The Sexual Tension Between Me And Writing A 40+ Word Sentence And Then Ignoring Grammarly’s Suggestion

I have something in the worksssss! It’s a Michael bluth x babysitter typa deal (I know this plot is really common for dilfs but hear me out). It’s definitely a bit saucier than my last fic. Also, I no longer feel weird about writing spicy stuff on my computer—it definitely felt incriminating there for a hot minute 😂

girlhood is staying up late to read the top posts in an x reader tag

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?”

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You feel him getting hard from inside his pants as your nails drag along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

it is absolutely essential to have friends you can have extremely insane pervert conversations with. this is kind of what makes life worth living

started arrested development and i would kill this guy with hammers. such a sweet princess

These always hit smmmmm

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

Doing the lord’s work 🫡🫡🫡

On all levels except physical, I am a whore.

“There’s a party in your pants…and no one is invited,” so they say. Little do they know I’ve been on Prozac since I was 14 so there’s no party—just a funeral and nobody’s there except for the dead guy.

I need to be fücking spayed