Here I come with a Jude angst to fluff request: He gets hurt during training (not badly, but it's also not clear if he can play the next game) and then he snaps at reader as she tries to comfort him? With a happy end though please 🙏🏻
It's Okay To Not Be Okay — Jude Bellingham
⋆˙⟡ featuring⋆˙⟡ ― jude bellingham x gf!reader
꒰ contents ꒱ angst, jude being an ass for a bit, fluff.
⋆˙⟡ author's note⋆˙⟡ ― wrote this after watching three "jude bellingham funny moments" tiktoks.
The front door slammed hard enough to make the picture frames of you and Jude shake.
You looked up from the cutting board where you were chopping vegetables just as Jude walked past, barely acknowledging you. He dropped his training bag onto the floor with enough force to make you flinch, tossed his keys after it, and disappeared upstairs without saying a word.
Your eyes immediately caught the tape wrapped tightly around his ankle, and your heart sank.
The physio had told him it wasn't a serious injury, but no one would know whether he'd be available for the weekend until after tomorrow's scan.
Waiting was what he hated most.
You made your way upstairs to your shared bedroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his training kit. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Without saying a word, you softly placed the ice pack beside him.
"I don't want it." His voice was flat. "You should keep the swelling down," you said softly. "I said I don't want it."
You knelt anyway, reaching for the ice pack as you carefully took hold of his foot.
"Can you just stop?" You looked up at him. "I'm only trying to help."
"I don't need your help." He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Everyone's trying to help."
You stayed quiet, listening to him carefully.
"The physios. The coaches. Everyone kept asking what it felt like when it happened and after I left the physios." He shook his head. "I'm fucking tired of talking about it."
"You don't have to talk." You sat down beside him on the bed.
"I don't want anyone looking after me."
"I'm not looking after you." You sighed.
"No?"
"Then what are you doing?" His gaze finally met yours.
"Worrying about my boyfriend who got hurt?"
Your answer seemed to break something inside him. He stood abruptly, completely ignoring the sharp pain in his ankle.
"I don't need people worrying about me!"
"You don't get to decide whether I worry."
"I said I was fine!"
"You don't know that yet!"
He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and disbelief, as though you could never possibly understand what was happening inside his head.
"You don't understand." His voice was rough, laced with frustration. "Then help me understand." You held his gaze.
You watched his jaw tighten. You saw the battle behind his eyes—the urge to tell you everything warring with the instinct to shut you out. In the end, frustration won.
"I don't need your pity." He laughed bitterly and shook his head.
"It isn't pity, Jude. It's love."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Jude was the first to look away.
"I just need you to leave me alone."
The words hit you like a door slammed in your face. A lump rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let the tears fall. There was nothing left to say.
"Okay," you mumbled.
You picked up the untouched ice pack from the bed and left the room without sparing him a glance, slamming the bedroom door shut behind you.
The house fell into an uneasy silence.
From downstairs, you could hear him pacing upstairs. His footsteps crossed the bedroom floor overhead before abruptly stopping. Minutes later, they started again—restless, aimless—only to fade into silence once more.
It went on like that for nearly half an hour.
You stayed in the kitchen, cleaning and rearranging the flower vases, giving him exactly what he'd asked for—even though every instinct urged you to go upstairs and check on your injured boyfriend.
Eventually, the footsteps grew closer.
He appeared in the kitchen doorway looking nothing like the man who had sent you away. The anger was gone, replaced by exhaustion and quiet regret. His eyes were tired, and his shoulders slumped beneath a weight that had nothing to do with the injury in his ankle, but everything to do with the way he'd treated you.
He stopped in front of you as you arranged more flowers.
"I'm sorry."
You looked up at him but stayed silent, letting him continue.
His apology came slowly. He admitted he never should have spoken to you that way, that he hadn't really been angry with you—he'd been frustrated.
You already knew. You just needed to hear him say it.
He drew a shaky breath before finally admitting what he'd been fighting to say ever since he'd come home.
He'd been terrified.
His eyes glistened before he could hide it. All afternoon, he'd been trapped inside his own mind, spiraling through endless what ifs. What if he couldn't play this weekend? What if the injury was worse than anyone realized?
A bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of any humor.
You crossed the room without hesitation.
"You don't have to pretend with me, you know this."
"I know, I know."
"You don't have to be the strong one all the time. You're allowed to not be okay" He sighed. "I don't know how not to be." You smiled at him. "You can learn."
He stared at you for a moment before speaking again.
"I'm scared."
It was the first completely honest thing he'd said since walking through the front door—or, more accurately, since he’d slammed it shut.
You reached up and cupped his face, your thumb brushing away the tear he hadn't even noticed slipping down his cheek.
"I know, and that's okay." Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "And I'm still here."
He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you. The hug was desperate, almost as if he needed to make sure you weren't going to leave.
"I'm so sorry," he said against your shoulder.
You held him just as tightly, your hand rubbing slow circles across his back.
"I know, baby."
Neither of you moved for a long while, both content to stay wrapped in each other's arms. Eventually, you leaned back just enough to study his face. Some of the tension had faded from his features, replaced by quiet embarrassment.
A teasing smile tugged at your lips.
"So..." He sighed dramatically before you had even finished. "You're going to make me ice it, aren't you?"
"Duh."
He laughed.
"There you are." He frowned. "What?" You pointed at him. "My stubborn footballer." You smiled.
Another soft chuckle escaped him as you guided him back to the sofa. You carefully settled the ice pack over his swollen ankle, making sure he was comfortable before sitting beside him.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.
"Thank you for worrying about me," he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. "Always." You ran your fingers through his hair and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
I hate how every tiktok mj fan is a prude sorry like u can’t even utter the word sex on that app without them trying to cancel u jesus Christ YEAH I WANNA FUCK MICHAEL AND WHAT ABOUT IT DAMN OMG
cw/tw: fluff blurb, history! era, wife! reader, no use of y/n, michael can always find you in a crowd, public displays of affection
you initially hadn’t been able to make it tonight, feeling horrible when you told michael you were scheduled to be on set. as always, he was understanding to a fault, telling you it was fine as his fingers gently squeezed your own. lips pressing an even kiss to your mouth but you knew him well enough— the fault lines that made up his composure shifting slightly in disappointment at the fact you wouldn’t be there when he accepted his award.
but the universe decided to be kind to you, an electrical issue rendering the shoot useless. not a moment after the evening was canceled, you booked a cab to stop by the hotel for a quick change before heading to the venue.
you were leaned against the wall at the back of the ballroom, mostly hidden in shadow and light caught on the diamond that was sitting heavily on your finger as you brought a flute of champagne to your lips. smiling warmly as michael was called up to the stage to accept his award.
there was something nice about not being perceived. almost as though it was your own little secret as you watched him, given he had no idea you were there. his smile bright as the stage lights bathed him in a glow, his cadence even as he gave his speech and cracked a joke that made everyone laugh. your heart warming when he mentioned you as he went down a list of people in his life he was grateful for.
your hand froze as you went to take another sip of champagne when he blew a kiss in your direction, wondering if it was simply in your head because there was no way in hell he could’ve spotted you through the dense crowd.
applause erupted in the room as he stepped off the stage, one hand holding his award as the other waved at people as he weaved through the masses and tables.
your lips parting in surprise when you realized he was in fact making his way directly towards you.
“what…” your sentence broke off in a soundless laugh as he came to a stop just before you, his smile warm as he leaned down, lips capturing yours.
“hey, baby.” michael muttered, his low voice dancing around you.
he kissed you a few more times, barely letting you string a thought together and you placed a hand on his chest to halt him— not that you wanted to, but your mind was spinning.
“michael, how on earth did you see me?”
he tilted his head at you like it was the most obvious thing on the planet.
— smut, overstim, fingering, michael is an eater, pet names (mama, baby).
synopsis: michael noticed how tired you were and wanted to relieve your stress.
a/n — just a short drabble of something i thought about, enjoy
— last night, you came home later than usual. your heels slipped off by the front door before you wandered into the kitchen, turning on the faucet to wash your hands.
the warm water did little to ease the ache in your shoulders. you were so tired, you didn’t even notice michael leaning against the doorway, watching you with the smallest smile.
“long day?” he asked. you let out a tired laugh, drying your hands on a towel. “you have no idea.” he crossed the room without another word, his hands settling gently on your waist as he stood behind you.
“then let me take care of you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low enough to make the house feel impossibly quiet.
— that was exactly how you ended up with your back arched off the mattress, michael licking your folds at a swift pace. “m-michael, i can’t.” you cried out.
michael’s tongue never let up, dragging through your soaked folds in wet strokes before zeroing back on your swollen clit. he sucked it between his lips, the sound mixing with your broken whimpers.
his two thick fingers stayed buried inside you, pumping slow and deep, curling against that spot that made your body jerk. “i- i can’t take it, too much.” your voice cracked as another wave hit, your thighs trembling around his head.
your hips tried to twist away from the intensity, but his grip tightened, keeping you pinned open. he hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through you. his fingers pushed deeper, stretching you while his tongue flicked relentlessly.
your walls fluttered around him, clenching hard as another orgasm ripped through you. it was your third, maybe fourth, you couldn’t tell anymore. “that’s it, mama,” lips slick and shiny as he glanced up at you.
“let it happen. i got you.” your back arched further off the ned, a broken cry tearing from your throat as he kept going, licking and sucking through every aftershock. his fingers never slowed, dragging with each thrust.
his mouth stayed stayed locked on your overstimulated bud. your legs shaking uncontrollably, toes curling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it felt.
michael just squeezed your hand, holding you through it, refusing to let you come down until he decided you were done. you were panting breathlessly, your body still trembling.
“you did so good f’me.” he murmured, kissing the inside of your thighs. “michael?” you murmured, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through his curls. he looked up at you, his expression soft. “yeah, baby?”
you smiled and opened your arms a little more. he let out the quietest laugh before curling into your embrace, wrapping an arm around your waist like he’d always belonged there.
If you date thriller michael expect him to have a curfew for you. When you walked through the door minutes late he’d be silent, arms crossed with a slight pout on his face. He ran a very strict program about his girl..
∘⡊ - OTW!Michael who is secretly a freak. Walk with me. (PLEASE tell me if you see the vision).
You move onto his street and when he sees you outside sweating in a pair of very short shorts, and a crop top he almost loses it. All he can picture is the way you'd look gagging on his cock . He practically skips over to your house and introduces himself. He asks if you need help with the myriad of boxes. You agree thanking him for being so kind. Michael knows how he comes off, all innocent and naive. He uses that to his full advantage.
It starts with a hand on your waist, a firm but gentle grip that leaves you hot. Then he'd ask you why it was that you'd moved out to Encino, without breaking eye contact. Michael's eyes bore into your own, and make you nervous. At one point or another, he'll ask why you man didn't help you today, and when you tell him you don't have one, a Cheshire grin will breakout on his face.
sub!cowboy michael who likes the thrill of public sex on your farm after attending to your animals. the soft flesh of your thighs under his warm palm as his head falls back on the oak shed walls in ecstasy. “jus’ like that mike—doin’ so good f’me baby.” your voice huffed out in a muttered moan as michael whimpers at how tight you circled around him, never wanting to let go.
sub!cowboy michael who helps you on your farm whenever you’re tired. “michael you shouldn’t—“ he shakes his head cutting you off before wrapping the brown rope around his calloused hands. “i got your horses for the day lemme take care of you.” before kissing you quickly and running off to attend your animals, watching him with a warm smile on your lips at the cuteness showcasing off of him.
sub!cowboy michael who drives himself insane seeing you in your bra and shorts in your barn early morning, prepping for the day from his farmhouse. the sight of your perky breasts on display as your hair is in a bundle of curls, making him palm his growing bulge from afar and cursing small profanities under his breath.
sub!cowboy michael who lets you cockwarm him while sitting out front of your farm. the feeling of his cock growing more in you as he whimpers feeling you bounce a lil over him tauntingly while picking small flowers off the ground. “mama please i can’t—“ “jus’ a lil longer baby. don’t wanna scare the neighbors outside.” while he continues to shut his eyes and focus on not coming continuously in you—once again.
sub!cowboy michael who loves to grip on your hair while fucking you from behind, making sure the dim farmhouse lights, showcase up and over your glowing complexion. “bounce jus’ like that baby.” your moans echoing through the farmhouse with the small sounds of your animals outside making noise. “fuck you’re creaming all over me— that’s my pretty girl.” while continuing to use your pussy and gripping your hair like the ropes around his horse. hard, tight, and desperate.
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
stormborns
amandla
tangentwithtanner
titsay
