#Who Dey

[poisonouscat-tail9]

Bucket Hat Joey B🌞😎

[goldfades]

honeymoon! | JOE BURROW⁹ [006]

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | based on a request -> maybe a smutty blurb for the joe series from their honeymoon 😍 night the baby was conceived

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | plot w/ NSFW under the cut, mdni! pretty soft, honeymoon fucking, we all know how it goes. unprotected sex! (oops... that's how our little accident baby was made, ig) p in v, a whole lotta praise, maybe a little too much foreplay, dry humping? SO MUCH EFFING KISSING IT'S ACTUALLY INSANE,

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 began with sunlight slipping through the white linen curtains of their beachfront villa, casting warm, golden streaks across the bed. The sound of gentle waves crashing against the shore replaced the usual hum of alarm clocks and city noise. It was peaceful, a slow and languid awakening to the soft melody of Barbados.

You stirred first, the warm breeze from the open balcony brushing against your skin. The air smelled like salt and hibiscus, mingled with the faintest trace of sunscreen from the night before. Stretching out, your arm brushed against Joe’s chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing letting you know he was still fast asleep.

For a moment, you just watched him. His lashes rested on his cheeks, his hair an unruly mess from a restless sleep on the crisp sheets. His sun-kissed skin glowed faintly in the morning light, a preview of what the week ahead would bring. He looked peaceful, his usual intensity softened in this quiet morning moment.

Eventually, the tantalizing aroma of breakfast—sweet coconut, warm banana bread, and freshly brewed coffee—wafted into the room, urging you to move. You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Joe’s shoulder.

“Joe,” you whispered softly, your voice barely above the ocean breeze.

He groaned in response, his eyes still closed. “Five more minutes,” he muttered, pulling the sheet higher over his shoulder.

You laughed, tugging at the blanket. “If you don’t get up, I’m starting this honeymoon without you.”

His eyes cracked open at that, one brow arching lazily. “You wouldn’t dare.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you slipped out of bed, grabbing the silky robe from the back of the door and tying it loosely around your waist. The cool tile floor under your bare feet was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Caribbean morning. Joe watched you from the bed, his lips twitching into a soft smile as you peeked out onto the balcony.

The view stole your breath. A turquoise sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon, dotted with white sailboats that glided lazily across the water. The beach was a postcard come to life: soft, white sand scattered with seashells and bordered by swaying palm trees.

“Okay, now I’m up,” Joe announced, his voice gravelly from sleep as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Breakfast was served on the villa’s private terrace, a table set for two with fresh tropical fruits, flaky pastries, and omelets stuffed with local spices. Joe poured you a glass of orange juice, and you returned the favor by slicing up pieces of mango to share.

The morning passed in the kind of leisurely bliss you could only find on an island vacation. After breakfast, you walked down to the beach, your fingers intertwined as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The sand was warm beneath your feet, and the occasional cool splash of the ocean sent shivers up your spine.

Joe insisted on carrying you over a shallow tidepool when you hesitated, laughing at your squeal as the water splashed higher than you expected. “Can’t have you chickening out now,” he teased, setting you down just as the next wave brushed against your calves.

By midday, you found yourselves sprawled out on two lounge chairs under a palm tree. Joe had traded his usual serious demeanor for something more relaxed, leaning back with a contented sigh as you read aloud from a cheesy romance novel you’d brought along. His teasing interruptions—“People actually say that?!”—had you both laughing until your cheeks hurt.

As the day unfolded, everything seemed perfect in its simplicity. The quiet moments between you, the way Joe’s hand lingered on your back when you walked past, or the way he absentmindedly kissed your forehead when you handed him a drink—it was all the kind of effortless love you’d dreamed of.

┈┈┈

The soft hum of the ceiling fan swirled with the salt-tinged breeze that swept through the villa, carrying with it the promise of a balmy Barbados night. Outside, the waves lapped lazily against the shore, their rhythmic song mingling with the distant chirping of tree frogs. The day had melted into evening seamlessly, the sky now painted in inky blues and dotted with stars.

You stood on the balcony, wrapped in one of Joe’s oversized button-ups, the hem brushing mid-thigh as you leaned against the railing. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, a dark expanse glimmering under the moonlight. Behind you, Joe emerged from the shower, his steps quiet on the cool tiles.

“You always steal my shirts,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Without turning, you smirked. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his arms slipped around your waist from behind, his damp skin cool against your back as he pulled you close. His hands splayed over your stomach, his thumbs brushing small, deliberate circles against the fabric.

“You looked good out there today,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Your breath hitched at the soft intimacy of it. “You mean when I almost face-planted in the tidepool?”

Joe chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Even then. You make clumsiness look cute.”

You tilted your head to glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

His grin was boyish, disarming. “Depends. Did it work?”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, your body softening under his touch. His hands didn’t stop their exploration, sliding along your sides, his fingers brushing the edges of bare skin where the shirt didn’t quite meet your thighs.

“Joey,” you started, your voice dipping slightly as you tried to maintain composure.

“Hmm?” His lips found your neck, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You’re being distracting.”

“That’s kind of the point.” His words were muffled against your skin, but the grin in his voice was unmistakable.

He turned you around, his hands settling on your hips as he pressed you gently against the railing. His gaze was heavy-lidded, the playful glint in his blue eyes softened by something deeper, something intimate. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the teasing gone now. His thumb brushed your cheek as if committing the moment to memory.

The vulnerability in his voice made your breath catch. You reached up, cupping his jaw, your thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re terrible at taking compliments.”

“Maybe you’re just too good at giving them.”

Joe’s hands tightened on your hips, tugging you closer. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh? Just ‘like’ me?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his lips met yours, slow and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world. His kiss was soft, yet his hands were firm, grounding you as they slipped under the hem of the shirt, warm against your skin.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you close. “For the record,” he murmured, “I more than like you.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I would hope so. You did marry me.”

His laughter rumbled through his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was different—more hurried, more insistent. Before you could catch your breath or process the shift in his mood, Joe’s arms slid under your thighs, lifting you with ease. A startled laugh escaped your lips, quickly muffled as he kissed you again, walking the two of you back into the villa without breaking contact.

“Joe!” you managed between kisses, your fingers instinctively tangling in the damp strands of his hair. “You’re going to trip.”

He smirked against your lips, his confidence unwavering. “I’m a quarterback. I don’t trip.”

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his hold on you left little room for coherent thought. His stride was purposeful, his hands secure on your thighs as he carried you through the open patio doors and into the softly lit living room. The sea breeze followed, carrying the scent of salt and hibiscus, but the cool air was no match for the heat radiating between the two of you.

By the time he reached the bedroom, you were breathless, your heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the journey. He set you down carefully on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Nothing. Just... you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile you tried to suppress gave you away. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” His voice was lower now, a teasing edge to it as he leaned in, his hands framing your face. “You gonna keep arguing, or can I kiss you again?”

Your response was immediate, pulling him down to meet you halfway. This kiss was no longer hurried but deliberate, the weight of the moment sinking in as his hands moved with purpose, sliding under the fabric of the shirt you wore.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the sound of the waves outside became a distant murmur. For a while, the world shrank to just the two of you—Joe’s hands, his lips, his warmth surrounding you entirely.

The teasing was still there in the way he nipped at your bottom lip or murmured something smug when you let out a quiet gasp. But beneath it all was something deeper, something unspoken yet understood between you both.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you catching your breath, he grinned that boyish grin that always disarmed you. “So,” he said, his voice thick with amusement and affection, “still think I’m going to trip?”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns along the back of his neck. “No. But I might.”

Joe chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple before easing you back against the pillows, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something more tender. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice a promise. “I’ll catch you.”

Joe’s lips grazed yours again, soft and deliberate, the teasing smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth. His hands settled at your waist, fingers brushing the hem of the oversized shirt you’d thrown on after your shower. It was technically his, the fabric worn and loose, but he didn’t seem to mind—especially as he slowly started to lift it, his knuckles ghosting over your bare thighs.

“I think this belongs to me,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. His baby blues flicked up to meet yours, daring you to argue.

“Does it?” you challenged softly, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his muscled skin under your palms.

Joe grinned, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours. “It does. But I’m willing to share—if you ask nicely.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you was cut short when his lips trailed along your jaw, his hands continuing their slow ascent, sending little shocks of heat through your skin. “You’re ridiculous,” you managed, though your breath hitched when his thumbs brushed the curve of your hips.

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his voice a quiet rumble against your neck. His lips moved with deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of kisses that had you melting into his touch.

Your hands found their way into his blonde hair, tugging lightly in retaliation, which only made him chuckle. The sound vibrated against your skin, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten slightly.

“Careful,” he warned playfully, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were darker now, filled with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. “You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to stop.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice steady. “Who says I want you to?”

That was all the encouragement Joe needed. His smile turned wicked, and before you could say another word, he was easing you back onto the bed, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed you again—deeper this time, less teasing, more intent.

His weight settled above you, one hand slipping beneath the shirt to trace the curve of your ribs while the other tangled in your hair. The kisses grew slower but no less consuming, each one leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent as he pulled back slightly to look at you. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze softening despite the heat between you.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, though the words came out shaky, your heart racing under his touch.

Joe laughed softly, his breath warm against your lips. “Not so bad? I think I can do better than that.”

Joe’s teasing edge melted away, replaced by a deeper intensity. His lips pressed to yours with a hunger that left no room for playful quips or lingering hesitation. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under the thin fabric of the shirt as if it had always been in his way before unbuttoning it slowly, slipping it off of you, his blue eyes never leaving yours. You were only left in your bra and underwear, your whole body felt like it was on fire.

Your breath caught as his hands mapped every inch of bare skin they could find, the roughness of his palms contrasting with the softness of his touch. His fingers splayed against your waist, pulling you closer, like even the smallest gap between you was too much before he pulled you toward his crotch. You felt his bulge against your warmth, the feeling too dizzying, you just had to let out a small whimper, your head falling back into the plush pillow.

“You like that?” he murmured, the word barely audible as he leaned forward, his mouth trailed down your neck, each kiss leaving a warm flush in its wake as he began pushing his bulge against you, rougher this time.

“Joey,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your fingers skimmed over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the taut muscle beneath.

He hummed in response, his lips finding the hollow of your throat, lingering there for a moment before moving lower. He slowly began moving his hips against your covered pussy, eliciting small noises from you. He was rock-hard, you could feel his excitement through the thin material of his gray sweats.

For a moment, he stilled, his eyes roving over you as if committing every detail to memory. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low and thick, his words sinking into your skin like a promise.

Heat bloomed in your chest, and before you could respond, his lips found yours again, firmer, deeper, his hand sliding up your side to cup your cheek. The world outside the villa ceased to exist; all that mattered was the way his touch sent a current through you, grounding you and setting you alight all at once.

You tugged at his shirt in response, your fingers fumbling slightly in your urgency. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, before leaning back just enough to help you. The fabric joined yours on the floor, and then he was back, his skin warm against yours, every inch of contact electric.

His hands skimmed over your thighs, hooking behind your knees to draw you closer. The air felt charged, the only sounds filling the room your uneven breaths and the gentle crash of waves outside. He began rocking his hips against yours, letting out a needy groan of his own.

“Please, Joe,” you moaned, breathless and oh so wet, your hand slipping to his chest to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

“Please, what?” He challenged, his forehead leaning to rest against yours. His lips were curved, a cocky smiling gracing his features. Yeah, he wasn't giving in so easily—even if he was rock-hard and just as needy as you.

You rolled your eyes, your chest rising and falling as your eyes found his again. His baby blues were dilated and dark, the familiar lustful gaze glazing his eyes. But somehow, there was still that warmth and love you knew he felt for you.

“Just, please fuck me.”

That was all he needed.

His lips found yours again, harder this time, more insistent, as if the words you’d exchanged weren’t enough to convey the depth of his feelings. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer with a quiet, desperate kind of urgency that left no space between you, his body practically trembling with restraint.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered against your lips, his voice low, his breath hot.

You tried to reply, but your words were swallowed by the kiss that followed, deeper, more fervent. His hands roamed, fingers splayed wide as they moved over the curves of your back, memorizing every inch. There was no hesitation now, no pretense—just raw affection and the kind of vulnerability that came from letting someone see all of you, heart and soul.

He broke away only briefly, his forehead pressed to yours, his blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he admitted, his voice uneven, like the words cost him something.

The weight of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice sent a shiver through you. “I don’t think I’d ever want you to,” you murmured back, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently to anchor yourself.

That was all it took for his restraint to falter. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his hands tightening their grip as if he was afraid you might slip away. His desperation wasn’t rushed or clumsy; it was reverent, like he was determined to make every moment count, to leave no part of you untouched by the depth of his adoration.

Finally, his hands began pulling off his sweatpants, his lips never leaving yours. He tugged them off swiftly, throwing them on the floor as he pulled away for a second, gripping your hips and pulling you impossibly closer. Joe's eyes never left yours as he slowly took off his briefs, your breath hitching. As soon as his briefs were off, his large fingers hooked on your panties and slipped them off.

His lips found yours again, moving forward slowly as he led himself toward your folds. You felt his breath hitch before he slowly pushed into you, broken moans leaving your lips. You already felt so full and he wasn't even a quarter inside yet.

You were sopping wet at that point, he could easily slip into you quickly—but he took his time, as if he was trying to memorize the way your cunt squeezed him so perfectly, how perfect you felt around his cock and how he swore your pussy was made for him. Joe was huge, that was never a secret—the whole “Big Dick Joe” hat was never really a joke.

You felt him fill you up slowly but surely, until he completely bottomed you out. Your hands were gripping his broad shoulders as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, focusing on the feeling of Joe's cock stretching you out.

And you swore, no matter how many times you fuck—the feeling will never, ever get old.

“Oh God, yes,” you practically cried out as you squeezed his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his warm skin. He groaned at the stinging feeling, the pleasure coursing through his body.

He let you adjust to his size as he began kissing you again, slower this time. The kiss grew more intense, trailing down your jawline and across your neck, each one carrying a weight that left you breathless. His hands remained steady on your hips as he let you adjust to his size, and yet there was an unmistakable tremor in the way his fingers pressed into your skin, like he was holding on for dear life.

Slowly, he began thrusting out of you, before crashing into you rougher. His patience was wavering, you could see it in his expression.

“Harder, Joe,” you moaned breathlessly as you squeezed his shoulder harder, gazing up at him through your lashes.

That was all he needed. Joe began rocking into you, the bed moving along with each of his hard thrusts. His hands gripped your thighs before lifting your legs onto his shoulders, your hands falling back on the bed as he began fucking you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out in utter pleasure, gripping the sheets as he groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

“Say you’re mine,” he murmured against the hollow of your throat as he leaned in, his voice rough with need, the words barely audible over the sound of the bed creaking beneath the two of you.

“I’m yours,” you answered without hesitation, your voice trembling but sure. The words seemed to undo him further, a shiver running through his frame as his hips began moving at an almost impossible speed, his forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he whispered breathlessly, his breath hot against your skin. His hands gripped your hips firmly as if to ground himself, but his lips never stopped their journey—brushing along your collarbone, lingering where he could feel the rapid beat of your pulse.

His kisses became softer for a moment, almost trembling with the intensity of what he was trying to say without words. The movements of his hips were a perfect blend of desperation and purpose—like every thrust, every kiss, was a vow, a promise of just how much you meant to him.

But the desperation was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to bubble over again.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach, and your walls tightened around his cock. He was close, too—you could feel it in the way his hips rocked against yours, harder and more frantic than the last and the way he let out his groans freely.

Time seemed to dissolve, measured only by the gentle rhythm of the waves outside and the warmth of Joe’s touch. Every movement between you was deliberate, filled with a perfect mix of care and roughness that made the world outside feel irrelevant.

His hands never strayed far, always returning to cradle your face or trace patterns along your thighs as though grounding himself in the moment.

And right as you were about to go over the edge, Joe’s hand slipped to yours, his fingers threading through yours in a gesture so tender it brought an ache to your chest. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your orgasm hitting you like a truck, rippling through you harshly.

You cried out loudly in pleasure, the sound echoing in the empty villa. A few more frantic thrusts and Joe was spilling into you, his groans heavenly and loud. You both caught your breathes, slow and heavy all at once. The villa was quiet except for the shared sounds of your breathing, the ocean breeze filtered in through the slightly open windows, cool and refreshing against the heat you shared, carrying the faint scent of salt and hibiscus.

After a moment, his lips brushed your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if memorizing you was his life’s work.

“You okay?” he murmured again, his voice softer now, almost reverent, his forehead pressed lightly against yours.

“Yes,” you replied, breathless but certain, your hand slipping to his chest to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Perfect, actually.”

The night stretched on in a haze of soft laughter, quiet reassurances, and the feeling of being utterly cherished. By the time you lay tangled together beneath the linen sheets, exhaustion pulled at your limbs, but your heart was light. Joe’s arm was slung protectively around your waist, his breath warm against your shoulder.

“Love you,” he murmured, the words slurred with sleep but no less sincere.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand. “I love you, too.”

The moonlight poured through the open window, silver light painting your intertwined forms as the waves provided a lullaby. With Joe’s steady presence beside you, you felt more at peace than ever—like the rest of the world could wait, because here, in this moment, you had everything you could ever need.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[burreauxhead]

hey there, joe! 🖤 (x)

[burrowstyles5]

This picture gets me every time

[rorysburrow]

Broken Lamps

Joe Burrow X Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angsty just a tad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun cast long, golden streaks across the hardwood floor as you stepped inside, balancing a grocery bag in one arm and your work bag in the other. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. Normally, Ava’s laughter or the distant murmur of the TV would greet you, but today there was an unusual stillness that made you pause.

“Hello?” you called, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter.

A muffled sob broke the silence, followed by the low rumble of Joe’s voice, steady but strained. Your heart sank as you moved toward the living room, where the sounds were coming from.

There, sitting on the couch, was Ava, her tiny frame trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was red and tear-streaked, and her favorite stuffed bunny dangled from one hand. Joe was crouched in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees as he tried to meet her eyes.

“Ava, sweetie,” he said softly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of frustration. “I’m not mad at you. But you have to tell me what happened. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

She shook her head vigorously, burying her face deeper into her knees. “No! You’re mad! You yelled at me!” she cried, her voice muffled.

Joe let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not yelling now, am I? Come on, Ava, talk to Daddy.” His voice softened on the word “Daddy,” but it was clear he was at the end of his patience.

You stepped into the room, both their heads turning toward you. Ava’s sobs quieted slightly at the sight of you, and she scrambled off the couch, running straight into your arms.

“Mommy/Daddy!” she wailed, clinging to you as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Daddy’s mad at me!”

Joe stood, exhaling sharply. “I’m not mad,” he said, his tone defensive. “I just… she knocked over the lamp in my office, okay? It’s broken. I told her not to play in there, and she did it anyway.”

You glanced at Joe, his tense posture and furrowed brow telling you how much he was trying to keep his frustration in check. Then you looked down at Ava, her small hands clutching your shirt as if letting go would send her adrift.

“Ava,” you said gently, crouching to her level. “Is that true? Were you playing in Daddy’s office?”

She sniffled, nodding reluctantly. “I was looking for paper,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I wanted to draw a picture for Daddy. But the lamp fell… and it broke… and then he yelled.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face in your shoulder.

Joe’s shoulders sagged, the tension bleeding out of him as her words sank in. He rubbed a hand over his face, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you, Ava,” he said softly. “But you know you’re not supposed to go in there. It’s not safe for you to play around all that stuff.”

Ava peeked out from the safety of your embrace, her bottom lip trembling. “I just wanted to make you happy,” she said, holding up the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “I was going to draw you with your football. But then the lamp fell and… and…” She dissolved into hiccupping sobs.

You glanced at Joe, who now looked thoroughly defeated. He crouched down again, his large hands resting on his knees as he met Ava’s tearful gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice soft and steady. “I’m sorry I scared you, okay? I shouldn’t have yelled. .” He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “But next time, can you ask me before you go in my office? We can find paper together. Deal?”

Ava hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Deal,” she whispered, her small voice cracking.

Joe smiled faintly, opening his arms. “Come here, kiddo.”

Ava hesitated for a moment before launching herself into his arms, clutching him tightly. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. We’ll clean it up together, okay?”

She nodded against him, her small body relaxing as his arms wrapped securely around her. You watched them, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering tension.

Family wasn’t perfect, you thought, but moments like this—when love overcame frustration, when apologies mended rifts—proved it was worth every challenge. And as you stood there, the three of you together, the house finally felt like home again.

As Joe rose, Ava still clinging to him, he looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry you had to walk into the middle of that,” he said, his tone light but apologetic. “Parenting… not as smooth as I imagined it would be.”

You chuckled softly, crossing the room to place a reassuring hand on his arm. “Nobody said it would be easy, Joe. But you handled it well. She knows you love her, and that’s what matters.”

Ava, her tears now dried, looked up at Joe with wide eyes. “Daddy, can I still draw you the picture?” she asked hesitantly, her fingers twisting the hem of his shirt.

Joe’s face softened, and he nodded. “Of course, you can. Let’s go grab some paper from the kitchen, and you can draw it while I start cleaning up the office. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ava said, her earlier sadness replaced by a tentative smile.

The three of you moved into the kitchen, where Ava set to work at the table with her crayons and paper. Joe grabbed a broom and a dustpan, pausing for a moment to place a hand on your shoulder as he passed by. “Thanks for being the calm one,” he said, his voice warm with gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile.

As Joe disappeared down the hallway, you watched Ava scribbling happily, her tongue poking out in concentration. The house, which had felt so tense just moments ago, was now filled with a sense of peace and togetherness. It was a reminder that even in the hardest moments, love and patience could rebuild what felt broken.

When Joe returned, the office cleaned up, Ava proudly held up her drawing. “Look, Daddy! It’s you and me playing football!”

Joe crouched down to take the picture, studying it with a broad smile. “This is amazing, Ava. I’m going to hang it up in my office, okay? Right where the lamp used to be.”

Ava beamed, her earlier tears long forgotten. “Really? You’ll put it in your office?”

“Absolutely,” Joe said, pulling her into another hug. “It’s better than any lamp.”

You stood back, watching the scene unfold with a full heart. No, family wasn’t perfect—but moments like this were perfect enough.

[burrowdarling]

Got Me Feelin' Myself

Summary: When you're unable to make it Joe's game, you have some of your friends over to help cheer him on...which slightly backfires on you.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfirend!reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of Joe praise, Joe being Joe Shiesty fr

Note: Happy Victory Sunday! Another texting fic for you all 🧡 Something I whipped up after the win last night. Hoping for alllll the good vibes today. hopefully, this will be something fun to ease our minds before the 4pm games!

Check out my Masterlist here!

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

[fa1ry03]

Birthday Wishes

Author’s Note: Thanks so much for all the support on my first piece!!! This is my second, and I’m so excited to share it with you guys! Since Joe's Birthday is coming up, I decided to write a short piece. I hope y'all enjoy this celebration of Joe’s bday. Happy Birthday Joe! 💙🎉

Blurb about the piece: Celebrate Joe Burrow’s birthday with a day full of love, surprises, and passion. From a heartfelt breakfast in bed to a surprise party with friends, every moment is crafted to make him feel special. As the night winds down, tender gestures blend sweetness and spice for an unforgettable celebration.

(not proofread)

word count: 764

The first rays of sunlight streamed into the cozy Cincinnati home Joe Burrow shared with his partner, casting a warm glow across the room. Outside, the December chill hung in the air, but inside, the atmosphere was cozy and festive. Today wasn’t just any day—it was Joe's birthday.

You had been planning this day for weeks. Joe, humble as ever, insisted he didn’t need anything extravagant, but you knew better. A man like him, who poured his heart and soul into everything, deserved a day as special as he was.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise and wake him. The plan was simple but heartfelt: start the day with a breakfast he’d love, give him a special message, and let the surprises unfold one by one.

The scent of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee soon filled the air. Alongside the bacon, you prepared his favorite fluffy scrambled eggs, buttery toast, and a side of fresh fruit. For an extra touch, you made blueberry pancakes, his guilty pleasure.

Once everything was plated, you quietly carried the tray into the bedroom. Joe was still asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. You smiled, setting the tray on the bedside table.

“Joe,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

He stirred, blinking awake. As soon as he saw you and the tray, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday breakfast,” you said, sitting beside him. “Eat up—we’ve got a whole day ahead.”

Joe sat up, leaning against the headboard, and dug into the food. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said between bites.

“Uh actually, I did. You only turn 28 once,” you teased, handing him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

After breakfast, you handed him a small envelope. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and opened it. Inside was a handwritten letter, carefully crafted to capture your admiration for him.

“Joe,” it began, “you are not only an incredible athlete but also the most kind-hearted and determined person I know. Watching you chase your dreams inspires me every day. You deserve all the success and happiness in the world, and I’m so lucky to celebrate this special day with you…”

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “This means so much to me,” he said. “Thank you.”

“There’s more to come,” you said with a wink.

The day continued with a leisurely pace. Joe, ever the competitor, suggested playing a round of Madden on the PS5. Despite your best efforts, he won every game, laughing at your frustrated groans.

By midday, you nudged him toward the door. “Time for part two of your birthday adventure,” you said.

Joe frowned playfully. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading him outside.

The two of you hopped into the car, and you drove to one of Joe’s favorite spots—a quiet hiking trail just outside the city. Hiking was one of his ways to unwind, and you knew he’d appreciate the chance to escape the chaos of the season.

As you walked hand in hand along the trail, you marveled at the serene beauty of the woods. The crisp winter air, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the occasional call of birds made for a perfect backdrop.

“You really thought of everything today,” Joe said, pulling you close.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” you replied with a grin.

By the time you returned home, Joe seemed content and relaxed. But the day was far from over.

“Go shower and change into something nice,” you said.

“Why? What’s going on?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s a surprise,” you said, refusing to elaborate.

Joe, curious but cooperative, disappeared into the bathroom. Meanwhile, you got to work setting up the final act of the day—a surprise party with all his closest friends and teammates.

The living room was already decorated with banners, balloons, and a massive “Happy Birthday Joe” sign. You’d spent hours coordinating with his friends, ensuring everyone could be there. The catering had just arrived, featuring Joe’s favorite dishes, including a giant Cajun-style crawfish boil as a nod to his Louisiana roots.

By the time Joe emerged, looking sharp in a casual blazer and jeans, the house was dark and silent.

“What’s going on?” he asked, confused.

“Just trust me,” you said, guiding him to the living room.

As soon as you opened the door, the lights flicked on, and a chorus of voices shouted, “Surprise!”

Joe froze, his mouth falling open. The room was packed with familiar faces—his teammates, coaches, and even a few close friends from high school and college.

“You did this?” he asked, turning to you with wide eyes.

“I had a little help,” you admitted.

The night was everything you’d hoped for and more. There was laughter, music, and endless storytelling. Joe’s teammates shared hilarious anecdotes from the locker room, and his family reminisced about his childhood.

The highlight of the evening was the cake—a massive football-shaped creation adorned with the Bengals’ colors and Joe’s jersey number, 9. Everyone gathered around as you lit the candles and led the group in singing “Happy Birthday.”

Joe blew out the candles, his face lit up with gratitude.

“Speech! Speech!” someone called out.

Joe laughed, raising his glass. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said. “To everyone here, thank you. I’m so lucky to have such amazing people in my life. And to you,” he said, looking at you, “thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

As the night wound down and the guests started to leave, Joe pulled you aside.

“Today was perfect,” he said. “You made me feel so loved.”

“You are loved,” you said, leaning in to kiss him.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you realized that while Joe’s accomplishments on the field were incredible, it was moments like this that truly defined him. He was more than just a football star—he was someone who inspired everyone around him to be better.

And on this special day, you were grateful to celebrate the man he was, both on and off the field.

-Time Skip-

By the time you guys returned home, the party had been a roaring success, and you’d successfully pulled off every surprise. But now, the house was quiet, the guests gone, and the festive decorations shimmering under soft, dimmed lights.

Joe found you in the living room, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. You had changed into something more alluring—a fitted black lingerie that hugged every curve.

“Looks like the birthday boy survived the surprises,” you teased as he approached, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively.

“Barely,” he said, sitting beside you and taking your hand. “But I’ve got to say—you outdid yourself.”

“You deserve it,” you said softly, leaning in closer.

Joe’s eyes darkened slightly as his free hand brushed along your thigh. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, your voice low.

The playful energy between you shifted as the air grew heavier with tension. His hand lingered on your leg, tracing slow, deliberate circles.

“You’re not done spoiling me yet, are you?” he asked, his voice dropping into a husky tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That depends,” you said, your lips curving into a coy smile. “How much more does the birthday boy want?”

Joe didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap. The feel of his strong hands makes its way to your bottom. Combined with the heat radiating off him, sent your heart racing.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s my turn now.”

His words were a promise, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, the anticipation of the night ahead filling you with a delicious thrill.

As the fire crackled in the background and the world outside faded away, you realized this was the perfect way to end his special day—wrapped up in each other, with nothing but the quiet hum of desire and the promise of more.

Thanks for reading! Send in request plss <3

[nflballgirl]

i’ve been following this teacher since the beginning of the season and i am BEYOND EXCITED for zoey!!! if you haven’t been following, zoey’s team for the year was the bengals. and out of everyone in her class, she was the only student who’s team did not respond to her. and now she gets her moment!! and what she says at the end….. a true joey b tumblr girl in the making. watch the whole video, it will make your heart happy!!

[monabrrr]

✨him✨

interview with Joe Montana & Yahoo! Sports

[poisonouscat-tail9]

Joey B Seinfeld Sweatpants🤗❤🤘

[maroonsundae]

WHO DEYYYYY

TEE HIGGINS WITH A TOUCH DOWN!!!!

Don't fucking play with Joe Burrow, Tee Higgins and Ja'marr Chase.

[burrowswomen]

so thankfully, myfavett came in handy and i was able to save all my joey edits.

so here's is this one i saw moments before the ban that it was able to save, to bless you and hopefully take your mind off the ban💞💞💞

[burreauxhead]

JOE 🤍

(x)

[burrowstyles5]

Everything about this photo, just yes

[rorysburrow]

The Perfect Surprise

Pairings ➼ Joe Burrow x reader

Summary ➼ Joe and the kids putting together the most perfect gift for you for Mothers Day.

Word Count ➼ 1,330

Warnings ➼ pure fluff

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was early Saturday morning, and the Burrow household was still quiet, except for the soft rustling of sheets and the faint sound of Ava’s voice as she whispered to Hudson. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor in their playroom, surrounded by a pile of colorful construction paper, markers, and glitter pens.

“Shh, we have to keep it a secret,” Ava whispered, glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen where Joe was making breakfast. “We’re going to surprise Mom for Mother’s Day.”

Hudson’s eyes were wide with excitement as he held up a glittery card he was working on. “Look, Ava! I made a sparkly heart. She’ll love it!”

Ava nodded, giving her little brother an approving look. “Perfect! Now, we just need to figure out what else we can do.”

Down the hallway, Joe was flipping pancakes in the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise. He was in on the secret—he always was—but he was happy to let the kids take the lead when it came to planning surprises.

“Alright, team,” Joe called out as he placed a stack of pancakes on the kitchen table. “How are we doing on the Mother’s Day gift?”

Ava and Hudson scampered into the kitchen, their faces full of mischief. “We’re almost done, Daddy!” Ava said. “We’re going to make her a card, and then we’ll pick something special from the store.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “A card? I thought we were buying a gift from the store.”

Ava and Hudson exchanged a quick glance before Hudson bounced up and down, “We’ll get a gift too! But we want to make her something from the heart.”

Joe smiled. “I love that idea. Let’s make it a good one, then.” He poured some juice into cups and passed them to the kids, who took their seats at the table.

After breakfast, Joe loaded the kids into the car, and they headed to a local boutique that you loved to visit. It was a small, cozy store filled with beautiful, handmade jewelry, candles, and unique home décor. As soon as they walked in, Ava’s eyes sparkled.

“Ooh! Look at all this stuff!” she exclaimed.

Hudson ran ahead and stopped in front of a small stand covered with delicate, colorful candles. “Mama loves candles!” he said, picking up a lavender-scented one. “We should get this one!”

Joe nodded. “Lavender is her favorite scent. Good choice, Hudson.”

But as Ava wandered further into the shop, she found something even better—a small potted plant with soft green leaves and delicate pink flowers. She carefully picked it up and brought it to Joe.

“Look, Dad! I think Mommy would love this. It’s like a little piece of nature that she can keep inside.”

Joe’s heart warmed at the sight of his daughter holding the plant. “That’s beautiful, Ava. It’s perfect.”

They added the plant to their collection, but Ava wasn’t done yet. “We need something that says ‘I love you, Mom,’” she said thoughtfully, scanning the shelves.

After a moment, Hudson tugged on Joe’s hand and led him to a display of hand-painted wooden signs. One in particular caught his eye: it was a sign with the words “Home is Where Mom Is” painted in soft, welcoming letters.

“That’s it,” Joe said, smiling. “Mama always says that doesn't she. Home is where we’re all together, and she makes this house feel like a home.”

The family headed to the counter with their carefully chosen gifts: the lavender candle, the potted plant, and the wooden sign. The kids helped Joe wrap everything in colorful paper, adding extra touches of glitter and ribbon to make it extra special. Joe could tell they were bursting with excitement as they finished.

When they got home, the kids were eager to put their plan into action. They hid the gifts in the living room, and then they sat down at the kitchen table to write their final touch—a heartfelt card. Ava carefully wrote out the words she wanted to say, and Hudson, with a little help from Joe, scribbled his love with a crayon.

As the sun began to set, You walked in through the front door, tired but happy after a busy day at work you hated that you couldn't spend the day with your babies. Your eyes immediately lit up when she saw the three of them sitting there, grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s all this?” you asked, smiling.

Ava jumped up, holding out the sparkly card she had made. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy! We love you so much!”

Hudson added, “I made you a card too, Mommy!” and handed you the drawing he had worked on.

you knelt down and hugged them both tightly. “Thank you, my sweethearts,” she said, your voice filled with emotion. Then, Joe led you over to the coffee table, where the wrapped gifts awaited.

your eyes widened as you unwrapped the lavender candle, the potted plant, and the wooden sign. You placed the plant on the kitchen counter, the candle on the mantle, and held the wooden sign close to her chest. “This is perfect, you guys. I love everything!”

Joe kissed you on the cheek and smiled. “It’s all from the heart. You make this family complete, mama. We’re so lucky to have you.”

The kids hugged you once more. “We love you, Mommy,” Ava said.

“We love you lots!” Hudson added, giggling.

As you all gathered around the table to enjoy a homemade dinner, the Burrow family shared more laughter, love, and memories—proof that sometimes the best gifts don’t come from the store but from the heart.

After dinner, the room was filled with smiles, hugs, and the soft hum of contentment. But there was still one more surprise in store.

As the family settled into the living room with mugs of hot cocoa, Hudson crawled onto your lap, his small hands holding something behind his back. He had been so proud of his creation earlier in the day—his secret project—and now was the perfect time to reveal it.

“What’s this, bubba?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as Hudson's eyes sparkled mischievously.

With a grin that stretched from ear to ear, Hudson pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. It was his Mother’s Day gift—a hand-drawn picture of you and him, with hearts surrounding and the words "Best Mommy Ever" written in bright, colorful letters. Though it was a bit rough around the edges, the love in the drawing was undeniable.

you gasped in delight and held it up to the light. “Oh, bubba, this is beautiful! You made this for me?”

Hudson nodded vigorously. “I did it all by myself, Mommy! Just for you!”

“Thank you, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. you placed the drawing next to the other gifts on the mantle, already a cherished keepsake.

Joe watched the whole exchange, his heart swelling. “Looks like you’ve got two artists in the making,” he said with a wink.

You smiled warmly at Joe. “I'm the luckiest mommy ever. Thank you so much my babies.” She placed a hand on Hudson’s head, then turned to Ava and Joe. “You all make every day feel like a celebration.”

As everybody settled into their evening, the soft glow of the lavender candle filled the room with a peaceful fragrance. The small plant sat in the corner, a symbol of growth and life in their home. And the wooden sign, “Home is Where Mom Is,” stood proudly on the mantle, a reminder that, no matter where life took your little family, you had everything you needed right here—with each other.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by laughter and love, Joe knew that the perfect gift wasn’t anything they had bought or wrapped up. It was this—being together, creating memories, and showing how deeply they cared.

Mother’s Day, after all, wasn’t just about giving gifts. It was about honoring the heart and soul of their family.Which was you.

[joeyburrrow]

a family that balls together, stays together 🧡✨