Cop!steve - Blog Posts
Update on the Cop!Steve x Reader. I might be able to edit and post it tonight! So look forward to that!
Lockeroom | Cop!Steve x Fem!Reader |
Notes: This is a gift for my bestie @rollergirlworld , happy birthday to Steve’s wife! We both love a sweaty and dom, Steve. I wanted to try and do something new plot wise and environmentally unique, plus I know this will really be fun to write. So rollergirl and others please enjoy.
“Go, Steve!” You clap your palms together cheering loudly with the other wives and their partners, but Steve, he was all yours. Admits the mess of bodies you find his hazel eyes, cramped by strands of his damp chestnut locks. You were his little cheerleader and he fed off it.
He sends a wink your way and returns his full focus back to the game, white sneakers screeching against the court as the team works to get the ball. Occasionally him and some of the other officers got together to play a few rounds of ball and would somehow convince you to tag along. However, it didn’t take much convincing when his head was between your thighs, plus the sight of him like this was enticing.
The way his muscles tensed beneath the grey fabric of his tee drove you something akin to horny. A need was deeply present in between your legs. Reminiscent of the earlier events of the day. “Steve is something isn’t he?” Martha breathes — the wife to the chief — eyes him up. A tinge of jealous coils within your gut and you huff.
“Sure is, Martha.” You reply, shifting in your spot on the bleachers. She was a nosy twit and always had it out for your fiancé because Henry couldn’t put it out. She scoffs and turns her nose upward, turning her gaze away from you. Steve was simply all yours and it taken time to get where you were now. Hours went by until the game was called and the guys rushed to the showers. One by one the other men went, followed by their wives chasing them out the door, until you were alone.
No sign of your Steve. Odd. You gathered your things and rushed into the locker room calling out for your partner, “Stevie?” You push the door upon with your hip, shoving the handle down and entering the large back room. Another call out for his name is met with a small grunt and you rush around the corner towards the lockers, heels clacking noisily against linoleum tiles. Steve was seated on one of the benches, still clad in his gym shorts, his shirt discarded and a towel slung loosely over his shoulder.
Your shoulders slump in relief, “There you are. I thought maybe you died back here.” There was a lightheartedness to the tone, but Steve didn’t respond. You slowly lower down to your knees before him palms splaying out over his cheeks, “Stevie?”
He snaps out of his daze and his hazel eyes meet with yours, “I heard from Chief White, you had a little spat with his wife. Care to explain your attitude?”
Your aghast and a little embarrassed. She was always such a tattle and a bit prudish, “She was making comments and staring you down, Steve. I didn’t like it.”
“But I’ve warned you about that attitude, baby. Many times.” His eyes are focused on you now, jaw hardened beneath your hands. Calloused fingers brush over your own hands and push them down and away. “I think you need to learn a lesson.” He pats his thigh and your throat grow drys, gulping down your fear and standing back to your full height.
Awkwardly shifting on your feet, before sinking stomach down over his lap, hands gripping onto his forearm. His other hand helps steady your bottom, heels providing an extra support, but not comfortably. “Count every single one. We’ll start with ten, then see how well your bruised ass helps get that attitude in check.” He works your skirt up over your ass and admires the choice of undergarments.
You knew what was coming next and it thrilled you to no end, but at the same time it would be painful.
They always said that love hurts, and knows no bounds.