare shoulder as she lay wrapped in his navy duvet. Afterwards, an awkward silence filled the room. Neither of them knowing what to say as the relationship between them went a step beyond what they ever imagined on the first night they met.
Daisy's hushed, raspy voice broke it.
'What now?' She said with her sage eyes looking so deeply in Joe's blue stare. His lips curled only minutely, a sign that he was fighting a bigger grin beneath it.
'We fuck'
-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-
daisyymoore
autumn into winter
Liked by jjettas2, lahjay_10 and 739 others
@.cassdaviess: sweet angel girl
-> @.daisyymoore: oh i love you so
@.lahjay_10: loved that pussy!
-> @.daisyymoore: WHAT?!
-> @.lahjay_10: the pumpkin daisy jeez.
5th November 2019
It's a typical midday at the start of a Louisiana, the sun still burns in the sky but a breeze bites at Joe's skin. He sat slouched on the greyish brown wood of the campus quad picnic benches, Justin next to him and Ja'marr opposite. His foot tapped aimlessly against the concrete beneath him, his phone tilted just low enough that he was the only one who could see it. His thumb hovers over the black mirror. He's stuck on her instagram, he always is.
It was a new one, a collection of images from the past few weeks. They felt personal. Handcrafted slides that made his mind run with the idea she might have posted them just for him. The first image he had taken of her when they were in the backyard of his fraternity, a picture he snapped because the wind was dancing through her pretty hair and making her look ethereal. The second image was the pumpkin she had carved across the table from him, a post sex activity which he hadn't been able to stop thinking about. Maybe she couldn't stop thinking about it either? Joe shook away the thoughts, he didn't want to find himself getting carried away in teenage daydreams. The fourth was his fraternity on the night of Halloween, the night the agreement swapped between them. The night the air around him shifted to something heavier, something denser--a tangible emotion that he could feel pulsing against his skin.
It was the fifth image that captured his attention the most.
Her in the LSU campus gym. Flesh bare, stomach tensed, hips cocked. She knew what she was doing, and it pissed him off. He couldn't help but scroll through the list of likers and there was a lot of them. A lot of boys, a lot of college athletes. None of them would be winning the Heisman in just over a months time though, Joe still had that little confidence boost to stop his ego from denting too much. He also had the knowledge that as of almost a week ago, she was his. Just his woman to bed.
He sent her a DM--half joking, half not.
Take this down.
She replied almost instantly.
daisyymoore
Why? a lot of people liked it ;)
Joe closed his eyes and breathed in a slow breathe. She was enjoying this new exclusive thing, she liked the power it gave her to get under his skin. Daisy was aware Joe didn't like her like that, but she knew he didn't like to lose or be second place either. It was fun to toy with him.
Joe locked his phone and placed it face down on the wooden bench and tuned back into the conversation between Justin and Ja'marr. They were talking about the upcoming game against Ole Miss, a big one on the season calendar and a challenge to their undefeated streak. Wind brushed through their hair as orange leaves began to prance across the grey concrete as a symbol of November's quiet arrival and the quickness of time flying by. He heard the clicking and clacking of some heeled shoes and he braced for who it could be. Three college football players sitting at a bench, one woman approaching--it could be a shit show for any of them. Ex lover? One night hook up? No. Thank God.
Cassie slid into the seat beside Ja'marr with a bright grin.
'Hey guys' Her voice was high pitched, full of bubbly energy which the boys failed to match after an intense morning practise. A grumbled mesh of greetings tumbled from their mouths but Cassie didn't let it discourage her.
'How's everyones day going?' Her brights eyes flickered between the three players that slouched on the bench.
'Good, Cass' Ja'marr smiled.
'You never speak to us alone, what do you want?' Justin cuts in straight after, reading his friend like an open book. Cassie's face falters at his bold words but once again she doesn't let it faze her. She was here for a reason and she had spent the past few days building up the confidence to ask them.
'Okay--Okay' She picked at her baby pink acrylic nails, nerves clearly danced, itching at her gentle skin.
'It's Daisy's birthday in two weeks and we're going to Miami--just for a weekend--and I was wondering, if--if maybe you guys wanted to come?' Her words are shy, like halfway through she realised it may not have been the smartest idea. But once the words were out it was too late, and she enjoyed spending time with Justin and Ja'marr, plus Daisy was now exclusive with Joe and she needed to get birthday sex somehow.
'It's her birthday' Joe let's his shocked words slip from his lips. She had never mentioned. That seemed like something she would have mentioned if she wanted him to be there.
'I'm in' Justin says.
'Yeah, fuck it, I'll go to Miami' Ja'marr also agreed.
Cassie beamed a smile, showing off her perfect white teeth. Then waited for Joe to say something, but he was still processing the fact that Daisy hadn't told him about her birthday.
'It's a surprise. She doesn't know. She doesn't like celebrating her birthday really' She tried to reassure him, tried to manipulate him into saying yes.
'Yeah, I guess if i'm free' Joe says cooly. Cassie excitedly claps her hands together at the fact her idea was coming together.
'Can you tell her to come over tonight' Joe cut her celebrations short. His words not a request but a command, his voice stern like Cassie didn't have the option to say no. Daisy hadn't been to Joe's in the past two nights, and his bed was beginning to feel the sweet pain of withdrawal symptoms. She was too busy studying and writing politics essays too come over for even a quickie, even when Joe was borderline begging over the phone last night.
'Ermmm--ha, she can't tonight' Cassie sounded almost scared and that made Joe nervous. The blonde lifted up her hand and scratched the back of her neck as a feeling of awkwardness hung thickly over the picnic table.
'Why?' Joe's voice was low and rough.
Cassie knew she shouldn't break, she knew she was under strict instructions to not let any of the three boys at the table know but under the intense heat of their pointed stares she founder her self crumbling like a poorly baked chocolate chip cookie.
'I ca-can't' She choked out, her throat all of a sudden drying up.
'What is it, Cass?' Ja'marr joined in, his own voice low and intimidating but a playful look on his sculpted face.
'Bella set her up on a blind date. She's meeting him tonight'
Her voice was small. Her lips pushing out a secret she shouldn't have spilled. Once again, she couldn't bring them back into her mind and they had to sit lingering like a storm cloud in the space around Joe's head.
'Whose him?' His words almost come out like a growl, but it's clear he has made some effort to refrain himself. His blonde brows furrow across his strong brow bone. His blue eyes dark and icy. It makes a chill crawl up Cassie's back and her cheeks flush red. She never liked feeling in trouble, and that's how she felt right now. She shrunk back in the bench, her shoulder folding in as she made herself look as small as she felt under the quarterbacks spat question.
'Just a guy Bella knows--I'm really not sure Joe. It's a blind date'
Joe stretched out his neck with a clenched jaw. This wasn't explicitly against the rules, as long as there was no physical intimacy Daisy wouldn't be doing anything wrong. Did he trust that she wouldn't? He wasn't sure. He hadn't had to put his trust in a girl for a very long time, so long he forgot how intense the feeling was. Trust was a fickle thing in the hands of the wrong person.
'She doesn't want to go, if-, if that makes it sting less' Cassie said with a tight lipped smile, a look of sympathy on her face.
'It doesn't sting' His words come out too quick, too sharp. Completely unbelievable to those around him, but Joe believed them. He believed the subtle numbness that clawed at his beating heart was because of his desire to always be number one, his hatred for feeling second best. He still thought he was in control, but slowly he was beginning to realise that when it came to Daisy Moore control didn't exist.
She doesn't want to go. Joe repeated it over and over in his head but if that was the truth why was she going. He didn't believe it. Daisy was too strong of a woman to go somewhere she didn't truly want too. five days. five days since the agreement between them changed and she was going on a date. Was five days all it took for her too realise she made a mistake with him?
Joe got up from the table, not saying another word. Leaving his friends behind as he made hast for the bed sheets that still smelt of her. Sweet peonies and jasmine. Always the same perfume and it lingered in room like gentle pecks of his plump lips.
Tonight, she would wear that scent for another man.
and Joe couldn't do anything to stop her. Or could he?
-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-
Daisy wasn't the type to do blind dates. She had avoided them at all costs, but Bella had given her no choice--springing the date on her on the same day it was happening. The boy, Matthew, had already planned the whole thing and had been telling her how excited he was to go on the date. Daisy couldn't stand him up, she thought about it, but every time the image of a lonely boy sat eating alone in an overpriced restaurant would cloud her mind. A pang of sadness would rattle through her ribs and she knew she couldn't do it.
So here she sat across from a nice boy with sweeping brunette curls and kind hazel eyes, eating her main course in a restaurant just outside of Baton Rouge that tried to hard to look like it wasn't trying at all. The lighting around them was dim in a deliberately warming way -- cream candles with an amber flame flickered in the centre, filling the space between them. The walls were a deep red colour filled with black and white framed portraits of people who had visited, or perhaps they were just stock images taken from the internet. Daisy didn't pay enough attention to them to know the definite answer. The bar behind them was stretched long and brass-trimmed, almost industrial looking. A low humble jazz beat played out quietly around them and the other filled tables.
The blind date was going quite pleasantly. Daisy even found herself laughing a couple of times. Matthew's company wasn't something she hated and as much as it pained her to admit, Bella had picked someone who matched her pretty well. She could see them being friends. Nothing more. She was already in a complicated enough situation with Joe and she didn't need to bring a guy like Matthew into something like that. Matthew knew it too, the date was going well but they lacked the initial spark all future lovers have. But, they could still have a good time.
Daisy listened to Matthew's stories as she tapped her fingers against the drink in her hand when she felt a buzz vibrate on the table. Her phone. Not Matthew's. She let out a hushed sorry before quickly glancing at it.
Joe
how's that date going
Daisy rolled her eyes, she knew he knew because Cassie came back to the dorm in a frantic state and acting as if she had just committed the greatest betrayal in the history of the universe. Daisy was expecting these messages, she just assumed they would start halfway through the first course rather than the second. He outlasted her expectations.
She gave a quick reply before putting her phone face down on the table.
Daisy
it's fine
It was five minutes later when her phone buzzed again and this time she was thankful Matthew had just gotten up to go to the bathroom so she could respond without feeling guilty.
Joe
that bad?
Daisy
it isn't bad, he's sweet.
Joe
if you wanted sweet you wouldn't be fucking me.
speaking of,
you coming straight over to me after it's over?
Daisy scoffed. Joe's arrogance was hiding his insecurity and she knew that, but she was in no mood to argue. She also wanted to be back in his bed sheets. It had been a few days now and her body missed him. It missed the way he made her body feel. All that pleasure. She breathed away the heat that pricked over skin, she shouldn't be thinking about Joe and the thing he could do while waiting for another man to come back to the table.
Daisy
yes joey.
Joe
then end it. quickly.
Daisy couldn't reply as Matthew entered her peripheral vision. A cheery grin on his almost golden skin. She hated that he was so nice. It was going to make what she had to do next so much more painful. Once he sat, she got right to it. then end it quickly, Joe's message was all she could think about.
'I'm so sorry, I'm feeling quite faint. I think it's something I ate' She began, then gave the acting performance of her life. Within ten minutes she was out the restaurant and in an uber to Joe's place. She didn't tell him that, she didn't send Joe a text that she was on her way over. Did she want to surprise him? No. Did she want to see the light in his eyes as he locked his eyes on her, the way his cheeks bunched up and the corners of his eyes crinkled? No, of course not. Did she want the feel the rush of warmth that pooled in her stomach and rushed over every muscle in her body? Maybe she did.
She rushed out the Uber, slamming the door and borderline running to the heavy set doors of the fraternity. It was Wednesday night and that meant there was a chance all the fraternity brothers would be lingering around, they would see her as she dashed up the stairs and too his room. She didn't care. She didn't even think about that.
She pushed her way through, ignoring everyone she past. She was being quick, just like he had instructed.
She didn't bother to knock.
She spent so much time there, the room almost felt like her own these days.
She walked in, casually. Not wanting him to know how much effort she had put into getting here. The light panting of her ragged breath let him know though. And he loved that.
Joe was laying on his bed shirtless, his blonde hair messy and a muscular arm behind his bed as he scrolled on his phone, but he dropped it when the door of his bedroom opened and closed.
and there she was.
His Daisy.
He couldn't help but like the way that sounded in his head, even though he knew he shouldn't.
His eyes watched her. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the cold night, or maybe the wine she had drank. He could tell it was red because her lips were stained like cherries. Her long hair was wavy and windswept, small strands lay around her face messily like they always did when she stopped caring about what it looked like. Her heels were held in her hand beside her. Her dress was short but not too tight, a simple sleek navy colour and made of a silk material. Silver jewellery decorated her bare arms and a strange pang his Joe's chest. She had made an effort for the guy. He could see that. Daisy always makes an effort. Joe's own voice of reason reassured him.
'You wore that for another guy' Joe can't help but make a childish jab, but it makes Daisy smile. It makes her feel comfortable. She placed her shoes down in the corner of the room, next to his training back like she usually did. Joe didn't even realise he started leaving a space there for her. Then she crawled into his bed, taking her place under the arm he had behind his head. Her bare shoulders touching his bare chest. The connection is stinging them both, but neither of them realise it.
Joe looked over her face. Her eyeliner was smudged ever so slightly at the corners, her lip liner was worn off and there were crease lines under her eyes. The guy had made her laugh--many times. Joe could tell. He knew the worn lip liner was from the food and not the guys lips. It was unspoken, and he didn't have to ask. Trust. Not such a fickle thing this evening. He relaxed and let his arm drop around her shoulders, not too tightly, just lazily. His thumb lightly brushed her skin in little circles. She moved closer.
Then she told him all about it, and Joe didn't even mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed hearing about her night and how she had actually had a pretty good time. The guy, Matthew, had treated her well but there was nothing more. Joe felt relieved at that.
Then as the night went on, she stripped down and so did he. Gentle, lazy and tired sex consumed them before them found themselves asleep next to each other like usual.
Daisy didn't leave Joe's place much for the next nine days, only ever to go to class or grab some clothes from her dorm. She liked it there, and Joe liked having her around. They weren't friends, but they were something.
She still never mentioned her birthday to him. and that, for some unexplainable reason, made him feel like shit.
-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-
Ole Miss.
It was a big game.
and since finding out that Justin was leaving college after this year, Daisy realised she needed to start watching him play. So here she was, alongside Cassie and Bella in the packed stands of Death Valley. A white jersey with Jefferson across the back sat across her torso. Joe might flip. At least Bella had said he would. Cassie said he might. Daisy wasn't really even thinking about it. Justin is Joe's friend, surely his jealousy wasn't so shallow.
But when he spotted her in the crowd, sitting where she had told him she was going to sit and he saw that the number on the jersey was not his, all he could do was shake his head. His featured freezing over with a coldness she wasn't used to seeing from him. She almost ripped the cloth from her skin and threw it in the bin. Guilt clawing at her throat. If they lose tonight it's my fault, she told herself over and over. She didn't pray often, but she did in that moment. Her hand clasped together in front of her.
'Please God, let him win' She whispered so that Bella and Cassie couldn't hear her. Not that they would be able to over the noise of the student crowd.
The air was electric, thick with a humid southern heat and the kind of noise that made your bones hum deep beneath your flesh. Purple and white lights lit up the stadium, pockets of red clashing against them as the Ole Miss supporters filled in some seats. Daisy liked it, inside stadiums. She had many years of practice.
When the game began, her eyes could only focus on Joe. She tried to keep glancing at Justin but it was like they were magnetised on number nine. He looked unreal from where she stood, not just talented--but almost mythical. The white of his jersey clung to him in sharp creases and sweat. His long fingers flexed around the laces of the ball like it was part of him, a simple extension of his arm. A biological piece of his body. Every moment was like he was firing a dart at a board and hitting bullseye every time. Such poise even under the pressure.
She couldn't help herself. Somewhere in the middle of the noise around them, she joined in on the constant screaming of his name with the strangers who didn't know him the way she did. This all felt familiar, she had done this with Lucas but them thoughts didn't control her mind the way she thought they would have. He was merely a passing thought like came and went within seconds. Then Joe would replace them. Was that good or bad? She couldn't tell, but she didn't let herself dwell on it.
He scored his own touchdown at one point. He didn't look for her though. Of course he didn't. He was so beyond pissed, but at least they weren't losing. At least that wouldn't be her fault.
After halftime, something happened.
The play only took seconds, but to Daisy, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. Joe was going down, but the Ole Miss linebacker didn't care. A cheap shot. A wrecking ball with a grudge, helmet low, and his padded shoulders square with a raging tension.
The hit was bone deep, the noise of it seemed to silence the stadium or maybe that was just in Daisy's head. People around her gasped, and outrage began to pour in from the LSU fans. Joe met the hard ground with a terrifying force, his body bouncing almost limply. His helmet bouncing against the floor.
Was he moving?
Daisy's blood ran cold. She clutched at her chest with an open jaw. Shock overtook every fibre of her being. She stood on her tiptoes trying to get the best view of what was happening. They weren't showing him on the screen. That was a bad sign.
Tiptoes wasn't enough.
She pushed through the crowd and made her way the front of the stands. Her usually delicate fingers gripped onto the cold white railing with a terror filled force. She could see him, he was writhing around on the floor in pain, but at least he was moving. Medics rushed over to him. Ole Miss and LSU players clashed against each other, she saw Ja'marr getting in one of the red jersey's faces but she couldn't pay that much attention. She, in this moment, only cared about Joe.
She watched as a medic helped him sit up. His movements more careful and slow than she was used to seeing, like every inch of his body hurt. Like air was stripped away from his lungs and his ribs filled with a excruciating pain as he tried to pull himself together. She watched his slow breaths in and out. She wished she could gift him more oxygen.
Joe pulled his helmet off. His red flushed face and messy hair exposed for the crowd to see. No blood. That was a good sign. Daisy let out the faintest breath, like it was too soon for her to fully relax. Joe looked around, taking sips of water as he gained some of the strength that had been knocked out of him back.
and then--somehow--he found her.
Daisy didn't know if he was trying too. She wasn't in the original spot he knew she was sitting at, and yet somehow, even a hundred yards away, he still found her. The stands around her were a blur of purple and gold, thousands of people clapping and chanting his name. When they met each others eyes, it felt like that all faded away.
Joe saw her there, gripping onto the railing like it was her only lifeline. The concern on her face rattled him more than the tackle had. It was enough to make him forgive her for the stupid fucking jersey she was wearing. stupid. fucking. jersey. He shook away that jealousy, and instead he clenched his jaw but softened his gaze. He gave Daisy a nod, the reassurance she needed that he was okay.
a silent don't worry about me across a green football field.
Daisy let her breathes free, and the grip on the railing loosen. She watched from that spot for a few more minutes, then she went back to her seat. Joe went back to the huddle like nothing had happened.
But something had.
Something between them.
After they won the game, Daisy had still been expecting Joe to ice her out so it was surprising when he swaggered over to where she had been standing by the railing during the match. It surprised her even more when he waved her to come down and speak to him.
'You scared me' She told him. She had to get it off her chest. Joe held his hands hooked on the front of his padding making his biceps look oh so deliciously big. His hair was a mess but Daisy liked that, it made him look manly. He cocked his head back with an air of arrogance and looked into her big green eyes, ones which seemed to glow even brighter under the stadium lights. His skin was glowy and sticky with sweat and effort.
'Payback for that stupid fuckin' jersey' He chirped, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. For the first time, it really seemed like Joe didn't care who was watching. Media was here, fans were listening in but he wasn't paying them any attention. All his focus was on Daisy.
'Justin's just a friend you know' Daisy's response wasn't joking, it was serious. Like she needed to make sure Joe understood that, to put an end to this weird tension that seemed to be brewing between the teammates.
'I know, doesn't mean I like it though' Joe shrugged with an unapologetic truth slipping through his cracked lips. Daisy could only nod, stumped as to how she could reply to his honesty. Joe didn't give her the chance too.
'You coming back with me, I need someone to ice my ribs' That smug smirk drew back across his face. Daisy laughed, like an actual laugh before nodding her head with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. A subtle blush rising onto her cheeks.
-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-
The bathroom light buzzed overhead, casting a dull yellow glow that made everything around them seem so warm and comforting--even the chipped tile and toothbrush stains on the mirror. Joe's boxers and dirty clothes laid out on the floor from when he hasn't put them in the laundry basket.
Joe stood shirtless in front of the skin, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips and his arms stretched up as he assessed the damage of the forming bruises that scattered all across his back and torso. It was the hardest hit he had ever taken. Some light swelling surrounded his ribs, the medic said he needed rest but he should be okay for the next game in two weeks.
Daisy quietly came in the door behind him, carrying a ziploc bag filled with ice and a weary look on her face as she took in his bruising. Joe met her weary eyes in the stained mirror. She was in his LSU hoodie that was three sized too big, her face bare and her hair pulled back from her face in a low bun. She was unfairly beautiful, and very tired.
'I can do it' Joe told her.
She shook him off. 'I want too.'
She took a step closer, moving to be in front of him. The air between them was so quiet. She gently grazed her fingers over the bruising, Joe jolted -- not in pain, just at the feeling of her caress. When she carefully pushed the ice pack to his skin, he winced.
'Stay still.' She told him.
This was the most intimate thing they had done. Joe knew it. Daisy knew it. The air around them knew it too. Both of their hearts pounding in their chests as they did something so close. Both their guards fully lowered to the ground, they never did that. They never let each other in this much.
Joe looked down to her -- at the way she was chewing on her plump baby pink lips in a deep concentration, like she was scared she was going to break him. Her hands were steady, but he could feel just how tense she was. She was trying to tell herself this didn't mean anything, but they both knew it did.
'I'll be okay' Joe's words come out quieter than he wants, so soft and endearing unintentionally.
'I didn't like watching that happen to you.' Her own words came out in a stark rawness.
He reached out and brushed a stray hair behind her ear before he could realised the intimacy of the action, Daisy froze moving the ice pack back from his torso in shock. Joe committed to his action, letting his hand cup the soft cheeks of her face.
'I imagine you felt the way I felt when I got that call from you in the bathroom stall'
'I don't know, you'd have to tell me how that made you feel Joe' Her response startled him, she was asking him to tell her how he felt. What are we? but in a different font and that scared him. He dropped his hand from her cheek and looked away back into the mirror. Daisy placed the ice back on his bare skin. She knew he wouldn't answer her. She wouldn't have answered him either.
Some things were best left lingering in blissful ignorance.
HOT IN HERRE, JOE BURROW.
pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀6.8k.
in the wise words of nelly, "looking for the right time to flash them keys. then, i'm leaving."
author's note⠀⁎⠀coming up with a summary actually almost ended me so pls excuse the lack thereof. inspired by wedding joey <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, smut, 2nd person [she/her], semi-public sex, quickie, wall sex, both protected & unprotected sex lol, fingering, teeny tiny hint of exhibitionism, mirror sex, dom/sub dynamics but not really, language, praise.
She loved this part of weddings—the moment when the formalities gave way to the raw, unfiltered joy of coming together to celebrate. It was cheesy, finding meaning in the men loosening their ties and rolling up their sleeves, the women ridding themselves of their heels and dancing barefoot, but she couldn’t help it.
It certainly didn't hurt that both she and Joe were unconstrained by the responsibilities of being part of the wedding party. No unflattering bridesmaid dresses to wear or awkward groomsmen to coordinate with. No raging bridezillas to talk off the edge in the bridal suite. And most importantly, the freedom to leave whenever they pleased.
The open bar was a delightful sight, and Joe had already taken advantage of it a few times. His cheeks were flushed with the loss of his inhibition, pale blue eyes shining with the relief of being rid of the self-consciousness that often crept up his spine. The off-season had been good to him. Without an injury to rehab or games to train for, Joe had been able to indulge in the simple things—like drinking at a wedding without worrying about a laundry list of consequences.
The proof of the off-season's benevolence lay in Joe's relaxed posture, shoulders pressed back, one hand resting comfortably in the pocket of his well-tailored navy blue dress pants, the other loosely gripping an empty champagne flute. She watched him from a few feet away, sandy blonde locks perfectly styled and gelled into place, his tall frame a show of masculine grace amidst the sea of wedding guests.
"Here's your drinks, Miss," the bartender's voice cut through the buzz of the reception, handing her two highball glasses filled with fruity, dangerous drinks. She took the glasses with a grateful smile, the cool condensation leaving a light sheen on her fingers. One of the groomsmen was in the middle of a story, Joe's shoulders shaking with laughter, when she approached. The scent of his cologne mingled with the air, twisting in the air like invisible vines that wrapped around her senses and drew her closer.
"Thirsty?" she asked, her voice low and playful, sliding one of the drinks into Joe's waiting hand. His eyes lit up as he took a tentative sip, the alcohol playing a dance of sparks across his tongue.
"Thank you, beautiful," Joe murmured, setting the flute down on a table nearby, leaning over to kiss her cheek. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt his hand sneak around to her lower back, smoothing down the fabric of her dress before moving to rest gently on her hip. The music grew louder as the DJ switched to a more upbeat playlist, and the dance floor began to fill.
She took a sip of her own drink, watching the crowd sway and mingle. The lights cast a warm glow on everyone's faces, and the chatter of conversation filled the air like a symphony of laughter. She felt Joe's hand tighten on her hip as they conversed with the groomsmen, unconsciously bringing her closer. The open back of her floor-length laurel green dress revealed smooth, brown skin that ached to be touched. His palm was warm, his fingers firm as they danced just above the fabric, hinting at the desire that simmered beneath the surface.
Selfishly, she was relieved when the groomsmen were pulled away by another member of the wedding party, leaving Joe to her mercy. She turned into him, her body fitting against his like a puzzle piece that had been searching for its match. "Can barely taste the alcohol in this drink," Joe said, his voice low and gruff. "You tryin' to get me loose?"
Her grin grew wicked as she leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear. "Maybe." She whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw before trailing down to smooth over the fabric of his dress shirt. "You're pretty slutty when you're loose."
Joe's eyes widened for a moment before a smirk took hold of his lips. "I'm slutty?" He laughed, the sound a mix of surprise and delight. "I think you might have that backwards." His hand slipped from her hip to the small of her back, his thumb brushing against the bare skin.
"No, I don't think I do," she shot back with a tilt of her head. "You know exactly what I mean."
Joe took another sip of his drink, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. "What do I do that's 'slutty'?" He challenged, his voice dropping to a teasing tone, an eyebrow cocked.
"The way you tousle your hair, you start rolling up your sleeves, these buttons," she said, her eyes sparkling as she gestured to his quarter undone shirt. "Everything about you screams 'slutty' when you let go."
Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he took another sip of his drink, eyes filled with that familiar intensity. "Is that so?" He took her hand and placed it over his heart, feeling the steady thump beneath her fingertips. "You're the one who brings it out of me." His lifted her fingertips to his mouth, kissing each one, holding her gaze. "I'm pretty sure it's your favorite version of me."
The music changed to a rhythmic beat that made her hips sway involuntarily. She took a step back, pulling Joe with her. "C'mon, let's get those hips moving." He attempted to resist, protests spilling from his lips, but she was insistent, her eyes alight with glee. So he followed suit, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor, the alcohol loosening his joints.
As they found a spot amidst the writhing bodies, Joe felt a rush of warmth spread through his chest. The way she moved was mesmerizing, her curves swaying to the music like a serpent charmed by a flute. His hands found their way to her waist, and he pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like they had been yearning for this moment. She turned around, pressing herself against him, her back arching so that her ass rubbed against his crotch. The heat from her body was like a brand, searing his desire into his very soul.
Under the haze of the dim lights and the pulse of the music, she felt Joe's hands wander over her body, the fabric of her dress gliding and rising under his touch. She leaned back into him, feeling the hard wall of his chest and the rapid beat of his heart. His breath was hot on her neck, his whispers a sweet symphony of want. "You're drivin' me crazy," Joe murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Gonna tear this dress off you later."
"Is that a promise?" She teased, breathless as Joe's hands slid down her sides. Her skin was hot to the touch, her breathing quickening with each caress. She leaned into him, her hips moving in time with the music, creating a delicious friction that had them both on the edge.
The air grew thick with desire as Joe's hands roamed, just ghosting over her chest. Not enough to draw any attention from the others nearby, but just enough that the message was clear. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, the sensation making her core tighten. "You're so fuckin' sexy when you're like this," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear as his arms settled on locking around her waist.
Her laugh was light, the music drowning out any sound of impropriety. "Like what?" She asked, challenged, the words slipping out between her teeth as she leaned back against him. "Tell me."
Joe took a deep breath, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear. "The way you move, the way you look at me like you're about to devour me whole." His hand traveled up to find her underboob, squeezing gently. "Tryin' so hard not to bend you over right here and fuck you senseless."
"See? Slutty." She giggled.
The music shifted, the opening chords of "Hot in Herre" by Nelly blasting through the speakers as the DJ announced a special request. His grip on her hips tightened instinctively, and she felt Joe stiffen behind her. She knew that reaction. Joe didn't sing, swore he had the voice of a dying cat, but there were a handful of songs that got him moving, and this was one of them. She'd snuck it onto a playlist before and watched him let loose in their kitchen, shirtless and overjoyed, singing horribly but indisputably free. She turned to look over her shoulder, grinning at the mix of amusement and horror on his face.
"Did you have somethin' to do with this?" Joe's eyes narrowed playfully at her, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
She feigned innocence. "I don't remember." She shrugged, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her neck as he murmured, "You're the devil, you know that?"
Her smile grew as she felt his body begin to sway to the music, the tension in his arms giving way to a playful grip. She couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped her as she turned around, her arms looping around his neck.
"Caught," she conceded, her eyes lighting up as he swung her around to press his crotch against her ass. The beat grew heavier, and she felt her heart race in time with it. They danced, Joe's hands on her hips, guiding her movements, the heat from his body scalding her through their clothes. His mouth found her ear, echoing the lyrics of the early 2000s hit. She felt his teeth graze her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. "I've gotta get you out of here," he growled, turning her around, his hands moving lower to squeeze her ass.
She could feel the muscles tensing under his shirt, his body responding to the rhythm of the music and the proximity of hers. "Oh?" she breathed, playing coy, her voice syrupy.
Joe's grip tightened, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate grind against her. "You know what I mean," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.
"But what about the wedding?" she wondered aloud, her breath hot and sweet with the scent of her drink.
"They won't miss us," Joe said, his voice gruff and commanding. "Gonna find us a bathroom, get a little taste of what's to come." His hand slipped down to the back of her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze before he took her hand and led her through the crowd.
The bathroom was tucked away in a quieter corner of the venue, impeccably clean and isolated from the noise of the celebrations. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the playfulness evaporated into the air. She felt Joe's hands on her again, but this time they were insistent, urgent. He pinned her against the wall as he kissed her, stealing her breath away with a fervor that was anything but innocent. His tongue danced with hers, his hands exploring her curves with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
What he wanted resulted in her dress pooled on the floor around her ankles, his hands on her hips as he hoisted her into his arms. The cold press of the wall against her bare back sent a shock through her body, making her gasp. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with need. "Quiet," he murmured against her mouth, his teeth scraping her bottom lip as he kissed her again. His mouth moved to kiss the soft skin of her neck, her collarbone, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, the fabric of his pants rough against her skin. She could feel his erection pressing against her, the feeling of anticipation inevitably soaking through her panties. He kissed her neck, her jawline, his hands moving to cup her tits, squeezing them firmly before his thumbs rolled over her nipples. She moaned, her eyes closing in pleasure. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate grind that had her panting.
"You like that?" He whispered, his voice a dark promise.
She nodded, unable to form coherent words as Joe's thumbs continued their torturous dance over her sensitive peaks. Her breaths grew ragged, her body begging for more.
"Tell me what you want, baby," Joe murmured into her skin. Her breath hitched as she felt his hand slide down her stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. With a quick tug, they were on the floor, joining her dress. He stepped closer, brandishing a condom before aligning himself with her, and she could feel the heat of him, thick and insistent, pressing against her.
"You," she managed to say, her voice a shaky whisper. "I want you."
Joe's smirk grew as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock teasing her slick folds. "Good," he breathed, taking in the way her eyebrows scrunched together as his tip slid through her wetness. "Always get what you want, huh?" He pushed in slowly, watching her face contort as he filled her. She was so tight around him, her muscles clenching and releasing, urging him deeper.
Her legs tightened around his waist as Joe pushed in to the hilt, a soft whine escaping her as her back arched. She threw her head back, exposing the line of her neck, and he took full advantage, his teeth scraping against her skin as he began to move. The sound of their hips slapping together filled the small room, mixing with their muffled moans and gasps. The mirror across from them reflected their image, her eyes locked onto her reflection, watching Joe's strong arms flex as he held her up, the muscles in his back rippling with each thrust.
Her nails dug into Joe's shoulders. His hips moved faster, the sound of their skin echoing in the tension-filled air. "So fuckin' tight, goddamn," he murmured, his voice strained. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the rush of pleasure building deep inside her.
Her walls clamped down on him, her pussy tightening around his cock. "Oh, fuck," she muttered, tensing as Joe hit a spot that made her eyes roll back. Her thighs were slung over his forearms, spreading her wide open for his mercy, but Joe showed her none of that. He pumped into her, relishing the way she bit her lip, trying to muffle her cries of pleasure.
"You like that?" He ground out. She nodded, unable to find the words as his cock slammed into her over and over. Her eyes glazed over with lust, and she felt a tremor in her core. "Say it," he ordered, his voice gruff. "Lemme hear you."
"Yes," she panted, her eyes snapping open to meet his in the mirror. The sight of Joe's blue eyes, dark with lust and focused solely on her, sent a jolt of desire through her body. The pleasure grew, each stroke bringing her closer to the edge, her walls pulsing around him. "I love it," she moaned, her voice a sweet surrender to his dominance.
"Fuckin' spoil you, don't I?" Joe whispered, his breath hot against her neck as he increased his tempo. Her legs tightened around him, her body moving in sync with his rhythm, a silent plea for more. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he murmured, his teeth sinking into the flesh of her shoulder. "Fuckin' made for me."
She threw her head back, her mouth opening in a silent scream as Joe slammed into her, hitting that perfect spot that sent her soaring over the edge. Her pussy clenched around him, a wave of pleasure washing over her, leaving her trembling in his arms. He held her up, her legs shaking, her breathing ragged as the orgasm ripped through her. She felt his cock thicken, his hips stuttering before he groaned and filled her with his release.
For a moment, they stayed like that, Joe's forehead resting against her shoulder, their chests heaving in unison. The world outside the bathroom faded away, leaving them in their own little bubble of passion. Then, with a final kiss, he set her down gently, his hands steadying her by the hips until she was stable on her feet. "Bathroom sex," she murmured, a hint of a laugh in her voice as she caught her breath. "We're so cliché."
Joe tucked himself back into his pants with a smug smile, zipping up as he stepped away from her. He bent down to pick up her panties, dangling them in front of her face before stuffing them into his pocket with a grin. "My trophy," he said, winking.
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her own smile. "You're a caveman," she teased, her palms pressing into his shoulders to find her balanced as he helped her back into her dress. The fabric whispered against her skin as it slid back into place, the sensation heightening the post-orgasmic glow that washed over her. She stepped away from the wall, her legs wobbly from the intense release, and Joe couldn't help but admire the way she looked, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen.
"Listen," Joe began, his own voice a little rough from their encounter. "You go touch up your makeup. I'll go tell the groom we gotta head out early, tell 'em you're not feelin' well." His eyes danced with excitement as he took her hand, leading her to the bathroom door. "I'll meet you by the elevator," he leaned down, brushing the strap of her dress aside to press his lips to her shoulder. "So I can fuck you properly before the night's over."
She nodded, biting her tongue as she watched him leave, closing the door behind him. Looking in the mirror, she smoothed down her hair, her breathing still uneven. Her makeup had held up well, just a slight smear of lipstick from their kisses. She swiped it away and washed her hands. Giving herself a stern look, she straightened her dress and left the bathroom, slipping back into the throng of the reception.
She weaved through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way. When she reached the lobby, the cooler air was a shock to her flushed skin. She took a moment to compose herself, leaning against the grand staircase that led up to the hotel's upper levels.
Joe emerged from the reception hall, cheeks flushed and a smug smile playing on his lips. He made his way over to the groom, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. "Hey, man," he said, his voice as earnest as he could muster. "My girl's not feeling too hot. Think we're gonna head up to the room. It's been a long day for her." The groom, a friend of Joe's from college, looked at him with a knowing smirk, but Joe played the concerned boyfriend well. "Send our apologies to your wife, yeah?"
With a nod from his friend, Joe turned and headed straight for the lobby, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of her. He spotted her leaning against the grand staircase, her hand idly playing with the fabric of her dress. She looked up, their gazes locking, and a silent understanding passed between them. The air was thick with the promise of what was to come.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing an empty car, and they didn't waste a second. Joe stepped in and pulled her with him, pressing her against the mirrored wall before the doors had fully closed. His mouth found hers, his hands roamed over her body, rekindling the flames that had only just been extinguished in the bathroom.
"Mm, god, I need you," Joe murmured against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hand slid down to cup her ass. The elevator chimed softly, signaling their ascent to their floor. She felt her core tighten in anticipation, her breaths coming in short gasps as his kisses grew more insistent.
When the doors slid open, Joe took her hand, leading her down the hallway. The plush carpet muffled their footsteps as they approached their suite. He shut the door firmly behind them, the sound of the lock clicking echoing through the room.
"Strip," he demanded, his hands already reaching for his belt.
Her eyes widened at his command, but she didn't argue. She stepped away from him, her movements slow and deliberate as she removed her dress. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper, leaving her in nothing but her bra and heels.
Joe's eyes roved over her body, his cock twitching in his pants. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing the line of her bra before unclipping it. It fell away, leaving her torso bare. He took one in his hand, kneading it gently before leaning down to suck on her nipple. She gasped, her hand coming up to his hair, her nails scraping his scalp.
"Bed," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. She nodded, leading the way. The room was bathed in a soft glow from the dimmed lights, the plush king-sized bed in the center of the room beckoning them closer.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way over, Joe following closely behind, his eyes never leaving hers. When she reached the edge of the bed, she turned to face him, her heart hammering in her chest. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to trace the lines of her collarbones. His thumbs brushed her breasts, sending a shiver down her spine as he pushed her back onto the mattress.
He climbed onto the bed, straddling her. His eyes searched hers for a moment, his pupils wide and dark. Then, with a predatory smile, he leaned down to kiss her, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling his hardness pressing against her thigh.
He sat back on his heels, unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt, holding her gaze as the fabric parted further. She took a deep breath, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as he appeared before her, pants still on. He reached down to undo his belt, his movements slow and deliberate, watching her every reaction. Her thighs were splayed open, the point of her heels digging into the mattress as she anticipated his next move. Her lips parted, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as his shirt fell away, revealing his broad chest and his arms, corded with muscles and veins from years of training.
Joe reached down and tugged at his pants, his cock springing free, already hard and glistening at the tip. Her eyes went wide, and she sat up, reaching for him, but he stopped her, placing a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.
"Patience," he whispered darkly. He slid down the bed, his mouth watering as he took in the sight of her bare center, still swollen from their bathroom encounter.
He leaned down and took a deep breath, the scent of her desire making his head spin. "So sweet," he murmured, his tongue darting out to taste her through the fabric of her panties.
Her hips bucked upwards, a moan escaping her as she felt him tease her through the thin barrier. She tried to wiggle them down, but Joe's hand on her lower stomach kept her in place. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine.
"Need it that bad?" he questioned, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in short gasps. With a chuckle, Joe slid her panties down her legs, taking his sweet time as he revealed her to him. He tossed them aside, the fabric landing on the floor silently. Then he sat back on his heels once more, pulling her toward him by her ankles, pushing her legs open, and moving to sit between her thighs.
"Go 'head, touch yourself," Joe murmured, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Let me see how bad you want it."
Her chest heaved as she hesitantly reached down to touch herself. Her fingertips glided over her folds, the slickness making her shiver. Joe watched, his own breathing growing more ragged as he watched, his left hand finding her left leg, his thumb digging into the muscles of her calf.
Her eyes never left his as she slid a finger inside herself, her hips lifting slightly to meet her own touch. His gaze darkened, his grip tightening on her leg. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice hoarse. "Make yourself feel good, baby."
Her hand moved slowly at first, exploring her own wetness, her thumb pressing against her clit. She whined softly, the sound low and needy. Joe's eyes were glued to the sight, watching as she grew bolder, her arousal sticky on her fingers. His hand tightened on her calf, his cock jutting upwards, pushing against the seam of his slacks, demanding attention. He shifted her leg, pulling it to rest over his shoulder, forcing her to open herself more fully to him.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So fuckin' pretty." His right hand reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her slit, spreading her wetness, watching as her pupils dilated. He turned his head to kiss the calf that rested on his shoulder, his teeth nipping at the soft skin before his gaze returned to hers. "Keep goin', baby."
Her hand picked up the pace, her eyes fluttering as she watched him watch her. She felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, the heat spreading through her core. Joe's eyes never left hers, his breathing shallow and quick. His thumb brushed her clit, sending a jolt through her body, and she moaned, her hand moving faster.
"So fucking close, aren't you?" he murmured. She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers buried knuckle deep in her pussy as she chased the high of her second orgasm. Joe leaned over her, his breath hot against her cheek as he whispered, "Let me have it, baby. Let me see you come for me." His words were a command and a plea wrapped in one, and she felt her body responding, her walls clenching around her fingers as she approached the edge.
Her left leg slung over his shoulder pressed closer to her chest as he leaned over her, the heat from his breath on her skin making her quiver. His thumb circled her clit, the pressure increasing steadily. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her body tightening as she felt the peak approaching. The stretch of her fingers inside her, the slickness of her arousal, and the firm pressure of his thumb on her most sensitive spot drove her to brink of insanity. Her hand was a blur, her eyes screwed shut, and her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Joe pulled back, his left hand still holding her calf tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. With his right hand, he replaced her own, his thumb pressing harder into her clit, his index and middle fingers sliding into her pussy. Her eyes flew open, the sudden sensation of his larger, more demanding touch making her moan.
"Hmm, better?" Joe smirked, his fingers still working their magic on her clit. She nodded frantically. She swallowed shallowly, his voice low and husky as he whispered, "You're so fuckin' wet for me. I can't wait to feel you squeeze around my cock." His thumb didn't relent, the pressure unyielding, pushing her closer to the precipice.
Her eyes fluttered shut again, her body trembling with the effort to hold back her climax. "Don't get lost on me," he whispered, voicing a demand she couldn't ignore. His fingers danced over her clit, playing her body like a maestro conducting a symphony of pleasure. She felt the wave cresting, ready to crash down on her.
"Fuckin' perfect," Joe groaned as her orgasm washed over her, her body convulsing with pleasure. He watched as she rode the wave, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth open in a silent scream. He didn't stop, his thumb circling her clit even as she came down from the high. When she had recovered enough, he pulled away just enough to replace his fingers with the slide of his cock into her, filling her up in one smooth stroke.
"Joe- fuck," she cursed under her breath, her voice faltering and breaking as Joe began to thrust into her slowly. Her eyes shot open, locking with his intense gaze as he filled her completely. He pushed in deep, hitting that spot that had her seeing stars, making her toes curl and her legs quiver.
He paused to lift her right leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his penetration. "Feel good?" he asked, checking to make sure she was still feeling it. She nodded, gasping low in her throat each time his hips pulled back. The drag of his cock was slow, deliberate, and maddening. "Good," he murmured, his eyes hooded as he watched her process the sensations.
His hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as his thrusts grew more forceful, his strokes deep and powerful. His hips rolled slowly into hers, drawing out her gasps of pleasure. The bed frame groaned in time with their rhythm, the soft slap of skin echoing in the quiet room. Her nails dug into the sheets as she arched her back, her breasts bouncing with every impact.
Their eyes remained locked, their breaths mingling as Joe leaned down to kiss her, his tongue delving deep into her mouth. The kiss was fierce, a silent declaration of ownership and desire. Her hands roamed his back, tracing the lines of his muscles as she tried to get closer, to feel every inch of him. His hands found hers, tangling their fingers together, pressing them into the mattress above her head.
He picked up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of her with a steadfast rhythm that had her moaning uncontrollably. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered his name. "Joe, Joe, Joe," the syllables falling from her lips as if that was all she were made to say.
He could feel her tightening around him, the walls of her pussy gripping his shaft in a vice-like embrace. He knew she was close, but he wasn't ready for it to end. He wanted to draw it out, to savor every second of her unraveling beneath him. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin as he considered his next move.
Then he saw it, the mirror to the right of the bed reflecting their entwined bodies: her brown skin glowing against the stark whiteness of the sheets, his tanned arms flexing with each thrust, their faces a blend of pleasure and determination. The sight of them together, captured in the reflection, was too much to resist. He pulled back, breaking their kiss, and ordered her onto her knees.
He tapped her ass gently—once, twice—as he angled her body, positioning her just right for his view. Her breath hitched, her eyes meeting his in the mirror as she settled onto her elbows and knees, her back arching as she pushed her ass up towards him. Joe took a moment to appreciate the sight: her ass in the air, the way her thighs glistened with their combined juices, the way she looked at him with a deceiving mix of innocence and lust.
"Beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice thick with lust as he took in the view of her on all fours, her back arched, presenting herself to him. He palmed her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lined up the head of his cock with her entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he filled her, watching in the mirror as she took all of him in, her eyebrows furrowing in pleasure.
She moaned weakly, her chest falling forward as he held her hips firmly, his grip unyielding. The mirror reflected the way Joe's body moved over hers, the power and control in each stroke. He watched her face, her eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, as he pumped into her from behind. The sound of their flesh colliding filled the air, his hands squeezing and releasing her hips in time with his thrusts.
"Look at yourself," he whispered, his voice gruff and demanding. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. She saw the passion etched on her features, the way Joe's eyes devoured her body as he claimed her. She watched as she pushed her ass back to meet his hips, gasps and sighs leaving her lips with each deep, possessive stroke.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Joe growled as he pumped in and out of her. She moaned, feeling his eyes on her, feeling his cock stretch and fill her. It was an exquisite mix of pleasure and vulnerability, knowing that he could see every part of her, that he had complete control over her body.
"Love your cock," she whimpered, the words spilling out of her unbidden. The sound of Joe's skin slapping against her ass grew louder, his movements more urgent. He leaned over her, pressing her down into the bed as he slammed into her, his fingers digging into her hips.
"Yeah?" Joe grunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her squirm under his touch. "You like how it feels, baby?" He knew she did. The way she was pushing back against him, the little sounds of pleasure she made, the way she tightened around him—it was all clear as day. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a low rumble in her ear. "Tell me how much you love it."
Her face heated as she stared into the mirror. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, her mouth parted in a silent moan. "I love it, babe," she managed to say, her voice strained. "I love it so much. Feels so good."
"That's my girl," Joe murmured, his strokes becoming faster, harder. The headboard of the bed thumped rhythmically against the wall, each impact sending a shockwave through her body. Her eyes grew wider as she watched Joe's face in the mirror, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed with arousal. "Fuckin' yourself back onto me like that," he groaned. "So hot. So fuckin' hot."
Her movements began to falter, her hands digging into the bedsheets in frustration as she fought to stay upright. "Baby," she whined, "I can't... I- fuck, it's too much."
Joe's response was a low, dark chuckle. "You can," he assured her, his voice a gentle rumble. "You can take it, baby. You want my help?" He reached around her, pulling her body upright until her back pressed against his chest. The shift in position drew a long, desperate moan from her throat as his cock hit a new angle, rubbing against her g-spot with each thrust.
"That's better," he hummed, his breath warm against her neck as he wrapped his arm around her waist. With her back against his chest, Joe's cock remained buried deep within her, his thrusts now shorter but no less intense. He nuzzled her neck, his nose nudging against her earlobe. "Need my hands too?"
With a nod, she leaned into him, her hips stuttering against him. He chuckled, his right hand creeping up to squeeze at the sides of her throat. She gasped, her head falling back to rest against his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to kiss her, his tongue demanding entry to her mouth. His left hand found its way between her lips, sliding two fingers into her mouth, coating them with her saliva.
Suddenly, she felt those same fingers slide down her body, tracing a wet path to her clit. She moaned, her eyes flying open to meet his in the mirror again. He watched her face as he began to rub slow, torturous circles around her swollen bud. She reached down to grip his wrist, silently begging for more, for harder, faster, anything to get her over the edge again.
"Not yet," he murmured, his teeth scraping against her earlobe. "We're gonna make this last." He pinched her clit lightly, making her jolt and whimper. She could feel him smiling against her skin, his breath hot and ragged in her ear.
Their eyes locked in the mirror, his fingers working her clit in time with his thrusts. The pleasure was unbearable, a delicious torment that had her squirming and bucking her hips back against him. He groaned, his eyes dark with desire, and she realized he was just as lost in it as she was.
Joe's grip tightened on her throat, not enough to cut off her air, but enough to remind her of his control. It was a heady feeling, one that sent a fresh wave of arousal through her body. "Gonna come inside, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Gonna fill you up. Get you all warm. Sound alright?"
She nodded frantically, her eyes glazed over with need. She felt Joe's cock swell, knew he was close, and she met his every thrust with an eager push of her hips. His fingers worked her clit in a relentless rhythm, the pressure building until she thought she would burst. "Do it," she choked out, the words barely audible. "Please, Joe."
"Beggin' so sweetly," Joe chuckled, the sound vibrating through her as he thrust into her with a new urgency. His fingers circled her clit faster, the pressure building until she was teetering on the edge of release. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she bit down on her lower lip to muffle her cries. The room spun with pleasure, the mirrored image of their joined bodies blurring as she felt herself climbing towards ecstasy. "Can't wait until it's our wedding night. Gonna fuck my pretty little wife right outta your wedding dress, just like you deserve."
And then, it hit her—a powerful, shattering orgasm that ripped through her body. She stuttered his name, her back arching and her muscles tightening around his cock. The pressure on her throat increased just enough to make her gasp for air, which only served to heighten the sensations flooding through her.
In the mirror, she watched Joe's face contort in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt her pussy convulse around him. He grunted, his own climax following swiftly. With a final, deep thrust, he came inside her, filling her up with his warmth. His grip on her throat loosened, and she took a deep, shaky breath, her body going limp against him before falling forward onto the bed, Joe's cock still buried deep within her.
They stayed like that for a moment, their breathing ragged and mingling. Then Joe leaned down, kissing the back of her neck, his tongue tracing the line of her spine. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice still thick with desire. "We should do that more often."
She laughed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Ditch parties to go fuck?" she teased, turning her head to look up at him, wincing when his cock slipped out of her.
He reached a greedy hand forward, squeezing the soft flesh of her ass, hypnotized by the sight of his spend leaking out of her, painting a warm trail on her inner thigh. "Every fuckin' time we get a chance," he murmured, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. "Could get used to this."
She flipped onto her back, yawning and stretching out, her body boneless with satisfaction. "What was that about 'our wedding night'?" She asked, her eyes half-closed. She smiled when she felt his head find her chest, his cheek pressing into the softness of her breast.
Joe lifted his head, blue eyes tracing over her features. "Just planning ahead," he said with a happy sigh. "I meant it. If that's what you're asking."
Her hand found the crown of his head, fingers threading through his hair as she considered his words. "I want that too." The admission was soft, but it filled the space between them, full and warm.
Joe pulled away slightly, looking at her with a sudden seriousness. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
She nodded, her hand stroking his cheek. "More than anything," she said, her voice strong and clear.
The smile that spread across Joe's face was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. He tilted his head up to kiss her, a gentle press of his lips that spoke volumes. When he pulled back, he whispered, "Good to know."
Missing him😔
im still here
-
justhereforthetea200 liked this · 1 week ago -
picallia liked this · 1 week ago -
harmlessalohomora liked this · 1 week ago -
el-izzy-mac liked this · 2 weeks ago -
peach0o0 liked this · 2 weeks ago -
isaaaaabb liked this · 3 weeks ago -
kenzieisdumb liked this · 3 weeks ago -
baddestbfromda301 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
blairsworld22 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
bitches19-blog1 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
brrbrina liked this · 3 weeks ago -
theyluvbrii111 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
rebeccapineapple liked this · 3 weeks ago -
fulltyrantkoala liked this · 3 weeks ago -
louloutebisou liked this · 3 weeks ago -
mcrawwr liked this · 3 weeks ago -
auawdo liked this · 3 weeks ago -
boy-have-ya-lost-ur-mind liked this · 3 weeks ago
-
hischierburrow139 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
lun22 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
sunnyraes liked this · 3 weeks ago -
harrystylesxcx liked this · 3 weeks ago -
spicycinnamonbaby reblogged this · 3 weeks ago -
loveandlewis liked this · 3 weeks ago -
fandomfanatic325 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
crushpunky liked this · 3 weeks ago -
beomgyubae liked this · 3 weeks ago -
alixw22x liked this · 3 weeks ago
-
fullfilledheart liked this · 3 weeks ago -
lovelymagnificentgarden liked this · 4 weeks ago -
prfctplcs liked this · 4 weeks ago -
saintlarentcowgirl liked this · 4 weeks ago -
keepingupwithgirls liked this · 4 weeks ago -
kellysixx liked this · 4 weeks ago -
rachstash liked this · 4 weeks ago -
before-you-label-me liked this · 4 weeks ago -
afterhoursburrow reblogged this · 4 weeks ago -
annaaaamichelle liked this · 4 weeks ago -
drewslefttoe liked this · 4 weeks ago -
17-blahck liked this · 4 weeks ago
-
ellasaddiction2 liked this · 4 weeks ago
-
uhhyaiamgrounded liked this · 4 weeks ago
-
abcd01sblog liked this · 4 weeks ago -
blog-girl909 liked this · 4 weeks ago -
honeyncherry reblogged this · 4 weeks ago -
mrs-holland-stan-evans liked this · 1 month ago -
oydan liked this · 1 month ago -
sturnvies liked this · 1 month ago
