Cop!steve X Reader Smut - Blog Posts
Cop!Steve Headcannons (NSFW Included)
Notes: a small gift for @rollergirlworld and her love for Cop!Steve, and our brief conversations of how he’d react in a relationship. I love him and enjoy.
Steve is not just a cop, but a Lieutenant, a high ranking officer of the law and just a step below a chief. Still this man craves power and when his lower ranking coworkers attempt to try their power over his things get nasty. He likes to talk with his fists and not his mouth. Occasionally he’ll be suspended from cases due to this issue, leading him to be stuck on desk duty, which then makes him a bit grumpy, but you will always make him feel better. He’ll walk through the door and instantly the smell of freshly prepared meals will greet his nose along with you, “Steve, your home.” You scamper over to him and throw yourself into his arms, he’ll wrap his own around your waist. Carding his rough fingers through your scalp and pressing kisses repeatedly to your temple. “Oh, baby.” He sighs resting his cheek atop your head. “I missed you.”
On nights he does spend working a rough case he comes home and spends times in your arms whilst you comfort him. Steve may have a tough outside, but inside he’s caring, and that goes for the people he wasn’t able to help. He thinks there’s something wrong with him, “You did everything you could, Honey.” You whisper between kisses to his forehead. “It’s gonna be okay. Your so strong and brave, you just gotta breathe.” He’ll cry for hours and sometimes until he falls asleep.
There are days where you and Steve spend time relaxing in bed, watching T.V. or laughing over a couple glasses of champagne. These were the gentle nights that made you really appreciate Steve, besides the good he manages to do in his line of work. The two of you share many nights of passion equal to the nights spent in sadness. Life has a healthy balance.
Steve spends a lot of time creating a set of rules for you to follow, as his wife, who is allowed to stay home, be work free, and hardly lift a finger he has high expectations. The house needs to be cleaned, clothes clean and folded, food prepared, but sometimes you forget things. Those nights Steve will come home already grumpy from a long day and find no dinner on the table, “You didn’t cook.”
You look up from the book your currently reading and gulp, “N-No.. I wasn’t feeling good, Stevie.” He grunts nodding his head and tossing aside his briefcase and removing his coat. He walks over towards the coach ditching his coat over the back of the small leather loveseat.
“You weren’t feeling good, huh?” His tone was gruff and a bit edged. You’d made him mad, “I work all day and sometimes night and you couldn’t make dinner before I got home?”
“I’m sorry, Stevie. I-I was—”
“Was nothing, you get up right now and get in that kitchen. You have thirty minutes to come up with something, go.” He locked eyes with you and he watches as you scamper quickly into the kitchen.
If you refused to do so at this point, you’d end up over his knee receiving a spanking for such bratty behavior and then to service him in any way he saw fit. Whether that be cockwarming him all night and no release, word sucking him off until he felt he’d been relieved enough. Either way you’d be ruined by him and only him.
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.