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luvu2themoonand2saturn · 1 year

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your valentine, forever

joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content!!! smut, vaginal fingering, praise kink (reader), pet names galore, established relationship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, soft dom joe, dirty talk, smidge of cum eating??? idfk, there’s also lots of soft and cutesy fluff sprinkled throughout

word count: 4.6k

note: vday fic is finally here, only a week late! used a prompt from the incredibly talented @scealaiscoite in this fic - their fluff prompts are literally the sweetest things <3 prompt is bolded in the fic! also a little treat for swifties in this one! hope you enjoy this smutty fluffy shitshow <3

“Joe! Can you come and zip up my dress?” you called to him from your en suite, where you were getting ready for your Valentine’s date night.

“Be right there, sweetheart,” he responded from your bedroom as he shrugged into his white button down, not bothering to do it up before giving you a hand. He stepped through the doorway that separated you, met with the sight of your back, bare except for the strips of delicate black lace that made up the straps and band of your bra, exposed between the unzipped panels of your dress. It was a classic little black number, with sheer sleeves that ended in cuffs at your wrists. The hem hit just above your knees, your collarbone and upper chest revealed by the v-neck cut.

“Baby, my god,” he said, eyes raking up and down your frame, gaze heated as he took in everything that was revealed to him and savoured the knowledge of everything that was hidden that he would get to touch, to kiss, to caress later that night.

You blushed, helplessly flustered. “Do it up, love, it’ll look better then,” you replied quietly.

“Hard to imagine you getting any prettier,” he said, but he did as you asked and zipped you up before his hands slid down your waist to rest on your hips, his lips dipping down to meet your neck. Your eyes drifted closed as you tilted your head to the side, sighing softly as he pressed kisses along the sensitive skin, working up to the spot behind your ear you especially loved to feel his lips on you.

He gently nipped your earlobe, murmuring, “So goddamn beautiful, babygirl.”

You squirmed around in his hold so you were facing him, eye level with his bare, beautifully sculpted chest. Your hands danced along the ridges of his abs, sliding around to rest on his lower back as you peered up at him. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” you said, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin of his chest.

He cupped your face in one warm palm, leaning down to kiss you, while the other hand pressed against your hip, guiding you to step backwards as he walked you towards the bathroom countertop. His lips remained locked with yours as his tongue slipped into your mouth, drawing one of those pretty whimpers from your mouth that he loved so much. When you bumped into the edge of the countertop, both of his hands slid down to cup your ass, easily lifting you onto the marble surface.

He stood between your legs, moving his lips to your neck, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the column of your throat. One of his hands massaged up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your dress, straying closer to the black lace of your panties, already soaked through. Your legs wrapped around him, holding him in place against you as your hands tangled in his soft blonde hair.

Detaching his lips from your neck with a wet pop, he pressed a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth as one of his knuckles ghosted over your clothed clit, the slightest touch, but it still made you arch your back into him, trying to regain the contact. “May I?” he asked, voice low and husky with need.

“Please, Joe,” you half mumbled, half whimpered, craving, wanting, needing his hands on you, in you.

Through the haze of desire clouding your mind, you recalled what you had originally been getting ready for in the bathroom. “Joe,” you whispered breathily. “Our dinner reservation.”

“Let a man enjoy his appetizer, pretty baby,” he mumbled against your skin. “Y’know I can make this quick when I need to.”

You giggled at his last comment, but you weren’t going to argue it. He was right.

He pushed the fabric of your panties to the side, before he slid two fingers down towards your entrance, feeling the wetness seeping from your core, already dripping for him. “Fuck,” he groaned, fingers teasingly circling your opening. “So fucking wet for me. Always ready for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

Your only response was a needy moan as you tried to grind your hips against his fingers, desperate for more. He couldn’t resist your whimpers, slipping one thick finger inside you, adding another after a moment. “Shit,” he grunted through gritted teeth. “Can’t wait to be inside you later, babygirl.”

“Joe,” you moaned as he pumped his fingers steadily in and out of your weeping cunt.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the edge of your jaw. You only whimpered in response, prompting him to add, “Use your words, tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You make me feel so good, Joe, it’s so good,” you cried out as his fingers curled to brush the soft spot inside you that sent agonizing spasms of pleasure throughout your body.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Maintaining the speed of his fingers inside you, he pressed his thumb against your clit, the added friction causing you to grind yourself against his hand.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered, your eyes closing as you felt your orgasm building in your tummy.

Just as you felt a gasp of pleasure rising in your throat, Joe’s phone on the countertop beside you rang, grabbing your attention. “Joe,” you started, seeing it was a local number.

With his free hand, he guided your head back to face him, keeping his hand on your cheek to hold you in place. “Shh, baby, don’t worry about it, c’mon, you’re almost there,” he said soothingly, feeling your walls fluttering around his fingers, still pumping deep into your cunt. “C’mon baby, focus for me, you can do it,” he urged you, keeping his thumb rubbing small circles against your clit. His words drowned out the sound of the phone ringing, as all of your attention returned to him. Where he was on you, around you, in you. “Let go for me, pretty girl, show me how good you are. C’mon.”

You gasped as the first wave of your orgasm broke, brought on by his soft spoken words, as your head fell back against the mirror and you ground your hips down onto his hand to glean every last ounce of pleasure from your release. You shuddered, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. “Fuck, Joe,” you groaned, out of breath.

“That’s my girl,” he said, satisfied, as he pulled his fingers from your cunt and grabbed his phone with his clean hand, hitting answer just before it went to voicemail.

“This is Joe speaking,” he said into the phone. While whoever was on the other side spoke, he stuck the two wet fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth, silently sucking them clean. Your legs were still entwined around him, keeping him between them. You leaned into him, cheek pressed to his chest and arms around his waist, as his free arm looped around to your back, hand softly rubbing up and down as you recovered from your orgasm.

You weren’t listening to the crackly voice on the other end of the line, but you noticed he had frowned at whatever was being said, and you subconsciously mimicked his expression in concern.

“Yeah, that’s okay. Alright. Sounds good. Bye,” he said, hanging up.

“What is it?” you asked, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“Bad news, sweetheart,” he said. “That restaurant you wanted to go to fucked up their reservations and overbooked, so they cancelled us because we were the last to reserve a spot.”

Your face fell. “What!? We booked it months ago!” Although you and Joe usually preferred to stay in for date nights, for Valentine’s Day you always made an effort to actually go out, making up for all the anniversaries and birthdays spent at home in bed, drinking wine and making love. You had booked a spot at an upscale restaurant nearby your home weeks in advance, somewhere you’d never eaten before.

Joe interrupted your thoughts when he said, “I know, honey, but we can go another time. To make it up to us they’re covering our bill next time we’re there.”

“That’s nice,” you conceded, but he could still read the disappointment in your face as you tucked your cheek back against his chest.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly, gently grabbing your chin and urging you to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “We’re still going to have an amazing night, sweets. I promise.”

“But you were so excited to go to this place! You’ve been talking about it for months,” you said dejectedly.

“Baby, the restaurant isn’t what was going to make this a special night. I just want to spend time with you.” During the football season, it often felt like you barely saw each other. Joe was often out of town, and when he wasn’t, you were working long days. It seemed like the only time you had together was over breakfast and dinner and then five minutes cuddling in bed before you fell into a deep sleep, drained from work. “I’d rather do nothing with you than anything with someone else,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You took a deep breath, letting some of the tension out of your shoulders. “Same,” you murmured in response.

“Would another orgasm cheer you up?” he asked cheekily, smirking. “Now the reservation’s cancelled we have no time restraints.”

You lightly hit his chest, laughing. “I need to eat something first. You’re insatiable, Burrow.”

“Hard not to be when my girl is so goddamn beautiful. I’ll never be able to get enough of you. Speaking of how pretty you look,” he murmured. “I’ve got one thing for you. C’mere.” He helped you off the counter, your legs still quivering, guiding you back into your bedroom and gesturing for you to take a seat on the king sized bed. He fumbled in the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a teal Tiffany and Co. bag.

“Joe! You didn’t have to do that!” you exclaimed, accepting the bag when he offered it to you. “You’ve already done so much for me today, sweet boy.”

He settled himself beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your clothed shoulder as he murmured, “It’s nothing, sweetheart. Just a little something.” Everything was “just a little something” to him, from the massive bouquet of roses you’d found in the kitchen when you had gone downstairs that morning to the hot breakfast he’d made for you (and made of you).

You pulled a box out of the tissue paper in the bag, opening it to find a note sitting on top that read, “Because I really know you.”

“Stop,” you gasped, lifting up the paper to reveal a necklace adorned with a simple circular pendant bearing a cursive letter “J.” “Joe, that is so sweet.” You turned to wrap your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?” you wondered aloud.

“You deserve the world, sweetheart. You always have,” he responded. “Here, let me put it on you.” He gingerly lifted the chain from the box as you swept your hair off your neck, allowing him to lay it across your collarbone and clasp it in the back, not without some difficulty. “Why do they make these things so goddamn small?”

You laughed. “C’mon, Joe, you’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but this one seems even smaller than they normally are,” he muttered, focused on uniting the clasp and chain, which he eventually succeeded in doing. “Go look in the mirror, sweets, tell me what you think.”

You stood, re-entering the bathroom to admire the chain around your neck, the J pendant resting against your upper chest, identifying you as his.

“It’s beautiful, Joe, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it. It suits you. Now, dinner,” he started, as he began buttoning his shirt up. “Where will it be? We haven’t got much in the house.”

“What about that grab and go sushi place? We haven’t been there in a bit and god I feel like I could eat fifty pieces of tempura right now. And we just have to pick it up so we won’t have to worry about that fact that everywhere is full tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I cannot wait to wow the world in this dress for three entire minutes while we pick it up,” you said sarcastically.

“You’ll be wowing me for a lot longer than three minutes, sweet cheeks,” he said, giving your bum a pinch as he walked by to pull his suit jacket off of a hanger. It matched his dress pants, a gorgeous crimson satin.

“I should think so,” you shot back, giving him a look.

After you applied one last swipe of lip gloss and Joe was satisfied with how his hair was falling, you both put on your shoes before descending the stairs to the front door of your home. Joe held your hand, rather tightly, as you walked down the stairs, prompting you to give him a quizzical look. He was a gentleman, absolutely, but he knew you could walk down the stairs in your own house just fine. “Not letting go of you until you’re back on solid ground,” he said, eyeing your heels with a look of distrust.

You laughed, still smiling at his antics when he opened the passenger side door of his car for you, brushing a kiss to your knuckles with a joking, “M’lady.”

“Why thank you, Joe,” you replied, laughing.

He hopped into the driver’s side, starting up the car. He turned up the heat, as he always did when you were riding with him. He was prone to overheating, but you tended to be chilly, something he was always mindful of. He rested his warm palm on your thigh, bare where your dress had ridden up, absentmindedly stroking his thumb across your skin while singing along under his breath to the chorus of the song on the radio.

The night sky was clear, and a bright moon cast a soft glow on the road. It had rained earlier, leaving the pavement shining, reflecting the light.

After a short drive, Joe pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. Most of the shops were closed, their windows dark, but the sushi place was still open. Through the windows, you could see couples eating in the dimly lit dining area. Joe hopped out of the driver’s side to open your door for you, shrugging out of his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders when you shivered as the cold February night air blew over you.

While waiting in line to pay for the sushi you had chosen from the grab and go refrigerator, you admired a piece of artwork on the wall, eyeing the price tag, unaware that Joe was busy admiring you. He loved seeing you out in public in that gorgeous dress with his initial resting around your neck, his blazer draped over your shoulders, knowing he was the only one who would ever get to take you out and take you home.

He slid an arm around your waist, bending down to whisper, “This dress looks phenomenal on you, sweetheart, but I can’t wait to take it off.”

“Joe!” you exclaimed under your breath, your cheeks warming with a blush. “What if someone heard!”

“No one heard, lovely, don’t worry,” he soothed you. Joe paid for your sushi, tipping the servers generously. With your trays of sushi packed away in a brown paper bag that rested on your lap in the passenger seat, you began the brief drive home.

“Do we have any wine in the fridge?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Of course we do, sweetheart. One bottle of white and a bottle of bubbly, whatever you prefer.”

“Perfect.”

Once back at home, Joe directed you to sit on the couch in the living room, but you insisted on changing out of your dress first. “This wasn’t made for cuddling on the couch,” you said as you dashed upstairs with him right on your heels.

“Neither was this suit.”

You dressed in clothes more suitable for the cozy occasion, you in one of his large tees adorned with an illustration of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck (the man loved his cartoons) and a pair of flannel pajama pants, while he pulled on those ridiculous Seinfeld sweats. He pulled you in for a kiss, whispering, “No one else could make Looney Tunes and pjs look just as sexy as a black dress and heels.”

“I don’t think anyone else could pull off these Seinfeld sweats,” you whispered back, slipping two fingers into the waistband, brushing against his pelvic bone and pulling back, allowing the elastic to snap back into place before you turned and exited the room, leaving him hanging.

You headed downstairs into the living room while he disappeared into the kitchen. You fiddled absentmindedly with the new pendant around your neck while you awaited his return. He stepped into the living room, carrying a tray, upon which rested your sushi, neatly plated on a ceramic dish, alongside a bottle of bubbly. He grasped two champagne flutes in his free hand.

“Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Burrow’s Fine Dining, the most prestigious restaurant in Cincinnati. Your food,” he said, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch, where you sat curled up under a blanket, smiling like an idiot at his act. “Might I interest you in a glass of our house champagne?” he asked officially, displaying the bottle to you.

“You might,” you replied, laughing. He filled a flute, passing it to you delicately, clearly waiting for you to take a sip. You did, holding his gaze. “Fabulous. The best I’ve ever had. I also like the uniform here,” you said suggestively, eyes flicking between his bare chest and the blue sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Only the best for our customers,” he said with a wink. “Please let any of our staff know if you need anything else,” he said, turning as if about to walk away.

“Hey! Staff! Could you find a Mr. Joe Burrow for me? We’re meant to be on a date, but he still hasn’t showed.”

He spun back around, smiling, raising his arms. “Here he is!”

“You’re an idiot, Joe,” you said, most lovingly. “Come and sit, baby.”

He joined you on the couch, pouring his own flute of champagne. “Just wanted to show you we can have a perfect night even without that restaurant. The service at home is just as good,” he said, propping his legs on the coffee table as he leaned back, sipping his champagne.

You rested your head against his shoulder. “I think the service at home is even better,” you murmured. “Thank you, Joe.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

You ate your sushi together on the couch, losing your mind when Joe overestimated his tolerance for wasabi and ended up with tears running down his red cheeks as you just choked on your own laughter, passing him a tissue. The bottle of champagne steadily emptied alongside the platter of food, as Joe’s laughs became heartier, your giggles more forthcoming, both of your cheeks growing rosier.

Joe set his champagne flute on the coffee table, taking yours from your hand without explanation. “About that other orgasm,” he began, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your face towards his.

“Mmm?” you hummed.

“You gonna be a good girl and let me have it?” he asked, his pupils dilating with unfiltered lust.

Warmth pooled in your core, anticipation fluttering in your stomach as you nodded. “Whenever you want it.” You closed the distance between your lips, connecting them with a passionate, breathless kiss.

His hands guided your body to lay down on the couch, keeping his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth. You felt his hard cock on your leg through his sweatpants, and your hands went to his waistband, unsuccessfully trying to push it further down.

“What do you want, baby?” Joe asked teasingly, as if you hadn’t made it perfectly clear.

“Want these off,” you whimpered.

He shimmied his sweats and boxers down and off his legs as you lifted your hips to impatiently strip off your panties and pj pants, awkwardly wriggling on the couch, your sole focus getting it off and getting his warm body back on you. He helped you pull your his tee over your head, his practiced hands unclasping your bra and tossing it onto the carpet beside the couch, leaving you entirely bare beneath him.

His hands ran along your body, down your waist, over the curve of your hips, gripping the flesh of your ass while his head dipped down to take one of your hard nipples into his mouth. His tongue flicked against the sensitive bud as you arched up into him, whimpering his name, which somehow made him even harder. His lips popped off your nipple, giving it one flat lick before switching to the other, mumbling, “You’re fucking perfect, babygirl.” As he sucked your nipple, one of his hands found your core, groaning as he felt your soaked entrance.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you pulled his head from your chest back up to your face, desperately attaching your lips to his as you tried to grind up against his cock.

Breaking apart your needy, messy kiss, he asked, “You ready for me, baby?” Both of your lips were plump and red, glistening with each other’s saliva.

“Please, Joe,” you begged, aching for him, feeling wet beads of his precum on your thigh.

He spat into his palm before reaching between your bodies to give himself a couple firm strokes before he lined up with your weeping entrance. He began slipping his cock into you, grunting at the feel of your tight, wet heat wrapping so perfectly around him. You squirmed underneath him, adjusting around his size, filling and stretching you just right. “Relax for me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, slowly easing into you until he bottomed out. “Lemme know when you’re ready for me to move,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“‘M ready,” you mumbled.

He began thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses and sucking marks into the soft skin as he grunted with each thrust. “So tight for me, baby, so wet, fuck.”

Your hands scratched at his back, leaving red marks in their wake, as you let out breathy, open-mouthed moans. “Sound so pretty for me, baby,” he grunted. Using one hand, he lifted one of your legs up, bending your knee, allowing him to thrust deeper into you.

“Oh, Joe, fuck!” you cried out at the intensified sensations, his strokes hitting every spot inside of you perfectly in the new position. Ecstasy coursed through your veins, lighting your skin on fire, and when Joe started toying with your sensitized clit, you felt ready to explode, the force of your pleasure so strong it almost hurt. You whimpered in his ear, grinding your hips against his hand, and he sensed that you were close.

“Cum for me, baby, c’mon. Cum on my cock, my good girl, that’s it,” he said as he sensed your orgasm breaking. You cried out, your fucked out frame shuddering beneath him as your walls clenched down around him. He maintained the rhythmic pace of his movements, allowing you to ride out your high, stopping himself from chasing his own orgasm until he knows yours is complete.

When the tension of release leaves your body and you fall limp beneath him, your eyes drifting shut while you catch your breath, he speeds up his thrusts, his breath hot on your shoulder as he moans. His hips are snapping against yours, the vulgar sounds of your wet cunt filling the room as he fucks you hard and fast. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grunts. His body stills above you as you feel the warmth of his release fill you, his teeth gently grazing your shoulder as the force of his pleasure washes over him.

He let more of his weight fall on you as he caught his breath, his sturdy body against yours while he was still buried deep within you the best feeling. “God, that was so good, Joe,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple, his head still hidden in your shoulder.

“You’re incredible, baby. So damn good for me, everytime,” he said softly. He shifted onto his elbows, pressing a peck to your lips. “So lucky to have you, my beautiful girl.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, my pretty boy,” you echoed, as you brushed a stray curl from his forehead, fingers grazing his jawline. Your yawn interrupted the moment, as your hands went to cover your face.

“Time to head upstairs?” Joe asked, smiling.

“Mhm, I want to be in bed but I don’t want to move,” you grumbled, holding him against your chest with arms wrapped firmly around him. “One more minute here.”

After a few more minutes of just resting in each other’s embrace, exchanging giggly kisses and soft praises, he slowly pulled out of you. He stood, tugging his sweats on, leaving you bare on the couch. You grabbed a blanket to cover yourself, the room suddenly chilly without him on top of you.

“Be right back,” he said, picking up the dirty dishes from the table and heading to the kitchen, where he deposited them in the sink. He’d do them in the morning - they could wait while he spent time loving his girl.

He returned to the living room, where he bent down to tuck the blanket more tightly around you, before gathering you, blanket and all, against his chest, easily supported by his strong arms.

“Thank you,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling your head into his chest. With you in his arms, he did his nightly rounds of the downstairs floor, flicking off light switches and double checking the doors were locked, before heading upstairs, nudging the door of your bedroom open with his foot.

He laid you gently on the bed, heading over to open up your closet door. He grabbed himself a fresh pair of boxers and one of his long sleeve tees for you. He changed before helping you stand up, sliding the shirt over your head.

“I’m so tired,” you said, yawning as you walked into your ensuite on shaky, post-orgasm legs.

His hand came to your lower back to steady you. “We’ll have you cozy in bed soon, sweet girl.”

After using the bathroom, brushing your teeth, and taking off your makeup, you crawled gratefully into bed, immediately rolling over towards Joe’s side where you could snuggle into his inviting warmth. He slipped under the covers beside you, flicking off the bedside lamp and wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you for everything today, Joe. You're the best Valentine ever. I love you so much," you murmured in sleepy contentment.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Is it too early to ask you to be my Valentine again next year?" he asked quietly.

"I'll be your Valentine next year and every year after that, forever."

"Good. I'd never want anyone else."

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