Steve realizing his gf is stressed and forcing her to take a mid day break and she's just like babe I'm not in the mood and he's like ok let's take a break for 5 min a mere 5 min like u can def afford that and she's like fine and she sets a timer but by the time the 5 min r up Steve is already eating her out and he's like the timer is up and she's so into in and forgotten that she's like the what?? And Steve just chuckles smugly and goes back down
bro.... did u send this cos u know i've been stressed with grad school??? either way YUM i ate it tf up this was delicious thank you for gracing my inbox with it <3 fem!reader, 1.2k, MDNI this entire blog is 18+
As Steve sets his watch, your thoughts drift to the assignment sitting on your desk, due by the end of the week.
You really shouldn't be taking a break — you're not sure you can actually afford to. Well, your stress certainly makes it feel that way.
But Steve had badgered you lovingly with his wandering hands around your waist, fingers skirting beneath your shirt, and his hot kiss mouthing softly against your neck.
You probably shouldn't be taking a break but also, you're only human. Steve knows just how to press your buttons.
"I've set the timer," Steve murmurs, his voice somewhere behind you on the bed. His big hands smooth up your calves, pressing in his adoring intent. You can't see the heavy-lidded gaze he has, betraying a different intent. "Five minutes, okay?
"Okay," You agree tiredly, voice muffled into the pillow of your bed. "Work your magic, babe."
You're laying on your front, face pressed into pillow, your arms caged around your head. You're well and truly enjoying a moment to rest your eyes and you're betting it'll only get better when Steve starts his massage.
I mean, that's what you expect he meant when he begged you to let him 'help you relax' for five minutes.
Steve makes a little amused noise from behind you, fully intending on working a certain kind of magic.
His hands continue their slow peruse, his fingers spread wide and exploring the expanse of your thighs as they continue to slide up. He presses and soothes the muscles, getting you more relaxed with each touch. You huff a little sigh into the pillow, eyes sliding closed, and your body grows more pliant.
His hands keep moving up, up, up, until the fabric of your skirt is getting bunched up beneath them. Something nervous rises in your chest at the sudden new display of skin. Still, you don't move, almost eager to see what he does next.
Your face is still hidden away in the pillow when his hands begin to knead the skin where your thigh meets your ass. A soft, pleased noise wiggles loose in your chest.
Then—a ghost of a touch pulls a sudden small gasp from your lungs. A finger drags down the centre of your panties, just the slightest pressure.
"Yeah?" Steve probes gently, his voice low and raspy. The weight of his finger remains but he doesn't move it, waiting for your answer.
You're in two minds about it for only a split-second before your hair scrunches up as you nod your head against the pillow. The finger moves again, drawing down to trace over your clit lightly. Your face simmers with heat, even if you've done much nastier things with Steve before.
"Good girl," Steve praises. "Letting herself relax,"
His words sink into you, sweet as honey and warm as a sunbeam. Something twists low in your stomach and you have to resist the urge to readjust your thighs. If your face was simmering before, it's burning now.
Steve's hands move with a precision of well-known love. He knows what you like and he knows exactly how to get you riled up.
"Been working so hard, baby," He murmurs. "Know you have."
He continues his absentminded massage, hands rubbing and kneading the flesh of your ass. One finger always remains pressed against your core, petting against your slowly dampening panties in a way that makes you want to quiver. You bury your stuttering breaths into the pillow beneath you.
"Y'stop taking care of yourself, don't you?" You can barely focus on the questions as they drift out of Steve's mouth. Your eyes are closed again but this time in that growing lull of pleasure that's building up within you. "That's why I'm here though, isn't it? To help my girl relax,"
The damp spot on your panties grows under Steve's masterful strokes and soon, it's wet and sticky. You can't help but wonder if they're translucent but now—fuck, what pair are you even wearing? The thought melts away as Steve's skillful thumb finds your clit and draws a perfect circle around it, teasing you in just the way you like.
"Feelin' more relaxed?" Steve asks. You can't tell if you're imagining the smug tone in his voice but either way, he's a bastard for touching your clit and asking you a question at the same time.
You open your mouth to give an answer and let out a pitiful moan instead.
Glorious heat flames your face but you can't help how it fuels your mounting lust. He's driving you insane with these little touches.
"Good girl," Steve coos, as if your moan is the perfect answer to his question. You make another pathetic noise in response, feeling your hips rock back, desperate for a little more friction.
A disappointed whine creeps out when the touch is suddenly gone and Steve chuckles at the sound of it. "Won't be long, honey. Can you prop these up for me please?"
His hands have shifted, spread across to hold your hips lightly. You kick your legs up without question, enough to move them up, elevating your hips off the bed just barely.
Steve still gives you as praising noise, running his hands down your ass reverently. "That's it, baby. Doin' so good for me, aren't you?"
You're beyond words at this point so you answer him with another pitiful whimper. It's heaven to Steve's ears.
You hear the comforter on the bed rustle as Steve readjusts behind you and get all of a few seconds to wonder what before the heat of his breath ghosts along your inner thigh. Your tummy twists up in anticipation and you clench without thinking.
Steve chuckles again, his hands landing delicately on your either side of your hips once more.
He moves to grip a cheek in each hand and a lust-tinged embarrassment burns your face as he spreads you, your sopping cunt on display, shielded only by your soaked panties. A soft groan of appreciation pulls from his throat without permission.
"God, look at you," He murmurs.
One of his thumbs dips in, pressing beneath the elastic of your panties and moving to pull them to the side. A string of slick sticks to them and Steve groans again as he watching, this time louder. "Fuck, baby, you're soaked. Look at you, practically cryin' for it, aren't you?"
You whimper into the pillow, breath held as you wait in agony for Steve to do anything.
Faintly behind you, there's a small beep of a watch. Steve makes a disgruntled noise and shuffles for a moment, til the beeping stops.
"Five minutes, honey." He says, that almost smug tone to his words once more.
The words reach your ears but mean almost nothing to you. You have to resist the urge to arch your back and whine for him to keep going. But Steve won't have said that for nothing.
"W-What?" You manage to say, the word muffled into the pillow.
"Never mind, baby," He says, words dripping in a smugness that only drives up your body temperature. Your nipples peak in response and you feel your cunt aching for some touch. Steve obliges almost instantly, his thumb tracing down your folds. "Don’t worry bout it. You just sit there and take it like a good girl."
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