#Joe Burrow x Reader

[yelenasbraid]

sports car — joe burrow

summary — You’re needy, but he’s driving. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

warnings — fem!reader, smut MDNI, some fluff, based off of the song ‘sports car’ by tate mcrae

requested by — anon <3

note — wasn’t my best but i here it is hehe :) can’t believe i pumped out two fics in one week

tags — @wickedfun9 @starsinthesky5 @joeyfranchise @ebsmind @willowsnook @blairsworld22 @joeburrowshaircurl @softburrow @iosivb9 @kazsbrckkers (comment/send an ask if you wanna be added!)

YOU AND JOE SETTLED INTO THE CAR, releasing a breath. The event left you both breathless, and not in the ways you wanted to be. Everyone was asking you questions about the season, about your relationship, and about Joe’s activities in general. Eventually it got old and both of you needed some peace and quiet. 

Joe started the car, the rumble of the engine jolting the car. The radio blasted Kid Cudi, and Joe immediately turned it down. He couldn’t deal with the vibes that you both had going into said event.

He backed out of the parking lot, his hand stretched across your seat. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at his arms, the way his neck strained and pronounced his jawline. You shifted in your seat, turning your eyes out the window as he pushed the car into park, starting the drive home.

It was silent for a while, Joe’s hand settled on your thigh, tracing small circles on your skin. His eyes were focused on the road, even if his mind wasn’t. He’s been thinking about you in your dress all day. The way it hugged your curves, how it outlined your ass and your breasts. He couldn’t do anything at the event, but the growing tension in his jeans was evidence enough. It didn’t completely go unnoticed by you either. You could see him shifting in his seat, how his head periodically left your thigh to adjust the crotch of his jeans. 

“You ok, baby?” You asked him, trying to keep the smirk off of your face. 

“You in that damn dress…” He trailed off. He peaked a look, his eyes trailing over the curve of your thighs, how his view was obstructed by the way your dress hung around your legs. You smirked at him curling your arm around his bicep as his hand cupped the inside of your thigh. Your fingers traced his skin, pushing under the sleeve and back down his skin, leaving shivers in your wake.

“Y/N,” He hummed, but he didn’t stop you. The feeling of your fingers against his skin, how your hands felt warm against his muscles. He swallowed to keep himself in check.

Your fingers gently pushed up his sleeve, rolling it over his shoulder. You leaned over, pressing hot, wet kisses to his arm. You felt him flex under your lips, his body tensing. A low groan left his throat as your plush lips met the softness of his skin.

“Babe,” his voice was a low growl, his hand gripping your thigh.

“Hm?” you kissed his biceps, your tongue swirling around his skin. His body tensed, and his hips shifted in his seat. Through the fabric of his jeans, you could see the painful bulge that strained.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he hummed as his other hand gripped the steering wheel. You watched as he navigated the backroads home, since the highway was clogged due to an accident.

“I know,” you hummed as you kissed his skin, “I couldn’t wait until we got home,” you added as you felt his fingers inch towards your throbbing heat. You moaned, and you knew that if anything else were to happen, he’d have to pull over.

“Babe,” he growled, his eyes flickering as he shifted in his seat again. His need for you was painful, it dominated his senses. Your lips stayed firmly attached to his arm, trailing up his shoulder. Your touch sent shivers crawling down his spine and aches shocking his cock.

His eyes fervently scanned the roads for some sort of pull-off, his breaths coming in quick puffs. His chest heaved, his need for you soaking his lungs.

He found a pull-off, and it was far back enough from the road that if anyone drove by, they wouldn’t see. Hopefully.

He parked, and the second the car was off he unbuckled your seatbelt. His need for you was hot, burning his nerves to their very ends. He grabbed your hips and pulled you over into his lap, his lips immediately finding yours. Not without your hips bumping the horn.

"Shit, sorry," you hissed, and he rolled his eyes.

"You wanna get us found out?" He raised his eyebrows at you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Then move your seat back," You stated, and he gladly did so. His seat was pushed back, and he lowered the back of the seat down just enough.

“You’re a damn tease,” he growled as he recaptured your lips, nipping at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue across it. His tongue dipped into your mouth, and you met his hungry kiss with the same dose of passion. Your hips rolled desperately against his, creating a spark of blinding pleasure.

His hands went down to cup your ass, massaging the skin and muscle there as his lips left yours, trailing down the skin of your neck. You tilted your head back, reveling in the warmth of the aches his lips sent cascading down your body. His hands pushed your dress up, tracing up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Joe,” you whispered, and he could feel your desperation. He pulled his lips from your neck, a dazed and lustful expression painted on his face. He moved his hands to the front of him, and he unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down his hips. You watched, your eyes landing on the erection that strained against his boxers. He shed himself of those too.

Your eyes fell upon the angry, red sensitive tip of his cock. Your mouth moistened with saliva as you watched precum pool at his tip, your desire to taste him making your pussy throb.

His hand came up and cupped your jaw, pulling you close as he kissed you again, soft moans leaving his lips as his free hand fiddled with your panties. He pulled the fabric aside, the feeling of his fingers against your soaked pussy making your gasp and buck your hips against his fingers. He could feel your arousal coat his fingers, sticky and warm.

“So wet for me,” he growled against your lips, biting on your bottom lip. You ground your hips, your pussy sliding across his cock. He moaned, shudders shocking his body. You panted against his lips, your fingers digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders.

“Joey,” you panted, and Joe looked up at you. He flicked a curl from his face, pushing your panties down your hips. He wasn’t waiting for your words. He knew you wanted him. He aligned himself with your entrance and you settled down on him. He gasped and rolled his eyes into the back of his head, bucking his hips, pushing all of his cock inside of you. You felt all of him, stretching your walls, how your pussy throbbed around him.

You started to move, swiveling your hips, shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your eyes slid into the back of your head, every ache, every movement you made making you see stars.

With his right hand cupping your neck under your jaw and his left gripping your hip, Joe guided your movements. Soft grunts left his lips as you started to ride him, feeling your tight, wet pussy suck him in.

“Look at you,” he grunted, his eyes glazed over as he watched you, “riding me so well, taking me so well,” he praised as his hips bucked to meet yours, his body coiling with his heightening climax.

Your moans filled the car, his hand against your jaw strangling them with the gentle squeeze he has around your throat. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you rode him, feeling his cock stretch your walls as he continued to embed himself in you.

Joe’s hand stretched, keeping his fingers on your hip while his thumb ventured down towards your pussy, his thumb immediately finding your clit and flicking his thumb over it. Your reaction made his cock twitch in your body, a moan ripping from his throat.

Your body convulsed as his thumb rubbed your clit, desperate cries leaving your lips as his hand gripped your throat even tighter, exposing the marks he made moments earlier.

“Fuck Joe,” you whined as your thighs quivered, as your hips continued to slam against his. You squirmed, and his hand left your throat to steady your hips, to keep you in place. Your body folded over, but his thumb still worked. Combined with the feeling of his thrusts into your body, you were teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“You’re close, baby,” Joe’s voice was gruff as his lips brushed yours, feeling the ache build in his body, how his cock twitched with his impending release.

“Joe,” you cried out, and he kissed you, hungrily, fervently, as he removed his thumb but replaced it with two fingers, rubbing relentlessly against your swollen clit. You broke the kiss with a moan, your body tensing as you chased your high. He could see it, the way your brow was furrowed together, the way you caught your bottom lip in your teeth. He quickened his pace, both his hands and his thrusts, and watched as the band snapped in your body.

Your release was hot, pulsing out of you every second that passed by. Your back was arched, your hips rolling against Joe’s. Seeing you come, it was what did Joe over. With one, final, hard thrust he spilled into you, hot spurts of cum soaking your walls.

You collapsed your body on top of his, slowly riding out both of your highs. You moaned, kissing his neck as his hands both settled on your hips. Soft pants left his lips, his head thrown back against the headrest.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he hummed as he brought his lips to your ear, “so beautiful for me,” he kissed the spot behind your ear. You panted, soft whines leaving your lips as your fingers tensed around his shoulders.

Joe’s body thrummed with satisfaction. His blood was pumping, his breaths hot and heavy as he kissed down your neck. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you off of him. He hissed, the sensitivity of his cock icing his veins over. He brought his lips to yours, lazily kissing you. Seeing you so spent, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction, it kept his fire kindled.

“I hope you know when we get home we’re continuing this,” he growled, his voice rough from the desire that coated his throat. Your eyes twitched, a knowing smirk stretching across your lips.

“I don’t expect anything less,” you hummed. He fought the urge to fuck you again right there, but being in a bed would be much more comfortable. He settled you back down in your seat, pulling his pants up and adjusted the seat. He pulled out of the pull-off, winding down his and your windows to clear the steam.

He was far from being done with you.

[voguesabnxrmal]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓, 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

Pairing ᯓ Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings ᯓ smut, nsfw themes, I mean it’s an NSFW alphabet what else could it mean

Authors note ᯓ Comment down below, or inbox me if you want on my taglist!

a- aftercare (what they’re like after the act). ᯓ Joe Burrow, no matter what it is or what the circumstances are, will always be attentive to you after sex. He’s the type to do whatever you want him to do after you get done. Want to take a bath? He’s gonna run it for you. Want a cold glass of water? He’s going downstairs to get it for you (with extra ice). You just want to sleep? He will gladly go get you your favorite pajamas out of the drawer and change you himself into them and then cuddle you after. He’s also the type to want to take every precaution necessary, making sure you do the right steps after to prevent anything.

b-body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers). ᯓ Joe just gives he’s a tit guy vibes. Although, he loves your beauty and your facial features and all of you, he can never turn up an opportunity to do anything with your tits. Anytime you guys go to sleep at night, or just nap or lay down in general, Joe is going to put his head in the groove of your tits. Anything to do with your tits sexually too. Your tits are his favorite things to tend to during sex.

ᯓ His favorite body parts of his own has to be his muscles on anywhere of him, not necessarily a body part but that has to be his main focus (and yours too). He thrives off of getting stronger and better mostly for football, but he also knows you love to grip on his muscles during when you’re getting down and dirty. So, he also does it in favor of you (wink wink)

c-cum (anything that has to do with it). ᯓ Joe will do anything he can to paint you white. If you have sex with Joe 9/10 he’s going to creampie you. More specifically he loves giving you a facial. He’s always wanting you to suck his dick so he can see your pretty face covered in his cum. He loves to cum in you too, as many times as he can until you’re full and his cum is just gushing out of you.

d-dirty secret (pretty self explanatory). ᯓ Not really a dirty secret for your behalf, but definitely for others. Joe definitely keeps a naughty picture in his wallet, and in his locker at the Bengals facility. If anyone found it he knows his dirty little secret of that naughty polaroid picture with your dick in his mouth and his cum leaking out the corner of your mouth, would come out.

e-experience (do they know what they’re doing). ᯓ I feel like Joe doesn’t have too many bodies (although I feel like he had a little hoe phase during LSU), But he definitely knows how to please a girl. He knows the sweet spots on a girl, where the clit is, what he’s trying to reach during sex, knows the difference between “faster” & “slower”. Overall, he definitely knows how to get the job done.

f-favorite position. ᯓ Joes favorite position really just depends on his mood. If he wants to make love to you he will put you in missionary where he can see your pretty little face as he pleases you and just loves on you. But if he’s fucking you he will put you face down ass up arched into him with no shame making sure you can’t run from him and just be a good girl and take it.

g-goofy (how serious are they). ᯓ Joe is definitely a serious person during sex. He wants to get down to business and make you feel good and do whatever you want him to do that gets you to cum, but I also feel like if something funny happens like someone gets a cramp, or it’s just a moment of opportunity, Joe will crack a joke and laugh with you.

h-hair (grooming habits). ᯓ Joe is the type of person to keep himself clean. He doesn’t like a bush, but he doesn’t like it bald. He keeps it very well trimmed and cleaned up to where it doesn’t bother him.

i-intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty). ᯓ Joe is a very romantic guy in the bed I feel like. He mostly just wants to focus on you and making you feel good, making sure you know how much he loves you and adores you. But also, if Joe loses a game, or is just having a bad night, he won’t hesitate to push your limits and do what he says and take it how he wants you to take it.

j-jack off (do they masturbate and how often). ᯓ joe isn’t one to typically masturbate. He has a girl why should he have to? But being A professional Football Player there is times where you might not go with him to games, or events depending on circumstances. So, for those specific moments Joe definitely has videos and pictures of you safely hidden in his phone to where he can get off to you if he needs to while he doesn’t have access to you. If you’re lucky too, you will be getting a phone call at night with a horny Joe with his cock in his hand just waiting for you to reciprocate his actions on a FaceTime call with him.

k-kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual). ᯓ Joe in bed is mostly a soft lovey guy. Although, there’s a side of Joe where he will ask you to slap him while you ride him. Joe also loves to make you beg and cry and overstimulate you to a point where you’re trying to run from his cock tell him you can’t take it anymore. He’s also a slut for facefucking, he loves to see pretty tears run down your cheeks while he abuses the back of your throat with his thick long cock.

l-location (where they like to get it on). ᯓ Joes a classic guy. If he has to take you anywhere his first choice would be your guys bed. Don’t let that fool you though. Joe is a little mischievous guy sometimes, possibly in the parking lot of paycor stadium has seen a lot of stuff that parking lot shouldn’t have saw!

m-motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons). ᯓ Joe loves a good kiss. Anywhere. His neck? He’s going to want to snatch you up if you kiss all over his neck and suck on his adam’s apple. He gets tingly and starts to get needy if you kiss down his body too, if you kiss from the cheek all the way down to the waist band of his pants, more than likely that night for you in going to end up with joes cock down your throat.

n-no (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do). ᯓ Simple enough, Joe won’t do anything that could hurt you. Before he even tries anything new with you he will get the okay with you. He wants to make sure you are okay with anything that he wants to do, and will ask you multiple times if you’re sure you want to do that in bed if you propose an idea. Joe is mostly down for anything, but one thing he draws the line for is anything that will cause you any sort of pain.

o-oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are). ᯓ Honestly, I feel like Joe isn’t much of a munch. He will eat if you want him to and for foreplay, but he’s mostly a receiver. He loves getting head from you after a long day, he loves feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his cock.

ᯓ But when Joe does munch, He definitely knows how to use his tongue. He knows how to work your clit with just the right pressure and speed, making you finish all over his tongue.

p-pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed). ᯓ Joe isn’t a very fast paced guy during sex, he likes to take his time with you and focus on your pleasure and the build up of it rather then get straight to the point.

ᯓ He’s also the type of person to edge himself and stop to where he doesn’t finish immediately. So he doesn’t last super long, but he also doesn’t finish super early. He’s rather build up his orgasm and rather make you finish first or finish at the same time.

q-quickie (do they prefer fast and hard). ᯓ Joe likes to go fast and hard sometimes, especially if he’s rushing to be somewhere, or if you want to give him some good luck little something something before a game, but mostly he’s a “I want to fuck you for hours and make love to you” type of guy.

r-risk (do they like to try new things). ᯓ Joe DEFINITELY like to try new things. He doesn’t want your sex life to be boring. So you both have a mutual agreement if you think of something to tell the other and see if they’d be down, and 9/10 it’s usually agreed upon. In fact, Joe even discovered one of his favorite things ever upon trying out something new…like sliding his dick between your tits and getting his dick jerked from your tits while the head of his cock is getting slapped against your tongue every time he thrust between the cleavage of your tits.

s-stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts). ᯓ Joe is a football player. He has GODLY stamina. Joe can go till the point he puts you to sleep. He will keep going until you’re begging no more and you can’t take it you’re so tired. One thing about this man he will never pass up the opportunity to get down and dirty with you. And best believe when you’re having sex with joe, you know it’s going to last atleast half an hour a round no matter how many times he makes you cum.

t-toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers). ᯓ Joe isn’t really team sex toys. You have him why else would you need a sex toy? He understands though that he’s a professional football player and he’s gone sometimes. So he knows you have a vibrator in your draw if you even need it (you usually don’t). So unless he’s there there isn’t any reason for you to have to use a lame toy, he has a dick, tongue, fingers, abs, thighs? What else could you possibly need?

u-unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves). ᯓ Joe isn’t really much of a teaser. Intentionally atleast. He knows the pictures the Bengals media pages post are more than enough to get you hot and bothered waiting from him to come home from wherever he’s at to take care of that needy pussy. Although, He doesn’t mind you teasing him though. He loves to see you in a tight little skirt or top with nothing else than being able to imagine about taking it off of you. He loves seeing you tease him by walking around the house half naked in only one of his shirts or jerseys and one of his favorite thongs on underneath. He loves for you to back up into him or give him suggestive touches and then act like you don’t know what you’re doing, just so he can take care of you later with all the built up suspense.

v-volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk). ᯓ Joe isn’t the loudest in the bedroom, that’s you. But he does make grunting sounds and breathy moans. He also is the biggest dirty talker known to man, whispering the dirtiest stuff in your ear about how good you feel, and what he’s going to do to you.

w-wild card (random headcannon of any sort). ᯓ Joe unironically probably has the biggest breeding kink ever. During sex he’ll be all like; “You’ll look so good all swollen with my baby in you.”, “Cmon mama let me make a mini bengal for you to get all swollen and big with.”, “one baby won’t hurt.”, “can’t wait to fill you full of my cum and give you a baby mama, you want a baby from me? huh?”. Joe wouldn’t mind seeing you walking around all big and pregnant because he knows you got that from him. Only him.

x-x-ray (what’s in the pants). ᯓ Joe is definitely not small, I mean look at him. He probably is walking around with about a 6 or 6.5 in his pants. Which is big, but he also is girthy. He’s more wide around and thick than he is long. All I have to say is poor you.

y-yearning (sexdrive level). ᯓ Joe has about an average sex drive. He gets tired out from doing such hard work during football season mostly all around, so sometimes he isn’t up for sex. But he will make time for it throughout the week. I’d say on an average about 3-4 times a week you guys have sex, minus the occasional handies or oral sex you two have.

z-zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after). ᯓ Joe is definitely one to go to sleep after sex. Because most of the time he’s already sleepy before hand, and two because that’s mostly the activity he finishes to go to bed. He doesn’t go to sleep immediately, but pretty soon after he will, making sure you’re tended and cared for before he drifts off to sleep.

[goldfades]

sweet on you Joe thanking his wife during his MVP speech when he wins pretty pretty pleaseeeee

omg yes! this idea has been floating around as soon as you sent this ask. hope you enjoy!!! sweet on you will be back i promise, just need the motivation to finish :) and yes in this universe he DID win mvp

MVP SPEECH FT. SWEET ON YOU

The stadium was deafening. Fans roared, confetti rained down in gold and white, and the cameras were all on him—Joe Burrow, the newly crowned MVP, standing under the bright lights, trying to keep himself together.

He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, exhaling a slow breath as he adjusted the microphone in front of him. The trophy was heavy in his other hand, but it wasn’t the weight of the metal that had his chest tight—it was everything leading up to this moment. The years of hard work, the sacrifices, the unwavering support from those who had been there since the beginning. And more than anyone else, it was her.

Joe cleared his throat, the noise dying down just a fraction as he leaned in. “Man,” he started, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “This is—this is crazy. I don’t even know where to start.”

The crowd cheered again, cameras flashing, but his eyes weren’t searching for them. They were searching for her.

And then he found her.

Sitting in the front row, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes glassy and bright, looking at him like he had just hung the damn moon.

His wife.

His whole world.

Joe swallowed hard, gripping the mic a little tighter. “Obviously, there’s a long list of people I need to thank—my teammates, my coaches, my family. None of this happens without you guys. But, uh—” he huffed out a soft, nervous laugh, shaking his head before glancing at her again. “There’s one person in particular who—God, I don’t even know if I have the words.”

The crowd fell a little quieter, as if they could sense this was something important.

Joe smiled, softer now, and only for her.

“My wife,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been with me through everything. Before all of this—before the trophies, before the headlines, before anyone knew my name. You believed in me when I was just some kid with a dream. You stood by me through every high, every low, every doubt I ever had about myself. And somehow, through it all, you loved me.”

She was already crying, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe him, even though she should have known by now just how much he meant every word.

Joe chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he glanced down at the trophy for a second, then back up at her. “I know I work a lot, and I know there have been nights where football took me away more than it should have. But not once—not once—have you ever made me feel like I was in this alone. And I need you to know—I need everyone to know—that I wouldn’t be standing up here if it weren’t for you.”

A collective aww rippled through the audience, but Joe didn’t even hear it. He was locked in, focused only on her, watching as she wiped at her cheeks, smiling like she wanted to scold him for making her cry in public.

“And Hayes,” he added, his voice hitching just slightly at the mention of their son. “Our boy. I hope one day, when he’s old enough to understand all of this, he knows just how lucky he is to have a mom like you.”

She let out a teary laugh, covering her mouth again, and Joe grinned.

“I love you,” he said simply, his heart in his throat. “More than football. More than anything.”

The crowd erupted in cheers again, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the way she looked at him in that moment, like he was the greatest thing she had ever seen. Like she had always known he was capable of this, long before he ever did.

And when he stepped down from the stage a few moments later, trophy in one hand, the other reaching for her, she was already there—waiting, arms open, eyes shining, love pouring out of her like a flood.

She kissed him, right there in front of everyone, not caring about the cameras or the eyes on them.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured against his lips, laughing softly as she pulled back just enough to look at him.

Joe grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I meant every word.”

And when he kissed her again, the whole world could have disappeared, and he wouldn’t have cared. Because this—she—was his greatest victory of all.

[v6quewrlds]

DOCTOR'S ORDERS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀9.6k.

summary⠀⁎⠀between petty fights and an abnormal level of clinginess, you're at your wit's end with joe's recent behavior. who would've known that ja'marr could crack the code before you?

author's note⠀⁎⠀combined a couple of different requests into one. collection of scenes more than a real plot? struggled with the smut so pls forgive me if it sucks. i have zero medical training, pls don't yell at me. warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, established relationship, married couple fights, one (1) communism joke, joe can't shut up when he's in love syndrome, teasing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), joey talks you through it <3

Slumped shoulders and tired sighs filled the still air of their Cincinnati home as you and Joe crossed the threshold just ten minutes apart. Words remained limited to the necessary as you greeted each other for the first time that evening, the clock hanging over the front door reading 6:45 PM. The crisp smell of antiseptic and hand sanitizer mingled with the lingering scent of Joe's familiar deodorant and cologne.

You padded down the hallway to your room, heels in hand, eager to shed your work clothes and scrub the clinical office off your skin. You hadn't seen Joe in what felt like days, your paths only crossing at night, a brief intermission in your chaotic schedules. Between your patients and his training, the time you had together was a blur of tired half-sentences and fleeting kisses.

Mindlessly, you stripped out of your white coat and knee-length dress, tossing them onto the chair by the door. The sound of the fabric hitting the wood was a welcome release of the day's tension. You stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower knob, letting the water heat up. You heard Joe's footsteps approaching, the soft thud of his sock-covered feet entering your bedroom.

You lathered away at your brown skin, softly humming a tune that had been stuck in your head all day. The warm water cascaded over you, the steam wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, and Joe's large frame filled the doorway. You paid him no attention, assuming he was just checking in before heading back to the bedroom to answer some emails, settle into bed, and mentally prepare himself for his media obligations tomorrow afternoon.

To your surprise, Joe didn't retreat. He stepped closer to the shower, his blue eyes squinting at you through the foggy glass, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "I need a shower too, babe. Can you hurry?" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

You rolled your eyes, holding back before answering him. "I had a full schedule today," you retorted, your voice echoing off the tiles. "You got home before me. Did you not get one in at the facility?"

Joe leaned against the sink, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "No, I wanted to shower at home." He tried to play it cool, but the hint of irritation in his voice was unmistakable. It was one of his rare flaws, the inability to hide his emotions when it came to inconveniences.

You reached for your exfoliating sponge, the sweet scent of your body scrub filling the small space. "Baby," you began, your voice firm yet tired. "I'm almost done. You could've used one of the other bathrooms."

Joe's sigh grew heavier, the frustration in his eyes evident. "It's not the same, all my stuff is in here," he said, his voice tight. "Why are you taking so long? Just hurry up."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance flicker within you. You had been looking forward to this shower, the one thing you could control after a long day of treating patients and navigating the chaos of your new practice. "Joe, I’ve been seeing patients all day. Can't you wait five more minutes?" you snapped, your voice bouncing off the shower walls.

He stepped closer, his expression unyielding. "Five minutes turns into ten, turns into twenty," he said, his voice flat. "I'm exhausted, babe. I just want to get clean."

You felt a twinge of guilt, but you stood your ground. "I've been looking forward to this shower all day," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and weariness. "You could've just told me you needed to get in first."

Joe grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, pacing for a minute before yanking off his clothes. You felt the cooler air of the bathroom flood the shower before you realized what he was doing. You squealed as Joe stepped in behind you, large hands reaching for your shampoo as if disregarding your personal space.

"Joey," you whined, your pout deepening as the shower suddenly felt much smaller. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, ignoring the tone of your voice to deliver a straightforward answer. "What does it look like? We're sharing."

The initial shock gave way to a playful scoff from you as you turned to face him, your eyes glinting with amusement despite your earlier irritation. "You're serious?"

Joe nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he squeezed past you to stand under the water. "Deadly," he said, "If you’re good, I might even scrub your back for you."

You rolled your eyes, gently nudging him away from the direct shower of the steamy water. "You can’t hijack my shower, Joe. That’s not how this works," you said with a huff.

Joe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he stepped closer to you, the water now spraying you both. "I'm not hijacking, I'm sharing," he said, his hands reaching for your very expensive, tropical-scented shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into his large, open palm. "Like we learned in preschool?"

You didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on scrubbing your extended arms. You felt Joe's amused chuckle reverberate through his chest as he lathered his hair, the suds cascading over his shoulders and down his torso.

Sensing your irritation, Joe reached over you to nudge the temperature valve. The once warm embrace of water turned frigid, causing you to jump and shriek. "Joseph!" you yelped, trying to avoid the icy spray. You took a step back, your back meeting the solid wall of Joe's broad chest as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, the water temperature now to his liking.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with feigned innocence. "Just how I like it." He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as the cold water continued to assault your skin. You squirmed in his grasp, the shock of the cold water fading into a laugh as you realized the futility of fighting him on this.

"Joe," you squealed, your laughter mixing with the sound of the water, "turn it back!" Your attempts to escape his grip only made you laugh harder as he held you firmly, his deep laughter vibrating against your back. You attempted to get a hand on the valve but your movement was cut short by Joe's larger hand gently swatting yours away.

"Come on, it's good for your skin," his deep voice rumbled in your ear. You shivered and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. The cold water continued to pummel them, and you felt your body tighten with the shock of it. "You should know better, doc," he quipped, his breath warm against your neck.

Your tense laughter subsided into a whine. "Joey, please," you begged, your teeth chattering slightly. "It's too cold. You're ruining my shower."

"Your shower?" Joe echoed, his tone incredulous. "This is our shower now."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself, the absurdity of the situation bringing a smile to your lips. You leaned back into him, your body beginning to warm again as the chill dissipated. His arms tightened around you as the water washed away the last of the soap. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the sound of the water the only thing breaking up the quiet.

"Alright, Comrade Burrow, let go of me," you said, your voice filled with mock irritation. Joe's arms loosened, allowing you to twist the valve back to a warmer temperature. The lukewarm water washed over you, and you turned to face him, your eyes dancing with playful anger.

"That's strike two," you muttered, a hand settling against his jaw as you pulled him down for a chaste kiss, leaving his skin tingling with a bite at his pink bottom lip.

Joe raised an eyebrow, chasing your lips as you pulled away and turned back around. "Strike two?"

You nodded, your eyes still closed, as you enjoyed the warm water cascading over you. "First, you try to bully me out of my shower, then you try to freeze me to death. You're on thin ice, babe."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll warm you right up," he whispered, his hands skimming over your wet body.

"That's strike three, I'm leaving." You giggled, pushing Joe's hands away with a gentle smack. You stepped out of the shower, your skin glistening with water droplets. Joe stepped aside, the playfulness in his eyes never fading as he watched you wrap a towel around yourself. You grabbed another for him, tossing it onto the vanity counter before exiting the bathroom.

Joe stepped out behind you, long limbs leaving a puddle on the gray mat beneath his feet. He wrapped the towel around his waist, his skin still slightly red from the cold water. "You're cute when you're mad," he said, his voice teasing.

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you couldn't hold back. "I'm not mad," you replied, walking over to your side of the sink to start your nightly skincare routine. "Just disappointed."

Joe stepped closer to you, the warmth of his body contrasting the coolness of the bathroom air. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peered at your reflection in the mirror. "How can you be disappointed with this?" he asked, his voice playful as he gestured to your reflection.

Your hand paused mid toner application, and you couldn't help but smile. "It's the principle," you said, turning your attention back to your routine. You felt Joe's warm breath against your neck as he leaned closer, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Well, the principle is that we both needed showers, and we're both tired," Joe said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Let's just get ready for bed before we start arguing over stupid shit again."

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. You finished your skincare routine, your movements precise and methodical, while Joe brushed his teeth with a hint of minty toothpaste wafting through the air. Joe finished drying off, forgoing a trip to his closet for a pair of sweatpants, and simply heading off to bed.

You set off for the closet, swapping your towel for Joe's raggedy Athens Bulldogs long-sleeve and a pair of his boxers. The fabric of his shirt was well-worn and smelled faintly of his scent. You couldn't help the shy flutter of your heart as you emerged to find him sprawled out underneath your sheets, taking up a good deal of space. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over Joe's muscular form. His bare chest peeked out from beneath the line of the sheets covering his lower half. He held his phone in one hand, the other arm bent behind his head as he scrolled through his notifications with a trademark unimpressed expression.

You approached the bed, sliding under the covers with a dramatic sigh, your body heat immediately melding with his. As if second nature, Joe's arm curled around your waist, his free hand coming to rest on your lower back, your head finding its usual spot on his firm chest. The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional buzz of his phone. Your eyes drifted shut, the warmth and safety of Joe's arms around you acting as a sedative after a grueling day.

"Love you," he hummed, placing his phone on the nightstand before switching the bedside lamp off. The sudden darkness enveloped them, and you felt Joe's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. You knew he was waiting for your response, but you remained silent, fighting off the twitch of a smirk.

He nudged you, a hint of urgency in his voice, "You gonna say it back?"

You pretended to be asleep, your body relaxed and limp against him, enjoying the quiet after the shower squabble. You felt his grip on you tighten slightly, a silent protest to your silence. With a dramatic sigh, you opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, the moonlight from your bedroom window highlighting the mischief in your gaze. "You really expect me to after you ruined my relaxing evening?"

Joe rolled his eyes, but the tension in his body dissipated as he couldn't help but smile at your feigned indignation. "I love you," he repeated, his voice softer this time.

You leaned in, your fingertips tracing his strong jaw as you whispered, "I love you too," before leaning in to kiss him softly. Your kiss held the promise of warmth and comfort, a silent apology for your earlier squabble. As you parted, Joe's eyes searched yours in the dim light, looking for any lingering traces of irritation. Finding none, his features softened, and he pulled you closer, soothing the two of you into your familiar embrace. His hand moved from your ass to your lower back, rubbing in slow, comforting circles as you slipped into slumber.

Your schedules left little time for cuddly nights like those as the season pushed forward. Between your full work weeks and Joe's demanding training and game days, your time together had melted into an afterthought. The occasional dinner date had turned into a rare luxury, and your once-nightly pillow talks had been replaced by quiet grumbling about who forgot to take out the trash or who left their keys scattered around the house.

The world only seemed to grace you with a few fleeting moments on Sundays when the Bengals played at home. Though you wouldn't see Joe until after the game, sharing him with his parents for a few hours before you all retired to bed, you always looked forward to Sunday evenings. It was the one day you could count on for a decent stretch of time together. This weekend, however, had been particularly testy on both your nerves.

Joe's parents, Robin and Jimmy, were staying over before making the trip back home the following morning. You and Robin fluttered between the living room and the kitchen, chatting about the game as you prepared dinner together. Jimmy sat in his designated Lazyboy, nodding along to your conversation, occasionally throwing in a comment about in his southern cadence so similar to Joe's. The house was filled with the comforting scent of dinner cooking and the first pumpkin pie of the fall baking.

You could feel your nerves frazzle every time you came within Joe's grasp. His constant touches, though affectionate, felt suffocating today. You needed space, but he seemed to need you more than ever. Each time he grabbed you, you'd give him a look that was half-playful, half-exasperated, but he remained oblivious, his attention not quite turning away from the conversations at hand.

Finally, Robin spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of teasing. "Joey, let the poor girl breathe," she said, gaining a chuckle from Jimmy.

Joe looked up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at his mother's words. "What do you mean?" he asked, adjusting his grip on your waist as he pulled you closer to his chest protectively.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "Sweetheart," you said, your voice light with affection. "You're smothering me today."

Joe met your eye, jaw set with tension. "I just want to spend time with you," he murmured, his voice thick with a hint of defensiveness. His hand remained firmly on your waist, his thumb idly tracing circles against the fabric of your crewneck.

Your smile softened, and your eyes searched his. You knew he was just feeling the weight of your different lives. "I know," you said gently. "But you're being a little clingy."

Robin looked up from the salad she was tossing, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's okay to let her go, Joey," she said. "You guys need to learn to live without each other a little."

You shot her a grateful look, which Joe returned with a glower. "You're one to talk," he said, his voice tight. "You and Dad have been joined at the hip for what, thirty years?"

Robin chuckled, setting the salad bowl down on the kitchen island. "That's different," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You two are still in the 'can't keep your hands to yourselves' phase of being together. It's adorable, really."

Jimmy coughed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Your mother's right," he said, his gaze flicking from you to Joe. "You're both young, and busy. If you're serious about staying together, you need to find a balance of affection that works."

Joe's grip tightened, and you felt the beginnings of a petty protest brewing. "I just want to spend time with you," he grumbled into your ear, his voice a mix of annoyance and longing. "Barely see each other these days."

"I know, babe," you said, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Just give me a few minutes to breathe, okay?" You gave him a warm smile, hoping it conveyed your love without patronizing his feelings.

Joe hesitated, pouting like a scolded puppy.

"Actually, sweetheart, do you mind taking a look at this?" Robin said, holding up her hand to reveal the beginnings of a scar running along her forearm. "It's been a week since I got it, and it's not healing right."

Your gaze shifted from Joe's sulky expression to Robin's arm. "Sure," you said, your professional instincts kicking in. You stepped out of Joe's embrace, following Robin to the bathroom. You could hear Joe grumble something under his breath as you closed the door behind you.

In the well-lit bathroom, you washed your hands before reaching out to take Robin's arm in your hand. "It does look a bit red," you said, your voice concerned. "How did you get it?"

"Tripped over a box at the garage sale," Robin said with a shrug, her tone airy. "Thought it was nothing, but it's still bothering me."

You continued scrutinizing the scar. "It's definitely inflamed," you said, your voice even. "I might need to write you a script for some antibiotics."

"Oh, no need," Robin said, her voice bright. "I got this checked out on Friday. I just wanted to hear your opinion and get you some space from Joe."

Your eyes widened as realization dawned on you. You couldn't help but laugh. "He's gonna kill me," you said, shaking your head. "But thank you, I needed a breather."

Robin chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You guys are going to be okay," she assured you, giving you a comforting pat on the arm. "You just need to remember to make time for each other, and communicate when you need space better. Like Jimmy was saying, you need to find a good balance. I wouldn't want you two to be miserable over communication."

You nodded, your eyes lingering on the scar, which you knew was fine. The whole thing had been a clever ruse, but it had given you the break you needed. "We've been at each other's throats the last week. He just wants to be with me, but he can be..." you trailed off with a sigh.

Robin leaned closer, her expression understanding. "A little too determined?" she offered.

You nodded, unable to hold back a chuckle. "Yeah, that's one way to put it. But I love him, and I know he just misses me. I feel awful asking for space when he's so obviously trying to reconnect."

Robin squeezed your arm. "You're not asking for the moon, honey. Sometimes, Joe just needs a nudge to understand. You two are both stubborn as hell, but that's what makes you work. You understand him." She smiled softly before adding, "Just be upfront with him. Tell him you appreciate the affection, but you need some breathing room."

You nodded, taking Robin's advice to heart as you returned to the kitchen. You could see Joe sulking on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of the argument's resolution. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just craving your attention. You gave him a warm smile and took a seat beside him, your legs curling under you.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Much," you assured him, leaning into his side. You knew that Joe's clinginess was just his way of dealing with the distance your hectic schedules had forced between you. "Your mom just needs antibiotics for that scar," you said, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Joe looked up from his phone, his expression unchanged. "Oh," he said, his voice devoid of interest, choosing instead to allow you to pull his arm around your shoulders. A sly smile tugged at his lips, he couldn't help but feel the tension in his chest ease slightly.

Your office buzzed with the steady rhythm of a busy clinic, the murmur of patients, and the tap of your heels against the linoleum punctuating the air. You stood at a long counter, finishing up your notes, when one of your nurses, Luca, looked up from where he was entering data into a computer. "Joe's here," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Where?" you responded, your focus still on the paperwork you were filling out.

"In room four. He said he had an appointment," Luca replied, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes darted up, a mix of surprise and confusion. "Appointment?" you murmured, setting your pen down and looking at Luca. "Was he on my schedule?" you trailed off, reaching for one of the stray iPads kept around the office to take a look at the day's appointments.

"Well, no. But your 2:45 was a no-show," Luca explained, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. "Taylor did his rooming and said it was something simple, probably just a sunburn."

You couldn't help but laugh, your heart warming at the thought of Joe sneaking in for a visit under the guise of needing medical attention. It had been weeks since you had any real quality time together, with his football schedule colliding with your busy clinic hours. You shook your head as you closed the manila folder you were holding. "Alright, I'll go see what Mr. Franchise needs," you said, your tone playfully sarcastic as you handed Luca the folder and pushed away from the counter.

Walking into the exam room, you saw Joe sitting comfortably wide in the light blue exam chair. He looked up when you entered, a familiar spark entering his eyes when he took in the sight of you. "Hey," he said, his voice low and a little shy.

"Hey yourself," you responded, your smile genuine despite your initial surprise. You set your iPad down, sitting cross-legged in your chair just a few feet away from him. "What's this about?" you inquired, your gaze traveling over his face and exposed limbs for any hint of the irritation that had allegedly brought him into the practice.

Joe shifted, his eyes avoiding yours for a brief moment before meeting them again. "Well, it's…it's my neck," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "My skin's been bothering me for a couple of days."

Your smile grew softer as you stood from your chair, walking over to inspect the area. "You know, I've told you before," you said gently, your voice professional despite the intimate setting. "You really need to get a better helmet liner. This irritation is from the constant rubbing."

Joe shrugged, his large hands folded in his lap. "I know, I know. I'll look into it," he said, his eyes meeting yours. The silence grew between them as you examined the reddened skin, your touch feather-light.

"When you sweat, the friction just the irritation makes it worse," you added, your thumbs tracing the inflamed line along his neck. "It's not anything serious, but it could become infected if you don't treat it. With your skin being so sensitive, we need to be careful."

Joe didn't respond, his eyes lingering on yours. You could feel his hands settle gently on your hips, urging you closer. You sighed, setting aside your professional demeanor for a moment. "You know you could've just called me to tell me about this," you murmured, a hint of exasperation in your voice. "Or gone to the team physician."

"Honey, are you listening to me?" you asked, your eyes searching his as you stepped closer, your hand reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. The ends of his unstyled dirty blonde strands curled around your fingers, reminding you of the hundreds of times you had done this before. His cheek pressed to your chest, his breathing slowed, you knew he was enjoying the simple closeness.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into your touch. "I am," Joe said, his voice a soft rumble.

You couldn't help but chuckle, continuing your gentle threading. "You know you're being ridiculous," you said, your voice a warm tease. "Is everything okay? How was practice?"

"Practice was fine," Joe replied, his eyes still closed. "I missed you. Just wanted to see you."

You felt a twinge of guilt. "I know," you said, your voice gentle. "I miss you too. I'm sorry we've been like this lately."

Joe's arms tightened around you. "Me too," he murmured, focused on the way your heart beat steadily beneath his ear.

"Did you really come here just to see me?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of affection and skepticism.

Joe looked up at you, a boyish grin playing on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "My skin was irritated so I came to see the best dermatologist in Ohio."

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to resist the warmth spreading through your chest. "You're terrible," you said, your voice filled with affection. "But I'll take the compliment." You lifted his jaw, meeting his eyes before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'll write you a prescription, you big baby."

Joe grinned, his grip loosening slightly. "I'm your big baby," he murmured, his eyes lighting up as you kissed his nose.

You couldn't resist the charm, your eyes crinkling with laughter. "You're something, alright," you said, stepping back to scribble something on the prescription pad. You tore off the top sheet and handed it to him. "This should help with the irritation, but you really do need to get that helmet sorted out."

Joe took the prescription with a nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll do it," he promised, his voice earnest. He pulled your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. "Thank you, Doc."

You felt the tension of the day melt away as you leaned into him, your free hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Any other ailments or afflictions you'd like me to check out?" you asked, your voice teasing.

Joe's smile grew into a grin. "Maybe just one more," he said, his thumb tracing a line down your arm. "My lips are kinda chapped."

You rolled your eyes, your own smile widening. "I'll take a look," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. "Feels fine to me. But maybe you should keep hydrating," you said, lightness entering your voice once again.

You shared a quiet laugh, the air in the room thick with the intimacy that had been missing from your recent interactions. Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment longer before you stepped away, washing your hands before reaching for the medical cream you needed to apply. You squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips before gently rubbing it into the irritated area. Joe leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting closed as the coolness of the cream soothed his skin.

"You'll pick this up from the pharmacy, right?" you said, your voice firm but gentle as you capped the tube of cream.

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

You couldn't help but smile at his obedience. "Good boy," you said, your thumb smoothing over the cream to ensure it was evenly applied. "And Joe, please don't make a habit of this. I nearly popped a blood vessel when I thought you had something serious going on."

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed, savoring the moment. "I know," he said. "But sometimes, I just need to feel you taking care of me, you know?"

Your heart swelled. You did know. Your lives had become a series of passing moments, stolen kisses, and rushed conversations. You missed the simplicity of your early days together too. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against the fabric of his shirt in small, comforting circles. "I'll make sure to be home at a reasonable tonight," you promised.

Joe's eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a warm smile. "You don't have to," he said, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "But I'd like that."

You nodded, your eyes soft as you met his gaze. "Okay, I'll be home by seven. We can have dinner together, and maybe watch Episode IV for the thousandth time?" you suggested, your voice hopeful.

Joe's grin grew. "Now, you're talking," he said as he leaned back in the chair. "You promise to stay awake for the whole thing?"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's dangerous to make promises like that," you teased. "But I'll try." You stepped back, your hand lingering on his shoulder before you finally pulled away. "Now, go get that cream, and start looking for liners. No more sneaky appointments unless it's a real issue."

Joe chuckled, standing from the chair. He wrapped his arms around you in a quick, tight embrace. "Deal," he murmured before letting go.

Things had seemed to cool off, but as the weekend drew closer, the two of you were swept back up into your separate routines. By the time Thursday evening came around, you were both exhausted and looking forward to a quiet night in.

It wasn't unusual for Ja'Marr to pop over, especially before important games when Joe had his individual film sessions. The two men had made it a tradition since their time together at LSU, their friendship had remained tight with their close proximity.

Ja'Marr, with his broad shoulders and a fresh cut, strolled into your house without knocking, having memorized the code to the keypad ages ago, a bag of chips in hand. "What's up?"

You looked up from the open fridge, shaking your head with a smile, watching him unload his pockets as Joe's heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. "Hey, I'm about to make dinner, you want some?"

Ja'Marr nodded, tossing the bag of chips onto the counter. "Yeah, sounds good," he said, offering you a side hug as Joe approached. The three of you settled into the kitchen, Joe leaning against the counter, Ja'Marr with his hands in his pockets, while you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"You're cooking?" Joe asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched your flurry of activity. "Why don't you just order something?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "Because I want to?" you said, a sassy edge to your voice. You knew Joe's question was more than just a preference for takeout; it was his subtle way of hinting that you were working too hard. "It'll help clear my head."

Ja'Marr chuckled, taking a seat at the kitchen island. "Joe, are you really complaining right now?" he teased, popping a chip into his mouth.

Joe shrugged, his eyes still focused on your moving figure. "Nah, just making sure you're not pushing yourself too much," he said, his voice filled with affectionate concern. "You've been going non-stop lately."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "I am literally making you dinner," you said, your voice light. "How are you complaining?"

Ja'Marr laughed outright at that, shaking his head. "You two are something else," he said, taking a sip of water, scowling when Joe reached into his bag of chips for a few pieces.

"What?" Joe said, munching on a handful. "You walk into my house uninvited, man. I can have a few of your chips."

You walked over to Joe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go watch film, I'm okay, I promise," you said, gently nudging him away from the kitchen. You knew he was just trying to help, but you needed this time to unwind.

Joe sighed but didn't argue further, grabbing his iPad and retreating to the living room. Ja'Marr lingered behind, watching your every move with an expectant look on his face.

"Yes, Ja'Marr?" you asked, your eyes flickering over to him as you prepped vegetables.

"Are you still driving up to Cleveland on Sunday?" he started with a light tone. "If you are, maybe my girl could sit with you? She's been wanting to see me play in person for a while."

You paused mid-chop, the knife hovering over a bell pepper. You looked up at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "No, actually," you said, placing the knife down carefully. "I thought I'd stay home this weekend, maybe go to the spa, and catch the game from here."

Ja'Marr's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you as if you had just suggested something unthinkable. "You're not going to the game?" he said, his tone incredulous.

Before you could respond, Joe's voice cut through the kitchen, his tone incredulous. "What do you mean you're not going to the game?" he called out from the living room.

You took a deep breath before releasing a long sigh. You knew Joe was sensitive about you not attending the games you typically did, but you had her reasons. "I just need some me-time, Joe," you called back, your voice firm. "I don't want to drive to Cleveland by myself. Besides, you're going to be busy with the game. I won't even see you until we get home at like two in the morning."

Joe appeared in the kitchen entryway, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "That's not the point," he said, his voice tight. "You always come to the games in Cleveland."

You took another deep breath, keeping your eyes on your task. "Joe, this has nothing to do with you. I just know I'm gonna be exhausted, and I want to take care of myself."

Ja'Marr looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. "Maybe I'll just ask Tee," he offered, trying to ease the tension. "His mom is staying with him this week, she might go to the Cleveland game."

"It's fine," you said, turning to give him a reassuring smile. You didn't want to ruin his night with your relationship woes. "I didn't know you were that serious about her. I wish I could meet her."

Joe's face fell, and he took a step forward, obscuring Ja'Marr's view of your faces. His voice dropped, "Are you really not coming?"

You could hear the disappointment in his tone, and you felt a twinge of guilt. You knew Joe thrived on your support at games, and you had been his rock at every single one, cheering him on from the sidelines. But you were tired, so tired. "I'm sorry, babe," you said, your voice sincere. "I was gonna tell you tonight."

Joe crossed his arms, his eyes searching yours. "Is that the real reason?" he pressed, his voice low. "Or are you upset with me about something?"

You took a deep breath, turning to face him fully. "Joe," you said, your tone measured with a warning. "I have my own life too. Work is tiring, and I need the weekend to recover."

Joe's jaw tightened, his blue eyes boring into yours. "But we hardly see each other as it is," he countered. "I like knowing you're there, supporting me."

"Are you worried I won't watch if I'm not sitting in the stadium? Because I promise you, I'll be screaming at the refs through the TV just as loud." You knew Joe was taking your absence personally, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

"It's not the same," Joe said, his voice gruff. "You know that."

You sighed, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. "Babe," you began, your voice calm but firm. "I love watching you play, but I can't always drop everything to follow you around. I have my own shit to deal with here."

Joe shook his head, biting at his lip with a frown. "I don't get it," he murmured, his voice tight with frustration. "But whatever."

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his tone, but you kept your voice steady. "What don't you get?" you asked, your patience wearing thin.

"We will talk about this later," Joe said, his voice a low growl. Your jaw tightened, the two of you engaged in a silent staring contest.

Ja'Marr took the moment of silence to clear his throat awkwardly. "I can leave if you need to talk? Just let me know when dinner's ready?"

You offered him a tight smile. "No, it's fine. Stay and watch film."

Joe didn't say anything, choosing instead to continue staring intensely at the side of your face as you resumed chopping vegetables. The kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sound of the knife slicing through the peppers, the tension palpable. You felt a simmer of annoyance build in your chest, but you pushed it down. You didn't want to fight, not really, but you had to stand your ground.

"Okay," Ja'Marr drew out slowly under his breath. "Y'all two fighting like an old married couple. Maybe you need some one-on-one time, or some shit."

Joe grunted, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. "What do you mean?"

Ja'Marr leaned back against the counter, popping another chip in his mouth as he attempted to play relationship counselor. "Y''all been at each other's necks," he said, gesturing between you. "Maybe you just need to, you know, fix it in the bedroom."

You couldn't help but snort with laughter, turning to Joe with narrowed eyes. "Did your best friend just tell us to have sex to solve our problems? Both of you get out of my kitchen, please. Go do literally anything else."

Joe couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his chest. He turned to stalk off to the living room, already taking Ja'Marr's words to heart. The wide receiver followed him as he muttered, "I'm just tryna help you, bro."

You finished dinner, serving the two men before retreating to your office to catch up on some paperwork. Ja'Marr had left before the clock hit 8:30, reminding Joe of his earlier words.

"Maybe he's onto something," Joe mumbled to himself, watching as the front door closed.

By the time Joe made it up to your bedroom, you were already tucked into bed, your laptop open and the soft glow of the screen casting a cool light over your features. You looked up at him as he entered, your eyes questioning. He paused in the doorway, his mind racing. He knew he had to tread carefully; he didn't want to start another fight, especially not after your earlier tension.

"Hey," he began, his voice tentative.

You paused from her work, the glow from the laptop lighting up your face. You studied him for a moment before closing your laptop with a sigh. "Hey," you replied, confusion etched into your features as you observed Joe carefully.

Joe took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, his voice sincere. "I overreacted. I just miss you, you know?"

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders visibly dissipating. "I miss you too," you admitted, your voice softer, offering him space to climb under the blanket with you.

Joe leaned in, his hand brushing against your cheek as he turned your face to meet his. His eyes searched yours, looking for any lingering anger or resentment. Finding none, he leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours that grew more urgent with each passing second. You closed your eyes, your arms sliding around his neck as you melted into the kiss.

Your kiss grew deeper, your bodies pressing closer together as Joe's hand traveled down to your waist, pulling you towards him. You felt the warmth spread through you, the stress of the day slowly evaporating. The two of you broke apart, both panting slightly, staring into each other's eyes as if seeing one another for the first time in weeks.

"Do you want to...?" Joe trailed off, his voice low and hopeful, his thumb tracing the plump of your bottom lip. His palm cupped the side of your face, blue eyes searching yours.

You studied him, the love and desire swirling in his gaze undeniable. You knew he was referring to the "one-on-one time" Ja'Marr had so bluntly suggested. Despite your initial dismissal, you couldn't ignore the spark it had ignited within you. The petty fights had clearly been a symptom of a deeper issue - your lack of intimacy. "Please," you murmured, leaning into his touch.

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned back, pulling you with him so you were straddling his hips. The weight of you felt like home, the warmth of your skin seeping into his as he kissed you deeply, his hands exploring your curves. Your sighs turned into a moan as you ground your hips down into his, feeling his hand squeeze your ass under his palms before bringing a hand down to hear the satisfying 'smack', the friction sending shockwaves through Joe's body.

He rolled you over, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands roaming over your skin, peeling your clothes away. Your hands were equally busy, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, your nails scraping lightly against his chest as you pushed the fabric over his head. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the rustle of fabric.

Your kisses grew more urgent, Joe's hands tracing a path down your body, his fingertips dancing along the edge of your panties. You gasped, your body arching up into his touch. He paused, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered against your skin, lips drawing heat as they pressed wet kisses to your chest, nipping eagerly at the fat of your breasts, hands kneading the flesh beneath his palms.

Your breath hitched, your voice thick with want. "You," you managed to get out, your eyes fluttering shut as Joe's mouth found your neck, kissing and sucking the tender skin there. His touch was soothing an ache you hadn't realized you had been carrying with you for weeks.

"I can do that," he said, his words muffled against your salty skin. Your hips squirmed against him, your lips parting with another pretty moan from the feel of his tip pressing against your core. You could feel the frustration of him being so close but not close enough. The thin fabric of your underwear - ironically matching in color - was the only barrier left between you.

With a low groan, Joe's hands slid down to the waistband of your panties, his thumbs hooking into the elastic. Your own hands were busy in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth found your breasts. He kissed and bit, his teeth grazing your nipples, and you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing yourself into his mouth. He took his time, savoring the taste of you, feeling the tremble of your body with each nibble.

You whined, tugging at the messy strands of his hair. "Joe," you breathed out his name, a plea for more. He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust as he peered up at you. He held your gaze as his fingers slipped into your panties, humming in approval when he found you slick and ready. With a nudge, he kept your thighs spread to accommodate him, allowing you access to his lips as his fingers lightly stroked through your folds.

"You're so wet for me, baby," Joe murmured, his voice thick with want. He kissed your stomach, your hips rolling with impatience. He took his time, dragging his kisses down the line of your navel until his mouth was right there, hot breath against your clit. His cheek rested against your thigh, breathing in your sweet scent as he continued to hold you open for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Joe's fingers continued rubbing you in slow circles, your hips bucking upward in silent demand. He trailed kisses down your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to soothe you after biting into your brown skin. The anticipation was agonizing, but you knew he enjoyed teasing you, drawing it out until you were begging.

"Joey," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please."

He chuckled under his breath, forcing himself to keep his attention on your sensitive center. His fingers still pressed against you, sweeping through your wet pussy as your arousal began to coat the inside of your thighs and slowly drip down to the bed. He knew if he looked up and saw your face, he'd be lost in your eyes, so he focused on your reactions, the way your body arched and trembled. He brought his face closer, hovering just out of reach, his thumb gently teasing your entrance without giving you the satisfaction you craved.

"Give me a second, honey." He murmured reassuringly under his breath. "Need to make sure she remembers me. It's been so long, you think she does?" He smirked against your skin, his teeth grazing your inner thigh again, making you squirm.

Your grip tightened in his hair, your hips bucking upwards. "She'd never forget you," you managed to gasp out, your voice breathless. "Just..."

Joe took the hint, his smirk growing wider as he leaned in closer, his tongue pressing flat against your center, licking up your slit with a maddening slowness. Your nails dug into his scalp, your body tensing as he finally took you in his mouth, sucking and licking with a hunger that had been building for weeks. The sensation was overwhelming, your thighs shaking as they tense over his shoulders. You released a soft moan, the sound of his name on your lips like a prayer.

Your body was tightening, the tension in your core growing with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck of his lips. Joe could feel you getting closer, the muscles in your legs tensing as your breath grew shorter. He didn't stop, his mouth working to bring you to the edge of pleasure. Your hips began to rock against him, your moans growing louder, gasping and writhing to his touch, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

Joe pulled away with a smug smirk, watching you react to his touch as his fingers took over for his mouth. With a start, he inserted one finger inside you, feeling the heat and the tightness of your walls. He stayed close, watching the way your body quivered in reaction to his touch.

"I know, baby, I know," he soothed, voice deep as he kissed your thighs, his breath brushing over your overly sensitive skin. He watched your face, the way your eyes had glazed over and your teeth bit at your bottom lip. He didn't want you to come from his fingers, though. He wanted to feel you come around his cock, wanted to hear you scream his name as you lost control.

"Keep 'em open for me, gonna give you my cock, beautiful," he urged, instructing you to keep your thighs open as you whimpered at the loss of his fingers. He kissed your stomach before sitting up to remove his underwear. His cock stood proudly, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Your chest heaved as you watched him gently stroke himself, turning your head to the side as your thighs closed together, the ache for him unbearable. You could feel your pussy fluttering, begging for his attention.

He wasn't quite done teasing you. As he sat back on his heels, he guided his tip through your folds, using your wetness as his lubricant. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, muffling a moan at the sensation. Your eyes were glossed over with lust, watching him with a mix of frustration and need.

Without another word, Joe pushed into you, watching your eyes widen as he filled you up. He took his time, savoring the feel of your tight warmth surrounding him, your inner walls pulsing around him as you adjusted to his girth. Your eyes rolled back, your back arching off the bed as he began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had you both panting within moments.

Joe leaned forward, supporting himself on one hand as the other pulled your leg to rest against his hip. He was positioned directly over you, allowing your hands to reach for his jaw, bringing him down to kiss you deeply. You could feel the heat from his body, his chest pressing against your breasts, and you reveled in the feeling of being filled by him. His strokes grew more urgent, and you could feel the tension building within you once more.

"Come on, talk to me, sweetheart," he groaned out. "'M listening, need to hear your sweet voice."

Your breath hitched, your eyes snapping open to meet Joe's intense gaze. "I need you deeper," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. He smirked, his eyes lighting up with challenge, and lowered himself onto an elbow, pulling the thigh in his grasp higher on his hip. The adjustment sent him deeper, and you gasped, your body tensing for a brief moment.

He chuckled, his thumb drawing a soothing circle into your thigh. "Breathe, baby," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure building once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours with a deep, steady rhythm that had your toes curling as you struggled to stay in control of your body.

"Yeah," you moaned, your voice strained, "like that."

Joe's pace quickened, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room as he pumped into you with an animalistic fervor that had been building since you started fighting. The frustration of the day, the need to claim you, to make you his again, was palpable in every thrust. You whimpered as his nose nudged against yours, reminding you to keep your eyes trained on his. He liked watching you come, liked the way your pupils would blow wide and your eyes would glaze over like you were baring your soul to him.

He felt you tighten around him, your legs squeezing him, your breaths coming out in short puffs. You were close, so close, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Right there?"

You nodded, mouth wide, pupils blown, your breathing ragged. "Yes," you gasped, "right there, don't stop. Fuck, yes."

Joe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he felt you tighten around him. He could feel his own release building, but he held it back, focusing on you, wanting you to come first. His hips slammed into yours, the rhythm relentless, his cock driving deep within you with each thrust. You were so wet, so tight, the sensation of your pussy gripping him like a glove threatening to send him over the edge at any moment.

You began to squirm as your orgasm approached. Your breathing growing more shallow, your eyes locked with Joe's as if begging for release. His own breaths grew strained, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held himself above you, his hips moving faster, pushing into you with a force that had your body rocking against the bed.

"Uh uh," he tsked, snapping his hips into you with more force, the smugness in his expression growing with each whine you made. "You're not going anywhere, baby. Stay right here with me. I got you. Just let it go for me. Let me make you feel good."

The words were like a dam breaking, the orgasm crashing over you with a ferocity that had you arching into him, your legs tightening around him. You threw your head back, moaning his name as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of it. He watched your face, the way your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the way you clamped down on him, and it was his turn to moan out. He could feel your pulses around his cock, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

"Yeah, there you go, babe. That's it, baby, good fuckin' girl." Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear, his thrusts growing more erratic as he felt your climax ripple through your body. He held on, waiting for you to come back down before he allowed himself to go over the edge. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving lines on his back, but he didn't care. He liked the push and pull, liked knowing that you were feeling everything just as intensely as he was.

"Oh, my fucking god - shit!" you gasped, feeling your orgasm continue to ravage your senses, each wave more intense than the previous as Joe's hips continued to roll into yours.

"Look at that. So fuckin' beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice thick with the beginning of his own climax. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his own release began to build. The taste of you was on his tongue, and it was all he needed to push him over the edge. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you, the warmth of his cum spilling into your depths as his muscles tensed and then relaxed.

Your bodies lay tangled together, a mess of sweat and limbs as you both caught your breath. You felt Joe's weight shift, his muscles slackening against you as his breath evened out. You trailed your fingers through his tousled hair, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead as the fuzziness in his head cleared.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice gruff with satisfaction.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Okay," you assured him. "You?"

"Better than okay." Joe nuzzled closer, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths. You lay in a cocoon of warmth, the sheets twisted around your legs. "We should do this more often."

You chuckled, stroking your hand down his back. "Damn," you breathed, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and amazement. "You've never spoken to me like that before."

He laughed, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed the still aftermath of your passion. "It's all that pent-up frustration," he murmured. "But you liked it."

It was a statement, not a question, and you couldn't help but agree. You kissed him again, your hands still tangled in his hair. "I loved it," you admitted, your voice still a bit breathless.

Joe chuckled, his chest rumbling against you as he pulled out of you. "Good to know," he murmured, his thumb tracing over your cheek. "Guess we know what the cure for our petty fights is now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating. "Next time I start arguing with you about stupid shit, you have my permission to fuck it out of me."

Joe smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Deal," he agreed, his voice filled with a newfound lightness. He rolled away from you, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh of contentment. You turned onto your side, kissing him softly before slipping out of bed to clean yourself up.

Joe followed her, allowing you space to handle your business before taking his turn. When you both climbed back into bed, the air was thicker, charged with the aftermath of your released tension. You lay down with a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. You snuggled closer to him, your hand tracing shapes over his chest as you lay in the quiet darkness.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass recently," Joe said, his voice soft and sincere. "I know you've got a lot going on with work and stuff, but I just feel guilty being gone so much this season."

Your hand paused on his chest, your eyes searching his in the dim light of the room. "I know, baby," you replied, your voice filled with understanding. "It's not your fault, I should've been more honest, should've told you I wasn't going to Cleveland when I made the decision."

"That's okay," Joe said, his thumb tracing lazy circles into your supple skin. "We're good. I'll go up to Cleveland, get a win, and come back for victory sex." His voice was light, the tension from earlier replaced with humor and affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Sounds like a plan." You cuddled closer to Joe, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

[burrowdarling]

My MVP II (18+)

Summary: What happens after the NFL Honors, especially after your ride back to the hotel. Read part one here!

Pairings: boyfriend! Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), light spanking, elevators, Joe praise, sex (p in v), MDNI

Note: Heyo! Here's part two: The Hotel Room from My MVP, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you all so much for the love on the first one, which has over 600 notes in 3 days (like what?!?) Happy Superbowl Sunday, wish we had our boys playing, but smut always help with that right?

Word Count: 2.8k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux @lilfreakjez Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You tried your best to keep pace with Joe’s long legs as you trailed behind him, fingers knotted through his. He Handed his keys off to the valet, his face expressionless as he did so. You felt your cheeks flush at the knowledge of what you had just done, knowing some stranger was about to get into the same car. Trying to keep your face down, you mumbled a thank you to the man as you passed him by. The walk wasn’t long, but your short legs were no match for Joe's long strides. 

“Joey, can we slow down? It’s hard to walk in these damn things,” you pleaded, wishing you had taken them off and reaped the consequences later. 

He wordlessly obeyed your request, slowing his pace slightly so you could catch up. Joe took the opportunity to release your hand, slipping his own protectively around your waist to keep you close. You walked through the sliding doors of the hotel lobby, Joe making a beeline for the elevators. The wait was short, glad to have gotten an elevator all to yourselves. Joe pressed the ‘close doors’ button as fast as he could, making you giggle.

“Someone’s eager,” you said, trying to spin to face him. You were feigning for his touch, still riding the high from your first orgasm. It was nothing compared to what Joe could give you, him knowing your body better than you did.

Joe pulled you tightly into his front, the feel of his cock straining against his dress pants making your breath hitch in your throat. The thought that this could stop on any floor, anyone could walk in had your pulse thrumming. Joe leaned his head down to the crook of your neck, mouth dangerously close to your ear.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right now?” Joe asked as more of a rhetorical question, “how badly I wanted to rip this dress off of you before we even got out of the car at the venue?”

He slipped the back of your dress up, keeping your front covered. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden breeze on your backside, feeling more exposed than you were in the car. You were shocked, unsure of what to do with this new side of Joe. He was always so reserved when it came to you, but tonight was like he had flipped a switch of his own.

“I’m regretting letting you put your excuse for fucking panties back on right now,” he groaned, giving your ass a smack and a squeeze. Joe took the chance to grind himself against you, a moan slipping from your lips at the feel of him, desperate to have him against your bare skin

You made it out of the elevator unscathed, in a desperate pursuit to find your room. You fumbled with the keycard, unsure as to why Joe entrusted you with the job considering his composure was much better than yours. He waited patiently though, large hands on your shoulders while you went through your bag to find it, slipping it out of your purse and only dropping it to the floor once before you both made it in the confines of your room. 

The moment you passed the threshold, Joe was on you. You had only taken a few steps in as your back was against the door as it closed. Joe’s mouth was everywhere on your skin, lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He walked you backwards to the center of the room, mouth never leaving yours. When he was satisfied with your placement, he left one final kiss to your lips before parting from you. You groaned at the loss of contact, confusion over your features when he took a seat in the armchair. 

“I want you to strip for me, sweetheart,” Joe growled out, eyes heavy with desire. His eyes were so blown with lust, you’d give him anything he asked of you. 

You walked towards him silently as you spun around, needing help unzipping your dress. You felt his large warm hands move up your back before settling on the top of your back. Joe gave you a short stroke of his thumb as a way of saying he was there, using his other hand to move the zipper down to the base of your spine. You walked back towards the middle of the room, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you turned back to face your man.

You hesitated for a brief second, processing his request fully under his domineering gaze before he gently nodded towards you as a sign to go ahead. He dropped you a wink before giving you a small smile, reminding you that your Joey was still here, even if he was putting on this persona tonight. You wanted to please him, give him the proper celebration he deserved. 

You pulled your hair to one side, exposing your shoulder and the skimpy strap of your dress. You locked eyes with him, taking your hair and moving the strap to slip down your arm. His eyes never left yours, licking his lips as he was unable to settle into the chair fully. You could tell he was ready to jump your bones, holding himself back to preserve this moment for as long as possible. You moved to drop the strap from your other shoulder and watched as the fabric pooled around your ankles. You stepped out of it as Joe moved from his stop on the chair. He had you in his arms, tossing you like you weighed absolutely nothing back against the pillows on the bed. You erupted in laughter, feeling heat pool in your stomach at his sheer size and strength.

You were laid back on the bed, knees bent and your heels sticking into the duvet. You watched Joe as he started to rid himself of his clothes. You admired him, feeling a strong pull of lust and love for the man before you. A well of pride sat heavy on your chest that you were able to shower him with the love and affection he deserved, to treat him like the MVP you believed he was to you. You watched as he reached around his neck, getting ready to slip the chains off for the night.

“Keep them on,” you spoke softer than you meant to, breathless at the sight of him, “you never wear jewelry, I wanna enjoy it.”

Joe nodded at your request, beginning to remove his jacket while leaving the chains around his neck. His skin was taught, his muscled chest finally being within your reach after he wore that suit all night. You got up from your place on the bed, moving on your knees to meet Joe where he was standing. He took the last of his clothing off, tossing it to the side before turning towards you. You took your opportunity, slipping a delicate hand up his chest and settling on one of his chains, giving a soft pull towards you. Joe groaned at the feeling of the taught jewelry at the nape of his neck, nipping at your lips in praise. His hands settled on your ass, gripping your cheeks in both hands before giving them a tender squeeze. You gasped at the sudden touch, Joe capitalized on the moment to slip his tongue in your mouth. Moving one hand to the middle of your back to support your body. 

It was raw and full of passion, unfiltered and encompassing the pent up emotions of the day.  Your hands were lost in his hair, gripped whatever you could to keep your head from spinning. Joe laid you back on the mattress, getting to his knees and pulling you to the edge of the bed. Much like he did earlier, he took the time to take off each one of your heels

“As sexy as these are, I wanna be able to move you around freely and not risk taking a heel to the face,” Joe joked lightly, slipping off your heel as he kissed up your calf. You nodded in agreement knowing you weren’t the most coordinated person. Even in intense moments like this, he always knew how to keep you comfortable. He repeated the same on your other leg, taking the time to move slowly up your body. Joe didn’t leave an inch of skin untouched by his lips as he settled at the apex of your thighs. 

“God you’re fucking dripping for me, sweet girl. How do you want me first?” Joe asked as he toyed with you, stroking the area just above your pubic bone causing you to stir.

“What do you mean first?” you question him, you did already finish once tonight. Your mind went blank at the possibility of just how much he wanted to wear you out tonight.

“You heard me, I plan on getting you to cum multiple times tonight. How many times do you think I can make you finish him? Once, twice, maybe three times if I’m lucky” Joe said with such confidence in his voice that your body trembled with excitement. 

“Though I think we both know I don’t need luck for that. I know just what makes you tick, exactly what my girl likes” Joe said as he brought his hand down between your legs, swiping a finger through your slit before moving up to circle your clit with his thumb.

The simplicity of the touch already had your back arching off the bed, having been craving to have his hands on you for hours. He took his free hand and brought two fingers up to your lips, tapping them to get you to open. He slipped them inside, thoroughly wetting them like you did earlier. Your eyes stayed locked on his gaze as he slipped them past your lips with a pop. You could tell he was imagining his cock in your mouth, drawing a lazy smile to your lips as the later probability. 

He brought the wet digits down to your core, slipping them inside of you as he pumped them in and out slowly to start. You were already beginning to lose it, your  body wound so tightly, it wouldn’t take much to get you there. He increased his pace as he changed the angle of his fingers, moving them in the ‘come here’ motion as he kept hitting that certain spot inside of you. In perfect rhythm, you were on fire from his touch as you were seconds from losing it, his movements unrelenting. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles going white at the sheer pleasure he was causing your body. You felt electric, a simple spark could send you reeling. You tossed your head from side to side against the pillow, eyes clenched shut from the pleasure coursing through you. You were so close to the edge, fighting to get to the point of that sweet release.

“I'm so close, Joey. I wanna cum for you like a good girl,” you moaned, stirring something inside of Joe at your words. It was as if he took your words as his own motivation to get you there, feeling how close you were.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers baby,” Joe praised as your high ripped through your body, feeling a bit sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Number two will be with my mouth, I gotta get a taste of you.”

Before your mind could uncloud from the high, Joe’s tongue was already slipping inside of you lapping at whatever he could get. Your hands settled into his hair, pulling him closer to your body as you possibly could. You were a moaning mess, earning a groan from Joe in response that only made things feel more intense from the vibrations. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his face, grinding down to ride out your high that came so fast out of left field. This one feeling more intense than the first, the realization dawning on you that you had just squirted all over Joe. A small pit formed in your stomach that he would be upset somehow, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him between your legs.

His gaze met yours, telling you everything you needed to know. His pupils were blown so wide with lust. A look that said ‘don’t you dare feel bad for that’ while he made no move to part from you. He tenderly licked as your breathing even out, lapping at your juices like he was deprived. He moved to make his way up your body, flipping you around and lifting your hips so you were on your knees. He climbed on the bed to settle behind you, leaning down to bring his mouth by your ear. 

“You have no idea how hot that was, watching you do that. I can’t wait for number three to be around my cock, I already know your cunt is so fucking wet for me,” Joe growled out as he brought his mouth down to you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hadn’t spoken much, mumbling back an incoherent string of sounds that were meant to come out as words. Joe laughed behind you, pulling you up from your hands to rest back against him. You leaned your head on his shoulder, taking the time to breath before he would wreck you with his unrelenting thrusts. He gave your temple a kiss, gripping your breasts and toying with your nipples. He already had that knot in your stomach forming again, the pressure building in your center with an ache to have him inside of you.

“Need you inside me, Joe,” you whined against him, reaching your hands around to get any part of him in your grasp. 

“I can’t deny my baby what she wants, good to hear your voice still works for now,” Joe said as he moved you back to your hands and knees. You arched your back and wiggled your hips, ready to have him inside you. You pushed back against him, feeling his hands on your hips to stop your movements. A low whine slipped past your lips, ready to beg for his cock to be inside you already when he slipped in without warning.

You moaned loudly at the fullness of having him inside you, dropping your head in relief at the contact. Joe’s grip on your hips was firm as if he was taking out all of his pent up tension and the nerves from the night out on your body. You weren’t complaining, relishing in the thrusts and feel of his body coming into contact with yours after each one.

He pulled out quickly, flipping you onto your back before quickly finding his way back inside of you. He dropped to his forearms above you, caging you into his body as you locked eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, i wanna see your face when I make you come undone on my cock,” Joe said as he deepened his thrust more than you thought was possible.

Your hands were clawing at his back, trying to ground yourself into the moment, every delicious stroke making you lose more and more of your sense of control. You felt yourself tightening around his cock, your release on the edge of tipping. It was as if Joe knew exactly where you were, dropping one of his hands between you and rolled your clit with his thumb and forefinger, the touch acting like a catalyst to your orgasm. You were a mess below him, arching up into his body as your nail raked down his toned back. 

Your release brought Joe to his own, painting your walls with his own cum shortly after you. He slowed his strokes, the both of you feeling sensitive to the slightest touch after your highs. You both laid there and caught your breath.You brough one of your hands to cup his cheek, Joe leaving into the gentle touch in the aftermath of everything.

“Congratulations, Joey. That was way better than any afterparty’” you said, giving him a peck to the nose as you giggled. Joe’s hand found their way to the sides of your face, still propped up on his forearms.

“Let’s get you cleaned up baby,” Joe said as he picked you up in his arms to bring you into the bathroom. Your body felt tired, but your desire was still high.

“Round two in the shower?” you questioned, wiggling your eyebrows at him making him let out a laugh and you to pout, “I didn't get to reward you properly. Someone was too caught up in my pussy to let me.”

“Let’s get in there first and go from there you minx, a man needs a moment to recover.”

[mrsburreaux]

JAMARR🤣🤣🤣 an elite pull from jamarr.

[heavyhitterheaux]

NOLA Stuntin'

See Me Through You Insta AU

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_ and 921,360 others

wifeyshiesty: It's clear that the Burrow babies want to be the star of the show tonight, but we're on our way to support daddy 😘💕 #NFLHonorsBound

lahjay10_: damn I swear you just told me yesterday you were pregnant. How much longer to go?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ there's enough time for me to bust you upside your head for eating my food yesterday when we were at the parents house

lahjay10_: you LITERALLY said that you didn't want it! why are you so violent when your short ass barely comes up to my knee?

joeybenthusiast: WIFEY SHIESTY IN THE BUILDINGGGGG!

erinthegymnast: never steal a pregnant woman's food whether she says she wants it or not, I guarantee you that she does lol

joeyb_9: aww daddy loves all three of you and you look amazing princess 😘

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ take it back because next thing you know she's about to start yelling

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 you get on my nerves lol but nah don't try to save him. he deserves this ass whooping that he's about to get

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty gotta catch me first Pebbles 😊

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty well everyone in that pic is going to call me daddy at some point in time

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 JOSEPH! BEHAVE!

taylorrooks: you look beautiful! and why didn't we get a pic together?! I mean we are the hosts of the most streamed NFL podcast to date 😉

thewomancave: GORGEOUS!!!

wifeyshiesty: taylorrooks who knows?! But lunch on me tomorrow! And we can also plot my baby brother's demise for eating MY food that my dad made specifically for me

Liked by joeyb_9, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, lahjay10_, teehiggins, and 1,295,306 others

wifeyshiesty: my man, my man, my man 😍

lahjay10_: he was mine first

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ don't sit near me tonight because I will choke the shit out of you

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty I'm telling mommy you threatened me

teehiggins: yall can't get along for anything lol

wifeyshiesty: he started it

thewomancave: wifey shiesty is always right about everything, we stand by it

joeyb_9: I didn't even notice you took these lol is this why you took so long to get ready?

erinthegymnast: uh oh shots fired

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 um excuse me, YOUR HEAVY ASS CHILDREN is why it took me so long to get ready

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty you changed your outfit four times.....

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 watch it, I will make you sleep on the balcony tonight. you about to be on my list like Ja'Marr

lahjay10_: come on Joe, we can take her

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ and wake up dead? nah, that's all you bro. happy wife, happy life

Liked by wifeyshiesty, cincinnatibengals, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_, nfl, nflhonors, and 3,493,082 others

joeyb_9: Not exactly the award that you want, but I'm happy and proud of myself for persevering through a season ending injury to come back stronger than ever. Here's to me continuing to get better and moving forward.

wifeyshiesty: you did the damn thing and I am proud of you NO MATTER WHAT. time and time again, you have proven as to why you are one of the best players in the league and I will always stand by it. always going to be in your corner cheering you on. I love you long time

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty I love you more and thank you for taking the time to learn how to play piano with me, that way I can serenade you any time I want 😉

erinthegymnast: yall make me sick, but are so ridiculously adorable. so proud of you, Joey!

lahjay10_: my boy did his big one!

teehiggins: well deserved!

jjettas2: making history one season at a time!

thewomancave: congratulations to our favorite number one listener!

Liked by lahjay10_, jjettas2, joeyb_9, lsufootball, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, and 1,475,362 others

wifeyshiesty: my favorite LSU boys! (yes,I coordinated both of their outfits, look at these divas!)

jjettas2: uh? am I not here too?! so, you just leave me out?

wifeyshiesty: Justin, please don't start with me. my feet hurt and I'm hungry and your ass was NOWHERE to be found. yes you are included in my favorite LSU boys category

lahjay10_: oh, so I'm forgiven?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_: no.

joeyb_9: but I'm number one right?

lahjay10_: uh no. my nickname is LITERALLY uno

thewomancave: uh oh, the girlies are FIGHTING

wifeyshiesty: imma delete this whole post if yall don't get it together smh

erinthegymnast: they asses have been on one since 2018, do you remember when we were out all night and it was 5 am and Justin was like what's the next move? and you yelled 'Justin, I can't even fucking see anymore bro. take me home.' lmaooooo

wifeyshiesty: erinthegymnast lmaooo I forgot all about that. I think I had like an exam that monday and all three of them were acting like it was no big deal and I was serious! my contacts were blurry!

jjettas2: I see you still graduated, so it wasn't a big deal obviously!

joeybupdates: literally just waiting for Joe and Y/N to adopt me

joeyb_9: joeybupdates slow your roll, I already got 2 on the way, inquire in about six months

wifeyshiesty: I.... you know what...never mind.

[burreauxsss]

future mrs burrow

(time skip of a year) background: with life moving so fast, joe and y/n decides to get married. not without a bump in the road though.... from crazy people... (a small surprise at the end and no this will not be turned into a series)

(all pics off of pinterest. as always pretend some of these are bengals/superbowl related)

note: this is time skipping to feb of 2026 ,wrote this over the entire pregame/first half of the super bowl (because who the hell is watching it, except for kendrick lamar). im so flustered for all the support ive gotten based off of part one. thank you so much 🫶🏾

warning: annoying tea page (starts with a d and ends with a i)

joe burrow x black reader smau

y/n_handle

📍san francisco, ca

❤️ 60,311 💬 7,958

liked by: joeyb_9 yourbsf and others

y/n_handle: super bowl weekend views 🐅

username_1: shes genuinely so pretty, why is everyone hating..

lahjay_10: joe's going insane over this picture

joeyb_9: i need you so much right now

y/n_handle: joeyb_9 on my way.

lahjay_10: not in the comments section oh my god hornballs.

*load more comments*

bengals

❤️ 315,392💬 150,870

liked by: y/n_handle lahjay_10 and others

bengals: super bowl weekend with 9!

y/n_handle: the hair???

yourbsf: y/n.. dont make me delete social media for you

lahjay_10: qb1!!!

joeyb_9: thats a good picture of me.

username_2: y/n is so lucky

username_3: most hottest person in the world

username_4: i dont see how hes fine..

*load more comments*

y/n_handle

📍santa clara, ca

❤️ 61,304 💬 23,074

liked by: joeyb_9 and others

y/n_handle: happy super bowl sunday 🧡, beat the 49ers

yourbsf: wearing green looks good on you!!

username_5: i can tell the fit is going to be pretty

username_6: the chanel purse though?

joeyb_9: prettiest girl in the entire world ❤️

y/n_handle: hottest man in the entire world!

username_7: i hope the 49ers win...

*load more comments*

y/n_handle posted a story!

bengals

❤️ 2.8m 💬 932,185

liked by: y/n_handle lsufootball nfl and others

bengals: your 2026 bengals are super bowl champions!!!

nfl: congrats!

y/n_handle: who dey!

lsufootball: joe & jama'rr!!

username_8: joe is the peoples mvp!!

username_9: still cant beat the chiefs in regular season

username_10: refs rigged the entire thing.

yourbsf: cincy!!!!!

*load more comments* y/n_handle

❤️ 41,370 💬 3,001

liked by: joeyb_9 and others

y/n_handle: i am so so so proud of you 9. from your injury to being nominated for CPOY twice, you deserve it. ive seen a side of you that has changed since we've been together from cocky qb at LSU to a soft one here in the NFL. to more years in the league safely and more years together. 🧡

ps: a picture from the last game at home where we beat the chiefs joeyb_9: you deserve the entire world ❤️

lahjay_10: nah whos cutting onions in here.

username_11: joe needs to put a ring on it. im actually begging.

username_12: cutest nfl couple out there!!

username_13: ms shiesty mustve had his pregame outfit...

username_14: the chiefs are so much better than them

username_15: burrow is a fraud, i dont know how he made it this far...

*load more comments*

y/n_handle has posted a story

caption: good morning?

duexmoi

❤️ 411,738 💬 87,150

liked by: tmz and others

duexmoi: controlling? fiance of cincinnati bengals quarterback y/n y/ln cannot post alleged wedding photos because its not a good look due to them "getting engaged/married so fast"

username_17: if this is true i need her to find a new MAN or he needs to find a new PR TEAM.

username_18: shes there for the money, probably why.

username_19: shes not attractive anyways..

*load more comments*

joeyb_9 posted a story

y/n_handle

📍cincinnati, oh

❤️ 1.2m 💬

liked by: yourbsf bengals and others

y/n_handle: officially mrs shiesty *comments are off*

joeyb_9

❤️ 555,000 💬 200,184

liked by: y/n_handle bengals

joeyb_9: always and forever

y/n_handle: until death does us part

username_20: stopp hes married now

username_21: ladies... time to move on.

username_22: so duexmoi never told a lie??

bengals: congrats!

lahjay_10: its about damn time joe.

joeyb_9: lahjay_10 stfu.

teehiggins: lahjay_10 i swear its been like 2 decades..

*load more comments*

duexmoi

❤️ 491,008 💬 130,907

liked by: e! news and others

duexmoi: so ladies.. how are we feeling?? joe and y/n just confirmed their marriage with pictures on eachothers instagram depicting it.

username_23: she didnt have to take him like that 💔

username_24: that should be me tf!!

username_25: its true??? on a serious note congrats.

username_26: im gonna cry myself to sleep because what- 😀

*load more comments*

y/nburrow

📍the keys

❤️ 210,000 💬 130,907

liked by: joeyb_9 yourbsf lahjay_10 and others

y/nburrow: allow me to reintroduce myself as mrs. y/n burrow.

yourbsf: the name change is insane

y/nburrow: yourbsf im y/n burrow, had to stay original.

joeyb_9: your so pretty mama ❤️

y/nburrow: joeyb_9 thank youuu..

username_27: just fell to my knees because he just called her mama..

username_28: joe has a pretty girl..

username_29: i still hope joe signed a prenup

y/nburrow: username_29 worry about your own shit. not every nfl wag is a gold digger 🫶🏾

*load more comments*

2 months later

y/n_handle posted a story

caption: someone’s pullout game is weak… joeyb_9

note: thank yall so much for reading!! this will not turn into a series so cliffhanger for now lmaoo

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Love Island?

Joe Burrow x Black!Reader

Des: The camera loves Joe, but everyone knows he doesn't really love it back. But what does that have to do with you guys as friends?

TW: longing, friendzone, unrequited love?

Main Masterlist

。➴ 。 ✫ * ✧｡ ★ • * ｡

。➴ 。 ✫ * ✧｡ ★ • * ｡

[definitelynotdomanique]

I think I just died and came back after THAT KISS😵‍💫😩

maintaining professionalism pt. 4 — joe burrow

series summary — She’s a witty, stubborn athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals. He’s the star quarterback who can’t take his eyes off of her. The more she works with him, the stronger the magnetic pull. She’ll do anything to maintain professionalism, and he’ll do anything to get the girl.

chapter summary — Ever since Joe confessed his feelings for her, things have been tense. Especially because she’s avoiding her feelings for him.

warnings — fem!reader, so much tension, angst, mention of injury (previous), sad boy joe

tags — @starsinthesky5 @definitelynotdomanique @majestic87 @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @belleann23 @wickedfun9 @hannahjessica113 @kravitzwhore @musicforsnoopy @burreauxsss @grandpeachpersona @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @noeesd19 @starkeyswomen @xbriexx @grittysbiggestfan @dboanalagoaaoo @harryweeniee @kazsbrckkers @wellwellwellhereiam @hotburreaux

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

“YOU’RE WORTH GETTING a personal foul over!”

The words echoed in your mind as you sat at your desk early one morning. You couldn’t shake them. You tossed and turned for several nights, trying to make sense of what Joe was talking about.

Even if it was painfully clear.

The days after the Steelers game were filled with reports and your recovery. You stayed home, missing a couple of days of practice. It was nice, in a way. You didn’t have to wake up with the sun, you didn’t have to spend all day with whiny players. You also didn’t have to spend your time with the one man you were dreading seeing today.

You’d denied your feelings for Joe for weeks. He was attractive, and he was sweet, but you couldn’t indulge. You explicitly remember Coach Taylor explaining to you the weight of the fraternization policy. You weren’t to date any of the players and they weren’t to date any of the staff.

It was easy for a while, until Joe made you unbearably angry. Until his smile made your skin crawl, until he slung his arms around you at the Panthers game. Until he told you that you were worth more than a game-costing penalty. You realized then that you’ve liked him, but masked those feelings as anger and annoyance.

You buried your head in your hands, digging your palms into your eyes. You had a lot to do; the world didn’t stop spinning because you bruised a rib and popped a million blood vessels in your arm.

Your watch buzzed against your wrist, and you looked to see who’d texted you. Apparently Joe was waiting for you in an exam room. His wrist. You cursed yourself; you were supposed to be down there ten minutes ago, and instead you were dealing with feelings for him.

You grabbed your phone and keys before briskly walking out of your office. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, your bruised bicep straining as you tugged your fingers through your strands.

Your mind swirled as you walked down to the exam room, out of breath and your baby hairs going crazy. You stepped in, seeing Joe on his phone, sitting on the exam table.

You hated how your eyes went directly to how his boxers peaked out from under his shorts, how they hugged his skin. You hated how good his thighs looked.

“Sorry,” you huffed, pulling your eyes from Joe’s legs as you pulled gloves from the box on the counter, “lost track of time,”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, setting his phone aside. He watched you, the way your compression shirt hugged you in all the right ways, how your shorts accentuated your legs and your ass. He ran a hand through his hair and shifted on the table. It was unprofessional, as you said.

You turned to face him, putting some IcyHot on your gloved hands before taking his wrist gently in your hands. You smoothed the gel over his wrist, knowing that he’d been sore for the past couple of days. You found that simplicity worked best.

Usually on these recovery days you and Joe would bicker. He’d tease you, you’d tease him. But now silence stood between you, thickening the tension that was already stuck between you.

His eyes flicked over your face as you worked. He barely registered the soreness of his wrist as his eyes soaked in every freckle, every time you blinked, your eyelashes hitting your cheeks. He observed how your baby hairs framed your face, probably driving you wild. His eyes landed on your bicep, seeing the ugly bruise on your arm. It was splotchy, purple, and looked like it was killing you. His eyes scanned your body, and he suddenly felt his cheeks redden. He shifted again, clearing his throat softly.

“Am I hurting you?” you hummed. Your eyes met his, and the tension buzzed between you.

“No,” he shook his head, “just wondering how your arm is,” he lied, partially. His eyes scanned yours, holding your gaze in place. He suddenly felt nervous, like he was in high school around his first crush.

“It’s ok, just sore,” you hummed softly, flicking your eyes back down to his wrist, massaging his skin. Despite you having gloves on, he shivered at your touch. He swallowed, his thoughts running to a place that had him aching.

Your hands against his skin. His lips on yours. Your bodies pressed together.

He hissed and he pulled his wrist from you. He couldn’t be conjuring lewd images of you in his head, especially of the two of you together. It was unprofessional.

“Joe-”

“I think you’ve done enough,” he snapped bitterly. You were shocked, your eyes wide with the pain that sunk into your chest.

“What? Joe I’m not done,”

“Yes, you are,” he slid off of the table, and you stepped back. You held your gloved hands out, sticky with the gel.

“You don’t tell me how to do my job,” you snapped back, and he scoffed at you.

“I’m done, Y/N,” he shook his head, and you scoffed.

“Sit your ass back down,”

“No,”

“Joseph,” you snapped, your eyes hard and cold, “Sit. Your ass. Down.” You growled. Joe wasn’t surprised you fought back, you always handled his attitude this way. He felt that ache build deep within his body, spreading throughout his muscles.

He wanted you, but couldn’t have you.

He grumbled and slid back onto the table, his expression annoyed. You gently took his wrist back into your hands, your eyes cutting at him.

“It’s just recovery,” you muttered, “it’s not the end of the world,” you finished gelling his wrist and walked away to strip off your gloves. You tossed them, washing your hands before walking back to him. You pressed gently against his wrist, looking for weak spots or inflammation. The feeling of your fingers against his skin drove him wild. He didn’t think you were reacting at all, but when in reality your heart was thumping so loud you swore he could hear you.

Joe felt his hands shake as you held his wrist. He caught his bottom lip in his teeth, trying to stay away the anxiety. You didn’t catch it, not in the way he thought you would.

“Your wrist is fine,” you hummed gently, “but you need to relax, you’re tense. You know how being tense does on the field,” your voice was soft, a stark contrast to how you just spoke to him. Which he wasn’t going to lie, turned him on.

“I know,” his voice was low, almost incomprehensible. You flicked your eyes up to his, his face inches from yours. You could see the grey of his blue eyes, the way his hair was growing out, showing more of his natural dirty blonde.

With a moment of boldness, you reached a hand up and looped a strand around your finger, curling it. You felt the softness of it, and Joe nearly had a heart attack. He looked up at you, feeling your finger twist a curl into his hair. He watched as you pulled away, your cheeks blushing at the realization.

“I’m sorry, that was extremely unprofessional of me, I-” you were beat red, your body shaking, but he interrupted you. His hand cupped the back of your neck, and his lips slotted against yours. You froze for a second, but you didn’t fight the feelings anymore. You tilted your head, closing your lips around his, a satisfied grunt leaving his lips. His body was thrumming, his blood rushing in his ears. His mouth moved slowly with yours, and he knew that he had to break the kiss, but he didn’t want to. Not when he felt your hair sift through his fingers, not when he felt your soft lips slot perfectly against his.

He pulled away, his eyes glazed over as he watched for your reaction, his hand still cupping the back of your neck.

You were at a loss for words.

“Y/N, I-” he started, but was interrupted by footsteps coming down the hall. You immediately separated from him, washing your hands in the sink to look busy. He felt the loss of your skin, of your lips, and he wanted to pull you back. But he knew he couldn’t. He looked over as another athletic trainer walked in.

“Practice in 10, I texted you but you didn’t answer, so thought I’d tell you,” the athletic trainer said. You nodded and ran a hand through your hair.

“Yeah, sorry my watch died. I’ll be up soon, just finishing up,” you told him, and the AT grinned and left you and Joe alone again. The air was even thicker, and the taste of him was still on your lips. You dried your hands, your body still numb from his kiss, the one you’d dreamed of.

“Guess you need to get to practice,” you cleared your throat, feeling your nerves eat at your stomach. Joe nodded, his own anxiety and nerves eating at him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, standing up off the table. He grabbed his things, turning to look at you. He knew his cheeks were flushed, that he wanted to close the door and say fuck practice, but he couldn’t. He gave you a weak smile before walking out of the room.

“See you at practice,” he hummed, feeling his stomach churn. You nodded, and you stood there, feeling your body ache. You touched your lips unconsciously, remembering how perfectly his lips slotted against yours. You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to feel him against you.

So much for maintaining professionalism.

[the-offside-rule]

Out of Her Depth - Chapter 3: The Superbowl Party

Out of Her Depth: The Masterlist

Saoirse wasn’t sure how she ended up at a Super Bowl party in Cinccinati when she could’ve been at home in Monaco, enjoying a quiet evening with her sim rig before having to go to London for the car launches, but Daniella had insisted, and when Daniella insisted, it was nearly impossible to say no.

Now she stood in the middle of a crowded penthouse, surrounded by NFL players, influencers, and celebrities, feeling completely out of place. Saoirse adjusted the jacket she wore over her black top and crossed her arms, sticking close to Daniella like a lifeline. She watched the TV screen, but the chaos of American football made no sense to her. The constant stopping and starting, the endless rules, what was the point?

"You look miserable." Daniella teased, sipping her drink. "Am I that obvious?" Saoirse muttered. "Painfully." Daniella laughed, nudging her. "Come on. Loosen up! It’s a party." Saoirse sighed. "I am trying, but I can't. I hate America." Ja'Marr came over, pecking Daniella's cheek. "What'd I miss?" He asked, hangin is arm around Daneilla's shoulders. "I wanna introduce her to some of your teammates. Expand her social circle."

"Sounds good to me. Maybe try-"

"No need." Saoirse shook her head before she could even finish. "I'm all good." Ja’Marr Chase, Daniella’s boyfriend and one of the biggest names in the NFL liked Saoirse. He liked how quick she was with her words. He also knew someone else who was smart with their words, and in the same position as Saoirse at that moment; so very single, and practically impossible to get out of their house. "C’mon, O’Reilly. Plenty of people to talk to. It’s time to socialize for once."

Saoirse narrowed her eyes at him. "I socialize." She quipped. "When’s the last time you left your apartment in Monaco?" He asked. She opened her mouth, then hesitated. She wouldn’t leave the place if she could help it and everyone that knew her knew it. "Exactly." He grinned, taking a swig of his drink. Daniella smirked. “He’s got a point, you know. Just pick anyone and try talk to them."

Saoirse rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. "Fine. If I have to make conversation—where’s the really good-looking one?" Ja’Marr raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Haven't a clue." She said, shrugging. "All I know is he's always on my for you page and hes an American Footballer that plays for your team." A voice behind her cut in smoothly.

"You can just call it football, you know. Since you’re in the States."

Saoirse turned, heart skipping a beat. Joe Burrow stood there, casually leaning against the bar with a beer in hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time that night, Saoirse had no words. Joe tilted his head. "You good?" She blinked, gathering herself. "Might beed to lay off the bacardi but I should be alright." She replied, her stunned face still not changing, apart from a pink blush colouring her cheeks. He chuckled, extending a hand. "Joe."

"Saoirse." She shook it, feeling the warmth of his grip before pulling away quickly. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Daniella grinning like a Cheshire cat, while Ja’Marr watched with amusement.

The game continued, though Saoirse barely followed. By the time the first quarter ended, she looked up at the screen, frowning. "So, does this mean Kendrick Lamar is performing now?" Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Not yet. That’s halftime." Saoirse's eyebrows knotted. "So what's this then?"

Joe smirked. "You really don’t get football, huh?"

"Not American football, no." He shifted closer, nodding toward the screen. "Alright, I got you. I’ll explain." He said, his hand resting on the counter behind Saoirse. Saoirse arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms and looking up at the blonde. "Wish you all the best."

For the next twenty minutes, Joe patiently walked her through the rules. Saoirse compared everything to rugby, making the sport sound far more brutal than Joe intended. But she listened, her haz eyes flickering with curiosity, and for the first time all night, she felt engaged.

Daniella leaned against Ja’Marr, watching the scene unfold with pure satisfaction. "She’s actually talking to him." Ja’Marr smirked. "And he’s actually talking back." It had been a long time since Joe had taken an interest in anyone. But watching him now, laughing with the sharp-tongued Irish driver, Ja’Marr had a feeling that might be about to change.

The game carried on in the background, but Saoirse and Joe were lost in their own conversation, quick-witted and fast-paced, neither of them missing a beat. "Okay, real question-" Saoirse said suddenly, tilting her head at him. "Do you genuinely think that bleached buzzcut was a good idea?" Joe groaned, running a hand through his current, much better-looking haircut. "I knew this was coming."

"Well?" She pressed, smirking. "You know, for someone that doesnt watch football, you know a lot about certain players." He grinned. "Or just you. Now, answer the question." He sighed. "Alright, listen—I had just broken up with my girlfriend around that time, and I needed a change. It was an impulsive decision." Saoirse rolled her eyes. "Ah, the classic post-breakup hair transformation. Should’ve just gotten bangs." Joe laughed. "Yeah, that definitely would’ve gone well for me."

"Like the bleached buzzcut did?"

"Hey, it's my turn." He said, leaning forward, thinking for a moment before deciding to keep the conversation on a similar theme to what it was at. "Would you ever dye your hair a different colour?"

“I already do.”

Joe blinked. "Wait, what?" She grinned. "I’m actually a brunette. But I’ve been getting highlights since I was like fourteen, and over time, it just sort of… stayed. Now it looks natural." Joe pointed at her. "So you also dye your hair. You can’t judge me for dying my hair last year." Saoirse smirked. "I did not judge you for dying it."

"Then what did you judge?" She leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. "The style." Joe let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Ja'Marr is right. You are ruthless." She shrugged. "And yet, you’re still here talking to me." He grinned. "Guess I like a challenge."

The game was nearing its end, but Saoirse barely noticed. She and Joe hadn’t stopped talking since the halftime show ended—except for the few times a touchdown or a big play pulled their attention to the screen. Even then, their conversation picked up right where it left off, flowing as easily as if they’d known each other for years.

Saoirse leaned back against the bar, her empty drink in her hand, a lazy smile on her lips. "I have to admit, I actually enjoyed watching this." Joe smirked, tilting his head at her. "We didn’t exactly watch the game." She chuckled. "True." They exchanged a glance, both knowing that, despite being at a Super Bowl party, the game had become secondary.

Joe took a sip of his beer before asking, "So, how often do you come to the States?" Saoirse shrugged. "Other than races or promotional events? Never." Joe tsked, shaking his head. "Yeah, see, we can’t have that." She arched a brow. "What are you on about?" Instead of answering right away, Joe held out his hand. "Pass me your eyeliner." Saoirse blinked. "My what?"

"Your eyeliner." He nodded toward her winged liner. "You’ve got to have one in that tiny purse of yours."

"In my bag."

"Huh?"

"In Ireland, we call it-"

"Saoirse. Eyeliner if you have it, please."

Still skeptical, she reached into her bag and handed it to him. "If this is some weird American thing, I fear I might get the ick." Joe grinned as he gently took her hand, his touch firm but easy. With careful precision, he uncapped the eyeliner and, in bold, neat numbers, wrote his phone number across the back of her hand. Saoirse glanced at it, then up at him, unimpressed but intrigued. "This is your grand plan?"

"What? They do it in the movies." He said, handing her the eyeliner back. "You could’ve just asked me for my phone." She said. "If you don't text me tomorrow, I can just tell myself the number rubbed off when you were sleeping and you can't. If I put it into your phone, I'd have no excuse. But this-" He tapped her hand. "This is now your excuse to come back to the U.S. sooner and more often." She rolled her eyes, though a small smile played on her lips. "You’re awfully confident." Joe shrugged. "Confidence never hurt anyone."

Saoirse huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Except maybe in racing." Joe leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to be playful. "Luckily I'm an American football player." Saoirae gasped. "Oh my god you said it." Saoirse met his gaze, holding it for just a second longer than necessary before looking away, a rare warmth creeping onto her face.

Daniella, watching from across the room, nudged Ja’Marr. "Told you." She whispered. Ja’Marr sighed and reached into his pocket, taking out a ten dollar bill. "What's it feel like always being right?"

"Pretty good, babe. Pretty good."

[goldfades]

who else decodes you? / who's gonna know you, if not me? / and who's gonna hold you like me? / no-fucking-body / so tell me, who else is gonna know me? | joe burrow⁹ (part one)

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had been inseparable since LSU, with him promising you everything—a dream home and a life together. everything felt perfect during your golden days, but as time passed, things shifted, and the cracks began to show in your once-perfect relationship

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst... just straight up angst. asshole-y joe, lots of fighting, reader being a trophy wife, just real sad things im sorry i wrote this yall. NO happy ending in this part, part 2 will have a happy ending dw guys!!!

You met Joe Burrow before the world did.

Before the Heisman, before the draft, before his name carried weight outside of Athens, Ohio. Before the sleek suits, the Cartier glasses, the endless debates about whether he was the next great quarterback of his generation. Before all of that, he was just Joe. Your Joe.

The one who texted you goodnight from his twin bed in his childhood home, the one who took you to McDonald’s after late-night practices because that’s all he could afford. The one who kissed you in the front seat of his beat-up truck, hands a little rough from lifting weights but gentle when they held your face.

You were there for it all.

Through the transfer to LSU, when he was just a backup with something to prove. Through the championship season, where he turned into a legend overnight. Through the draft, when you held his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, waiting for the moment his name would be called. Through the move to Cincinnati, where you learned the ins and outs of being an NFL girlfriend—then an NFL wife in everything but title.

You never needed the ring to prove your place beside him. Not at first.

Because when you love someone for that long, when you’ve been there since day one, you assume you’ll be there forever. You assume that one day, when the time is right, you’ll walk down the aisle and he’ll be standing at the end of it. That the same boy who once promised you the world in a whisper under Louisiana stars would eventually make good on it.

But love isn’t always enough.

And timing? Timing has a cruel way of making a fool out of you.

Before the waiting, before the uncertainty—there was LSU.

The golden days.

The kind of love people wrote songs about, the kind that burned so bright it felt untouchable, invincible. You and Joe had been through the trenches of college life together—cheap dates, sleepless nights, long drives in his old truck where he talked about the future like it was already written in the stars.

Joe had always been a planner. He didn’t just dream—he mapped things out, broke them down into plays, like a game he knew he would win. And in every version of the future he spoke about, you were in it.

“I’m gonna make it,” he told you one night, lying in the back of his truck, staring at the Baton Rouge sky like it held all his answers. The air was thick with humidity, cicadas singing in the distance, but neither of you cared. You were twenty, wildly in love, and the world hadn’t touched you yet. “I don’t care how long it takes, or how many people doubt me—I’m making it to the league.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I never doubted that.”

Joe turned then, propped himself up on an elbow, his sharp, determined eyes softening as he looked at you. “And when I do, I’m gonna give you everything.”

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a declaration.

Not just any ring—a rock. One that would catch the light from across the room, the kind that would make strangers do a double take. Not just any house—your dream home, the one you’d always wanted but never thought possible.

You had told him, once, in passing, the kind of house you loved. You were scrolling on your phone, lying with your feet in his lap, showing him a picture of a home that looked straight out of a magazine.

“That,” you had said, tapping the screen. “That’s the dream.”

White exterior, big windows—floor-to-ceiling in the living room, so the sunlight would pour in every morning. A wrap-around porch, because you always loved the idea of sitting outside with a glass of wine on summer nights. A kitchen with the biggest island imaginable, because you loved to cook, even if Joe barely trusted himself to make toast. A cozy sunroom, filled with mismatched chairs and overflowing bookshelves. A clawfoot bathtub in the master bath, where you could soak for hours after a long day.

Joe had barely glanced at the picture before he said, “Done.”

You laughed. “Joe, that house is like… five million dollars.”

“So?” He had smirked, cocky and confident in that way only he could pull off. “Give me a couple years.”

You shook your head, amused, but deep down, you believed him. You believed him because when Joe Burrow set his mind to something, it happened.

And when you asked, jokingly, what kind of dog he wanted, he just scoffed.

“Dogs? No. We’re gonna have like, eight cats.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out, hands behind his head, already painting the picture in his mind. “They’ll have dumb names, too. Like, I don’t know… Fettuccine. Or Tuxedo. Or—oh—Larry.”

“Larry?”

“Yeah. Larry’s gonna be the ringleader.”

You shook your head, laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joe just grinned, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You love me.”

And you did. God, you did.

You loved him through the highs—the Heisman win, the national championship, the night he got drafted when you held his face in your hands and told him this is it, baby. This is everything you worked for.

You loved him through the lows—when he tore his ACL his rookie year and sat in silence for hours, devastated, gripping your hand so tight it went numb. When the pressure of the league weighed heavy on him and he retreated inward, needing space, needing you to be his anchor without him ever having to say it.

You loved him because he was Joe.

Because he was the boy who once whispered about forever under Louisiana stars, who promised you a rock, a dream house, and eight cats named Larry and Fettuccine.

Because you believed, back then, that promises were made to be kept.

--

It started small.

A casual comment, barely even a question, when you were knee-deep in cardboard boxes in your new Cincinnati apartment. You’d been together for years by then, had already lived together in Baton Rouge, but this—this felt different. More permanent. He was the face of a franchise now, the golden boy of an entire city. And you? You were the woman who had been by his side through it all.

So when you held up a framed photo—one of the two of you from his LSU days, his arm wrapped around you, both of you grinning like you had the whole world ahead of you—you said it without thinking.

“Guess we’ll need some wedding pictures to put up soon, huh?”

It was light, teasing, the same way you’d joked about it a hundred times before. But this time, Joe didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.

He just exhaled through his nose, set down the box he was carrying, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m still adjusting to all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the apartment, the city, the new life he was stepping into. “Let’s just… settle in first.”

You told yourself it made sense.

Joe had always been slow to process change. He liked routine, predictability. He had just gone from college quarterback to the number-one draft pick, from playing in front of thousands to playing in front of millions. If he needed time, you’d give it to him.

And so you did.

You poured yourself into the role of supportive girlfriend, the unwavering presence behind the scenes. You went to every game, wore his jersey, kept your social media lowkey even when the WAGs of the league started reaching out. You made sure home felt like a safe haven for him—a place where he wasn’t Joe Burrow, NFL quarterback, but just Joe.

Months passed. Then a year. Then two.

And still, nothing.

You tried to be patient. You tried not to compare. But it was impossible not to notice when guys who had been in the league half as long as Joe were proposing to their girlfriends. When you went to team events and saw wives flashing diamond rings, their hands resting on their husbands’ arms like they belonged there. When your own friends started getting married, settling down, building the life you always thought you and Joe were working toward.

You weren’t the kind of girl who begged for a ring. That wasn’t you. That wasn’t why you loved him. But you also weren’t stupid.

So, one night, after a Bengals win, when it was just the two of you curled up on the couch—Joe half-asleep, his head resting on your thigh—you ran your fingers through his hair and asked,

“Do you ever think about it?”

His eyes cracked open slightly. “Think about what?”

“Marriage.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy in a way that made your stomach tighten.

Joe didn’t sit up, didn’t tense. But he also didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against your leg.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think about it.”

That was it. No elaboration. No follow-up.

And maybe it was the years of knowing him, of reading between the lines of what he didn’t say, but something about his tone sent a cold prickle down your spine.

You swallowed. “And?”

Joe sighed, shifting so he was looking up at you fully. His face was tired, drawn, the way it always was after a game.

“I love you,” he said first, because Joe always led with love, even when he was about to disappoint you. “I just don’t know if I’m… ready for all that.”

All that. Like marriage was some heavy, unbearable thing. Like it was a burden, instead of the only thing you’d ever wanted with him.

But you didn’t push. You never pushed.

You just nodded, kissed his forehead, and told yourself that he just needed more time.

You’d already given him years. What was a little longer?

For every golden memory, there was a night that ended with you crying into your pillow, your chest aching from the weight of words left unheard.

And Joe was never the type to yell.

That was the problem.

You could scream, slam cabinets, cry until your eyes were swollen, beg him to just say something—but Joe would sit there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on some invisible point in the distance. Silent. Stone-faced. Like he was waiting for a storm to pass rather than standing in the middle of it with you.

And when he was done listening, when he decided he had nothing to say, he’d just walk away.

No slammed doors. No cruel words. Just an exhale through his nose and the slow, deliberate sound of his footsteps leaving the room.

Then came the silence.

Hours, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge the way you curled up on your side of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself because if he wouldn’t hold you, you had to do it yourself.

It always started the same way.

Joe had never been a selfish person—at least, not intentionally. He loved you, worshipped you in his own quiet way. But he was also a man who had spent his entire life being taken care of.

First by his parents. Then by his coaches. Then by you.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you. You wanted to take care of him, because loving Joe Burrow meant making sure he ate real meals instead of surviving off protein shakes and granola bars. It meant picking up after him when he left his clothes on the floor, washing his jerseys so they always smelled like fresh detergent instead of sweat, keeping your home together while he threw every ounce of himself into football.

But over time, something shifted.

The gestures that had once been acts of love started to feel expected. You would spend hours cooking his favorite meal, only for him to eat in front of the TV without so much as a thank you. You’d clean up after him like clockwork, while he’d scroll through his phone, oblivious to the way you were moving around him like a ghost. You handled the small things—the groceries, the laundry, the appointments—so he never had to think about them. And the worst part? He didn’t think about them.

He didn’t think about how exhausting it was to pour so much of yourself into another person and get nothing in return.

One night, after a long day where you’d cooked, cleaned, and ran errands while Joe came home from practice, showered, and immediately planted himself on the couch, something in you snapped.

You had been standing in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes, while Joe sat in the living room, watching game film, oblivious to the way your hands were trembling from frustration.

“Joe,” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

He hummed, eyes still on the screen.

You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Do you even see me anymore?”

That got his attention. His head lifted slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Do you see me?” you repeated, voice shaking now. “Or am I just here? Like some… unpaid assistant who cooks your meals and cleans your shit and waits around for you to remember I exist?”

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Frustration. A bubbling anger that had been simmering for months. “I do everything for you. And I never ask for anything in return. But you don’t even appreciate it, Joe. You don’t see it. You don’t see me.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus, babe. I—look, I didn’t ask you to do all that.”

Your heart sank.

There it was. The knife, twisted so deep you almost doubled over from the pain of it.

You swallowed, eyes stinging. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic effort.”

Joe exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from the couch. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

And then, just like always, he walked away.

The silence stretched for days.

No matter how loud you got, how many tears you shed, it never mattered.

Because Joe didn’t scream.

Joe shut down.

--

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where the wine was poured before you even asked and the waiters moved so seamlessly you barely noticed them. It was a Bengals event—one of those exclusive, high-end dinners meant to bring players and their partners together, a little PR, a little networking, all wrapped in the illusion of luxury. Normally, you didn’t mind them.

But tonight? Tonight, Joe was off.

He had been for weeks. Ever since the injury, ever since he had to watch his team play without him, it was like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and refused to budge. You had tried, God, you had tried—to comfort him, to give him space, to be exactly what he needed. But no matter what you did, it felt wrong.

He barely talked. Barely looked at you. And when he did, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t place.

Resentment?

Disappointment?

You didn’t know.

So you sat at the table, plastering on a smile, sipping your wine, pretending everything was fine as the conversation buzzed around you. Ja’Marr and his girlfriend, a few of the other guys, their partners. The usual crowd.

The joke started innocent enough.

“You’re literally the dream NFL WAG,” Ja’Marr’s girlfriend said, laughing as she leaned over toward you. “Like, you do everything for him. Cook, clean, go to every game. You’re basically the gold standard.”

The table chuckled.

You laughed, too, but there was something hollow about it. It wasn’t that the statement was wrong. It was just that… for the past few months, being Joe’s girlfriend hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like an uphill battle, like loving him was a test you were always on the verge of failing.

But before you could say anything, Joe scoffed.

Loudly.

The kind of sound that cut through the easy, playful atmosphere and made everyone shift in their seats.

You turned to him, confused, but Joe wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was clenched, his grip tight around the base of his glass.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, sharp, edged with something you couldn’t name.

The table went quiet.

Your stomach sank.

“Joe,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm, but he pulled away, shaking his head.

“I need air.”

And just like that, he was on his feet, pushing back his chair, striding toward the exit without another word.

You barely hesitated before following.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold air hit you like a slap. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few blacked-out SUVs and a couple of lingering staff members. Joe was already a few steps ahead, his hands on his hips, breathing hard like he was trying to keep himself together.

You didn’t care. You weren’t going to let this go.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up to him.

Joe exhaled sharply, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“No. No.” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t get to humiliate me in front of everyone and then walk away like nothing happened.”

Joe turned then, eyes flashing with something you had never seen before. Rage.

“You think I don’t know?” His voice was louder now, cutting through the night air, his face twisted in frustration. “You think I don’t fucking see the way you take care of everything? How perfect you are? How much you do for me?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t the first time you’d fought, not even close. But this was different.

This was Joe shouting.

He never shouted.

“You think I don’t know how much you’ve sacrificed? How much you’ve had to deal with while I sit on the fucking sidelines, watching my team play without me?” His hands were in his hair now, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “You think I don’t feel like a goddamn failure every second of every day? That I don’t fucking hate myself for it?”

Your chest tightened. “Joe—”

“I get it, okay?” His voice was hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I get it. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I never said that.”

Joe looked at you then, really looked at you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you saw it.

The exhaustion. The fear. The guilt.

And underneath it all, something else. Something raw and painful and impossible to ignore.

“I can’t do this,” he said suddenly, shaking his head, stepping back. “Not tonight.”

Your stomach dropped. “Joe.”

But he was already turning away.

Already leaving.

And for the first time, you didn’t go after him.

Time, though, has a funny way of making fools out of people.

Because a little longer turned into another year. And another.

And soon, you weren’t just the girlfriend who had been with Joe since before the fame. You were the girlfriend who was still waiting. The one people whispered about at games, in comment sections, in DMs you tried not to read.

Why hasn’t he proposed yet? If he wanted to marry her, he would’ve by now. She’s been with him forever. That’s kinda embarrassing.

You weren’t stupid. You heard the whispers. You ignored them, brushed them off, laughed about them with Joe like they didn’t sting.

But deep down, they did.

And then, one night, you cracked.

It wasn’t planned. You weren’t trying to pick a fight. You were just lying in bed beside Joe, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, when an engagement post popped up on your feed. Another NFL couple. Another ring. Another reminder.

You set your phone down. Turned toward Joe, who was staring at the ceiling like he always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“Joe,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, eyes still fixed upward.

“Are you ever going to marry me?”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t bitter. Just quiet. Tired.

Joe closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath. And in that moment, you already knew the answer.

Not yet. Not now. I need more time.

The same thing he’d been saying for years.

But this time, you weren’t sure you could keep waiting.

--

It didn’t happen in one moment. It wasn’t a clean break, a single conversation where you both sat down, acknowledged the inevitable, and walked away like two people who had outgrown each other.

No, it was ugly. It was heartbreaking. It was loud.

It started in the living room, the place that had once been your sanctuary. The place where you curled up on the couch together after long days, where you laid your head on his lap while he absentmindedly played with your hair, where he kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But tonight, it was a battleground.

You stood near the coffee table, arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to keep from falling apart, while Joe paced in front of the fireplace, his hands tangled in his hair. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, his entire body radiating frustration. But under it—under the anger, the exhaustion—was something else.

Defeat.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Joe muttered, voice low but strained, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud.

Your stomach twisted. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured between the two of you, his voice louder now, raw with emotion. “The fighting, the tension, the constant feeling that no matter what I do, I’m letting you down.”

You flinched, because that wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t letting you down—he was shutting you out. Pushing you away, piece by piece, until you barely recognized the man standing in front of you.

And yet, despite it all, you still wanted to fight.

You needed to fight.

“Joe, you haven’t even tried—”

His laugh was hollow, sharp. “Tried? Are you kidding me?” He shook his head, running a frustrated hand down his face. “I have been trying for months. Trying to be what you need, trying to hold this shit together while I feel like I’m losing everything.”

Your throat tightened. “I never asked you to hold it together alone.”

He looked at you then, and the pain in his eyes nearly brought you to your knees.

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And that’s the worst fucking part.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Because suddenly, you saw it—the breaking point. The moment where all the fights, all the silences, all the nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart had led to.

This was it.

You swallowed, hard. “Joe… don’t do this.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

“I don’t need you to be anything—I just need you to try,” you choked out, hot tears spilling over your cheeks.

“I am trying!” His voice cracked, his hands gripping his hair like he was barely holding himself together. “But I’m not enough for you! And I don’t think I ever will be!”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, everything blurred—your vision, your thoughts, reality itself. Because how could he say that? How could he look at you, after everything, and think he wasn’t enough?

He had always been enough.

He had been everything.

Your chest heaved, your heart splintering, but you forced yourself to take a step forward, reaching for him like you had so many times before.

But this time, Joe stepped back.

Like touching you would break him completely.

Like it already had.

A sob ripped through your throat. “Joe, please—”

His eyes were glassy now, his own tears threatening to fall. But his face was set, his hands shaking at his sides.

“This isn’t working anymore.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through you like a blade.

And just like that, the world tilted.

You had imagined a lot of worst-case scenarios over the past few months—imagined nights where he would sleep on the couch, imagined him needing time apart, even imagined him telling you he wasn’t ready for marriage yet.

But this?

This was never supposed to happen.

He was supposed to fight.

He was supposed to love you enough to stay.

But instead, Joe exhaled shakily, like this was killing him too, and took another step back.

Like he had already made his decision.

Like he was already gone.

And then, through the unbearable tightness in your throat, through the tears blurring your vision, you said the only thing you could.

“What about everything you promised me?”

His face broke. Just for a second.

And then, softer than you’d ever heard him, he whispered, “I meant every word.”

And still, he turned away. Still, he walked to the door, grabbed his keys, and hesitated for only a second before pulling it open.

And you stood there, frozen in time, watching as the love of your life—the boy who once promised you forever under Louisiana stars—walked out of your life like he had never meant to stay.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Your legs gave out before you even realized you were falling. You collapsed onto the couch, hands clutching your chest as if that would somehow stop the pain, as if pressing hard enough could keep your heart from shattering.

But it did.

Piece by piece. And Joe?

Joe was gone.

--

Joe wasn’t sure when it started.

The feeling had been creeping up on him for months—slow at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, something he could ignore if he kept moving, if he kept winning.

But then he got hurt.

And suddenly, there was nowhere to run.

No game to prepare for, no film to study, no Sunday nights under the lights where he could lose himself in the only thing that had ever made him feel like enough.

He had always known you were out of his league. Everyone did.

You were a force—bright and untouchable, the kind of woman who could walk into a room and have everyone wrapped around your finger without even trying. You were loved in ways Joe had never been. Not because of what you did, not because of your talent or your career, but just because of who you were.

And Joe?

Joe was… Joe.

He had worked for everything. Clawed his way to the top, gritted his teeth through every setback, played with a chip on his shoulder so sharp it could cut. He had spent his entire life proving people wrong, showing them he was worth it, and still, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough.

But not with you. At least, not at first.

At first, you had looked at him like he was someone special—not because of football, not because he was Joe Burrow, but because he was yours. And for a while, that had been enough.

But then the marriage thing came up.

Then the quiet expectation that he was supposed to take the next step, that he was supposed to be ready.

And fuck, he wanted to be.

He wanted to put a ring on your finger, wanted to build a life with you, wanted to buy you the house you dreamed about and fill it with all the stupid cats he promised you back at LSU.

But the more you pushed, the more it felt like he was already failing.

You deserved the world, and he—he wasn’t sure he knew how to give it to you. You had grown up with love. Joe had grown up with pressure.

Your family adored you, your friends would kill for you, strangers on the internet called you an angel, and the worst part? They were right.

You were perfect. You were kind, and patient, and you gave so much of yourself without ever asking for anything in return—until, eventually, you did.

Until you started looking at him like you needed something more.

And maybe that’s when it started.

The resentment. The guilt.

The way he began shutting down because every time he looked at you, he saw someone who had given him everything, and all he could do was hold it in his hands and wonder when he was going to drop it.

So he pulled away.

And then he got injured. And then it got worse.

Because for the first time in his life, Joe had nothing to offer.

Football was gone. He was stuck on the sidelines, watching his teammates play without him, watching the world move forward while he stood still. And every time he came home, there you were—beautiful and untouchable and looking at him with so much love, and God, it made him want to rip his fucking hair out.

Because you weren’t supposed to love him like that.

Not when he was like this. Not when he felt like nothing.

And so, he made himself nothing to you.

He let the silence stretch between you, let the fights spiral into something he couldn’t control, let the guilt eat him alive until the only option left was to let you go.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he didn’t love you.

But because he loved you too much to keep being a disappointment.

Because you were everything. And he was just him.

--

Joe barely remembered the drive to Ja’Marr’s house.

The roads were dark and wet from rain, the city quiet in the way it only got after midnight, and yet everything inside him was loud. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, and his breath came in short, uneven bursts, like his body was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.

He had left.

He had actually left.

The second Ja’Marr opened the door, his easygoing expression dropped. “Shit.”

Joe must have looked as bad as he felt.

Ja’Marr didn’t ask questions, didn’t crack a joke or act like this was nothing. He just stepped aside, letting Joe in without a word.

Joe walked past him, straight to the couch, sinking down like his body couldn’t hold him up anymore. His hands were still shaking. He stared at them, trying to steady his breath, but the more he tried to push it down, the worse it got.

He felt like he was imploding.

Ja’Marr sat across from him, elbows on his knees. “You good?”

Joe huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out broken.

“No,” he admitted.

And then, just like that, the weight of it all came crashing down.

He broke.

For the first time in years, maybe ever, Joe let himself feel it.

His shoulders caved, his head fell into his hands, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore through his chest. It wasn’t quiet, wasn’t controlled—it was raw, guttural, the kind of grief that sat heavy in his ribcage and made him feel like he was drowning.

Ja’Marr swore under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn, man.”

Joe couldn’t respond. He could barely breathe.

Because he had spent so long trying to convince himself this was the right thing—that letting you go was necessary, that it was better for you, that one day you’d understand—but now, sitting on his best friend’s couch, in a house that wasn’t his, without you, it hit him.

You weren’t in the next room.

You weren’t waiting for him to come back.

You weren’t his anymore.

And for the first time since he met you, since you were just a girl in his corner, since he was just a college quarterback with a dream—he was alone.

—

The house was silent.

The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but hollow.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring at the front door as if it would swing open at any second, as if Joe would walk back in, apologize, say he didn’t mean it.

But the house stayed empty.

You should’ve done something—gone to bed, taken a shower, moved—but you couldn’t.

Your body felt detached, like you were floating just outside of yourself, watching as the reality of what had happened settled into your bones.

He was gone.

You sucked in a shaky breath, your eyes darting around the room, landing on all the pieces of him he had left behind. His hoodie draped over the back of the couch. His sneakers kicked off near the door. The blanket you always fought over, still crumpled where he had last used it.

Your throat tightened.

It felt wrong.

How was it possible that someone could just leave, and yet everything still looked the same? How was it possible that the world hadn’t just stopped?

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

You grabbed his hoodie, pulling it into your chest, clutching it so tightly your fingers ached. It still smelled like him—like his cologne, like home, like everything you were supposed to have forever.

A sharp, broken sob tore through you.

Your legs gave out.

You sank onto the floor, your body curling in on itself, gasping for air between sobs that didn’t seem to end.

You had imagined a million worst-case scenarios for your relationship, but you had never imagined this.

A fight, maybe. A bad one.

A few nights apart, maybe even a week.

But not this.

Not a house that suddenly felt too big, too cold, too wrong without him in it.

Not a silence that felt like it would swallow you whole.

Not an ending that you weren’t ready for.

Not Joe—your Joe—leaving, and not coming back.

Joe didn’t tell his parents right away.

He had gone weeks pretending it wasn’t real, pushing it down, acting like if he ignored it long enough, it wouldn’t hurt. Like the breakup was just another fight, another rough patch, and any second now, you’d come home.

But then spring rolled around, and he found himself back in Athens for a few days, sitting at his parents’ kitchen table, pushing food around his plate while his mom chatted about some wedding she had gone to.

He barely heard her—until she said your name.

“I just know she’ll look so beautiful at her own wedding one day,” Robin said, smiling like the thought made her happy. “Did she ever decide on a dress style? I remember she showed me a few options the last time we talked.”

Joe’s fork clattered against the plate.

His parents looked up.

The room suddenly felt too small. The walls too close. The weight in his chest unbearable.

“She’s not picking a dress,” he said flatly.

His mom’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

Joe exhaled sharply, staring at the table. His throat felt tight, his hands fisting in his lap. “We broke up.”

Silence.

Not the kind he was used to. Not the easy kind.

His dad was the first to speak. “When?”

“A while ago.” His voice was hoarse, his jaw tight.

Robin looked like he had just slapped her across the face. “Joe… what?”

She sounded hurt.

Like he had broken her heart, too.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Joe swallowed. “I didn’t know how.”

His mom was still frozen in shock. “But—why? What happened?”

Joe should have had an answer. He should have been able to give them some logical, concrete reason why the only real love he had ever known had just… ended.

But there wasn’t one. Not really.

So he just shook his head. “I wasn’t enough for her.”

His dad exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Joe—”

Robin’s eyes filled with tears, and that—that was what finally did it. That was the moment it hit him, the moment the denial shattered and left nothing but cold, brutal truth in its place.

You were gone.

Not just for a few days.

Not just waiting for him to fix it.

You were gone.

Joe scraped his chair back so suddenly it screeched against the floor.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, standing up, hands shaking.

“Joe—”

“I just—I gotta go.”

And then he was out the door, out of the house, into his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred. His chest caved in.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold it together.

It didn’t work.

That was the moment Joe decided he needed a distraction.

A new game plan. A new something—because if he let himself sit in this pain, if he let himself really feel it, it might consume him completely.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He threw himself into excess.

He spent money like it was nothing, like it was oxygen, like keeping the spending going would somehow fill the empty space inside of him. New cars, new watches, expensive nights out where the bill was triple what it needed to be. If someone wanted a round of shots? Joe was covering it. If his guys wanted to go to Miami for the weekend? No problem.

And the women.

That was the easiest distraction of all.

They were everywhere—at the clubs, at the restaurants, at the parties where he never used to go but suddenly needed to be. They touched him like they wanted him, smiled at him like he was the most important man in the room. And for a few hours at a time, he let them.

He let them run their hands over his chest, let them whisper in his ear, let them follow him back to hotel rooms or his new penthouse in the city.

He let them treat him like he was whole.

But then morning would come, and the illusion would shatter.

Every single time, he’d wake up next to someone who wasn’t you.

Someone whose perfume didn’t smell like yours. Someone whose touch didn’t feel like home. Someone who would roll over, press lazy kisses to his skin, and call him baby in a way that made his stomach twist.

Because you used to call him that.

And now you never would again.

It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be freeing, making up for lost time, for all the years he had spent as the devoted boyfriend, the one-woman man, the guy who turned down numbers and shut down flirting because he only wanted you.

But none of it worked.

None of it made him feel better.

Because at the end of the day, he was still Joe.

And you were still gone.

It took one of his teammates pulling him aside one night to finally say what he couldn’t.

“Bro,” Sam said, hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Joe blinked, pulling his attention away from whatever girl had been whispering in his ear at the bar. “What?”

Sam gave him a look. “You’re not this guy.”

Joe let out a sharp laugh. “I’m fine.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Joe didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

But he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

So he just exhaled, forced a smirk, and lifted his drink. “Don’t worry about me, man.”

But Sam was worried.

And deep down, Joe knew why.

Because no matter how many nights he spent surrounded by people, no matter how much money he threw at the problem, no matter how many women climbed into his bed—

The only thing he ever felt anymore was hollow.

--

The day you packed your bags and left Cincinnati, you didn’t cry.

You had done enough of that.

Your best friend had offered—begged, really—for you to come stay with her in Columbus, and after weeks of waking up in a house that no longer felt like a home, you finally said yes.

It wasn’t running away.

It was survival.

Joe had been your world for so long that, without him, you weren’t sure where to stand. Your entire adult life had revolved around him—his schedule, his dreams, his highs, his lows. You had built a life inside of his. And now, that life was gone.

So, for the first time in years, you weren’t trying to be somebody’s something. You weren’t trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive WAG, the woman who held it all together.

You were just trying to be you.

Whoever that was.

—

Columbus was different.

It wasn’t Cincinnati, where every street corner reminded you of Joe. Where the grocery store held memories of early-morning runs before his games. Where your favorite restaurant was the place he took you after he signed his first big contract. Where you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a billboard with his face plastered on it, a cruel reminder that he was still Joe Burrow, still untouchable, still larger than life—just not yours anymore.

Columbus was quiet. A fresh start.

Your best friend had a cozy apartment near downtown, and the first night you arrived, she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. She just ordered takeout, opened a bottle of wine, and let you sit in silence.

That first week, you didn’t do much.

You slept too much, or not at all. Some nights, you laid awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if Joe was doing the same. Other nights, exhaustion won, and you crashed so hard you barely dreamed.

The dreams were the worst.

Because in them, he was still yours.

You still woke up to the sound of him moving around in the kitchen, still felt the weight of his arm draped over your waist, still heard his voice murmuring morning, baby in that slow, sleep-rough tone he always had.

But then morning would come, and none of it was real.

So, you started over.

You got a cat.

It wasn’t planned—you had just gone to the shelter one afternoon, thinking you’d look, thinking maybe it would distract you for a few minutes. But then you saw her.

Small. A little scrappy. White with a black spot over her eye, looking at you like she had already decided you belonged to her.

The name came easily.

“Larry,” you told the adoption worker, lips twitching into something like a smile. “Her name is Larry.”

Joe would’ve laughed at that.

Joe would’ve—

No.

This wasn’t about Joe.

Larry was yours.

So you took her home, bought her the stupidest, most ridiculous toys you could find, and let her curl up on your chest at night, purring so loudly it drowned out the silence.

You learned how to French braid.

You had never bothered before—your hair had always been something he liked, something he ran his fingers through when he was half-asleep on the couch. But now? Now, you spent hours watching tutorials, standing in front of the mirror, fingers twisting and looping until, finally, you got it right.

It was small, stupid even. But it was something just for you.

You started reading.

At first, it was just a way to pass the time—something to do instead of scrolling through Instagram, instead of wondering what he was doing. But then you fell into it, deep. You found yourself curled up on the couch for hours, lost in stories, letting yourself escape into other people’s lives.

Romance novels were hard at first. Because love still felt like a wound, like something sharp and raw and too close to home.

But one day, months after the breakup, you found yourself reading a love story and not feeling like your chest was caving in.

That was progress.

You cooked for yourself.

You had always cooked for Joe—his favorites, his comfort foods, the meals he requested after long practices. But now, you cooked what you wanted. You tried new recipes, bought ingredients you had never used before, made dishes with no one else’s preferences in mind.

It was weird, at first.

But then, one night, you sat at the table, eating something just for you, and it didn’t feel lonely.

It felt… peaceful.

You went on long walks, alone, with no one to check in with. You bought flowers for yourself. You started journaling, writing down things you had never let yourself think too hard about.

You let yourself exist.

And one day—on a random, unremarkable afternoon—you realized something. It had been weeks since you last thought of him.

Not that he was gone.

Not that it didn’t still hurt, sometimes, in quiet moments when you weren’t expecting it.

But for the first time, in a long, long time—

You felt like you. Without him.

[balladofboothill]

2001

summary - Caroline's new era starts off from a couple drinks and a rouge Twitter space

a/n - this isn't my best work, more so setting the tone/backstory, please tell me your thoughts!! + reblog to support writers 🫶🏼

this isn’t spell checked, I’m currently on pain meds, any spelling mistakes are the least of my worries

@/CarolinePuckett : went outside for the first time in weeks! ps: new music soon

comments

@/carolsdefencelawyer : oh we're so back!

@/user2 : wait does this mean we're gonna get love songs of #that man

@/soartdeco : fell to my knees in a Costco

@/user35 : she's been covering a lot of pop punk I wonder if that's what the album is gonna sound like

@/trailerinjuly : jusr saw someone fall to their knees in a Costco

@/lahjay10_ : was the outside fun

-> @/soartdeco : Ariana what are you doing here 😭

->@/parisdye : last night she went in to a Twitter space and thirsted after Joe burrow for a solid 30mins

-> user0282 : please never get media trained carol

@/carolinepuckett : my new album 2001 is out January 15th! This album is dedicated to the pop punk I grew up on, it's different from my last two projects but I'm so excited for you guys to hear this! Thank you to all my producers and my co-writer for letting me have creative freedom to create this

track list will be on the bird app!

comments

@/popbase : so excited for this!

@/user35 : just when the world needed her most she returns

@/carolsbraclet : come back of the decade

@/joeyb_9 : ❤️

-> @/user59 : MY SHIP IS AIVE

@/born2diesno1fan : finally some good fucking food

@/americanidot : KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE POP PUNK

@/bagelsfrontoffice : why are mt worlds colliding

Please reblog to support writers!!!

[definitelynotdomanique]

I’d give him the best head he’s EVER had😩

My MVP (18+)

Summary: You and Joe take on the NFL Honors, leading to a whole lot more.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: descriptions of sex, masturbation, praise, definitely missing stuff MDNI

Note: I'm so proud of Joe and everything he accomplished this season. On another note, he looked so gorgeous I just had to write something.

Edit: minor changes to the end so that location makes sense

Word Count: 2.8k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You were sitting on your bed in yours and Joe's hotel room, about to put on your heels when Joe walked out from the bathroom in his suit. You stopped your actions, letting your eyes scan over him without shame. It was unique, the tie on the side different from any old traditional suit, but you firmly believed Joe could look great in anything. You moved from the exposed skin of his chest, down his legs before moving back up to his face. Your eyes caught his, offering you a smile with a wink. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Joe said with a hint of lust to his tone. 

You shook your head at him with a smile of your own, though your eyes never left his. The suit was everything, the lack of shirt underneath was a choice and a good one at that. His hair cut was a nice touch, the loosely tousled curls with the tight sides made him look handsome, you were convinced there wasn’t a hairstyle he couldn’t pull off. You were pulled out of your less than appropriate thoughts by Joe's voice. 

“Let me,” Joe said as he dropped to his knees before you. 

Your air hitched in your throat as you felt Joe's strong hands grip your calf as he slipped your heel on your right foot. So much for taming your thoughts, your feelings heightening all over again twice as hard. He strapped the heel, giving your leg a squeeze before placing a kiss to your knee and moving to the next. Joe repeated his actions on your left side, feeling yourself getting hotter by the second. 

“If you don’t stand up, I’m gonna find a way to keep you on your knees,” you said breathlessly. 

Joe chuckled, standing and helping you to your feet. He towered over you, even with your heels. Your height difference was something that you loved about your dynamic.

“You know I would never say no to that, but we’re in a bit of a time crunch here. Can you help me put my necklace on?” Joe asked.

“You? Willing putting on jewelry? I’m really doing a number on you huh?”

“Oh hush, you know you love it. I would sometimes wear jewelry before you, ya know,” Joe joked as he placed his chain in your hand, turning his back to you. 

“I prefer this jewelry right here,” you spoke as you took his hand and brought it up to your mouth. 

You swear you watched his eyes darken as you placed his hand at the front of your neck, taunting him even more than before. You knew you were being a brat, but you couldn’t help it when he looked like this. He lightly gripped your neck and pulled your face to his, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Sweetheart if you don’t cool it, we won’t even make it to the event,” Joe growled slowly, his threat sounding more like a temptation than as a punishment. 

“Oh no, having to keep you here to myself when you look like walking sex, boohoo to me.”

“If you don’t stop being fresh, you’ll have to worry about your actual punishment for later. Now please just help me out so we’re not late,” Joe said with a hint of annoyance in his tone, more from the growing erection he was getting that he couldn’t take care of. You were stood toe to toe with him, your eyes practically calling out for him to fuck you right then and there.

He had a great view of your chest from this angle, having no shame in looking at you the same way you were looking at him. You could feel the tension in the room, begging the man in front of you to undress you with more than just his eyes. 

“I can take a picture for you if you’d like, add it to your spank bank,” you replied back to his earlier comment to you.

He rolled his eyes playfully at your terminology as he turned around. He leaned down just a tad, helping you to reach his neck. The position felt odd, the roles usually being reversed. You were happy with him stepping out of his comfort zone. The pops of color of the stones against his skin looked incredible. You noticed the matching chain that went across the top of his thigh, the small detail making him even harder to resist.

Joe turned back to face you, taking a step back and gesturing in a way to ask ‘how do I look?’ You nodded your head in approval, taking a step towards him to hold him in a tight embrace. 

“I want you to know that however tonight goes, I’m still proud of everything you accomplished this season,” you spoke into his chest meaning every word despite your playful attitude moments before. 

You felt him squeeze you tighter, your words taking a few moments to sink in and register. He swayed you gently back and forth, feeling his chest rise and fall. Joe placed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo that grounded you.

“Thank you sweetheart, I'm ready to go wherever you are,” Joe said as he held back tears of his own. You nodded softly as you  grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

You both walked the red carpet, watching Joe command the cameras he had such a hatred for. He kept you as close as he could as you both made your way through the packed crowd of people. You did your best to keep him grounded and sane, knowing the worst of it would be over soon and you;d be in your seats with Ja’Marr. He did interviews, met with some fans, and took loads of pictures. You were so impressed with knowing that this kind of thing was his least favorite. He kept a smile on his face and a positive attitude. You finally made it through, watching him fully exhale one you were inside and in your seats. It wasn’t too long after the show had begun with Snoop Dogg taking the stage. He made his comments to the NFL stars, making a comment to Joe about the Bengals defense and his batmobile, causing you to hold in your laughter.

The night moved fast, award after award being announced when it finally got to the comeback player of the year. This was the second award Joe was up for tonight, the first going to Sawuon who you felt also was very deserving of it. You held your breath as the highlight video showed all of the nominees. It wasn’t until Randy Moss had announced Joe’s name that your nerves had dissipated. You turned to face Joe, feeling overwhelmed with joy as he brought you in for a hug and placed a kiss on your temple. He took the stage, your heart feeling full at him finally getting some type of recognition for all of his hard work. Joe and Justin did their handshake, making your heart swell even more at their connection.

“Hello, I wouldn't say this is necessarily an award you want to be nominated for two times, but I'm proud of the work I've put in to come back from the injuries I seem to face each year. Fortunately  I’m healthy this year and I have my team of people to thank for that,” Joe said, finishing his speech with everyone he recognized as important to his success before thanking everyone.

Joe walked off the stage, giving you a look before turning to head off with Justin and the others. You felt the familiar pit form in your stomach. You sat back in your seat with your mind reeling from his win, though it wasn’t the award you were hoping it was. Your thoughts were confirmed of Joe’s whereabouts when you felt your phone buzz in your purse. 

Come meet me

Simple and to the point, holding so much tension behind the screen. You could feel the heat rise on your cheeks, walking to find your way behind the stage while everyone was occupied during the commercial break. You were able to get backstage, finding Joe posing with his award looking like he owned the world. It wasn’t doing anything to tell the growing wetness between your legs and the ache in your core.

When his eyes found yours, his face lit up as he strode towards you. You took a few steps to meet him, taking you into his arms in a tight hug. 

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’re so fucking amazing,” you choked out as you felt tears well up in your eyes. 

Joe took your face in his hands, swiping the forming drops before they could run down your cheeks. 

“Hey, no tears okay? Don’t wanna ruin that pretty makeup yet. That’s gonna be my job when we get home,” Joe said, saying the last part quieter than the rest. 

His words earned a small laugh from you helping to stave off any more tears. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that the only way your body knew how to cope was through tears. 

“What do you say we get out of here hmm? I wanna get you out of this dress.”

“What about the rest of the show?”

“I already know I didn’t win MVP baby, I’d much rather spend the rest of my night with you. I’ve been exhausted from all of this press shit. You know I don’t do this often, I’m absolutely beat.”

“How beat?”you asked, hopeful.

“Not too tired for you, don’t you worry,” Joe assured you, noting the relief in your shoulders from your pent up desire.

You felt a shiver creep up your spine as you made your way out of the venue, Joe's hand in yours.

“You cold? I’d give you my jacket but I don’t exactly have a shirt underneath and I don’t think I wanna deal with the media field day of me walking around shirtless.”

“But you’d look so chivalrous, but we can't have me looking better in it than you. I also know it’ll look great on the hotel floor,” you spoke as you looked up at him with a mischievous smile. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Joe in an attempt to get whatever warmth you could. He slipped his hand out of yours and slung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 

“You know you can still be my MVP tonight, except mine would stand for most valuable pe-” Joe cut you off with a hand over your mouth, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“I’m cutting you off, you better keep it down until we're not in public anymore,” Joe said, trying to hold in laughter of his own.

“Whatever you say, da-” you mumbled out, Joe pressing his hand tighter against your mouth.

Getting under Joe’s skin was your favorite when it was all in good fun. You secretly loved watching the strong vein in his neck as he tried his hardest to hold himself back. His face was bright red, that same vein bulging out from the tenson you were causing.

“It really is never dull with you is it? I guess I'll just have to make you cum until the only thing out of your mouth is my name." Joe whispered in your ear as it was your turn to go bright red.

Joe’s hand fell from your mouth with a small nod in obedience. You were aware of the thin line you shouldn’t cross, wanting to be able to function tomorrow. Instead you let your mind wander to what the rest of the night would have in store for you. You couldn't wait to get home and celebrate your MVP.

You were grateful Joe decided to drive you both to the awards, with him looking absolutely delectable behind the wheel of his porsche. His knuckles were a hint of white from his grip on the wheel, one hand reaching out your thigh without taking his eyes off of the road. You felt Joe's hand inch slowly up your leg, hiking you dress up in the process. Anytime you tried to question his movements you were met with silence. You swore you stopped breathing when his fingers brushed your inner thigh to skim your already wet panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re already soaking wet for me. I bet you’ve been thinking about this all day hm?” Joe chided, damn well knowing the answer to his own question.

All you were able to muster was a nod, unsure of your voice just from his barely there touch. Joe wasn’t having it though, wanting to hear you say it. He pulled his hand away and settled it in his lap to adjust himself.

“As punishment for your smart mouth, you’re gonna cum right here all by yourself before we get back to the hotel,” Joe said with the most even tone he’s had all night.

You were baffled, dumbstruck by his request with the fear that someone driving by would see you exposed. The other part of you was exhilarated by him, being on display for his eyes only in the damn passenger seat brought a whole new meaning to being a passenger princess.

“C’mon you don't have all night, I’ll make it longer until you cum if you don’t get to work. Either slide them over or slip them off, the heels stay on though,” Joe commanded, knowing what your heels did to him.

You didn’t hesitate, sliding your wet panties down your legs and bending your right knee to prop it against the door. The cool air against your hot center sent a wave of chills down your spine, your stomach in knots at what you were about to do and where.

You brought your right hand down to your pussy, dipping your index finger to your entrance before bringing the wet digit to your clit. You sighed out in relief at some type of friction happening, laying your head back against the seat with your eyes fluttering closed at the contact. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking sexy. Can I have a taste,” Joe groaned, trying his best to keep his eyes forward though it was hard with the sight of your bare pussy beside him.

You nodded with a hum, taking your index and middle fingers of your left hand down to your center before plunging them inside. The sensation felt lovely, but nothing compared to how full Joe’s fingers made you feel. You pulled them out, bringing them to Joe’s mouth. He pulled them in, swirling his tongue to get every last drop he could. You moaned deeply, fingers moving rapidly over your clit at the feeling of Joe’s mouth around your digits. He licked them clean, releasing your fingers with a pop. You immediately brought your spit covered fingers dwon to your pussy and began to work them in out of you, the thought that they came from Joe making things even hotter in your mind.

“You getting close, baby? I can give you a little help,” Joe spoke tenderly, sliding the strap of your dress off your shoulder to expose your chest a little more. 

Joe reached over, palming your breast the best he could. The feeling of his touch on you was enough to send you to the edge of release, seeking that one last push. As if Joe could tell, he reached over top of the fabric, tweaking your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger. That was your undoing combined with your own movements. The string in your stomach snapped from his touch, releasing all over your fingers with a loud moan and Joe’s name falling in succession from your lips. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, looking over at Joe with a feeling of relief though you still wanted more. Joe nodded towards your fingers, knowing he wanted another taste. You brought them back to his lips, repeating his actions from before as he reveled in the taste of you. Once he deemed them clean, you took your hand back and slipped your wet panties back up your legs. You managed to finish before you pulled up to the hotel, getting there a few minutes later. You did your best to appear presentable, knowing you'd see a few people before making it to the privacy of your hotel room. Joe pulled the car up to the valet out front, walking around to your side of the car to help you out. He extended his hand out to you which you kindly took, not trusting your legs fully on your own.

“I hope you still have some energy after that, you’re gonna need it,” Joe said before his lips were on yours. You knew you’d need to brace yourself for the long night ahead of you.

[jburrgf]

Friends II, The Love Trope Series.

Part II: Are We Still Friends?

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: it’s the first year of college, you and joe go together to OSU like you planned, since you found out he was going to columbus. things are okay, until you felt they’re not. joe is distant, so as you, and the feeling of undone feeling still tight both of you together.

◦ playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn't Be More In Love, The 1975

FALL 2015, OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY.

Y/N

The late summer sun hung low in the Ohio sky as I hoisted another box out of the trunk of my car. Sweat trickled down my temple as I set it on the curb beside the others, letting out a soft sigh. Moving day was chaotic—cars packed the dorm parking lot, and students scrambled back and forth with suitcases, lamps, and laundry baskets. But for me, the chaos was exciting.

College. It was finally happening.

I scanned the sea of faces, watching as everyone moved with a kind of nervous energy. For most of us, this was the start of something completely new, and the air seemed to buzz with possibility. I’d lucked out with a single dorm room—not many freshmen got one—and it felt like a small victory as I grabbed the last box and started making my way toward the building.

“Need a hand with that?”

I turned to see a girl about my age with curly auburn hair and bright green eyes, standing in the doorway of the room next to mine. She was holding a clipboard, looking like she’d been organizing her own unpacking. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it. Last one,” I said, hoisting the box higher.

She stepped aside as I squeezed past her and into my room, setting the box down on my bare mattress. When I turned back around, she was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I’m Lauren,” she said. “Your neighbor. I figured I’d introduce myself before the semester gets crazy.”

“Y/N,” I replied, brushing my hands on my jeans. “Nice to meet you.”

She stepped into the room, looking around at the neatly labeled boxes and the bare white walls. “Single room, huh? Lucky. They really hooked you up.”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m not complaining.”

Lauren gave me a teasing smile. “So, are you here on a mission to focus completely on school, or are you going to let loose a little?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Let loose, huh? I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You know what I mean. Parties, meeting people, the whole college experience. Do you have a boyfriend back home, or are you starting fresh?”

The question caught me off guard, and for a second, I hesitated. A boyfriend? No, not officially. But the moment she asked, my thoughts immediately went to Joey.

Joe Burrow. My best friend.

I shook my head quickly. “No boyfriend,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Lauren tilted her head, studying me curiously. “But you hesitated. There’s someone, isn’t there?”

I felt my cheeks warm and let out a soft laugh, brushing off the question. “Not exactly. Just… my best friend. We’ve known each other forever.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Is he cute?”

“Lauren!” I exclaimed, laughing again.

“What? It’s a valid question!” she said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, okay? He’s… objectively attractive, I guess.”

She gave me a knowing look, crossing her arms. “Uh-huh. And you’re telling me you two have never—?”

“Nope,” I cut her off quickly, shaking my head. “We’re just friends. Always have been.”

Lauren looked skeptical but didn’t press further. Instead, she smiled again and gestured toward the hallway. “Well, if you ever need anything—or if you want to hang out—you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Lauren,” I said genuinely.

As she left, I sat down on my bed, staring at the boxes scattered around the room. The start of college felt like a fresh chapter, but the thought of Joe still lingered at the back of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering how he was settling in on his end.

JOE BURROW.

The frat house was already buzzing with activity when I pulled up. A group of guys was lounging on the porch, beers in hand, as they laughed and shouted over each other. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I walked up the steps.

“Yo, new guy!” one of them called out, a tall guy with dark hair and an easygoing grin. “You lost?”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nah. Just moving in.”

The guy hopped down from the porch, extending a hand. “I’m Ryan. You must be the quarterback they’ve been talking about.”

I shook his hand firmly. “Joe. Nice to meet you.”

Ryan gave me a once-over, nodding approvingly. “Welcome to the house, man. You’re gonna love it here.”

I followed him inside, where a few other guys were lounging on mismatched couches, watching a game on the massive flat-screen TV. Ryan introduced me to a couple of them, and I could already tell this was going to be a good group to hang out with.

“So, Joe,” one of the guys said, leaning back in his seat. “Quarterback, huh? You must have no trouble with the ladies.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not really my focus right now.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan said, grinning. “Come on, man. There’s gotta be someone back home, right?”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification.

Y/N: Hope you’re settling in okay! <3

The heart emoji next to her name made me smile, and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

“Who’s that?” Ryan asked, leaning over to peek at my screen.

I quickly locked the phone, tucking it back into my pocket. “Just my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Best friend, huh? Does she know you’re calling her that?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. We’ve known each other forever. She’s basically family.”

Ryan and the others exchanged a look, and I could tell they weren’t buying it.

“Whatever you say, man,” Ryan said, clapping me on the shoulder. “But if you ever need advice on how to make your move, we’ve got you covered.”

I shook my head, laughing as I grabbed my duffel bag and headed toward the stairs. These guys didn’t get it. Y/N wasn’t just some girl. She was Y/N—my best friend, the person who’d been by my side through everything.

But as I set my bag down in my room and pulled out my phone to text her back, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they were right. Maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself about how I really felt.

Y/N

The buzz of the first week of college was still settling, and my nerves hadn’t completely gone away. Armed with my notebook and an iced coffee, I walked into my Introduction to Literature class, scanning the room for an empty seat. It was a large lecture hall, and most of the seats were already filled with students chatting or scrolling on their phones.

The air inside the lecture hall felt a little too cold as I walked in, my backpack slung over one shoulder. The room was packed with students, all busy sorting through notes or tapping away at their laptops. I found an empty seat toward the middle and slid into it, pulling out my notebook. The class was introductory psychology, and I’d been looking forward to it.

A few minutes passed, and the professor started setting up at the front, but I wasn’t fully focused. My mind kept drifting to the people I’d met so far. I’d been here for only a few days, but I already felt like I was starting to find my place.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a guy walking in, just a few seats away from mine. He had tousled brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a relaxed smile that made him seem friendly. He caught my gaze and smiled back before sitting down next to me.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Not at all,” I replied, his voice warm and inviting.

Sliding into the seat, I glanced at him briefly. He was tall, with slightly messy brown hair and striking green eyes. There was something inherently kind about the way he smiled—a smile that reached his eyes—and it put me at ease almost instantly.

"Hey, you’re in this class too?" he asked, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

"Yeah, I am," I replied, offering a smile of my own. "It’s nice to meet someone else who's excited for the semester."

He chuckled lightly, his eyes warm. "I wouldn’t say excited, but I’m definitely here to learn."

As we started talking about the class, I realized he was genuinely intelligent. The way he answered the professor's questions—thoughtful and concise—made me feel a little more at ease.

“Did you get what he said just now about postmodernism?” I whispered.

He glanced at me, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Yeah, here.” He slid his notebook closer so I could read his notes, which were perfectly legible and far better than my own.

“Wow,” I said softly, impressed. “You’ve got great handwriting.”

“Thanks,” he said, chuckling. “Years of practice. I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“Y/N,” I replied, smiling. “So, you’re a football player, right?” I asked, casually glancing at his team jacket that he had draped over the chair.

He nodded, smiling with a hint of pride. “Yeah, I play for the team.”

“Oh, cool,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, though my heart was beating a little faster.

We exchanged a few more small details about the class, and soon, I found myself laughing at his dry sense of humor. It was effortless, and I felt comfortable around him in a way that surprised me.

At the end of the lecture, we walked out together, chatting about the material.

“You’re pretty smart,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin.

I laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

As we neared the door, he turned to me, his expression slightly more serious now. “So, what are you doing after class? Maybe we could grab coffee or something—study together?”

My heart fluttered. "Yeah, that sounds great."

We exchanged numbers quickly, and before I knew it, we were texting back and forth, making plans for later in the week. I couldn’t help but feel bubbly and happy. There was just something about him. Ryan wasn’t just nice—he was smart, thoughtful, and easy to talk to. It felt good to meet someone new, someone who made the whole overwhelming college experience seem a little less intimidating.

JOE BURROW.

The sound of rapid gunfire and explosions filled the living room of the frat house as I leaned forward, my thumbs flying over the controller. After the first practice of the year, I always take time to relax a little bit. I was deep in a match of Call of Duty, my focus unshakable, when the front door opened, and a group of guys walked in.

“Yo, Joe,” Ryan called out as he crossed the room toward me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, pausing the game and sitting up. “What’s up?”

Ryan leaned back against the arm of the couch, looking unusually pleased with himself. “Met someone today in class. Sweet girl, really smart. Made the whole class way more tolerable.”

I shrugged, not thinking much of it. “Nice. Good for you.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” Ryan said casually, taking a sip of his water.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. Y/N. My best friend. She’d been texting me here and there, and I had this nagging feeling that something was different about this year—about us. But hearing Ryan talk about her like this made my stomach turn.

“You met her? Where?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual but failing.

“We’re in the same psych class. She’s cool—smart too. We’re actually going to study together later in the week.” Ryan’s smile was wide, a little smug.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to sound like a jealous idiot, but the thought of someone else hanging out with her—it bothered me more than I cared to admit.

“She’s smart?” I said, my voice a little too sharp.

Ryan glanced at me, catching the edge in my tone. “Yeah. We talked a lot during class. She’s definitely got her head on straight. You know her, right?”

I nodded, though my mind was racing. “Yeah. We’ve known each other forever. She’s… my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing his face. “Your best friend, huh? That’s crazy. She didn’t mention you, though.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Probably didn’t come up. She’s not one to talk about herself much.”

Ryan studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Huh. Well, she’s great. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so down-to-earth on the first day.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, she’s awesome.” I scratched the back of my neck. “She’s like family to me.”

Ryan gave me a skeptical glance, leaning back in the chair with a small chuckle. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

For a brief second, jealousy flared in my chest. Ryan was a good guy—kind, funny, and ridiculously good-looking. And Y/N seemed to like him, which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

But I pushed the feeling down as quickly as it had come. If Y/N was happy, that was all that mattered.

“You’ve got my blessing, man,” I said, my tone light and teasing.

Ryan grinned. “Thanks, dude. I’ll let you know if she’s into me.”

He looked at his phone for a second, then turned back to me with a more serious expression. “By the way, I gave your number to this girl from my class. She was asking about you, and I thought it might be good.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. A girl had asked about me?

I blinked, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah. That’s fine. I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“She was asking if you were single,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d help you out. Don’t worry, she’s hot.”

Normally, I’d brush something like that off, but this time, I didn’t mind. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know someone new, especially if Y/N was starting to connect with Ryan.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, shaking my head.

Ryan smiles, clearly satisfied. “Yeah, no pressure. Just thought you might like to know.”

My stomach twisted as I grabbed my phone, checking for any messages. There were a couple from Y/N, but my thoughts kept drifting to Ryan’s words. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to move on. It was just... the thought of her with someone else felt strange. Almost wrong.

But I couldn’t exactly say that, could I? She was my best friend. Nothing more.

Right?

Y/N

The restaurant was a cozy little place just off campus, tucked away from the bustling streets. The kind of spot you’d walk past a hundred times and never notice until someone pointed it out. Inside, the hum of conversation mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling garlic. I’d already claimed a booth by the window, sipping on my iced tea and staring out at the world beyond, trying not to overthink.

It was our first week of college, and while everything was new and exciting, it was also overwhelming. Having Joey around was like having a piece of home with me, something familiar to keep me grounded. When I saw him walk through the door, his messy hair falling into his eyes and his Ohio State hoodie looking soft and worn, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, trouble,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from me, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, Joey,” I replied, my voice soft but happy.

He grabbed a menu, glancing over it before looking up at me. “Alright, first week of college. Give me the rundown. How’s it been?”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I thought about it. “Honestly? It’s been... good. Busy, but good. My professors seem nice enough, and the classes are interesting so far. And I’ve met some cool people.”

Joey’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing across his face. “Cool people, huh? Like who?”

“Well, Lauren from down the hall is awesome. She’s fun and, like, effortlessly cool. She invited me to this festival thing during spring break,” I said, my excitement building as I described it. “It’s kind of like a pool party, but there’s powder paint, soap, and bubbles. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms and smirking. “You’re telling me you want to get covered in paint and soap, and you think that’s amazing?”

“Joey,” I whined, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Please, will you come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”

He held my gaze for a moment, like he was deciding whether to give in or let me squirm a little longer. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Fine. I’ll go. But if I get paint in my hair, you’re on cleanup duty.”

“Deal!” I said, grinning triumphantly.

As our food arrived and we started eating, the conversation drifted to other things—classes, our dorms, and little anecdotes about our first week. But eventually, I found myself talking about Ryan.

“He’s in my Intro to Physcology class,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He’s really nice, Joey. Like, genuinely nice. And smart, too.”

Joey paused mid-bite, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. “Ryan, huh? What’s his deal?”

“He’s on the football team, and I know you know him by now. I mean, I don’t know him that well yet, but we’re going out tomorrow,” I admitted, shrugging. “It’s not, like, a date or anything. Just... you know, hanging out.”

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “That’s... great. He seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s just nice to talk to someone new, you know? Not that you’re not great, Joey. You’re the best, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said with a mock-serious expression, making me laugh.

The rest of lunch was easy, comfortable. Joey had a way of making me forget about everything else, even just for a little while.

JOE BURROW

After lunch, I walked back to the frat house, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. On the one hand, I was happy for Y/N. She deserved to meet new people, have new experiences. But on the other hand, the way she talked about Ryan—it was like a punch to the gut.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away as I stepped into the shower. The hot water was a relief, washing away the tension in my muscles, but it did nothing to clear my mind. By the time I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist, I still felt... off.

Sitting at my bed, I grabbed my phone to check for any messages.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Emily! Ryan said I could text you—hope that’s okay?

I stared at the screen, trying to place the name. Emily... oh, right. She was the girl who’d asked Ryan for my number. I hesitated for a second before typing back.

Me: Hey, no problem. What's up?

Her reply came almost instantly, and before I knew it, we were chatting. Emily was funny, confident in a way that caught me off guard, and easy to talk to. She mentioned being a football fan, which was a nice surprise. Most people only pretended to care about it once they found out who I was.

Emily: So, what are you doing tonight? Wanna grab a drink?

I glanced at the time, weighing my options. I didn’t really have plans, and honestly, it might be nice to get out for a bit.

Me: Yeah, sure. Where should we meet?

She sent me the name of a bar just off campus, and I quickly replied, confirming. Tossing my phone onto the bed, I stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt. My hair was still damp as I ran a hand through it, trying to make it look presentable.

Just as I grabbed my keys, my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Y/N.

Y/N: Thanks for lunch, Joey. I already miss you :(

You’re the best!

I stared at the message, a strange warmth settling in my chest. For a moment, I thought about texting her back, but instead, I slipped the phone into my pocket and headed out the door.

Tonight wasn’t about Y/N. It couldn’t be. I had to stop letting my feelings for her dictate everything I did. Emily was nice, and this was my chance to start fresh.

[…]

The bar was alive with energy. The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional cheer from the pool tables blended into the beat of the music playing over the speakers. As I pushed through the heavy doors, I scanned the room, quickly spotting Emily sitting at the bar. She was hard to miss—blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a fitted shirt that seemed to shimmer under the dim neon lights, and little high waisted jeans. And, of course, a confidence in her posture that immediately caught my attention.

“Hey,” I said, stepping up beside her.

She turned, flashing a bright smile. “Hey, Joe. Glad you made it.”

I nodded, taking the seat next to her. “You’re hard to say no to.”

Her laugh was light, easy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The bartender approached, and I ordered a beer, Emily opting for a vodka soda. We chatted for a bit, keeping it casual at first. She asked about football, and I asked about her classes, but as the drinks started to flow, the conversation shifted.

“So,” she said, leaning closer, her lips quivering into a playful smile. “How good are you at the pool?”

“Decent,” I replied, matching her grin. “Why? You wanna find out?”

“Obviously,” she teased, grabbing her drink and sliding off the barstool. “Come on, QB. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We made our way to the pool table, the low overhead light casting a golden glow on the felt. She grabbed a cue, expertly chalking the tip while I racked the balls. Her confidence was magnetic, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

“Ladies first,” I said, gesturing to the table.

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she quipped, taking her shot. The balls scattered, and she sank one into the corner pocket with ease.

I raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I see how it is. You’ve played before.”

“Maybe a few times,” she said, her tone coy as she lined up her next shot.

We went back and forth, trading playful banter as we played. She was good, I’ll admit, but I wasn’t about to let her win without a fight. Eventually, she scored a tricky shot that had me shaking my head in disbelief.

“That was pure luck,” I said, leaning on my cue as she straightened up, a victorious smile on her face.

“Luck?” she echoed, tilting her head. “I’d call it skill.”

She stepped closer, her confidence radiating. Her eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and for a moment, I forgot about the game entirely. Acting on impulse, I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers. It wasn’t a deep kiss, more of a testing-the-waters kind of thing, but she responded instantly, her hand sliding to my arm.

When we pulled back, she was grinning. “I’ll take that as you admitting I won.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, smirking despite myself.

Y/N

The soft strumming of Hozier’s Like Real People Do filled my room, wrapping around me like a blanket as I sat cross-legged on my bed, a book resting on my lap. The evening was quiet, the kind of night that felt perfect for losing myself in another world. I turned a page, my fingers brushing the worn edges of the paper, when a sudden knock on my door pulled me from my little cocoon.

“Coming,” I called, setting the book aside and slipping off the bed.

When I opened the door, Lauren stood there, her energy practically buzzing.

“Why are you here?” she asked, pushing past me into the room. “It’s Friday night, Y/N. You’re supposed to be out, not... reading.”

“I like reading,” I said defensively, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, but there’s a whole party happening at the bar right now,” she said, plopping onto my bed. “You should come. Everyone’s there.”

“Everyone?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lauren grinned. “Ryan’s there.”

That caught my attention. My heart did a little flip, and I tried to play it cool, but Lauren saw right through me.

“Don’t even try to pretend you’re not interested,” she said, standing up and pulling me toward my closet. “Come on, get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

I sighed, but a part of me was already excited. The thought of seeing Ryan again—and maybe getting to know him a little better—was enough to convince me. I let Lauren rummage through my clothes, eventually settling on a casual but cute outfit: high-waisted jeans, a fitted crop top, and my favorite sneakers.

“You look amazing,” Lauren said, stepping back to admire her work.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The bar was packed when we arrived, the energy infectious. Music thumped through the speakers, and laughter echoed from every corner. I scanned the room, looking for Ryan, when my gaze landed on someone else entirely.

Joe.

He was by the pool table, leaning against it with that easy confidence he always seemed to carry. But it wasn’t just him. A blonde girl stood next to him, laughing at something he said. And then—like a punch to the stomach—I saw it.

He kissed her.

I froze, my heart sinking. The world around me seemed to blur, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, staring at them.

We were wearing the same clothes. Me and her, matching.

And she was kissing him.

“Y/N?” Lauren’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Let’s... let’s find Ryan.”

But as we moved deeper into the bar, my chest felt tight. I couldn’t shake the image of Joe and that girl, their kiss replaying in my mind like a cruel reminder of something I didn’t even fully understand.

And yet, I smiled. For Ryan. For myself. Like it didn’t matter. Like Joe kissing someone else didn’t feel like losing something I never had.

[…]

Spring break was finally here, and I was feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The festival was just around the corner, and my friends from high school had made the trip to Columbus to join us for it. They were all staying in my best friend’s sister’s apartment, which was conveniently just a few minutes away from the Ohio State campus. It felt strange to have everyone in one place again, especially since I hadn’t seen most of them since high school graduation.

I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through my phone while my friend, Lauren, was getting ready in the bathroom. The apartment was filled with the buzz of preparation, the sound of blow dryers and laughter echoing through the rooms. I felt a sense of nostalgia, but there was something else lurking behind it. The nagging, aching feeling of the distance that had grown between Joe and me. It had been weeks since I last saw him, and the silence between us was becoming deafening. We had both been so caught up in our own lives, so wrapped up in our new routines at college.

“Y/N!” Lauren called from the bathroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re not listening. What’s going on? You’re so quiet.”

I glanced up, trying to mask the sadness that had crept up inside me. “Sorry. I’m just... thinking.”

Lauren stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the straps of her dress. “You’re thinking about Ryan, aren’t you?” she asked, a teasing grin on her face.

I blinked, startled by the directness of her question. “What? No... well, kind of. We’ve been hanging out more. It’s nice.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain it. “Yeah, I mean, he’s cool. We’ve been having a good time.”

She smiled, but there was a curious glint in her eyes. “And what about Joe?”

I stiffened, the mention of his name immediately triggering the ache in my chest. “Joe?” I repeated, trying to keep my tone casual. “I haven’t seen him in a while. It’s... been a couple of weeks, actually.”

Lauren watched me carefully, her expression softening. “You miss him, don’t you?”

I didn’t respond at first, staring at the floor. The truth hung heavy in the air, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. Instead, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Things got weird after a while, and we just... haven’t talked.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him,” Lauren suggested, her voice gentle but insistent.

I smiled weakly, though the thought of reaching out made me feel even more unsure. “Maybe.”

But deep down, I knew that part of me was hoping that he would reach out first, that Joe would come back and say something—anything—to break the silence that had stretched between us.

JOE BURROW

The faint sound of a knock on my door pulled me out of the haze of half-consciousness. I groggily opened my eyes, only to find Emily lying beside me in bed, her body still warm next to mine.

“Joe,” she murmured, tracing a finger along my chest. “I’m not ready to get up yet.”

I glanced at the clock. I had an hour before I had to leave for the festival. A part of me wanted to just stay in bed, to ignore everything else and enjoy the moment. But there was something about Emily that didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but it bothered me. The way she always seemed so... nonchalant about everything.

I pulled away slightly, rubbing my eyes. “I have that festival today, babe. The one you didn’t want to go to,” I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.

She barely reacted, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. You have to get ready.”

Her tone was flat, as if she didn’t really care. The lack of enthusiasm, the indifference—something about it made me feel uneasy. I wasn’t used to this type of relationship, where everything seemed to float on the surface without any depth.

I sighed, standing up and reaching for my clothes. “I’m going. I’ll see you later.”

Emily gave me a quick nod, not even bothering to sit up. “Sure. Have fun.”

I gave her a kiss, and went to get ready.

As I pulled on my t-shirt and jeans, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this whole thing. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t care, not really. But maybe that’s what this was—a distraction, something to fill the space while I tried to figure out where I stood with Y/N.

The thought of her hit me harder than I expected. It had been weeks, and the silence between us was suffocating. I had told myself that it was fine, that maybe it was better this way. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I missed her.

After getting dressed, I grabbed my keys and headed out of the room. The guys were waiting for me downstairs. I forced myself to smile, to get into the mood of the festival, but something about the way the day was shaping up felt off.

Y/N

The festival was alive with energy, an explosion of colors, music, and laughter. People were dancing, some already covered in the vivid hues of colored powders that filled the air. The sun was warm, the beats of the music pulsing through my chest as I stood with my friends, our excitement contagious. I couldn’t help but smile, the festival atmosphere reminding me of simpler times.

Lauren nudged me playfully, a mischievous grin on her face. “Careful, Y/N. You might end up looking like a walking rainbow,” she teased, pointing to the vibrant splashes of color that now covered her shirt.

I chuckled, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. “It’s half the fun,” I said, shrugging. “Just don’t get it on my shoes!”

We were surrounded by laughter and people chatting, but a part of me couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my chest. It had been weeks since I’d last seen Joe, and even though I had tried to push it aside, I couldn’t help but wonder where he was—what he was doing. The thought of him, with Emily, made me feel unsettled, even though I had no right to feel that way. We weren’t together, and I hadn’t even talked to him in days. Yet, somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“Hey, you made it!” Ryan’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see him standing in front of me, his signature grin plastered on his face. His green eyes sparkled with excitement as he stood there, dressed in a white t-shirt that was quickly becoming a canvas of color.

“Of course I did,” I replied with a smile, my voice almost a little too eager. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ryan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You seem pretty pumped about this. You’ve done this before, right?”

I shook my head, my excitement making my voice lighter. “No, first time. But it’s a good start.” I motioned to the crowd. “This is insane, though. Everyone’s already covered in paint.”

He shrugged, his smile still warm. “Yeah, that’s the fun part. You’ll get used to it.” His tone was casual, but there was a spark in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

We spent the next few minutes chatting and laughing, getting completely covered in the neon powders. As much as I was enjoying his company, my mind kept drifting back to Joe. It wasn’t like me to get caught up in thoughts of him, especially when there was so much fun happening around me. But every now and then, I found myself scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face.

I tried to push it away, but my heart skipped a beat when I finally spotted him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the crowd, looking relaxed, laughing with his friends. But it was something in the way he stood that caught my attention—something that made my chest tighten. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes sparkled with laughter. There was a magnetic pull toward him, an undeniable connection that seemed to draw me in.

But just as I started to walk toward him, something caught my eye. Emily. She was standing next to him, a flirtatious grin plastered on her face, her hand casually resting on his arm. They looked... good together, and it made something in my chest clench painfully.

For a moment, I stood frozen, my feet glued to the ground as I watched them interact. Joe was laughing, his hand resting on the small of Emily’s back as they shared a quiet joke. The warmth that had bloomed inside me earlier began to dissipate, replaced by an unexpected rush of jealousy and hurt.

I quickly turned away, feeling a knot form in my stomach. Why did it bother me so much to see him with her? Was it because I wanted it to be me? The thought of Joe and Emily together made my heart ache, and I couldn’t quite place why.

“Are you okay?” Ryan’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see him looking at me with concern.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil swirling inside me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched. “Just... I wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

Ryan frowned but didn’t press me further. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “I’m good. Really.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through me. Why did it hurt so much to see him with her?

JOE BURROW.

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. I should’ve been having fun, should’ve been caught up in the excitement of the festival, but all I could think about was Y/N. It wasn’t like me to obsess over her like this, but ever since the whole thing with Emily started, it was like my mind couldn’t stop wandering back to her.

Emily and I had spent most of the day together, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Something about her felt distant, and the more time we spent together, the more I realized that I wasn’t really into her like I thought I was.

We were walking through the crowd when I caught a glimpse of Y/N from across the field. My heart nearly stopped. She looked stunning—her hair a mess of curls, her face bright with excitement, and her eyes sparkling even from a distance. I couldn’t help but stare, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily standing next to me.

“Joe,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “You’ve been spacing out all day. What’s up with you?”

I glanced at her, my mind still on Y/N. “Nothing,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But before she could say anything, I turned to see Y/N’s eyes on me. For a brief second, our gazes locked, and I felt that familiar connection, the one I’d been trying to ignore for weeks now. But then, just as quickly, Y/N looked away, turning toward Ryan.

Something in me twisted.

“Let’s go drink something,” Emily suggested, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of Y/N. But as we walked toward the bar area, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, my eyes searching for her in the crowd. She was laughing, talking to Ryan, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. Something inside me clenched.

I needed to talk to her. But I didn’t know how.

Y/N

The music was deafening, the kind that pulsed through your veins and made the ground tremble beneath your feet. The air was thick with color, clouds of neon powder mixing with the humid evening air, clinging to our sweaty skin. I didn’t care. Not tonight.

Lauren grabbed my hand, pulling me further into the crowd as "Wake Me Up" by Avicii blared from the speakers. Everyone around us was jumping, laughing, and singing along at the top of their lungs, their energy infectious. I let out a laugh, throwing my arms in the air and spinning in a circle as Lauren cheered me on.

“You look like a walking rainbow!” she shouted over the music, pointing to the streaks of blue, pink, and green that covered my face and clothes.

“You too!” I shot back, laughing as I reached for another drink. The plastic cup in my hand was cold, the liquid a too-sweet mix of something fruity and alcohol that I couldn’t quite place. It didn’t matter. I needed this—needed to feel free, to let go of the weight that had been sitting on my chest ever since I saw Joe at the festival earlier.

It was stupid to care so much. He had Emily now. They were happy, or at least it seemed that way. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the way he had looked at me earlier, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N!” Ryan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see him weaving through the crowd, his white t-shirt smeared with streaks of color. He looked happy, carefree, his green eyes sparkling under the festival lights.

“Hey!” I said, forcing a smile as he reached me.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, grinning as he leaned in closer, his voice warm and inviting.

“I am,” I replied, taking another sip of my drink. “This is crazy, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been this covered in paint.”

He laughed, his hand brushing against mine as he gestured to the crowd. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To let loose, have fun?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Ryan was sweet—funny, easy to talk to. He didn’t make my heart race the way Joe did, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I needed someone who didn’t complicate things, someone who wasn’t tied to years of messy emotions and unspoken feelings.

So when Ryan leaned in, his hand resting gently on my waist as he tilted his head, I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself close the gap, pressing my lips to his.

And like that, I was kissing him.

JOE BURROW.

I spotted her the second it happened.

It was like the world had slowed down for a moment, everything else fading into the background as I stood there, frozen in place, watching Y/N kiss Ryan.

My chest tightened, an uncomfortable heat spreading through me as I clenched my fists at my sides. I told myself I had no right to feel this way—no right to be angry or jealous. She wasn’t mine. She never had been.

And yet, the sight of her with him made my stomach churn.

Avicii was still playing, on the back of my head. I could hear them, and my skin was burning.

“Joe?” Emily’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see her looking up at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting weird all night, man. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, glancing back toward Y/N.

Emily followed my gaze, her expression darkening when she saw what I was looking at. “Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s her.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I watched Ryan pull Y/N closer, his hands resting on her waist.

Emily let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, finally turning to face her.

“You’re obsessed with her,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “It’s like she’s all you think about.”

“I’m not—” I started, but Emily cut me off.

“Save it, Joe,” she said, stepping back. “If you’re so worried about her, maybe you should just go talk to her.”

“Where are you going?” I snapped.

“I know my way home.”

For a moment, I just stood there, watching as Emily walked away. She was right. I couldn’t stand here and pretend like I didn’t care.

I found Y/N near the edge of the crowd, her cheeks flushed and her hair a mess of curls streaked with neon colors. She was laughing with her friends, her cup half-empty in her hand, and Ryan stood beside her, his hand casually brushing against her arm as he leaned in to say something. My chest tightened at the sight.

“Y/N,” I called out, my voice louder than I intended.

She turned to look at me, her smile fading when she saw the look on my face. “Joe?”

“We need to talk,” I said firmly, ignoring the curious looks from her friends.

“Now?” she asked, frowning.

“Yes, now,” I insisted.

She sighed, handing her cup to Lauren before following me a few steps away from the crowd. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt my night? I was having fun!” she asked, her tone a little sharp.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words, but the frustration bubbling inside me wouldn’t let me stay quiet. “I don’t trust him, Y/N,” I said finally, my voice low.

“Who?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively. But when she looked behind her, her mind got brighter.

“Yes, Ryan,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “I don’t think he’s good for you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You barely know him, Joe. How can you say that? He’s a nice guy, and he’s on your football team.”

“I know enough,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “I see the way he looks at you. He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He just wants—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” I said, my tone softening as I stepped closer.

“Protect me?” she repeated, her voice rising in anger. “Joe, I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her voice trembling now. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re so caught up in this idea that you have to ‘protect me’ that you don’t even realize how controlling you’re being. It’s exhausting, Joe. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” she said, her expression softening with sadness. “You’ve always done this. You act like I can’t make my own decisions, like I don’t know what’s best for me.”

I stood there, speechless, the weight of her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.

“And if you think Ryan isn’t good enough,” she continued, her voice breaking, “then who is, Joe? Tell me, who’s the perfect person for me in your eyes?”

I froze, the answer sitting on the tip of my tongue but refusing to come out.

It 's me, Y/N. I’m the perfect guy.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one that kissed you. It's been you since we were kids.

But I said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she said bitterly, tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head. “You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you?” She took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes before looking up at me with a sad smile. “I can’t keep doing this, Joe. I can’t keep pretending that this… whatever this is between us, isn’t tearing me apart.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying I need space,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears running down her cheeks. “I need to figure out who I am without you constantly hovering over me, questioning my choices.”

“Y/N, you don’t mean that, we are best friends.” I said, panic rising in my chest.

“I do,” she said, stepping back.

Her words felt like a knife to the chest, and I could only stand there, helpless, as she turned away.

“Don’t look for me, please. Just… just leave me alone.” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the festival.

And just like that, she walked back toward the crowd, leaving me standing there alone, the neon lights casting long shadows on the ground between us.

[katelovesit]

my mvp