Any (lsu) Joe Fic Recs?

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - Championship Tears.

Tenth instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc

Full AU masterlist here -> ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden

Summary: Joe plays in the SEC Championship game while Daisy watches on from the stands in his jersey, and Joe plucks up the courage to ask her a question that has been dancing on his mind.

⋆｡˚ word count: 7.0k

18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, drug use, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚

Since getting back from Miami everything seemed to be falling into place. Daisy and Joe were closer than ever before, starting to do things outside the realm of their beds and going out into the baton rouge streets. They were going out for dinner, going to the movie theatre, she would sit in the stands during his training sessions while doing some studying simply because the thought of not being close to him was unbearable. And the sex...the sex had become something so much more. Something gentle and hungry, passionate and loving, fiery and timid. It became something meaningful.

Never did she think they would become like this. Not when she met him in that fraternity kitchen drunk and moody, when he couldn't stand her and she couldn't stand him, that they would turn out this way. Their lives so intertwined and so deeply connected thinking of the time he wasn't in her life was difficult--and painful.

Two weeks.

That's how long they had lived in this blissful paradise where only the two of them seemed to exist.

But right now, that paradise was a state away.

Today was the SEC championship game between LSU and Georgia, and for the first time this season Daisy had made the commute to an away game. She couldn't not be here, and Joe wanted her in the stands more than he wanted to win. In his birthday present, Burrow written in bold across her back like she belonged to him because she did.

The dome was alive.

Mercedes-Benz Stadium pulsed with light and noise, a pressure cooker of anxious fans and family waiting for the coin toss to begin. The noise bounced off the walls like a thunder that never quite faded. Purple and gold flags rippled through the LSU fan section where Daisy sat beside Cassie and Bella. All three of them in the famous baton rouge colours. The night was biting in the early December temperature, but under the stadium lights the air felt hot and humid. Daisy sat a few rows back from the front in the oversized white jersey she had been gifted. The front of it tucked lightly into her distressed denim miniskirt and a thick oversized leather bomber jacket across her shoulders to shield her from any frost in the air. Her hair was half up, half down and slicked back into a purple bow at the back of his head, like she had done when she was cheerleader.

She had been thinking about returning to it in junior year, auditioning in the spring. Jada wouldn't be on the team anymore next year but she would be picking her replacement and team leaders so Daisy knew there was a good chance she could be taken back, especially since she owed her a favour from homecoming.

A coors light can was lodged between her fingers and she took light sips from it to try and calm her anxiety. The journey here she had been a ball of nerves, constantly picking away at the skin around her freshly done purple acrylic nails. Her pinky nail had a small number nine drawn on the tip in white, Joe had told her to do it. He thought it was going to bring him luck for the game but Daisy knew he didn't need it, nevertheless it was on there.

Georgia was a good team, a valiant threat but the tigers hadn't lost all season and they couldn't start tonight--not when it meant to so much. The sea of red in the opposite stands was like a breathing fire, loud and relentless, inextinguishable. Heavy marching bands and drums pounded out like war songs.

There was not an empty seat within the stadium by the time the coin toss took place. Everyone was on their feet, Daisy stood both proudly and nervously in her deep brown cowboy boots as she watched.

Please God, I know i'm not your greatest servant, but let him win.

She prayed. Her sage eyes glancing briefly at the sky above. Please.

The white jersey stuck to him, number 9 on his chest like it was his armour. His white helmet reflected the lights as he called out his his offensive line, his voice sharp and steady as he prepared for the opening snap of the game.

Daisy's heart rose.

Joe hunched over waiting.

The air in the stadium paused. Every thing hanging in a frozen limbo for three seconds. Sucked in breaths held in the chests of thousands.

Then he had the ball in his hands.

The game began.

The field surged around him--Georgia's line breaking through like wolves, closing in on him and fast. Joe didn't flinch. He stepped up into the pockets of free space he had been gifted, his shoulder dipping as he avoided being hit by the opposing players. Pressure snapped at his ankles but he kept his focus downfield, on what he had spent the whole season practicing. He saw his man and he let the cannon fire. A spiral so clean it, cutting through the air like a knife through butter. It was the kind of pass that hung in the sky for a heartbeat too long, too perfect as it dropped straight into the hands of Justin with a precision that caused the LSU stand to erupt in ecstasy. The sideline too. The coaches threw there arms in the air and teammates swarmed. An opening touchdown from an incredible throw but it was Joe Burrow, could anyone expect anything less.

But to Daisy, it wasn't Joe Burrow. It was the boy she knew. The one who slouched lazily in her dorm room playing uno with her roommate while she studied, the one who had let her ice his bruises in a small bathroom. The one who had taken her to Mcdonald's at one am after the worst performance of his life just because she hadn't eaten that day. It was her Joe, who had just done that.

Pride swelled him her chest as she cheered up and down, arm and arm with Cassie and Bella.

Joe tugged his helmet off as the play reset, his jaw tight and ticking, tanned face flushing under the lights. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, neck gleaming but he lifted up his chin. He was looking for her. Through the thousands in the sea of purple and gold, he looked for her. Camera's flashed off to the side, capturing him from all angles. Coaches shouted for him, but he couldn't pay any attention to that--not until he saw her in his jersey, saw that she was actually here and safe, watching him.

As the seconds trailed on he began to feel his heartbeat quicken, still his blue eyes hadn't landed on her face.

But then they did and of course she was already looking at him.

They met. Just for a moment no longer than a breath.

A smile curled at his lips. He held up his hand and tapped at this nail of his pinky finger. A quick symbol. A quick thank you from him to her. She had caused that throw. She was bringing him all the luck in the world and Joe knew, with her in the stands that there was no way he would lose this game.

Daisy smiled back at him. Rubbing the pinky nail he was referring too in between the thumb and index finger of her other hand as if it was a genies lamp capable of granting three wishes. If it was she knew what she would wish for.

Joe's victory.

Joe's lips.

Joe's heart.

Although, she knew she wouldn't need a wish for the first two. The third one, she was still undecided on. He seemed to like her, but he was a frat boy--you never truly know with them.

The game kept going. Noise surged back flooding into her ears. It never quietened to anyone else but Daisy.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-

The final minutes of the game ticked down like they were being dragged against gravity. So painfully slow. The whole stadium holding there breathe as if the history hadn't already been made.

LSU was winning.

Winning big.

The scoreboard showed it off in bold red lines. 37 - 10.

When the final whistle blew. The stadium erupted. Grown men in golden body paint screamed and cried, beer was tossed in the skies above them like rice at a wedding. Such untouchable happiness that would never die.

Daisy felt numb. Her legs paralysed as she watched Joe collapse the his knees on the field. Sure, she had watched him win before but this was different, this was heavier. Tears of joy welled in her eyes, she hadn't been expecting herself to find it so emotional. Everyone else around her was cheering but she couldn't cheer, she could only watch.

Joe was walking the field, helmet held firmly under his tense bicep. He was surrounded by a sea of plays and coaches and tv camera, microphones being shoved into his face. He spoke to them with sweat laced blonde curls and a strong voice, he was being played on the big screens. And she watched. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

Purple, cold and white confetti poured from the skies. It stuck in his hair and to the sheen on his skin, his mouth curled as he tried to pull it off. He was so happy. Daisy was so happy watching him be so happy. Warmth swan in the centre of her chest. Flutters radiated through her stomach.

Joe pulled away from the reporters around, cameras still following him and he looked for her. He nodded his way through the slaps on his back and handed off his helmet to a member of the training staff. He couldn't see her in the seats where she had been.

No. She wasn't there.

He moved fast across the green grass.

She was moving too.

She slipped out of Justin's hug on the field and moved past him. Her heartbeat was louder in her chest than the music blaring around the stadium.

They met in the end zone--breathless, flushed, her hands shaking from the cold or was it from him.

Joe looked at her with wide eyes, his jersey grass stained, his face covered in a glow of hard work. The real trophy of tonight was in front of him.

'Congratulations, Joe' Her voice was so sweet it almost hurt him to hear because the ache it caused was so intense. He couldn't handle it, so he did the only thing that would ease the ache. He did the only thing he needed to do.

He cupped her cheeks and brought her lips to his. He didn't even think it through, but when he felt the white flash of a camera through his closed eyes he pulled back.

He shouldn't have done it. Not here. But he hadn't been thinking about anything but her.

'Fuck--I'm sorr-' He began.

'It's okay, really' She soothed.

For the first time that evening, Joe let the grin break fully across his face. A grin which was boyish, tired and full of every emotion he had carried with him to Atlanta, Georgia.

He threw his arm over her shoulder and guided her through the sea of people and towards the tunnel.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-

'Wait, no Daisy you look so good' Bella teased as she held up the photo's the journalists had taken two days ago in Georgia on her phone screen. Specifically the one of her and Joe walking through the sea of people.

She groaned as she covered her face with her hoodie covered palms as she lay sprawled across the soft white couch of Bella's off campus apartment. Cassie giggled from beside her and Aalia, Bella's roommate laughed as well. They never really spent time here, and Aalia had a completely separate group of friends so nights like this were a rare, but special, occasion. A complete girls night in the comfort of a plush modern apartment rather than a tight and humid dorm room.

'Can you not, this isn't a good thing. I've had to private my fucking instagram' Daisy huffed. It was true, since the photo's got published she had gained a few hundred new followers and received a few DMs from Joe's fans. It was strange, and felt invasive. She had to shut it down before anything more could happen.

'Your instagram. How ever will you cope?' Aalia jibed sarcastically from the fluffy pink bean bag in the centre of the living room floor. Daisy just rolled her eyes.

'Are you guys dating now or what?'

'What?' Daisy looked at Bella like she had grown two heads and a tail. 'No. Of course not'

'I'm sorry. Is it not reasonable to ask if you're dating a boy who just publicly kissed you on national television?'

Daisy covered her face again, hiding the redness and embarrassment that swept beneath it.

'She had a point, Dais' Cassie spoke softly.

'It's not that its unreasonable, it's just--uhh' Daisy struggled to put it into words what she was feeling.

'Do you have feelings for him?' Aalia asked.

'Yes' Daisy quietly responded, just loud enough so everyone could hear but not loud enough that it felt like a real admission.

'Does he have feeling for you?' Bella asked.

'I don't know' Daisy shrugged honestly. She though he did, he acted like he did but how could she know for certain.

'He does, Ja'marr told me Joe always talks about you. Ja'marr thinks he could be in love with you' Cassie said as she picked at her nails from beside Daisy on the couch.

The air was sucked from Daisy's lungs.

'When are you speaking with Ja'marr?' Bella looked at Cassie with a scowled brow and a squinted look.

'We text' Cassie shrugged.

'Since when' Bella tossed her head to the side in shock.

'Since we were thrown into a dysfunctional friend group of six where you fucked Justin then developed some weird awkward sibling relationship, where Daisy and Joe are so clearly fucking in love but won't ever do anything about it because he's leaving to god knows where in four months and Justin is realising that he might actually be in love with Daisy as well but--' Cassie slapped her hand over her mouth and paled. Her ferocious rambling coming to an abrupt stop as everyone in the rooms mouths dropped.

Daisy's head snapped to her. So much information to take in.

In love. Leaving.

Daisy never spent much time thinking about was was going to happen in a few months when Joe up and left college for the NFL draft and then embarked on a brutal pre-season training regime. She'd never let her mind wander to that far in the future but now it was here on her doorstep, banging on the wood trying to get into her mind.

Her heart thrummed against her caged chest with a rapid pace.

Justin.

'What' Daisy croaked out through her now dry lips. Her throat clogged with a lump.

'I wasn't--shit--I was told not to say anything' Cassie winced at herself. 'Justin told Ja'marr that, that he thinks he cares about you more than a friend should'

Joe could never find out. Never. That would destroy everything. This had to be kept quiet just until they were no longer teammates, until the season was done and the national title had been won. Everything was temporary now. The whole friendship between the six of them, it was all destined to crumble to the ground and turn to an ash they would simply mourn.

'Welp. Sucks to be you guys' Aalia said with an awkward chuckle, rubbing the palms of her hands on her knees and then standing up, walking in the direction of the kitchen to grab a bottle of dark cherry red liquid.

Daisy bit at her nails. Her mind still running wild with...well, with everything.

'You can't tell Joe' Cassie grumbled. 'Not now, not yet'

'I know, Cass' and Daisy did, more than Cassie even knew.

'This is so beyond fucked' Bella huffed, sinking back into her seat.

Daisy couldn't stop thinking about all the small moments between her and Justin, that she hadn't even bothered to dwell on before. It was like a third eye was opening in the centre of her forehead and she was seeing everything in a clear light.

Them moments, like when he helped her on the field after the SEC championship and pulled her into a warm embrace, or when he dropped by her dormitory with game tickets and a Jefferson jersey. When he jumped up off the couch first in Miami when she asked if they were coming to the beach. Maybe the most obvious sign she missed was when he would text her late at night asking what she was doing, or if they could hang out. Most of the time she said no, but there were times when she said yes. And he would come over, freshly showered near drowning in sandalwood scented cologne and sitting on her bed with her talking and talking and talking about anything.

All them times Joe had been jealous of Justin, and she had so valiantly defended him. How had she missed it? All them signs seemed clear as day now in the hindsight that was 20/20.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-

Daisy was spread out under the soft covers of Joe's bed. Her head pounding and her throat dry. Yesterday had been his birthday party, and a combined championship celebration at the fraternity which meant thing had gotten pretty out of control. So much alcohol. So much spilt beer. So much grinding against each other. Half of the night was a blur, a black void of forgotten moments that both her and Joe were paying the price for this morning.

'Happy birthday' Daisy turned over and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. Joe groaned and stirred, his own head pulsing with a harsh and painful beating. His lazy eyes looked over her messy hair and clean skin, a breath of fresh air in the musk of his fraternity bedroom. He would never get used to the sight of her in the morning, when she woke up all disheveled from being roughly fucked only hours earlier. Her smile so sweet and sickly, her eyes so bright yet tired. He ran his hand through her hair, playing with the lightly curled ends as he looked at her with adoration.

'thank you, cub'

She beamed at the nickname that seemed to stick.

'I got you a present' Daisy bit her bottom lip to hide her smile. 'Give me one second and it will be ready' then she ran off into the bathroom leaving the underneath of Joe's arm cold from her quick departure.

After a couple minutes, Daisy called out from the bathroom through a slit in the door.

'Close your eyes'

'No. Dais- what are yo-'

'Close your eyes' She said more sternly, and then he shut them.

He heard her bare feet walk out onto the bedroom floor, he heard the creak and then the click of the bathroom door. Then, she cleared her throat giving a signal that he could open his eyes. and he did. and then he closed them again. Multiple times at a quick pace. He tried to blink away the vision in front of him because there was no way it could be real. Heaven could not be stood in his room.

but it was.

She was.

Daisy was stood in black lace lingerie, the bralette see through. The thong connected to guarders wrapped around her soft thighs. Lace stockings landing just beneath them. Her puffy lips bitten between her white teeth. Her sage eyes glossed over in a hungry nervousness and suddenly his hangover was cured. He had been touched by a miracle in the form of the pretty flower in front of him.

'holy shit'

'You like it' Daisy twirled, lingering a second longer on the behind view so Joe could see her ass in the thong.

'Come'ere' Joe egged her over with a flick of his head. He was already hard beneath his boxers and he yearned to feel her skin pressed against him.

It hadn't even been six hours since they last had sex, but that amount of time still felt too long.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-

The sound of slapping skin and passionate moans hung in the dense air around them. Joe took Daisy from behind, pulling on her hair as she arched for him. One hand guiding her every movement down his stiff length. He left the stocking and guarders on, but he ripped off the bra and thong only moments after she had put them on. He liked the stockings. He liked the stockings a lot.

'Mmm, Joey' She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed.

'That's it, baby. You like getting fucked like this?'

'Mmhmm' She moaned again as Joe upped the pace of his thrusts. Sweat beading on his forehead and a warm glow shining across Daisy's back.

'That's my girl. No one else will ever make you feel like this y'know. Just me, cub, just me'

Joe brought his hand to her dripping core, touching her sensitive area. The stimulation made Daisy's legs shake and lock in unfathomable pleasure. She knew he was right. Know one else could make her feel like this because Joe was one of one in every capacity.

It was only moments later she felt the intensity of her climax while she screamed out into the pillow beneath her face. Joe came around two minutes later. He moaned her name. He always did when he came, and Daisy still couldn't get used to such a sweet sound.

When they came down from the highs of their orgasms, they lay beside each other, their legs intertwined and tangled. Naked flesh against naked flesh. The room was dim, washed in the golden light of winter sun which made everything around them look like a dream. The soft sheets were messy at their waists, the air still warm with the smell of sex and the faint hint of salt on their warm skin. Joe had one arm beside his head while the other wrapped around her petite frame and traced absent-minded love hearts on her shoulder. Daisy's hair fell softly against his arm, her lashes low but her eyes not quite closed as she embraced his soothing touch. Joe stared at her like he was trying to memorise ever small detail on her perfect skin, and maybe he was or maybe he had done that already.

He swallowed once, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth and a lump of nerves forming in his throat. He had been thinking about asking her something the past few days and now, in this light, on this morning he had decided it was time to be a man and do it.

'Cub' He said softly, a voice in the back of his clouded head yelling at him to stop before he couldn't take what he was about to say back.

Daisy turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his. Her expression was open, sleepy and a small bit curious.

'I want you to come with me' He murmured, like it was hard for him to say and it was. 'To the Heisman'

Daisy's brows lifted in both surprise and awe. She had never expected this, never in a million years did she think these words would fall out of his mouth.

'You want me there?' She whispered, her voice so low and breathy like she his invite was so fragile she was scared she may break it.

Joe looked at her--he really looked at her.

'I want you with me, not just there'

The words came out more vulnerable than he had planned. Daisy stared at him and something moved behind her eyes -- an echo of every moment they'd held back from saying what this really was between them. This was as close as Joe would ever come to telling her that this was something more than what it had started out as. His family would be there, and she would sit beside them. He would win the trophy and she would watch from the audience. Then he would give a speech, and maybe he would mention her. Finally, he would make his way back to her and place a kiss on her cheek, invite her beside him to take a photo with the most prized possession of his career so far. This meant something. This meant more than anything.

'Are you sure?' Daisy gave him another chance to take this all back, maybe it was the post sex euphoria that was making him feel this way and as soon as he came down from it, he would change his mind.

'I'm sure' Joe stuck by his word.

'People will talk' Daisy spoke the plain truth, one which Joe was already aware of. Media would be there and they would print it in the press that she was his girlfriend. She would be publicly claimed for all of America to see, and he would be seen as off the market.

'Let em'

Joe didn't care about what anyone else had to say, he just cared to make sure that Daisy would be there by his side on the greatest night of his life. Both of their pulses drummed against their necks. The gravity of Joe's words pulling at Daisy, the world around her seemed to tilt.

This was Joe telling her--i'm happy to be known as yours.

This was Joe asking her--are you happy to be known as mine?

Daisy let out a trembled breath, just a little one.

'Okay, I'll come'

Joe didn't smile, not fully but the corners of his lips curled. His eyes softened in a way that felt so much deeper. Grateful. A little bit relieved that she had said yes. He didn't know what he would have done if she had said no. He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Then they stayed in that moment for a short while, in the warmth of his words and the cover of his duvet. Their bodied curved into each other like a perfect puzzle.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚-

The rest of the week Daisy's excitement built and built. She went dress shopping with Bella and Cassie in New Orleans, and she managed to find the perfect skin tight deep silver dress that was equal parts sexy and classy, elegant and sultry. Joe had begged to see it while she straddled him in his bedroom when she got back but she refused to let him, she wanted it to be a surprise for the ceremony in just over a few days time.

Them few days seemed to be lingering on for too long.

The classroom buzzed softly -- the bright fluorescent white lights overhead, the occasional rustle of snuck in snacks and the turning of notebook pages. The professors voice faded into the background, monotone against Daisy's thoughts as she sat beside a bored and uncomfortable Bella who still had her sunglasses on due to the rager she went to last night.

Daisy sat beside her, her back straight against the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs. One hand curled around her pen as she tapped lightly against the table. Her eyes focusses on the clock in the centre of the blank white wall. It ticked in a slow cruelty. Every second stretching so longingly. She bounced her leg under the desk. Only five minutes of class left before she can race across campus back into Joe's bed.

When class ended, she scrambled to pack away her belongings as rows of students exited from the back of the hall. But then--she was interrupted.

'Hey, you're Daisy Moore right?' The words came out the thin red lips of a stunning red headed girl. Freckles spreading all across her cheeks and piercing blue eyes. She was petite and pale. Her striking hair wafted over her shoulder in waves that were too perfect to be accidental. She smiled, but behind it there was a secret. Daisy could see it, but she didn't know what it was and her stomach churned with a fear she may be about to find out.

Daisy's brows pulled together with caution while Bella too turned her head to the red head in curiosity. 'Yeah' Daisy breathed.

The girl nodded like she had known the answer already, her gaze shifted to one of guilt and sympathy. She shifted, looking at Daisy's notebook, then back to her.

'You're dating Joe Burrow?'

Daisy for a beat froze, then she shook her head.

'No.' She croaked out as the cold, villainous hands of anxiety wrapped around her throat. 'We're--we're um friends'

For a moment, it seemed like relief washed across the red head's face and she debated her next decision through her mind. Daisy watched, she could see the cogs in her head turning.

Don't tell me. Please. Don't tell me. Daisy thought because she knew there was only one thing that could be coming in a conversation like this. Bella grabbed her friends hand reassuringly because she too knew what bomb was about to land in the middle of the lecture hall.

'Right. Well. Just in case' The red head readied up the weapon in her mouth.

'It's just, I saw him kiss you after the Georgia game and I just thought you should know that a few--' She hesitated like it was painful to say. 'A few weeks back, he had been messaging me--you know, late at night, um sexting me and I replied because I had no idea about you. I'm sorry, I really am, I just--even if you're not together I though you should know'

'How long ago?' Bella asked because Daisy could not speak. The world around her came tumbling and crashing, burning it's way to the ground.

'When he was out of state--for the game against Arkansas'

That made the world simply explode into grey ash that could never be put back together. He had done this after Miami. A few days after. Was it the second he left the state, was that when he was on the phone to another girl begging her for nude images and then tugging himself away to her. Bile rose up in Daisy's throat. She was going to throw up at the thought of him.

'Cunt' Bella spat from beside Daisy.

'Thank you, for telling me' Daisy could only whisper her words to the red head who had just destroyed her. It wasn't her fault but she still couldn't bring herself to look at her. The pain was too fresh and too raw for her to stare at.

When the girl had left, and so had pretty much all of the other students -- Daisy opened up the flood gates. The tears spilled over her waterline and cascaded down her cheeks. Bella pulled her into a warm hug, one which she so desperately needed and she sobbed against the cotton fabric of her friends t-shirt. Bella held her like she was paper, fragile and crushable all at once. She held her like she was scared to let her go. How could Joe have done this? She thought but she knew how, because he was a frat boy with only half a cold dead heart. Lucas was the same, they were all the fucking same. Joe had Daisy fooled, he had everyone fooled because even Bella had believed that there was something special between them. But this. This act of down right nastiness had shown otherwise. And from this, Joe could never come back--not for Bella.

'I'm so stupid' Daisy sobbed heart wrenchingly into the crook on Bella's neck. Her words breaking apart just like the heart that pounded in her chest. 'How could I be so stupid--again?' Daisy cursed herself, and this blow, this heartbreak was twice as painful as the last because it brought everything back. All the times girls had told her stories of Lucas' cheating, all the messages and photographs of hard proof flickered through her mind. And now Joe. He hadn't cheated. How could it be cheating when they weren't together? He hadn't even gone against their arrangement. Sexting and exchanging nudes wasn't physical intimacy so he could be spared of this betrayal on a thin technicality but it still hurt. God, did it hurt. It hurt more than anything. The pain in Daisy's chest made her feel like she was going to die. She couldn't catch her breathe and everything seemed to be fading to black.

Her tears came harder -- hot, aching and bitter -- the kind of cry you can only let out when your in a deep state of mourning.

'You're not stupid, Daisy' Bella wrapped a caring hand around her friends head as she held her in the crook of her neck, lightly stroking her hair. 'He invited you to meet his family, he gave you birthday presents, he showered you in kisses and affection. You fell for him, like every woman would fall for a man that did that'

Daisy shook her head into Bella's shoulder like she couldn't believe what she was saying.

The classroom around them stayed quiet, the professor had gone as soon as the class went so it was just the two of them in the wreckage of the bomb site. Overhead lights blinked and hummed in a way that felt almost taunting because they reminded Daisy of the lights in Joe's bathroom. She didn't know why she was crying anymore. She couldn't tell if it was because of Joe or her own stupidity. Bella let her friend fall apart never once asking her to speak or tell her how she was feeling, she just let the emotions flood through her and out into her arms.

Then, the phone on the desk buzzed.

Daisy pulled back and looked at it with mascara smudged all around her eyes and a sniffling red nose.

Joe

His name flashed up on the screen because she was late to meet him. She hadn't even realised she had been sat crying into Bella for close to forty five minutes.

She winced as she watched it ring away. She winced as she watched his name fade from the screen. She couldn't speak to him, not now -- probably not for a while. Not until she figured out what was happening in her head and her heart.

'We should get back to your dorm, Dais. A class is gonna be in here next period'

All Daisy could muster was a nod in agreement, then she turned off her phone as he rang it again. She couldn't even handle the pain of seeing his name.

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Joe paced in his room. Daisy was over an hour and a half late. Her phone was going straight to voicemail and he could feel it deep in his bones that something was wrong. A feeling of dread clawed at his stomach. The air felt different in a way it had never felt before.

He sent her another text. Then he sent Cassie one. He just wanted to know where she was, he just wanted to know that she was safe.

He didn't even hear the heavy footsteps of someone running up the stairs to his bedroom, but he did hear his door slam open.

'Tell me you fucking didn't'

Justin was seething with anger. His eyes so pointed and full of hatred. His chest puffing and panting from the intensity of his emotions rather than the run to Joe's room.

Joe looked at him startled.

'TELL ME YOU FUCKIN DIDN'T' Justin commanded with a harsh shout Joe had never heard before. It sounded like it came from the depths of his teammates stomach. It sounded like a beast had been unleashed from it's cage.

'Didn't what' Joe could only shoot back a cocky response, he didn't want Justin to see that he was rattled by him. But Joe made the wrong choice, he made a fatal error.

Justin ran at him, grabbing him by the colour of his black training shirt and shoved him hard against the bedroom walls. Joe was taller than him, and usually stronger but Justin's adrenaline gave him an uncharacteristic advantage against his quarterback.

Ja'marr stood in the doorway, he heard the noise and came rushing to see what was happening.

'Did you fucking sext some bitch in Arkansas? Huh?'

Justin knew the answer the second the blood drained from Joe's face. Bella had texted him about what had occurred in the classroom, instructing him to figure out if it was true but he already knew it was because he knew exactly what Joe was capable of doing. Joe wasn't a good guy, not for Daisy. He knew it from the moment they started hooking up that something like this would happen.

'You're a fucking dick, Joe' Justin looked at his teammate dead in the eyes, wanting him to really take in the words he was saying. He wanted him to feel it, every bit of shame he could for what he had done to Daisy.

'Does she know?' It was all Joe cared to ask. He could deal with Justin later.

'Does she know?' Justin scoffed. 'Yeah, Joe, she fucking knows'

With that, Joe shoved Justin off him and ran out of his bedroom refusing to acknowledge the winced and shy look of shame his best friend Ja'marr gave him as he darted past. He could feel all that later, but right now he needed to get to her, get to Daisy. He needed to explain it. Not that he could.

He had sexted that red haired girl. Macy. Late at night, after drinking at a club in Arkansas, when he was bored and alone in his hotel room and Daisy wasn't picking up the phone because she must have been asleep. It wasn't even extensive, just two nudes of a Macy's breasts and some half assed flirting before he got bored and snapped out of it. He never even saved the photos, in fact he deleted them and blocked the girl on everything. He, even drunkenly, realised the monumental fuck up he had made. It was like for a brief moment he slipped back into his old self, like Daisy didn't exist. He never thought anyone would find out. He never though this would happen.

Joe sprinted across campus. Across the quad. Across the green grass. Ignoring everyone who looked at him as he passed. He had blinkers on, his mind only focussed on getting to her. His breath was so ragged, his own heart beginning to crack at the fact that he knew deep down that after this, he and Daisy would never be the same. His lungs burned. Or maybe it was his heart. He couldn't stop to find out.

He thought about how Daisy would be hurting. How she would be thinking that he had fooled her. How she would be thinking that she didn't matter to him at all. That spurred him on. He ran even faster. The wind hitting against his skin like icy daggers. His hair blown back. Never had he ran like this on the field because despite his love of football Daisy meant more, he realised that now, in the moment when he knew he was losing her -- he realised that she meant more to him than it all, than everything. The Heisman wouldn't mean anything if she wasn't their to watch him win it. The national championship wouldn't mean anything if she wasn't their in the stands.

He hit the steps up to the entrance of her dorm building, he took them two at a time. The halls inside were busy, and warm, lit by the soft sleepy light of sunset through the vast windows. His hand clung to the walls as he rounded the sharp corners. He knocked into people and didn't stop as they shouted curse words behind him.

When he finally saw her dorm room door at the end of the hallway. He hesitated for a second. Only a second. He had no clue what he was going to say, but he had to try. His chest clenched in regret. He didn't even understand why he responded to Macy's message in the pale moonlight. Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep?.

He knocked on the door with a shaking fist.

No answer.

He knocked on it harder, with purpose and pain.

'Please' He begged.

When he heard the handle twist he braced himself to see her. To see her red eyes and hear her pain stricken sobs.

but as the door opened they never came.

Cassie stood there with a look of pure, truthful hate. He didn't even know a girl like Cassie was capable of hatred. But she was, because she hated him and he could feel it.

'I need to see her'

'You can't.' Cassie held her chin high, and her voice strong.

'Please. Cassie. Let me explain to her'

'You can't' She spat at him, venom dripping off each word.

'Cass--'

'She's gone, Joe' She told him coldly. She wasn't happy that he had dragged her best friend away from her.

The coldness of her words looped through his mind like static, unravelling the world he had build around him. Gone.

'Where?' Maybe he could go to her, maybe he could find her. If she was in Austin he would travel there with no question. If it was New York or California, he would get on a plane and follow her there.

'London'

Too far. She was going somewhere too far away from him. A place he wouldn't be able to touch her. He had the Heisman ceremony, the end of season games, Christmas with his family. London was too far from him.

Daisy knew that.

That's why she went. She took the earliest flight to her father.

She always spent winter break there.

What difference did going a few weeks earlier make?

Especially when it meant she would be away from every reminder of him.

The boy who had just shattered her barely mended heart.

౨ৎ

a/n: i'm sorry. (many years of angst coming)

Also, I listened to the bridge of I know the End by Pheobe Bridgers when writing Joe running across campus. Highly recommend.

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.

Missing him😔

can you pick ONE body part of Joe’s that turns you on the most?

His back. His back. His back. His back. His back. His back. besides his like whole face & smile His back. His back. His back. I want to lick his spine. Nibble at his shoulder blades. Press my palm into the small of his lower back just to feel him shiver at the touch. Hiiiiiissssss bbbbbbaaaasccccckkkkk 😮‍💨

JOE BURROW — the met

summary — he didn’t think she got invited. she tricked him and shows up anyway.

warnings — fem!olympian!reader, fluff, language, smut, barely proofread

note — not entirely happy with this but if i keep looking at it i’m gonna scrap it. so pls be nice :)

tags — @willowsnook @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @hannahjessica113 @hotburreaux @iosivb9 @softburrow @irishmanwhore @kazsbrckkers @sportyphile @ebsmind @joecoolburrow @wickedfun9 (comment/send an ask to be added!)

“WHAT?” HE WAS FURIOUS. His hands gripped the invitation, but he stared at her empty hands. His eyes were blown with disbelief, his heart pumping wildly in his chest; she didn’t get invited. His girlfriend, a gold medalist in the Olympics, didn’t get invited.

“Joe, it’s not the end of the world,” she tried to assure him, “it’s high fashion. It’s not really my thing,”

“Babe, I wanted you there with me. I don’t want to walk that carpet by myself,” he answered her, raking his free hand through his curls. The Met Gala, a prestigious gathering of the rich to show off different themes each year. People ate it up, and she always looked forward to seeing what her favorite celebrities wore.

But Joe was invited this time. The same Joe who didn’t do social gatherings.

“I saw Justin was going to be there,” she tried again, “and Jalen. You know them, especially JJ,”

“They’re not you, Y/N. I wanted you there,” he argued. Every social event he brought her. She grounded him and kept him sane. When the flashes of the cameras blinded him, when the shouts of reporters deafened him, all he wanted was her. He wanted her soft touch and her graceful reminders. He didn’t know if he could do it alone.

“I know, baby,” she sighed, cupping his face in her hands. She had her own little secret, one she cradled in her chest. She’d been invited, and she was definitely going, but she wanted to surprise Joe. This was the Met, his first ever, and she wanted it to be extra memorable.

“You’ll be watching, right?”

“Of course,” she chuckled, flicking her eyes over his face. His blue eyes were deep with his affection, his expression tranquil under the softness of her touch. She soothed his nerves, the anxiety of the attention he’d receive.

In that moment, she wanted to spill her guts. To let him in on the little secret she had. She could see the lines of his face, feel the indents of his anxiety on his skin. He was nervous, but at the same time, she knew he was excited.

“Good,” he sighed, “if my best girl can’t be there, I want her watching,”

“Why? You gonna blow me away?” she teased, earning a smirk from Joe.

“I think you’ll blow me away,” he winked, and she smacked his arm. He laughed, the sweetness of his laughter filling the room around them. He always found a way to insert a flirty innuendo into their conversations.

“Pervert,” she smirked, turning to walk from him. He stepped after her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back to him. He pressed his chest to her back, laughing as she giggled. His arms were strong, holding her in place as he rocked them.

“Only for you,” he hummed into her neck. Joe placed soft, gentle kisses to her skin, the softness of his touch making her shiver. She hummed, letting his hands roam up her chest, fondling with her breasts.

“Clearly,” she chuckled. His hand gently squeezed her breast, walking her back towards their bedroom. His curls tickled her skin, soft chuckles leaving her lips as he kept his hold on her.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” Joe murmured into her neck. His hand rested on her breast, his kisses persisting on her neck. Being invited to the Met was an honor, one that Joe was excited to be given. But being without his girl? It scared him even more.

He relied on her. She kept him grounded through the small things, like tracing his knuckles with her thumb or holding onto his bicep. The small, subtle gestures that helped him remain planted. The football field was one thing, the red carpet was another.

“I’ll be right there,” she hummed as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He leaned his bodyweight against her, sighing deeply into her skin. She rested her arms on his, softly closing her eyes.

She would be right there. He just didn’t know it yet.

— The Met —

Cameras. Shouting. Flashes of light. It was overstimulating. Joe’s been in front of fans before, he’s done interviews, but this seemed like a whole different level. He held his confidence, even if he felt empty handed.

She wasn’t by his side.

“Joe! Take the glasses off!”

“Joe! Adjust your collar!”

“Joe! Over here!”

He felt his heart racing in his chest. He flexed his hand at his side, imagining her hand in his. He really needed her there.

Joe moved through the carpet, adjusting the sleeves of his suit coat. He felt every eye on him, the weight of their expectations and their assumptions. Joe swallowed, his eyes flicking across the row of reporters as he chose which ones to talk to.

He silently hoped one of them was her. But it never was.

“Joe Burrow,” Joe turned to see Justin, and for a moment his world brightened. Joe dapped him up, going in for a warm and comforting embrace with his friend.

“No Y/N?”

“Nah, she didn’t get invited,” Joe answered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

“What?” JJ was shocked, “a gold medalist, world record holder, and the girlfriend of Joe Burrow didn’t get invited,”

“I dunno, man,” Joe shrugged, raking a hand through his hair, “these kinda things are picky,”

“Yeah, but still,” JJ huffed, leading them both further down the carpet, “she’s a badass. I’d hope to see her here,”

“What, so you can ogle at her?” Joe teased, even if there was a flare of possessiveness.

“No, so I can watch you go all doe-eyed on her,” JJ teased back. The two friends laughed, and Joe’s anxiety for a moment subsided. He still wished she was there, holding his shaking hand, but she was watching. He knew that.

Just as he breached the stairs, the buzz of the reporters kicked up again. He didn’t turn until he heard her name. He whipped his head around, his eyes falling on the woman who stepped onto the carpet. His jaw slacked, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He felt his cheeks warm, warmth pooling into his belly.

She was here and she looked stunning.

“Well well well,” Justin chuckled, clapping Joe on the shoulder, “looks like someone did get invited,”

Joe was speechless. He let his eyes take her in, the tailoring of her dress hugged her body perfectly, the unique design of her outfit accentuated her flare and her strength. She commanded the room, her presence shutting out those who ever doubted her.

She was a world record setter. An Olympian. She was to be respected.

She tried not to adjust her dress for the upteenth time. She hoped that her breasts wouldn’t pop out of the dress or her ankles would give out in her heels. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of millions.

She answered questions, polite smiles and attitudes thrown towards any reporters that ate it up. She had one goal; to see Joe.

She carefully stepped her way up the carpet, trying not to trip over the train of her dress. She wasn’t used to wearing such extravagance, but it was the Met Gala. It was expected.

Her eyes flicked up to meet Joe’s. His slack jaw and his fidgety hands made her heart swell. He looked good too, though she had some criticism. She wanted to see some more muscle out of that suit.

“Careful, Burrow,” she hummed as she walked up to him, “gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that,”

He was absolutely mesmerized. She didn’t wear dresses like this. Seeing her there, the scent of her perfume wafting over his senses, it turned him into putty. He swallowed, offering her his arm.

“You’re gorgeous,” Joe hummed as she slipped her arm through his. Her hand curled to rest on his bicep, giving him that reassuring squeeze that he’d wanted from her, that he’d needed.

“Thank you,” she smiled, “you don’t look too bad yourself,”

“The suit could be fitted better,” he hummed, tugging at the edge with his free hand, “but I like the color. It’s comfortable too,”

“It is,” she agreed. They walked into the gala, the hum of people swarming them. She stuck to Joe as people came and spoke to them, as they met new people and saw old friends. Joe couldn’t stop staring at her. She had to have on body glitter on with how she sparkled under the dim lighting. Her presence was all-consuming, bringing him to his knees.

Fuck.

He swallowed, controlling his thoughts as they rambled around in his mind. His hand flexed, his heart racing. Her on the bathroom counter. Moans filling his ears. Nails scratching down his back.

“I’m starving,” her words broke his concentration. He looked down at her, watching as she flicked her eyes over the gala for food. She found one of the few snack tables, pulling Joe along.

“I think it’s just rich people food,” Joe hummed as he walked with her. She shot him a look, her eyes glistening in the dim light. Those damn eyes.

“Baby,” she chuckled, “we’re part of those rich people ya know,”

“True,” he chuckled, “doesn’t mean I like it though,”

She laughed, clicking her tongue as she looked over the foods. She found a piece of baklava, something that her family used to make, and she plucked it from the plate.

“Ever had this before?” she asked, biting into the sweet, flaky treat. She extended the other half of the treat to Joe.

“No, what is it?” he asked, taking the treat from her hands. He watched as her eyes sparkled, as she raised her thumb to her lips to suck off the sugar coating.

Fucking hell.

“Baklava. I think this is made with walnuts, though. My personal fav,” she shrugged. She wasn’t oblivious to how Joe looked at her, how his eyes widened and his pupils dilated. He was turned on, and she fought the urge to look and see just how turned on he was.

Joe took a bite, the sweet and sugary treat melting in his mouth. It was overly sweet, nearly making his eyes water. He’s never had it before, and he wasn’t sure he’d have it again.

“It’s not that bad,” she joked, giggling at him.

“It’s straight sugar, babe,” he coughed rather dramatically, “I can taste each individual particle of sugar,”

She just shook her head, rolling her eyes at him. She was glad she came; she watched him relax under her gaze and her touch was refreshing. She could tell he needed it, that he needed her.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. She let her eyes drag down his body, taking him in. His hair was in perfect, thick curls, his eyes sparkled in the dim light, matching the color of his suit. The necklace that he wore, the gold against the tan of his skin, it made her heart skip a beat.

“Now this,” she purred, looping a finger around his necklace, “this is a nice little accessory,”

Joe’s breath hitched. Her finger brushed against the triangle of exposed skin on his chest, twirling around the gold piece around his neck. He felt heat swell in his belly, his thighs aching with tension.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes fluttering, “you like it?”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with clouds of desire. Her lips tugged into a smirk, her expression seductive.

“Oh do I,” she purred, running her hand down his chest.

“Babe,” He warned, his voice low and raspy with his growing desire. His pants grew tighter, the erection in his boxers straining against his outfit.

“Yeah?”

“Keep doing that and we’re gonna have to find a bathroom,” Joe leaned closer, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The ache down in his cock was nearly unbearable, especially as the images continued to flood his brain.

Her taste on his tongue. Her pussy wrapped around his cock. Her sweet, sweet moans.

He didn’t give her a chance to decide. His hand grabbed hers and he led her through the crowd. His heart pumped, his blood running hot as he walked with her. His mind was hazy, filled with only one thing.

Her touch. Her taste. Her smell. Her.

He pushed opened the bathroom door, the elegance of the room taking them in. Granite countertops illuminated by warm lights, gold inlaid doors and handles. It was beautiful.

He locked the door, his hands flipping to grip her hips. He pushed her against the counter, his lips hungrily slotting against hers.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he growled against her lips. Hunger intertwined them, passion glued them together. It was an ancient language, one that needed to be translated and understood. One they were fluent in.

“I wanted this,” she panted as Joe interrupted her with kisses to her lips. Her fingers dug through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He moaned, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers.

“You wanted this?” he repeated, his lips trailing down to her neck, “you wanted me all riled up?”

Joe’s hands hoisted her up onto the counter, her legs parting for him to stand between. His hands ran up her thighs, pushing under her dress. She could feel the beginnings of arousal slick her panties, the ache pulsing deep within her.

“Did you like your surprise?” she asked him, feeling his fingers hook under the fabric of her panties. His fingers were calloused over, years of football built into his skin. He tugged her panties off of her hips, letting them fall to the floor.

“Oh baby,” he murmured against her skin, “I’m gonna show you just how much I liked it,”

His desperation drove him, it strung together his limbs and held his head on straight. She was his drug, the constant high he needed. His fingers parted her folds, the skin slick with her arousal. Her pussy was hot, slippery with her musk. His fingers moved in and through them, his eyes darkening with lust. A gasp fell from her lips, her hands gripping the granite countertops.

“Fuck,”

“So wet for me,” he breathed against her neck. He didn’t take his time. He pressed into her clit, the sensitive bud throbbing under his touch. He pulsed his fingers, her body responding to the electricity with a shiver. She whimpered, her jaw slack with the sheer intensity of his touch.

“Joe,”

Joe pulled his fingers away, lifting them to his lips. He licked his fingers clean, the bitter musk of her arousal making him shiver. He wasn’t going to take his time. This bathroom counter would be the place where he’d make her scream.

The entire Met Gala would know whose she was.

He guided her off of the counter, his hands guiding her hips so she turned around. He looked at her through the mirror, his hands gliding up her thighs again. His anticipation grew, his desperate need to have her climbing.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, princess,” he mumbled in her ear, kissing her neck. Her eyes met his in the mirror, his blue eyes dark with lust. His hands hiked the skirt of her dress around her waist, revealing her bare ass to him.

His hands roamed her skin, squeezing the muscle of her ass. He moved his hands down, parting her legs for him. He looked at her in the mirror, her cleavage in perfect view. If he had the time, he’d make sure to taste every single crevice of her body.

But he didn’t have the time.

Joe undid his slacks, yanking them down along with his boxers. His veiny, thick cock sprung free, red and sensitive with his arousal. His body ached, his heart slammed wildly against his chest. He was so driven by his animalistic need that he didn’t care they were in a public bathroom. He didn’t care if they were caught.

With one hand, Joe held her chin up, making her look at him. With the other, he guided his cock against her velvety folds. His eyes fluttered, her slick coating the hardness of his cock, his lips hovering above her ear. His soft grunts filled her head, the burn of his cock filtering through her folds making her body jerk.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Joe growled in her ear, “so desperate, so mine,”

Without warning, he pushed himself into her. She gasped, arching her back against his chest. Her velvety walls molded around him, taking him in full. The burn was sweet, it electrified every nerve that wired her body together. His hand slid from her chin, cupping around her throat. His hand was warm, firm with his grasp. He didn’t restrict her breathing, but the way he held her made her eyes roll.

Joe’s hips slammed against hers, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the bathroom. His brow was creased with his pleasure, with how her walls clenched around his cock. He held himself up as he thrusted himself in and out of her, the sweetness of the friction making him whimper.

“Needed you all day,” he murmured in her ear, his hand still around her throat. Joe slammed into her, the burn from his thrusts making her moan. Her body jerked with each thrust, her eyes watering from the intensity. She could feel the heat of his cock kiss her cervix, every thrust making her whimper.

“Joe,” she whimpered, her hands holding his hips. It felt so good, so painfully good, she thought she was seeing stars.

“That’s right baby,” he kissed below her ear, “say my name,”

“God,” she moaned, his hips snapping against hers relentlessly, “Joe, fuck,”

She consumed him. Her sounds, how her pussy wrapped so beautifully around his cock, the way her eyes looked in the mirror. His eyes were dark, nearly black with lust as he watched her in the mirror. Her head thrown back, her breasts threatening to tear free from her dress with every thrust. The muscles in her arms bulged, her shoulders tensed as she held onto him.

She was a greek goddess worthy of his worship.

“Look at yourself,” Joe growled. He watched as her eyes peeled open, her lips parted with her whimpers and moans.

“So beautiful,” he growled, feeling the rubber band coil in his gut. She clenched around him, her whimpers becoming erotic as she neared the edge herself. She felt her muscles give, her face contorting with the orgasm that stung the edges of her nerves.

“Joe-”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hips snapping against hers. His lips hovered over her neck, his hands both holding her hips as he pounded into her. She tensed, her orgasm rolling over her in a wave. She felt her orgasm slide down her legs, hot and sticky. She moaned, her muscles shaking as she came, the heat and sweetness of her release making her head spin.

“Fuck,” Joe whimpered as he came inside of her, keeping his body pressed against hers. Hot spurts of cum shot from his cock, coating her walls. His hands held on to her hips, digging into her muscular and soft skin. He panted, sweat clinging to his skin as he slowly pulled himself out of her.

The mirror was fogged, their silhouettes the only things noticeable in the mirror. Joe’s hands caressed her sides, his lips pressing soft kisses against her neck. He could feel her heartbeat in every kiss, could hear the unevenness of her breaths.

“That felt amazing,” she breathed. Her body was warm, the edges of her nerves thoroughly frayed. Joe’s hands guided her back around to face him, resting his forehead against hers. His thighs shook, his heart slamming against his chest.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he hummed. His mind was consumed with her, his craving for her satisfied. Joe recognized the risk they both took, but it was worth it. Seeing her blissed out was worth it.

“Thank you,” she hummed, looping her shuddering arms around his neck. They let the silence sit, the calm after the passion. The bathroom was hot, humid with their sex and their love.

Joe cupped her face, slotting his lips warmly against hers. She hummed into the kiss, her body slowly recovering from the burn of her pleasure. His lips slowly smoothed over her nerves, letting her come down from the blinding lights of her orgasm.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away. She smiled at him, her eyes finding his. His cheeks were flushed, his curls askew, and his pupils were blown with affection. She was the object of his desire, his idol, the one he worshiped.

“I love you, too,” she hummed. She took a deep breath, letting her hands fall to his hips. She didn’t know how they’d go back out to that party after that. She kissed him again, quicker and softer, a smile painting her lips.

“Think we can look like nothing happened?” she asked, pulling away from him. She didn’t know if his curls would be able to recover, or if her legs would cooperate.

“I think so,” he exhaled, tugging on his trousers again, “we can always blame it on nerves or something,”

“That’s not gonna work for my wobbly legs, babe,” she admitted, sliding her panties back onto her hips.

“I can make ‘em a lot more wobbly for you,” he winked. He intended to make do on that promise, but not in the gala. He’d risked enough by having her in the bathroom.

“Later, cowboy,” she smirked, readjusting her breasts in her dress, “we do have to make our appearances, ya know. Plus there’s an after party to get through,”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, opening the door for you, “it means I gotta wait longer to have you,”

“I think that time can hold you over,” she kissed his cheek. They walked back in, hand in hand. They entered back into the gala, pretending like they didn’t just ravish each other. She forgot about the mess she made on the bathroom floor; hopefully someone would blame it on a broken water faucet.

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

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."

Back when he was called "Sunshine"

WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW I NEED THE NEXT PART NEOW!! also JALEN!!!! HELLO. that confession was everything i needed

this was amazing

we never tell - joe burrow

summary turns out joe burrow doesn't take kindly to being treated like a stranger

content 18+, smut, angst, language, alcohol

part five

You’re getting flashbacks. Stuck in some hole-in-the-wall bar that smells like spilled beer and victory. The sort of place that's seen a thousand celebrations and will see a thousand more.

You're pressed between bodies that reek of adrenaline, trying to make yourself small in a corner booth while Dom argues with someone about LSU's defensive line. The noise is overwhelming, too many voices layered over bad music, the kind of chaos that makes your skull feel too tight.

You shouldn't be here.

Especially not when Joe keeps drifting closer to your end of the table, finding excuses to lean over Dom's shoulder, to grab napkins from the dispenser next to you, to brush past you under the pretense of squeezing through the crowded space. 

Each time, you find a reason to move: bathroom, bar, outside for air. Anything to avoid being in his orbit for too long.

"You want another drink?" Dom's voice cuts through your spiral, and you realize you've been staring at the same spot on the table for who knows how long.

"I'm fine," you lie, even though your vodka soda has been empty for twenty minutes.

He gives you that look, the one that says he's not buying it but won't push. "I'm getting one anyway."

You have to scoot out of the booth to let him pass, the awkward shuffle making you want to melt. When you slide back in Dom's absence leaves a gaping space between you and Joe. You perch on the very edge of the seat, as far from him as possible while still technically sitting down.

"I'll come help you carry," someone whose name you didn’t catch says, pushing back from the table and following him.

Dom walks towards the bar, his jersey already stained with something that could either be beer or barbecue sauce. He looks happy, loose in a way you haven't seen him in months. This is his element—celebrating with friends that weren’t his but suddenly are. Basking in reflected glory, being part of something bigger than himself.

Everyone here looks the same, drunk on victory and possibility, wearing their colors like badges of honor. You feel like an imposter in your simple black top, like everyone can see that you don't belong.

"Come on, just for a little bit," Dom had pleaded outside the Mercedes-Benz stadium, still buzzing from the win. "The guys are celebrating. It'll be fun."

You should be at dinner with your parents right now, somewhere quiet with cloth stitched napkins and muted conversations. Somewhere safe. Instead, you're trapped in this testosterone-fueled victory lap because Dom wouldn't take no for an answer.

Fun. Right.

Your mom had looked disappointed when you chose the bar over dinner, her hand lingering on your arm like she wanted to pull you back. "You sure, honey? We could all go together. Have a nice meal."

But here you are, nursing regret in liquid form, trying not to think about the last time you talked to Joe. And definitely not thinking about the last time you saw Joe face to face.

You smell his cologne and your body goes traitor, remembering what your mind has spent months trying to forget. The urge to run wars with the urge to lean closer, and both options feel like jumping off a cliff.

Your phone buzzes against your thigh, and your stomach does a familiar flip before you even check the screen.

Holy shit you saw that game?? 👀

you: sooo when were you gonna tell me you're some star qb 

You feel eyes on you and look over to catch Joe staring at your screen. His jaw is tight, and there's something unreadable in his expression as he takes in what you've written.

You tilt your phone away instinctively, but he doesn't look away. For a long moment, you're locked in this stare, heart hammering as his eyes search yours like he's trying to make sense of something. 

Then, maybe out of spite—or desperation—you adjust your grip, angling the phone just enough for him to see Jalen’s name lighting up your screen as another message comes through.

You hate that you want him to care. Hate that you’re performing for an audience of one, using someone else’s attention like a weapon. But when his mouth tenses and steel flashes behind his eyes, a sick satisfaction curls in your stomach.

From across the table, Ja’marr calls out a question to Joe and his attention reluctantly shifts. You exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding, angling your phone away this time as another response comes through.

jalen: Ain’t noo way you saw the game

you: saw you get your ass kicked

jalen: Ouch. And here I thought you were sweet

you: you thought wrong

you: :)

You're smiling despite yourself, the first real smile you've managed all day. Something about texting Jalen feels easy, like you can be the version of yourself that doesn't carry the weight of all this drama.

you: seriously though how did you not mention you’re oklahoma’s qb 

jalen: How did you not mention you're apparently an LSU fan

Your mind drifts back to your initial message to him towards the beginning of the game. You'd been half-watching, half-scrolling through your phone, when the big screen lit up with Oklahoma's starting lineup. One by one, they announced the players, each name echoing through the Superdome as the camera followed them onto the field.

And then: "At quarterback, number one, Jalen Hurts!"

Your phone had nearly slipped from your hands.

There he was, larger than life on the jumbotron—the same honey-brown eyes, the same easy smile, but dressed in Oklahoma crimson instead of the casual clothes you'd seen him in back home. Stats flashed across the screen: 32 passing touchdowns, 20 rushing touchdowns, 3,851 passing yards. Numbers that meant he was really, really good.

Before the screen could flash on to the next player, you quickly snapped a photo and sent it to him along with a string of question marks. What you didn’t notice was how blaringly obvious the pool of purple and gold that you were swimming in looked in the picture.

You: touche

"Oh my god, no way!"

The voice is bright and excited, cutting through the noise of the bar clearly. You look up to see her weaving through the crowd, face lit up with genuine delight. Behind her, Nate follows with the kind of resigned expression that suggests this wasn't his idea.

Your stomach drops.

Dom appears at your side, fresh drinks in hand, wearing a grin that looks suspiciously planned. "Surprise!" he announces, like it's Christmas morning.

You paste on a smile, one that might’ve been genuine if not for everything that happened a year ago. "Wow," you manage, standing to greet them both. "I had no idea you were coming."

Even as you're going through the motions, your attention keeps drifting to Joe's reaction. He's gone very still, that careful mask slipping into place as Bridget gets closer.

She reaches you first, practically buzzing, her cheeks flushed with excitement and probably alcohol. She's wearing LSU colors, a purple top that brings out her eyes, gold jewelry that catches the light. She looks perfect, like she belongs. 

Part of you wants to hate her—for her posts, for being here, for the way she fits into Joe's world. But she's warm and genuine, and that makes it worse somehow. Because it would be easier if she were awful. Easier to justify the sickening jealousy that crawls about when you see her.

"I've missed you," she pulls back to look at your face. "When Dom called however many weeks ago and said he could get us here for tonight, I've been excited since."

"Weeks?" The word slips out before you can stop it, and you catch the guilty flicker in your brother's expression as he sets drinks down on the table.

"Right after we found out your family was coming to the game," Nate confirms, reaching over to dap up the other guys. "Dom said we had to be here for the game. Make it a proper reunion since no Tahoe trip for you this year."

The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. 

Your brother orchestrated this. Set you up like pieces on a chessboard, and you walked right into it. The betrayal tastes metallic, makes your hands shake as you realize how naive you've been. Does he know? About your encounters, about the phone calls, about how you've been walking around with Joe's name carved into you like scar tissue? The thought makes you want to disappear into the floor.

But Bridget doesn't seem to notice your stillness, too focused on turning her attention to Joe.

"Hey," she speaks to him. It’s almost personal the way she looks at him, not desperate or clingy, but like she has every right to be here, in this moment, celebrating his victory alongside all of you.

Joe stands from the booth to greet her properly, and you're suddenly standing beside each other, close enough that you can feel the tension radiating off him. 

Before he can react, Bridget's leaning in for a hug. It's brief but intimate, her hands resting against his shoulders. The awkward pat on her arm he gives her seems more obligatory than friendly.

When Joe pulls back, he steps away too quickly and his shoulder knocks into you, sending you stumbling back against the edge of the booth. His hand darts out instinctively, curling around your arm to steady you before you can fully lose balance. 

The contact lingers for a second longer than it should. His touch is careful, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he doesn’t really want to let go.

His skin against yours is muscle memory, your body recognizing his touch before your brain can build its defenses. For one terrifying second, you want to melt into it. Your pulse skitters like a trapped bird, and you jerk away because staying means drowning. 

You lean away as far as the limited space allows and his face briefly twitches. You tear your gaze away from him only to lock eyes with Ja'Marr, who's been watching the two of you with barely concealed interest. 

There's recognition in his expression that makes heat crawl up your neck. You wonder what he sees, whether the careful distance you've maintained looks as desperate as it feels. Whether everyone in this space can read the story written in the space between you and Joe.

"Sorry," Joe mutters beside you. The first words he’s spoken to you since the messages stopped coming. It had been a couple days after his birthday with no reply from you, when he finally took the hint.

For what? You want to bite back.

"It's fine," you opt for instead.

You tear your gaze away from Ja'Marr and scan the faces around you. Nate is settling into conversation with one of Joe's teammates, the others are making room for everyone, and Dom is watching you.

When your eyes meet his, you raise your eyebrows slightly—that silent sibling language you've perfected over the years. What?

He shakes his head once and looks away, but not before you catch an unfamiliar edge to him. 

There's a shuffle as people start sliding into the booth, Bridget claiming the spot next to where Joe was sitting, Nate squeezing in beside her, Dom and one of the teammates on the other side. You make sure to slide in last, again perching on the very edge of the seat where you can bolt if you need to.

Joe is seated beside you, and you're hyper-aware of the space between you… or lack thereof. The booth that felt too small before now feels suffocating with everyone new crammed in.

Bridget is talking about the flight, about how excited she was to surprise everyone, and you nod along. Nate is talking about the game, how he and Bridget made friends with some random people near the student section, and you smile at his jokes. 

Your phone buzzes again, probably Jalen responding to your last message, but you don't check it. Can't, really, not with Joe sitting right there, not with the memory of his face when he saw you texting someone about being a "star QB."

More people keep filtering into the bar, LSU students still riding the high of victory, Oklahoma fans drowning their sorrows, the energy getting louder and more chaotic by the minute. 

You're ready to jump out of your own skin. The noise of the bar fades to white static as your nervous system floods with the need to escape. Anything but sitting here, drowning in the space between what you want and what you can't have, between who you're trying to be and who you become when he's near.

"—right?" Bridget's voice is directed at you, and you realize she's looking at you expectantly.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was saying how crazy it is that we're all here together. Like old times again."

"Yeah," you manage, forcing a smile. "Crazy."

But it doesn't feel like old times. It feels like wearing clothes that used to fit but now pinch in all the wrong places. Joe takes a sip of his drink, and you catch the movement in your peripheral vision, dialed into everything he does.

You start thinking of excuses. Headache. Stomach ache. Parents expecting you back. Anything to get out of here, away from the weight of Joe's presence and prying eyes.

That's when you spot him.

At first, you're not sure—it’s gotten so crowded, bodies shifting and blocking your view. But there's familiarity within the figure near the main bar area, the way he carries himself. You crane your neck slightly, trying to get a better look without being obvious about it.

Oklahoma crimson. The right height. Could it be—?

One of the guys he's with notices you staring and nudges him, pointing in your direction. When Jalen turns and looks, his face breaks into a smile you remember.

Heat crawls up your neck once again tonight, embarrassed at being caught staring, but also relieved beyond measure that it's actually him instead of some stranger. You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips in response.

Jalen raises his hand and waves you over, tilting his head toward where he's standing. You slide out of the booth during a natural lull in conversation, your heart hammering so hard you're sure everyone can hear it over the noise.

Your legs feel unsteady as you navigate through the crowd, not from alcohol but from the sheer effort of holding yourself together for so long. You can still feel the phantom heat of Joe's body next to yours, the way your skin buzzed every time he shifted in his seat, the careful choreography of making sure no part of you accidentally touched any part of him.

By the time you reach Jalen, you’re full of something that feels dangerously close to gratitude. He represents everything that booth didn't—ease, simplicity, the possibility of a conversation that doesn't require you to search every word for hidden meanings.

"Look who decided to join the losing side."

"Someone had to check on you," you say, surprised by how normal your voice sounds when everything inside you feels like it's vibrating at the wrong frequency.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Check on me? I'm not the one who looks like I'd rather be anywhere else."

Before you can respond, he glances over your shoulder toward the booth, his expression shifting slightly. "So," he says, taking a sip of his drink, "you know half the LSU team or something?"

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your voice light. "Family friend."

"Ah." He nods along, smiling again.

"Speaking of," you say quickly, "when exactly were you planning to mention that you're apparently some hotshot quarterback? I had to find out by seeing your face on a jumbotron."

Jalen grins, the deflection working exactly as you'd hoped. "Hey, I told you I played football at a different school. Not my fault you never bothered to ask which one."

"You said you played football! You didn't say you were..." you gesture vaguely at the TV screens around the bar, where highlights from the game are still playing on loop, "...that."

"What, good?" His grin widens. "I definitely told you I was good."

"There's good, and then there's..." You trail off, shaking your head. "Okay, fine. I should have asked more questions."

"Should've googled me," he teases. "Very first result would've told you everything you needed to know."

"Who googles people anymore?" You. You do.

"Smart people who want to know if they're texting Heisman candidates."

You laugh despite yourself, and it feels good. "Heisman candidate? Aren't you humble." His eyes are dancing with amusement, and you realize you're smiling too much, laughing too easily. You feel like you can finally breathe.

Which is, of course, exactly when everything goes to hell.

"SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!"

The chanting is loud enough to cut through every other conversation in the place, and you don't need to look to know where it's coming from. Joe's voice rises above the rest, commanding and celebratory. It draws nearly every eye in the room. 

"Sounds like your crew's getting started," Jalen observes out loud.

Before you can respond, the entire group is moving like a tide toward the bar and then they're there, surrounding you and Jalen like a wave crashing over a quiet shore. The careful distance you'd put between yourself and all of this evaporates in seconds.

"There she is!" Dom shouts, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Joe's buying everyone drinks!"

You're suddenly pressed between bodies again, the peace you'd found with Jalen shattered as LSU purple and gold invades your space. But it's not Dom you're watching, it's Joe, whose attention is fixed on Jalen with an intensity that makes you waver.

There's a moment of recognition, though the two have never met. Joe's jaw tightens subtly, and something cold flickers before the mask slides back into place.

"Well, well," Joe extends a hand toward Jalen and suddenly sports a smile that doesn’t quite touch the rest of him. "Jalen Hurts. Hell of a game tonight."

"Joe Burrow," Jalen responds, taking the offered hand. His smile genuine. "Appreciate it, man. Y'all played lights out."

The handshake lasts longer than expected, and you can feel the tension crackling between them. Two quarterbacks, two different worlds, sizing each other up with the kind of professional courtesy that barely conceals something sharper underneath.

"This is Jalen," you say quickly, turning to the others, desperate to diffuse whatever this is becoming. "Jalen, this is…" You rattle off introductions, watching as the guys exchange pleasantries, everyone playing their parts in this strange theater of sportsmanship.

But you can feel Joe watching you the entire time, tracking every interaction, every smile you give Jalen, every moment of ease between you two. There's possessiveness in the way he stalks, something that makes your skin feel too hot and too tight.

"So you two know each other?" Bridget asks, genuine curiosity in her voice as she looks between you and Jalen.

"We met back home," you say carefully, overly focused on Joe's attention. "Few months ago."

"Small world," Joe says, and there's an edge to his voice that only you seem to catch. "Amazing how people just... turn up places."

Jalen's eyes flick between you and Joe, and you see the moment he picks up on the undercurrent. His expression doesn't change, but something does in his posture, a subtle straightening that suggests he's reading the room just fine.

"Actually," you say, taking a small step toward Jalen, "we were just going to—"

"Oh no, no, no," Joe interrupts, his hand shooting out to catch your arm before you can move any farther. His grip is firm, his smile still mockingly wide and friendly. "Come on, we're just getting started here. Stay and celebrate with us."

You want to pull away, but doing so would draw attention you can't afford. Instead, you freeze, caught between the warmth of his hand and the weight of everyone's expectant gazes.

"Yeah, absolutely," Jalen says after a moment, his voice easy and accommodating. "I'm in no rush."

Joe orders another round of beers for him and the guys, shots for everyone else who wants because even he's not stupid enough to risk getting caught drinking hard liquor in public during playoff season.

The rest of the night unfolds in fragments, each moment feeling both too long and too brief.

Jalen somehow manages to secure two seats a little ways away, further from the main ruckus but still close enough to the others where it isn’t anything too intimate. You find yourself leaning into simple conversations with him, the kind that flows without effort despite everything swirling around you.

Somewhere along the way, you’d found out that when he left Alabama, Ohio State had actually been one of the schools he looked at. He spent some time there, met a few people, and now pops back whenever he gets the chance.

"So what's your New Year's looking like?" he asks, twirling his beer bottle between his hands. "Seems like I will now be free."

You laugh, "I don't know yet. Probably something lowkey. What about you?"

"Depends," he says, voice tilting just enough to make you look up. "Maybe I'll find myself back in Ohio for a bit. Check on some of those connections I mentioned."

The suggestion hangs between you, loaded with possibility. "That could be nice," you say, trying to keep your voice casual even as warmth spreads through your chest.

"Could be," he agrees, his eyes holding yours a beat longer than necessary.

Behind you, Dom tells some elaborate story about nearly getting kicked out of the Superdome for sneaking into the wrong section, complete with exaggerated reenactments that have half the group in stitches. When Jalen makes a dry comment about Dom's "criminal mastermind" skills, it makes you laugh.

And then, unmistakably, you feel Joe's shoulder pressing against your back. His presence is domineering. You freeze, once again caught between the urge to lean into it and the knowledge that you absolutely cannot.

The moment you stop laughing, he steps away as if nothing happened.

It happens again twenty minutes later when Jalen tells you about the time his teammate accidentally ordered twenty pizzas to the wrong address. Your laugh bubbles up, and there Joe is again, a wall of heat at your back, close enough to make your skin buzz with awareness.

You start to wonder if it's intentional. If he's testing something, pushing boundaries just to see what you'll do.

Later, when the conversation splits into smaller groups, you find yourself inadvertently eavesdropping on Bridget and Joe. She's gotten progressively more animated as the night has worn on, her cheeks flushed, movements a little looser.

"So what are you doing for New Year's?" she asks, leaning closer to Joe. "Please tell me you're not just going to sit at home alone."

Joe shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. "Haven't decided."

"Come on," she presses, her hand finding his arm. "We should do something fun."

"Maybe," Joe says, but his voice is flat.

You watch this exchange with a strange mix of emotions. Part of you wants to feel vindicated—see, he's not interested in her. But mostly you feel something else entirely as you observe him throughout the rest of the night.

The way he throws his head back when Justin tells a story about his rookie year. How Joe genuinely lights up talking about the game, about plays that worked, about the feeling of everything clicking into place. It’s a side of Joe that you don't get to see often anymore. And, despite everything between you, watching him happy makes something warm unfurl in your chest.

He deserves this. This joy, this success, this moment of pure celebration.

The thought surprises you with its sincerity.

As the night wears on, the bar begins to thin out. The post-game high starts to fade into exhaustion, and you realize your head is actually starting to pound—whether from the noise, the alcohol, or the emotional whiplash of the evening, you're not sure.

You're rubbing your temples when you hear one of Jalen's teammates call out, "Hurts! We're heading back. You coming?"

Jalen glances at you, then back at his friend. "Yeah, probably should."

"Actually," you say, seizing the opening, "I think I'm ready to head back too."

"Oh, well let me give you a ride," Jalen offers immediately. "Uber prices are probably insane right now, especially with the game traffic."

It's such a reasonable offer, such a normal thing to suggest, that you're already nodding when Joe's voice cuts through the conversation.

"Oh, nah man, that's good of you but we were probably heading back soon anyway—"

"No!" Bridget interrupts, her voice a little too loud for you right now. "You promised me darts last year, remember? We never got to play. Come on, just one game?"

Your face twists before you can control it, and when you look at Joe, his expression has gone completely pale. There's something almost panicked in his eyes as they dart between you and Bridget, like he's trying to figure out how to navigate this without making everything worse.

But the damage is already done. The reminder of the past year, of all the reasons you spent months learning how to forget sits among you.

"It's fine," you say quickly. "Jalen, if you don't mind..."

"Of course not," he’s already standing, eyes moving to Joe, before back to you. "Ready when you are."

You gather your things with shaking hands, say your goodbyes with a smile that feels like it might crack your face. Joe doesn't say anything as you leave, but you feel his eyes on you until the bar door swings shut behind you.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, save for whatever music Jalen has playing and the distant sounds of nightlife filtering through the car. You lean your head against the cool glass, watching the city blur past in streaks of neon colors and shadows.

When he pulls up to the hotel, he puts the car in park but doesn't immediately say goodbye. "Hey," he says, turning to face you. "I don't know what all that was back there, but… just want to make sure you’re good."

Your throat tightens. "Yeah, I am."

"Just take care of yourself, alright? And if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you feel like letting me buy you a drink next time I’m up there…" He trails off, letting the offer hang in the air.

"Thank you," you mean it more than he probably realizes. "Who knows, might take you up on that offer." You muster up a grin, watching as a smile covers his face at the sight.

"I’ll be waiting.”

You lean over and give him a quick hug, friendly enough to remind yourself that there are still people in the world who make things easier instead of harder.

The hotel lobby is mercifully quiet when you walk in, just the soft ding of the elevator and the muted conversations of a few late-night stragglers by the bar. You'd splurged on your own room for this trip, separate from your parents and Dom, telling yourself you needed the space to decompress after finals. It was the one luxury you'd allowed yourself, and right now you're grateful for the foresight.

Your room is on the fourteenth floor with a view of the city that you barely glance at as you drop your purse on the desk and kick off your shoes. Your feet ache, your head pounds, and an exhaustion settles into your bones that goes deeper than just physical tiredness.

The shower you take is scalding, the kind of hot that turns your skin pink and makes the small bathroom fill with steam. You stand under the spray longer than necessary, letting the water wash away the smell of the bar and the remaining confusion from the entire night.

When you finally finish, you change into your pajamas. The hotel's terry cloth robe goes over your hair as you pad around the bathroom to start your nighttime routine.

You're working cleanser into your skin, the familiar motions almost meditative, when there's a knock at your door. You freeze, foam still covering your cheeks, your heart immediately jumping to your throat. It's after midnight. Your parents wouldn't come by this late, and Dom would text first.

There’s another knock, softer this time but more insistent.

You rinse your face quickly, not bothering to dry it properly before padding to the door. Through the peephole, you can make out two distinct figures.

Frowning, you unlock the door and open it to find your brother swaying slightly in the hallway, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Behind him, looking tired and more than a little tense, stands Joe.

"Dom?" You look between them, confused. "What—how are you this drunk? I just left like an hour ago." 

Your brother pushes past you into the room without invitation, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Had to—had to talk to you," he slurs, gesturing vaguely as he stumbles through.

You look back at Joe, who's still standing in the doorway, for some kind of explanation. He runs a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. "I don't know," he says with a shrug. "He just kept saying he had to talk to you. Wouldn't let it go."

Dom has somehow made it to your desk chair and is now attempting to sit down, missing it slightly before correcting himself. "Close the door," he mumbles, waving his hand. "This is important."

You reluctantly shut the door, crossing your arms over yourself. "Dom, what the hell is going on? You're completely wasted."

He looks up at you with that serious expression drunk people get when they think they're about to say the dumbest thing. "I gotta ask you something," he says, pointing an unsteady finger in your direction. "And I need... I need you to be honest with me."

Your heart drops to your stomach. This is it. Somehow, he knows. Your mouth goes dry as you wait for him to continue.

"Is there..." he pauses, swaying slightly even while sitting, "is there anything going on? Like, anything I should know about?"

The question hangs in the air, deliberately vague but loaded with its implication. You can feel the blood draining from your face as you stare at him, your mind racing. He knows. He has to know. 

But then you really look at him, seeing the way his eyelids are drooping, how he's having trouble focusing on your face, at the sloppy way he's moving about. 

He's absolutely obliterated. The kind of drunk where he probably won't remember his own name tomorrow, let alone this conversation. If you can just deny everything, play dumb, he'll wake up tomorrow with a massive hangover and no memory of whatever suspicions brought him here tonight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, your voice coming out higher than normal. "Dom, I'm tired. It's been a long day and I just want to go to sleep."

But Dominic isn't deterred. He's rambling now, words tumbling over each other. "Because like... I see things, you know? And tonight was just... there was all this weird energy and I don't know what's happening but—"

"Dom." You move toward the door, desperate to end this conversation before it goes anywhere you can't come back from. "Seriously. There's nothing going on. You're drunk and you're not making sense."

You pull the door open, gesturing for him to leave. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room."

Dom looks like he wants to protest, at one point saying he’ll be back to talk more, but you're already moving toward him. Your hands are on his shoulders, guiding him up from his chair and toward the doorway. He stumbles a bit as you push him into the hall and that's when Joe steps forward, catching Dom's other arm to steady him.

"Alright, man," Joe says, his voice gentle but firm. "Let's go."

Joe gets Dom about halfway down the hall before your brother decides he needs to sit down right there on the carpet. While Joe's trying to convince him to keep moving, he keeps looking over his shoulder at you.

Joe’s eyes meet yours for the third time, and that's when you've had enough.

"What?" you snap, your voice cutting through the hallway. "Do you need something?"

His head whips back around, drawing back slightly like he wasn't expecting the bite in your tone. He stares at you, your brother momentarily forgotten at his feet, mouth slightly ajar.

You slam the door before he can say anything else, the sound echoing down the hall. Your hands shake as you turn the deadbolt, heart pounding against your chest.

So startled, you can't even finish what you were doing. The towel wrapped around your hair feels too heavy, so you yank it off and let it fall to the bathroom floor in a damp heap. Your skincare products sit abandoned on the counter as you stumble to the bed, crawling under the covers.

Your phone becomes your new best friend, something to focus on that isn't the chaos in your head. You scroll mindlessly through Instagram, TikTok, anything that might quiet the noise. The blue light burns your eyes but you keep going, thumb moving on autopilot.

Ten minutes pass. Maybe fifteen. You're deep in some random cooking video when a loud knock reverberates through the room.

Your stomach drops. Dominic. He probably got away from Joe, sobered up just enough to remember he wasn't finished interrogating you. The anger that's been simmering all night finally boils over.

You throw off the covers and storm to the door, fury making your movements sharp and reckless. "Fuck off, Dominic!" you seethe as you yank the door open. "I already told you—"

But it's not Dom.

Joe stands in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, and his face is hard in a way that makes you take an involuntary step back. There's something dangerous in his expression that you've never seen before.

"The fuck is your problem?" he asks, his voice low and sharp.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. Your brain shorts out completely, every angry word you had ready for Dom evaporating in the face of Joe's presence. You try to close the door, instinct taking over, but his hand shoots out to stop it, palm flat against the wood.

"Don't," he says, and there's warning in his tone.

"Don't what?" you snap, finding your voice again. "Don't close my own door? Get your hand off it."

"Not until you tell me what the hell that was about," Joe says, pushing the door wider instead of letting go. "What was that shit in the hallway?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You try to push the door closed again but he's stronger, and the door doesn't budge.

"Bullshit." He steps into your room, and suddenly the space feels impossibly small. "You ignore me for how long. Won't even look at me. And then tonight you're all over Jalen fucking Hurts."

Dread fills your body—embarrassment, anger, the sick realization that he doesn’t care he'd been watching you all night, just like you felt. "I wasn't all over—"

"Acting like he hung the fucking moon, jumping at the chance to leave with him, making little plans." Joe's voice is getting louder. "Real cute how you can be yourself with him but you treat me like I've got the plague."

"That's not—"

"What? That's not what happened?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I watched you!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't I?" Joe steps closer, and you can see the hurt beneath the anger now. "Because it looked like you were having a great fucking time with Oklahoma's golden boy. Really moving on, huh?"

"So what if I am?" The words come out defensive, meaner than you intended. "So what if I'm talking to someone who actually treats me like I matter?"

Joe rears back for a second. "Someone who treats you like you matter? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Your chest tightens. You've said too much, revealed too much of the hurt you've been carrying. "It means," you say, your voice shaking with anger, "that he doesn't sleep with other people and then act like I'm the problem."

The silence that follows is deafening. Joe stares at you, his expression shifting from anger to something that looks almost like panic.

"Is that what you think happened?" he asks quietly.

"I don't think it, Joe. I know it." Your voice breaks. "I saw you. Both of you." At the mention of it, the memory floods your mind once again like how it's haunted you for months. Bridget’s smudged makeup, fumbling with her pants. Joe’s unkempt appearance, his eyes locked with your own hopeful ones. Your stomach churns with the same sick feeling you felt that night.

"Jesus Christ." Joe runs both hands down his face. "You think I—you’re thinking about it wrong."

"What else am I supposed to think?" Tears are burning behind your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. "You had your hands all over me one minute, and the next you're fucking Bridget."

"It wasn't—" Joe stops, his jaw working like he's trying to find the right words. "That's not how it happened."

"Then how did it happen, Joe? Because from where I was standing, it looked pretty fucking clear."

He's quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor. "I was angry," he says quietly. "I was hurt and pissed off and I did something stupid."

"Stupid?" You laugh, but it comes out cracked. "Is that what you call it?"

"I call it the biggest fucking mistake," Joe says, his voice raw. "I call it something I've regretted every single day since it happened."

"Oh, well that makes it better," you say, sarcasm dripping from every word. "You regret it. Great. That totally fixes everything."

"It meant nothing," Joe says suddenly. "It was just—I was angry and hurt and I wanted to hurt you back."

His words do nothing but draw up more of the memories you’ve been trying to run from. "Don't."

"I'm serious. It felt wrong the entire time because it wasn't you. Because you're the only one I wanted and I was too fucking scared to admit it."

"Stop talking." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"You want to know the truth?" Joe's voice is getting louder again, more desperate. "The truth is I've been crazy about you since that first night together. The truth is I've spent the last year hating myself for fucking up the one thing I actually wanted to keep."

Your world tilts sideways. Every wall you've built, every reason you've given yourself for staying away from him, starts to crumble. This is what you wanted to hear for so long, but now that he's saying it, you don't know if you can believe it.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." Joe takes a step toward you, and you can see tears in his eyes now. "I'm not lying. I really fucking like you. And I fucked it up because I was scared and stupid and I didn't know how to tell you."

"I wanted to believe it didn't mean anything," you whisper, your voice cracking. "All of it. I wanted to believe you didn't care because it was easier than thinking you chose her over me."

Joe's face crumples. "I never chose her. Not for a single second. I was just—I was so fucking scared of how much I needed you that I did the one thing guaranteed to push you away."

"Why?" The word comes out broken. "Why were you scared?"

He pauses for a second, looking lost. "Because you're you. Dom's smart, gorgeous, sister who was—is too good for me. I knew that if I let myself fall for you completely, there'd be no coming back from it."

"And now?"

"Now I've spent a year trying to come back from it anyway," he admits. "And I can’t. I can't shut it off. You're in my head all the fucking time.” 

Joe sighs, "I miss it even when I know I shouldn’t." He cuts himself off before he rambles even more, but you can see it in his eyes, the same need that's been eating you alive for months. 

"Miss what?"

"You," he breathes. "All of you. Not just—not just the physical stuff. I want to wake up next to you. I want to know how your day was. I want to be the person you call when something good happens, or when something shitty happens, or when nothing happens at all."

Your breath hitches, throat closing. "Joe..."

"I know I fucked it up. I know I don’t deserve you. But if there’s any part of you that still wants to even try—" his voice breaks there, unsteady, "just give me that.”

You stare at him, at the tears on his cheeks, the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing keeping his heart beating, and suddenly, you can't remember why you've been fighting this so hard.

"I never stopped," you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I tried to hate you, tried to move on, but I never stopped wanting you."

The second the words leave your mouth, something in him snaps.

Joe surges forward, hands finding your face with a desperation that makes your breath catch. His mouth is on yours before you can take another breath, tasting of months of regret and every unsaid word. You gasp into him, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt.

His lips move against yours with an urgency that feels almost painful. His hands drop from your face, skimming down your sides, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him like he needs you closer, needs to feel you everywhere at once.

You break the kiss just long enough to whisper his name, breathless, before he’s chasing your mouth again, hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips drag along your bare skin, drawing a cold shiver from you as you lean into him instinctively, craving more, needing him.

"I missed you," he repeats against your lips, voice shaking as his hands slide higher, up your ribs, thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts. "I fucking missed you."

"Then show me," you whisper back.

Joe groans and the next time he kisses you it's messier, deeper, all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up need exploding between you. He walks you backwards blindly, until your legs hit the edge of the bed and you fall back with a breathless gasp, pulling him down with you.

His hands never stop moving, like he's terrified this is all some dream he’ll wake up from. His lips trace a hot path down your throat, over your collarbone, his breath shaky against your skin as he murmurs, "need you so bad."

Your fingers thread through his hair to pull him impossibly closer. Everything else fades away—the fights, the hurt, the miscommunication. Your back arches off the bed as his mouth moves lower, and you can feel the desperation in every touch, every kiss.

His mouth finds the soft dip beneath your ribs, warm breath ghosting across your skin as he pauses. His fingers tighten around your waist, composing himself there before sliding up again, dragging your shirt with his hands.

You lift your arms wordlessly, letting him peel it over your head and toss it somewhere behind him, forgotten. The second your skin is bare, his eyes dart around like he doesn’t know where to look first.

“My god,” he exhales, face breaking into a sly grin. His thumb traces over your sternum, then up to the hollow of your throat. “Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You do. You feel it in the tremble of his hands, in the heat of his breath, in the way his pupils have blown wide, swallowing the blue. But you don’t say so, just enjoy the fact that you do.

His lips follow his hands—over your chest, down your stomach, each kiss burning hotter than the last, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He pauses there, breathing hard, his forehead dipping against your hip like he’s on the edge of breaking again.

“Say it’s okay,” he whispers, voice hoarse, eyes lifting to meet yours.

You can barely get the words out, “’s okay.” His fingers hook beneath the fabric, sliding it down. The cool air hits your skin, making you shudder as the last of the fabric clears your ankles, tossed aside somewhere neither of you care to look.

Joe stays knelt between your legs for a moment, eyes roaming over you. His breath is shaky as his gaze drags up the length of your bare body. You wait for his next move, but instead of leaning back in, he moves suddenly.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping tight, and with one smooth motion, he flips both of you over, shifting his weight until his back settles against the headboard, pulling you up to straddle him.

You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders for balance as you land in his lap, the rough denim beneath you a delicious contrast to your bare core. The unexpected motion knocks a breathless laugh from your throat, and for a second, the heat between you softens.

Joe’s mouth curves into a crooked grin at the sound of your laughter, his eyes never leaving your face. “There she is,” he murmurs, eyes flickering between your mouth and your swollen lips.

His hands trace up and down your sides, over the curve of your waist, up your bare back, thumbs gliding across your skin like he’s mapping you out. The touch sends goosebumps chasing after his fingertips, your breath catching again as your body settles fully against him.

When your laughter fades and your gaze finds his, you’re both a little dazed. For a long second, neither of you say much of anything as you take each other in.

His hand drifts higher, fingers curling lightly under your jaw, tilting your face toward his as his thumb brushes along your cheekbone. Then his other hand slides into your hair, threading through gently, pulling you closer until his lips hover right over yours.

The tension between you thickens with every slow pass of his mouth. His tongue slides against yours, pulling a soft whimper from your chest as your hands fist into his shirt, clinging to him.

Your kiss deepens, messy and open, heat pooling low in your stomach as you shift in his lap, grinding down instinctively against the hard length of him still trapped beneath thick denim. The friction makes both of you groan, his grip on your hips tightening as his head falls back against the headboard for a second, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

You roll your hips again, slower this time, dragging yourself over him tauntingly, loving the reaction you draw from him.

“Good,” you whisper against his mouth, lips brushing his as you speak. “Deserve it.”

Joe huffs out a breath against your mouth—something between a laugh and a groan—but his hands never leave you. His fingers adjust, digging in just a little harder.

Still breathless, you tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling under the fabric, desperate to get it off. “Take this off.”

He leans back just enough for you to yank it up, his hands helping as the material drags over his head and lands behind you. Your eyes drop, taking in the stretch of his bare chest, the rise and fall of it as he breathes hard beneath you.

You’re already leaning in again, mouth dragging along the sharp line of his jaw, down his throat, lips parting against the soft skin there before he gets a chance to fully settle. His head tips back instinctively, giving you more space to work. 

Joe’s breath catches as your tongue flicks just beneath his ear. “Fuck, baby.” Your hips hover as he shifts beneath you, fumbling at the waistband of his jeans. His fingers work fast as he undoes the button and drags the zipper down. You stay pressed close to him, lips never leaving his skin.

Lifting his hips, he shoves both his jeans and boxers down in one rough motion, breath hissing between his teeth as he finally frees himself. You feel the hard weight of him press up against you, hot and heavy, and it knocks a small gasp from your lips as your hips instinctively roll forward again.

The sensation makes his hands fly to your hips first, then lower, gripping handfuls of your ass as he holds you there. You rock your hips again, slower this time, dragging yourself over him to feel the slick heat of him sliding against you.

His breath punches out of him, head tipping back with a dull thud, his throat working as he swallows hard. “Jesus,” he grits, voice strangled. “You feel that?”

You nod, breath hitching and hands spreading wide across his chest, digging into the warm flex of his muscles. You can feel how hard he is, how thick, sliding perfectly against your swollen center every time you move. The friction alone is enough to make your thighs tremble, your core clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“Joe,” you whisper, voice cracking under the weight of what’s to come, “can I?”

That does it. His hands slide down, one moving to grip the base of himself, lining up with you, while the other holds you tight, steadying you.

“C’mere, baby.” He guides you, “nice and slow.”

You hover for half a second, mind clouded with lust as you feel the blunt head of him catch at your entrance. Even after everything, the stretch makes your breath stutter when you finally start to sink down onto him.

His mouth drops open, a sharp exhale leaving him as his fingers dig into you, sure to leave bruises for the morning. “Fuck—fuck, that’s it. Just like that.”

The burn is sharp at first, that perfect edge of too much and not enough, and you brace your hands on his shoulders, panting softly as you take him inch by inch. His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every single reaction play out across your face like he can’t look away.

“Look at you,” he breathes, voice barely audible. “You’re goddamn perfect.”

When you finally bottom out, fully seated in his lap, you both pause for a moment. You’re panting and overwhelmed, completely full all at once. You swear you can feel the pulse of his heartbeat inside you, throbbing in time with your own.

His hands slide up your back again, one threading into your hair as he pulls your face back down to his, kissing you hard. The first slow roll of your hips pulls a broken groan from both of you, your nails scraping lightly over his chest as you start to move, grinding down into him.

The friction is dangerous now—your bare skin dragging over him, every tiny shift making his breath stutter against your mouth. With each drop of your hips, your clit catches against the base of him, sending sharp little sparks skittering through your stomach, dragging you closer every time you fall into him.

“Missed you so fucking much.”

At his words, you whimper into his mouth, grinding harder, chasing that spark curling low in your belly with every drag of his cock inside you. His head drops again, forehead resting against yours as you ride him, the tension building tight between you.

Every roll of your hips sends another pulse of pleasure through both of you, until neither of you can keep your breathing steady, until you feel his grip start to falter, desperate to fuck up into you.

You feel his control slowly begin to fray, his need urging to take over. His voice breaks, as he stutters your name out. “I—fuck—I need—”

In the next breath, he shifts beneath you, planting his feet flat against the bed, using the leverage to thrust up into you hard, deep, dragging a sharp cry from your throat as your body jolts.

“Oh my god.” your voice shatters on a breathless gasp, your hands scrambling at his shoulders.

“That what you needed?” His voice is mean against your ear. “That what you’ve been thinking about at night? Riding my cock just like this?”

And yes, you had. More than you wanted to admit. Some nights, no matter how hard you tried, the only thing that could pull you close enough to release was the thought of him like this, buried deep, your body moving over his just like now.

He thrusts up again, your body lifting slightly with the force of it before dropping back down onto him, fully seated. You can’t speak, your nails dig into his bare skin, head falling forward.

He kisses you again, swallowing your broken sounds, tongue sliding against yours like he can’t get enough of you—like he’s trying to breathe you in, steal every sound you make and keep it for himself

Your hips start to move with him, finding a perfect rhythm together. You grind down as he drives up into you, his cock dragging deep with every stroke, the friction catching exactly where you need it, making your head spin.

The wet slap of skin fills the air, the sound of your gasps and his low curses blending into something obscene. Your body is trembling now, the coil low in your belly tightening to the point of snapping, every roll of your hips dragging you closer, every thrust sending a sharp jolt of heat through your veins.

“Joe—” you choke out, barely breathing. “I—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he pants, his hands moving around, one threading into your hair again as he pulls your mouth back to his once more. “Let me feel you.”

And when it hits, when you finally snap—you fall apart in his lap, a sob ripping from you as you clamp down around him, the waves of it crashing hard and fast. Your whole body jerks against him, muscles locking up as your orgasm blooms through you.

“Fuck—fuck—” Joe groans, his own hips stuttering as he feels you clench around him, and with a last broken thrust, he follows, spilling into you with a sound that vibrates against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you move, bodies locked together, his arms wrapped tight around you. Your breathing slowly evens out, the frantic desperation giving way to something softer. Joe's hand traces lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder, your neck, wherever he can reach.

The exhaustion hits you both at once—emotional and physical, everything finally catching up. You clean up quietly, moving around each other with a careful tenderness, like you're both afraid to break whatever fragile thing has reformed between you.

When you finally crawl under the hotel sheets together, you fit against him like you never left. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, and for the first time in a year, the knot in your stomach finally loosens.

You fall asleep to the sound of his breathing evening out behind you, his face buried in your hair, his body solid against yours. Your mind drifts with questions you can't answer—whether this changes anything or if morning will bring back the same careful distance, whether he'll pretend this never happened, or how you even begin to navigate whatever this is when you're not hidden away anymore.