#Jim hopper fanfic

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Includes mentions of alcohol, reader has some insecurities surrounding her body, oral (f receiving) vaginal sex, lots of romance.

Summer was over, and you couldn’t have been more pleased. Unseasonably warm temperatures had made the past few months in Hawkins feel miserable, unless you were indoors with air conditioning. You’d made good use of the portable fans Hopper had placed around the cabin, particularly the small one at your bedside. This morning was the first day you hadn’t had to use it in awhile. Waking up without a layer of sweat on your body and the sheets had felt like an unexpected luxury. Now, you were walking through the forest beside Hopper, enjoying the first cool day in weeks, looking for a nice spot to set down your picnic supplies and have some lunch.

Hopper paused for a moment just ahead of a clearing. Thin streams of sunlight cascaded through the leaves above you both, creating a cozy atmosphere. “This looks like the spot,” Hopper grinned down at you. He sat the picnic basket on ground, the cold beers inside clinking. You unrolled the blanket together and made yourselves comfortable, you sitting cross-legged with a sandwich in hand, and Hopper stretched out on his side, propping himself up on one of his elbows as he ate and drank a few of the beers.

Hopper’s tolerance for alcohol was pretty damn high and usually, he would barely be feeling its effects only three beers in. But today, Hopper found himself being persuaded to act on his carnal instincts…by both the encouragement of his beer and the scooped neckline of your dress, the way your tits looked so damn soft peeking out over the fabric. The dress was probably a size too small, fit you just a little too snug; but that’s exactly the way Hopper wanted it. He hated when you covered yourself up in baggy clothes, hiding your shape away under layers of fabric and shame. Hopper respected your choices, of course, knowing of your struggles with self acceptance and with viewing your body in a positive light. He always encouraged you to see yourself the way he saw you-as a literal goddess he considered himself unworthy to call his own-but understood that the negative messages you’d received your whole life about your body, and women’s bodies in general, could take a long time to unlearn. In the meantime, Hopper would remind you of your perfection, and happily look forward to the day when you could love yourself the way he already did.

His eyes were lingering on your chest, and you’d definitely begun to notice. “Is there something on my chest?” you asked, playing dumb. You dipped your head to inspect yourself, pretending to look for crumbs. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, a little smirk turning his lips in response to your question. “Nothin’ yet,” he replied with a husky drawl, a light sheen of sweat glistening his forehead. “Could change that, if you want…”

Hopper shifted closer, extending his hand to stroke your arm. “All this cool, fresh air,” he murmured. “S’got me feeling things…” You pursed your lips, glancing over at the three empty beers. “Are you sure it’s only the air?” you teased, and Hopper shook his head at you, grinning. “Smart ass,” he muttered, tugging you closer. He loomed over you, swallowing your body up under his like a bear and its prey. You giggled as he nestled his face in the plush center of your breasts, peppering kisses across your cleavage. Things took a turn quickly when you felt Hopper’s cock stiffening against your inner thigh. Your body responded immediately, a fluttering pulse between your legs expressing your need as well. Hopper waited to make sure you had no objections to his going further. When you nodded softly and curved yourself into the outline of his cock through his jeans, Hopper had all the answer he needed.

He parted his lips over one of your breasts, gently sucking at the fat blooming over the neckline of your dress. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and tugged it downward, your breasts spilling out of your dress and into Hopper’s hands and mouth. He groped and sucked at the soft, plump flesh he adored, his teeth skimming your nipple just lightly enough to make you shiver, your back arching to force your tit between his lips. Hopper closed his lips around your nipple, pulling rhythmically at the peaked, tender bud, flicking the tip of his tongue across its center and making you whine.

His cock throbbed against your pussy, pressed against the now-soaked fabric of your cotton panties. Hopper rutted himself lazily into the puffy outline of your cunt, swollen and slippery as he massaged himself against your lips. Hopper released your breast with a low growl at the back of his throat, his broad chest rumbling against your body where they were pressed together, inseparable. You curved your hips upward to meet his thrusts, silently begging Hopper to fuck you. Your cunt was weeping against the thick bulge of his erection through his jeans, your panties soaked to transparency where your bodies were joined. Hopper reached a hand between your legs to feel the slippery texture of what he could already smell, your cum slicking his fingers as another low growl rumbled animalistic and carnal from his chest.

Hopper left your breast and moved down your body, forcing the fabric of your dress up your thighs and out of his way. He swiped his tongue across the sopping crotch of your panties, your hips bucking in response, a whimper escaping your lips as he sank his mouth over your clothed, puffy clit, and began to suck.

Your head pressed back against the picnic blanket, leaves crunching underneath your body as you twisted and rut against Hopper’s mouth. His fingers sank into the soft meat of your hips, kneading the plump flesh that bulged from the sides of your panties. Hopper toyed with your clit deliciously, alternating between flicking the sensitive bead with his tongue and tugging it persistently between his lips with a pressure that had your thighs clamping down around his head as you lost control of your body. Hopper held your waist down, forcing you to stay in place for him as your climax rippled through your body and sent you tumbling into ecstasy. Waves of pleasure lifted you higher and higher, swooping you down and right back up again as Hopper’s mouth locked in place against your clit. When you finished crying and shaking, Hopper climbed back up your body, his slick lips finding yours in a warm, tender kiss. He gently stroked back the hair that had fallen over your forehead in your exertion. “I love you baby,” Hopper whispered, his breath scented of you. “I love you so fuckin’ much…”

He rose to his knees, kneeling over you, his big hands working his belt undone. Your eyes wandered dreamily over this big, beautiful man, a man who was all yours and simultaneously surely too much for any one woman to handle; and yet, he belonged to you alone. Hopper loosened the zipper on his jeans, a damp patch of his precum and your arousal darkening the denim. He wrapped his hand around his cock with a groan, lowering his hips back into position between your legs. With his other hand, Hopper hooked a finger beneath the glossy crotch of your panties, and pulled it aside. He pulled the tip of his cock between your folds, his chest dipping in awe at the beautiful, slick sounds your pussy made, bathing the head of his cock in the sweet syrup of your cunt, knowing you made it just for him. Hopper poised himself at your entrance, his arms coming to rest around your shoulders. With his eyes fixed on yours, Hopper eased his hips forward. Your tight, sopping hole accepted Hopper’s fat cock with a loud, wanton squelch, a groan leaving both your lips and his at the pressure of him filling you, the grip of your perfect cunt sucking him in, begging him, deeper. Hopper obliged your need, catered to the desire inside you that raged as wild and as untamed as his own. His hands clawed marks in the dirt, fistfuls of leaves clutched in his grip as he lost himself in yours, burrowing deep in the warm bed of your sex. The tears of pleasure running down your cheeks reflected the gold in the leaves overhead. Hopper pressed his lips to your wet, burning skin, stealing away each of the golden teardrops in a kiss.

He fucked you hard and soft in thick, heavy thrusts, grinding your back into the blanket and the leaves beneath it flat. When Hopper came, he shouted, a desperate and carnal groan of release that only the other animals around you were witness to. His cock emptied hot and thick against your cervix. The contractions of a second orgasm gripped Hopper’s cock in rhythmic spasms, draining every last drop of cum from his heavy, satisfied cock.

You wiped away the last of the tears painting your face, as Hopper pulled you into his arms to hold you. The thundering beat of his heart against your cheek was deep and steady like the sound of horses’ hooves galloping across a field. You held onto that image as Hopper held onto you, gently drifting to sleep inside his arms… 🍂

@sarge-barnes-sir @mrshopper84 @umnitsa @frickatives @munchkin1923 @maladptivedaydreaming @her-fandom-sanctum @stvolanis

[luveline]

need need NEED more hop x reader w el they are the CUTEST

“So she’s coming?” El asks. 

Hopper pushes a glass of orange juice in her direction. “Mm-hm.” 

“And she wants to see me.” 

“Yeah, kid, she wants to see you.” 

Eleven’s hair curls just under her ears. Hopper hadn’t suspected her hair would be curly once it began to grow, but it waves gently, and tighter the longer it becomes. He doesn’t know how to take care of it. He only just taught her how to use shampoo and conditioner without leaving all the suds in. 

She scratches it. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” He ruffles her hair. “Eat your breakfast. You can get changed when you’re done. You need me to help you find something?” 

“No. I like choosing.” 

Hopper knows. She isn’t good at matching yet, but she’ll get there. 

She eats her breakfast too quickly, doesn’t drink her juice, and doesn’t put her plate in the sink before she goes, but Hopper doesn’t bother getting mad. He’s trying to be less moody. He’s also trying to be understanding; she’s learning to be a normal kid. Most normal kids are slobs. 

“Can we have dessert?” El shouts from her room. 

“You can have a snack later.” 

“Please?” 

“You can have some chips once you get dressed. Are you still hungry, or–?” 

“Snacks,” she says, turning on her radio. 

Hopper nods, laughing to himself when there’s a knock at the door. He’s been waiting to see you all weekend, and he walks to the door with a terrible smugness about him to let you in. 

“Hello,” he says, wedging the creaky frame open with his shoe. 

“Hi, handsome.” You look up into his eyes, fresh-faced like you’ve had a good scrub and dressed for a day in the house in cuffless sweatpants and a hoodie he thinks might be his. “Wow, nice shirt, hotshot. What is that? The Hawkins Police Department fun run of eighty two? That’s vintage.” 

He leans down to kiss you hello. 

“Oh, hi,” you flirt. 

You’re confident when you know you’re loved, he’s found. Still the homespun woman he knew you to be, but affectionate once you’re comfortable. He smiles into your mouth and pulls you tight to his chest, lifting you off of your feet for a millisecond before placing you back down. 

“Where’s my girl?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. 

“El?” you call. You slide around him to find her but turn back, “Did you ask her about the hugging?” 

“She says it’s fine.” 

“Like, she wants to?” 

It had been a strange conversation. Hopper is used to telling El things, or being told things by her. He didn’t ask her what she likes for breakfast, he just kept guessing until he found the right stuff. She never asked him if she could sit in his side during movies, she just inched closer until he put his arm around her. 

“She wants to,” Hopper says. She’d seemed perturbed by the question, sure, but it ended with her happy little smile through a handful of popcorn. 

“El?” you call again. 

“Kid! Your best friend is here!” Hopper shouts. 

Thunder from her bedroom, a door swung open and slapping the wall. “Y/N?” she asks, the skirt of her dress swinging as she pauses in the doorway. 

You smile and step forward. You’re tentative but excited all the same, laughing as you wrap your arms around her shoulders, and pat her back. “Hi, beautiful.” 

“Where have you been? It’s two weeks.” 

“Yeah? I didn’t mean to not see you for so long, I’m sorry.” 

“Hop says you have lots to do.” 

“There’s a leak in my bathroom,” you take her by the shoulders. “Aw, this is nice. When’d you get this? It’s light and summery.” 

“Hop… from a catalogue.” 

You raise your brows at him, grinning. “That’s nice. How many did you get?” 

“We got five.” 

“Five! From the catalogue!” You hold her hand. “Hop must really like you, huh? Who can blame him?” 

El looks down at your joined hands. Hopper feels his skeptic heart softening. “He likes you, too.” 

“But do we like him?” you joke, letting go of her hand to put your arm behind her back instead. You give Hopper a look. 

“What?” he asks. 

“I was thinking we’d go out for milkshakes?” 

Hopper bites his tongue. El has a birth certificate now, she’s his daughter, she can’t be taken, but going out with her into the world draws stares and derision alike. People can tell she’s abnormal, and he can’t stand that. She doesn’t deserve to be gawked at for talking a little slowly, or messing with stuff she doesn’t understand. 

But he doesn’t want her feeling punished for those things either. 

“Get your jacket, El.” She beams, rushing for her room. “She’s gonna love the jukebox,” Hopper says. 

You meander back into his arms, kissing his stubbly cheek. He pretends to nudge you away.

[ervotica]

warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), jim being the most daddy ever, i just have mega brainrot 4 him

Thinking about dbf!Jim Hopper who sits in his cabin of an evening and waits for you to come over. Jim who drags you into his lap the minute you walk your cute little ass through the door and slings your legs over his meaty thighs, who lets you scrape your fingers through the thick scruff of his beard and drag your teeth along his neck and ears.

Jim who lights your cigarettes for you, thumbing at your bottom lip and placing it gently in the gap he's created; he flicks the lighter and it comes to life as you chase it with the end of your cig. He always laughs in that deep, gravelly way that's reserved only for you.

"Patience, sweetheart."

Jim who lets you blow smoke into his mouth as you ply him with open mouthed kisses, lips smacking wetly against his own when you bite his soft flesh and giggle.

Jim who drives you around in the Chevy and lets you fiddle with the controls to keep you amused, legs draped up on the dash and a cigarette hung lazily from your lips. He humours you when you wiggle your fingers and stretch your arm towards him to play with his fingers as he drives, reaching over to place your cigarette between his lips every so often for a drag.

Jim who adores how you look on your knees with your mouth full of him; his sweet girl, his secret shame, his clandestine lover. How you lose yourself in it, in the pleasure of making him feel good.

The way it turns him on makes him sick, how he groans and his hips stutter when you call him daddy in that sweet lilting voice, how you breathe heavy and high-pitched as you work him from base to tip and suckle on the head of his cock just the way he likes. The way you force yourself all the way down and gag as your nose buries in the thatch of curls by his pubic bone has him incoherent, fisting handfuls of your hair and holding you down until you're gasping and choking around him.

And when all is said and done- when you've told your father you're sleeping around a friend's house but you find yourself in the sheriff's bed instead- he's gentle. Soft and attentive and sure, a little rough around the edges, but you wouldn't have him any other way. You curl up and tuck yourself close and the entire world melts away until all that's left is you and him.

And the lying and the secrets and the sneaking around wears you down occasionally, but you'd do it all a thousand times over for him.

[ddejavvu]

Cockwarming hopper while he works at his desk at the precinct 💀

this post is 18+, minors dni.

but but but but but consider: he works in a semi-public setting so people are gonna notice someone sitting on his lap all the time, so you sit under the desk and cockwarm him with your mouth

--

Drool has long since begun to drip from your mouth, seeping out between your lips and staining the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes grow heavy as your tongue bobs against the underside of Jim's cock, suckling steadily on his sex.

You have to keep quiet only because there's someone on the other side of the desk, otherwise you'd be licking and sucking and choking on Jim's cock. He's not technically supposed to have you there, but you'd begged with shiny eyes to come in with him today, and as hard as he tries, he can't say no to you.

"You'll have to take territory disputes to court," Jim drawls, exasperation leaking into his tone. He's trying his hardest to stay polite, but the person he's talking to is just not getting it.

"But it's my fence, too. That's not something that a court has to decide, it's already decided 'cause it's in my fuckin' backyard!"

"Don't swear at me," Jim's voice turns sharp, and more drool pools under your tongue. There's something so arousing about his authority, even when it's not directed at you.

"I'm telling you that there's nothing the police can do. What, do you want us to repaint it for you? Arrest him for choosing the color blue?"

"I want you to do your job!" The man insists, and Jim's hips shift. HIs cock slips further into your mouth, nearly curving down your throat, and you can feel how tense the muscles in his thighs are. You know he's angry, you know he'll blow if you don't stop him, so you reach up, slipping your hand through the zipper of his uniform pants and cupping his balls.

You pull back to lick gently over the head of his cock, then suckle gently around it. With your hand you massage his balls, kneading and stroking the flesh amidst the patch of wiry brown hair there.

You feel him freeze up, gears turning in his brain with whether or not he wants to shout. Then he eases back into his seat, throwing a hand into his lap that doesn't look suspicious to the man he's speaking with.

"My job is to uphold the law." Jim speaks with a low, patient tone now, and he takes the hand in his lap and uses it to stroke his thumb over your cheekbone appreciatively. "Painting a fence is not illegal. If you'd like to take action against your neighbor, you need to convince a court that action is deserved. That is not my job."

"Useless." The man scoffs, and you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor, "You're a real community hero, Chief!"

You worry that Jim will get angry again. That his patience is already wearing thin, that it will snap in two. But he maintains those soothing motions against your cheek while the man stomps away, and as soon as the door to his office shuts, he's pushing his chair back to peer down at you.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He murmurs, a fond twinkle in his eye as your stomach flips at his praise, "Don't know what I'd do without you, y'know?"

[strangerxperv]

Welcum Home

A Thot about Step Daddy Jim Hopper

Laying on your tummy in just an oversized thread-bare shirt that once belonged to Hopper. It's yours now with how much you wear it for bed or lounging. But now you're laying on your tummy pretending to be interested in the game. Thighs are spread wide and your feet kick in the air. And your big strong step daddy can see your glistening cunt. Your legs are spread so wide even your lips are parted ever so slightly, so inviting.

Who is he to ignore such a pretty invitation?

His tight grip spreads your cheeks to watch as he blows into your tight hole. His pelvis smacks into you with a slick shlucking and he adds to the slippery heat. A fat glob of spit lands onto your tightest hole before sliding down to where you're joined. Hopper's thick thighs frame your own legs just under your ass. He's in you so deep.

You lay flat, pliant, with your arms folded under your head. Tits squished under your body and despite your lack of movement you feel out of breath. You can feel his balls slapping into you and it reminds you. He's not wearing a condom. Will he be able to pull out? Or will you be giving him a gift in nine months?

[littlemissvincentvega]

Hii could u write a part 2 to the morning wood hopper fic? Maybe hopper accidentally bumps into the reader at a bar and he takes her home and Yk… 😏

MORNING WOOD pt. 2 / a perv!hopper one shot

PART 1

a/n: OMG i finally wrote something and it is the part 2!!! i'm going to do part 3 soon (might start writing it tonight) it will most likely be the finale of this little miniseries thing with hopper. but i had so much fun writing this and i hope y'all enjoy ♥ also also i'm in the process of setting up the tumblr tips thing bc i am Poor and somebody asked me about it aaaages ago :) thanks @nonsensecynical for the request and the inspiration for doing the part 2!!

18+ explicit content / perv! jim hopper x fem!reader

cw: alcohol, smoking, sexual themes, general perviness

Wisps of smoke left his nose like an angry bull. He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray in front of him, watching as the ash fell into it. It had started out clean and empty, but since Jim arrived a small pile of cigarette butts had accumulated there. He nursed his (sixth? seventh?) drink, focused on the melting ice cubes that swirled around the glass.

"Need a drinking partner?"

Hopper looked up from the bar, his eyes widening a little when he saw it was you. Of course it was. He'd jacked off to the thought of you that very morning, so why the hell wouldn't he have to deal with speaking to you as if he hadn't just mentally fucked you into next week? "What?"

You snickered slightly and shifted to sit beside him at the bar. Unbeknownst to Jim, you were already a couple of drinks in, which was why you were so calm about approaching him. You'd considered this a few times before after seeing him drink his problems away, but today was the day you grew a pair, for some reason. "Are you having another drink?"

"Probably," came his mumbled response. He looked at you, "Why?"

You pretended not to notice his gaze drop briefly to your breasts and gave him a coy smile. "I'll get your next one. You look like you need a drinking partner. You're always in here by yourself."

"(y/n), I couldn't ask you to do that," Jim said, sitting up to look at you properly. Why was a young, beautiful thing like you bothering to speak to him? He arched his brows. "By myself--? That's by choice, not because I don't have friends, you know."

"You didn't ask me, I offered. I'm buying the Chief of Police a drink. Least I can do for you doing your duty," you grinned, ignoring his further comments. He closed his eyes in annoyance, sighed through his nose and begrudgingly agreed.

-

"Let me give you a ride home," Hopper told you an hour or so later, sliding the empty glasses toward the barkeep. "Least I can do after you bought me a single drink."

You grinned upon seeing a smile twitch on his usually stoic face, then slid on your coat. "I didn't tell you to pay for my other drinks. I just... let you do it. It's fine, I'll drive myself home."

"No, no-- not happening." He was already ushering you out, a large hand hovering near your lower back. The bitterly cold air of the evening woke you up slightly, and you grimaced at the change in temperature. "I'll hafta arrest you for drink-driving. Wouldn't want that."

Being slightly merry, you bit your lip into a smile of mischief and eyed him. "Would that involve you putting me in handcuffs?"

That kinky little shit. I knew it. Hopper stared at you for a few moments, then continued to whisk you to his truck. "Yes."

Jim helped you into the passenger side of the truck, closed the door for you and then made his way to the driver's seat. He cleared his throat and glanced your way. You had slid your coat down your shoulders just a little to allow the cold air around your breasts. And yes, he could see your nipples trying to poke through the fabric of your shirt. Dark gaze lingered on them for a moment before he cleared his throat again and switched on the engine. "Thanks, uh, for keepin' me company tonight," he mumbled.

"Oh-- don't mention it. It's nice to not drink by myself for once."

"You there a lot?" he queried, taking a look behind before reversing out of the parking spot.

"Mm, sometimes," you hummed, popping the cap off of your lipstick and topping it up in the mirror. Hopper wished you wouldn't do that. It was making his mind go to places, places it had been that same morning. Making him think about how beautiful you'd look with those beautiful plump lips wrapped around his cock, pumping and sucking...

And then you broke his trance with a question. "Should you even be driving?"

"What?"

You returned the lid to your lipstick and put it in your handbag. "You're technically drink-driving, Chief."

God. Stop calling me that. He glanced your way, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips. "What'd you just call me?"

Brows arched, you stared at him and tried to ignore the pulsing between your thighs. After a short pause, you answered him, albeit a little quieter. "Chief."

"Exactly. I'm the Chief of Police, I can do what I want." And what I want is to fuck your brains out.

You simply rolled your eyes and chuckled a little, opting to look out of the window. Jim took that opportunity to steal a few glances at your body, the way your skirt perfectly hugged your hips, how the low-cut top showed off your delicious breasts. How he'd like to grab them, knead them, suckle on your perfect little nipples. He swallowed thickly, making an attempt to ignore his twitching cock. No, not twitching-- it was throbbing.

When you turned to look for any packs of cigarettes Jim had laying around his car, it wasn't difficult to see what he was trying to hide. It only made your core ache more for him, and from what you could see, he was big. You diverted your gaze from it quickly, locating the cigarettes, and sparked up. The first exhale definitely helped to calm you down, but it was barely a distraction from how sopping wet you felt.

The rest of the ride was quiet, almost awkward considering how you were both feeling (unbeknownst to each other), but Hopper broke the silence when he pulled into the trailer park. "Which number are you again?" he mumbled. He knew the number.

"Right there." You pointed at your trailer, which was painted light blue (a DIY job Eddie Munson had helped you with, much to Steve's dismay).

Hopper pulled up at the side of your home, hands resting in his lap to conceal what was going on down there. A small smile was given to you. "Home sweet home."

You noticed that he didn't turn off the engine, which was a slightly disheartening, but your horny little brain had other plans. One hand rested on the door handle and you looked across to him, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you gonna walk me to my door?"

Oh, God, why? He looked mildly annoyed, staring at you silently for a moment. "The free ride home not enough?"

"Nope." You flashed him a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Jim switched off the engine and exited the car. In his mind, he was hoping his erection had subsided a little, but he knew full well it wasn't going away until he took care of it. All he had to do was pray you didn't notice. "Alright," he helped you down from the truck, savouring every moment his hands touched your body, "five more steps and you're home safe."

"Huh, chivalry isn't dead, after all," you joked, walking with him to your porch. You fumbled to grab your keys and began to unlock the door.

"Sure," he cracked a small smile again. You were sweet-- he found you to have a decent sense of humour, too. "Uh, thanks again for keepin' me company."

You removed the key and opened the door, looking up at him. "You're welcome. Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

For a moment, Jim's eyes widened and he fell silent. He looked inside, then back to you. "No, I should get goin'. Got stuff to do."

"What stuff?" You held his gaze, subtly ran your tongue along your upper lip.

"Y'know-- laundry. Got some, uh, dirty dishes--"

But he was cut off. Your hand, much smaller than his, had found the outline of his erection, and you were gently rubbing it through his work-slacks. "What else?" you breathed, watching the poor man try to catch his breath.

He swallowed thickly, all too aware of how heavy he was breathing. Gaze dropped to watch your hand, then slowly rose to capture all of the beauty your body held. His eyes finally met yours again. "Gotta take a shower... maybe it can wait..." Without warning, he pushed you inside and slammed the door behind you both, shoving you against the nearest wall. It made the framed photos there shake, but Hopper didn't care. You squealed with surprise-- his cock rubbed against you as his lips met yours, all hunger and pent-up frustration and passion. He groaned against your lips, only pulling away after a few seconds to catch his breath and look at you. Yes, it was clear. You both wanted the same thing.

-

PART 3 COMING SOON!

[pinkypromisepascal]

Handiwork - Jim Hopper x fem!reader

summary: Hopper shows up with a nasty cut so you lend a helping a hand and patch him up.

content: MDNI ofc, friends to lovers, subby!Hop, Hop has a hand kink, just minor descriptions of the cut, handjob, cum eating (oops), no physical description of reader except for pretty hands and jewelry

author's note: I had so many people look at this, thank you so much @strang3lov3 @umnitsa @endlessthxxghts @ievutebebe for looking at this and helping me work this out! Also I know the moodboard and title say fem!reader but technically this can be seen as gn!reader too, fem!reader's just my default mode.

word count: 2.6k

You got home from work four hours ago, ready to bask in the comfort of your small home in Hawkins. Despite the beautiful sunny weather outside, you find yourself more comfortable on your couch with a big cup of your favorite tea and a new book you've been dying to read. 

You haven't moved an inch in the last hour, too engrossed in the book's plot. A sharp knock at your door pulls you out of your thoughts. You have no clue who it is, but you don't wanna be rude and ignore the person, so you get up with a tired sigh and open the door, only to find Jim Hopper looking down at you, pressing a bloodied tissue to his head. 

"Hop, hi, I-... wow, what happened?"

Jim looks at you, his blue eyes kind and warm as always when he's with you. "Might have gotten into a little brawl at the bar," he admits sheepishly with a little eye roll.

You step aside and let him in. "For good reason at least?"

He shrugs, "Just had to handle a drunk guy and you know... some glass broke." You take a look at him, peeling the tissue away just enough to look at the cut going diagonally from his left eyebrow. "Thought you might come in handy, I'm out of gauze," he says dryly, "And I really don't need a hospital bill right now."

Fair enough, you think.

He wordlessly follows you to the bathroom and just lets his eyes follow you as you gather the supplies you'll need. He notices the ring on your index finger, the one he got you for your birthday a few months back. He'd never admit to it, but he's always been a little fascinated by your hands. And that fascination has gotten stronger over the last few months. He never really thought about hands that much, what they might say about people, but he's watched yours take care of El's scraped knee, watched them pet stray cats, seen those fingers wrap around a bottle of beer at his place. When he looks at his own hands, he just thinks of them as burly, callused.

But yours? They’re soft, gentle, even in the most mundane of tasks.

He snaps out of his thoughts when you clear your throat and turn around again, putting stuff on the vanity behind him. You cock your head and chuckle, "Need you to get a little more on my level, big guy." It takes a second for him to get the hint, but then he puts the bloodied tissue aside and sits down on the toilet lid, legs spread so you can step between them. You nod approvingly and can't hide a little smirk at the height difference between you two. Neither can he.

You grab a small towel and hold it under running water for a second before gently dabbing at the cut, cleaning the dried blood. He hums and closes his eyes. "Sorry," you mumble, your other hand tilting his head a little to get a better look at the cut. He feels the rings on his skin and suppresses a noise in his throat. The corner of his mouth twitches, "No, 's the cold that feels nice." "Enjoy the cold, only gets worse from here," you quip and snort when his eyes snap open. "Just some antiseptic and a few stitches, you can handle it. You're in good hands with me." "Hm, never doubted that," he retorts and closes his eyes again. 

You pat the wound dry with another and then reach for the antiseptic, putting some of it onto a sterile gauze compress and then gently holding and dabbing it against the wound. He hums again and clears his throat in discomfort. "Ah come on, you've had worse," you tease softly. He smirks again and nudges your leg with his, "Shut up."  "You shut up."

He feels a shiver down his spine when you carefully touch the area around the cut, checking for swelling or signs of infection. He slowly takes a deep breath, careful so you don't notice his tension. He feels the blood rushing through his body, his thoughts running a mile a minute. “You’re always so gentle with your hands,” he mutters softly, and you thank him bashfully. You mumble something, asking if he’s still good. When he opens his eyes, he catches your gaze, your eyes still warm despite the cold white light of your bathroom. 

"Hope I'm not ruining your evening plans with this," he suddenly says. You put the compress aside and scoff, "Please, we both know I don't have plans. You're basically my highlight of the day." He cocks his eyebrow, immediately squinting as he feels the pain from the currently bad side of his face, "Oh really?" You smile proudly at him, "Mhm."

His heart skips a beat. If only you knew the effect you're having on him right now. He hasn't always felt for you like this, recently things have just been feeling different. He feels more at ease with himself. He's trying to allow himself a little more fun again, a little more peace. And in all the years he's known you, he can't remember when your presence hasn't brightened his day. You've always been the highlight of his day. 

He smiles at you, and you realize your hand is still on his cheek like before. You pull away and take a deep breath, "Okay, so... stitching's gonna be a bitch." Hop just shrugs, "Someone told me I've had worse, so I think I can handle it." You laugh and nudge his belly with the back of your hand, "Can't be in too much pain if y'keep making bad jokes." The shiver runs from his spine between his legs. Jesus Christ.

He's drifting off again, gone in his thoughts about you, about your hands, your hands on him while you're so close to him, so focused on your task. He's sure you can hear how wild his heart is thumping in his chest, or feel the fluttering of his pulse in his neck where your hand is resting again, keeping his head in place and occasionally tilting it towards the light. And he hopes you don't look down. Anything but that. He's dying to move, to let his hands feel yours, feel them on his body, eagerly exploring him. 

You say something, but he doesn't hear what, he's too far gone, imagining what it would be like to feel those heavenly hands wrapped around his co— A snap in front of his face brings him back yet again.

"Sorry, what?" You tut, "What's got you so distracted today? Did you hit your head during that fight? I was asking if you feel any pain." He suppresses a groan, then swallows and only replies with "No." Somehow the pain only makes him crazier for you. "Good, then you're all done," you say with a smile and start putting the supplies back. 

Jim tries to shake off his thoughts without making his head throb too much and gets up, now leaning with his lower back against the vanity, right next to you. "How many times can I come here 'fore you start charging me?" You chuckle to yourself at first, and his heart skips a beat again. As you look at him, you only now notice his busted lip and grab the still damp towel to wipe the dried blood off, standing between his legs, then wipe your thumb along the spot. "You're free to show up here anytime, big guy," you smile, and he's sure you don't mean to sound so sultry. Maybe it's his mind playing tricks on him. Still, there's no more denying the near painful strain in his jeans now. He's hoping you don't feel it, almost embarrassed about it. Any move to adjust himself will just draw your attention to it. 

"Much appreciated," he replies smugly as you look at him. Everything about you is just—

"You seem awfully tense, you okay? Feeling dizzy or something?" He cocks his head slightly and bites the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms in front of his big chest. "Little headache," he lies.

You smirk at him, "Hm, little headache or maybe something else bothering you?" 

Before he can ask what you mean, he feels your hand press against the outline of his cock, making him draw in a breath.

Jackpot.

You can almost see his thoughts racing behind his gorgeous eyes. You close your hand around him, just a bit, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He's uncrossed his arms, his hands gripping the vanity's edge as he stares you down. Your eyebrow cocks up, challenging, daring him. 

Your heart's beating in your throat, and you can feel his body heat. Part of you doesn't know if what you're doing is wrong, if you should talk about what's happening or just stop right here and never speak of it again. This is definitely crossing a line and you don't know how things will be after. Yet another part is screaming at you to keep going, and you think he feels the same. 

"You need me to take a look at this, too?" You ask, your voice suddenly quiet, a new undertone to it that Hop hasn't heard from you yet. You're getting cocky. He risks a quick look down to where your hand, smooth against the raging boner that's been straining his pants for at least fifteen minutes now, the ring he gifted you staring back at him. Oh, fuck. He clasps his big hand over yours and looks into your eyes again. God, yes. There's a glimmer in your eyes that almost undoes him then and there. "Don't look at me like that," he mutters. 

His mind is racing, blood rushing through his body. He bites back a groan when you move your hand beneath his, your fingertips reaching his belt buckle. "What's wrong with how I look at you?"

He ignores your question, you're just teasing him right now, enjoying how he's losing himself. "You're what's distracting me. You and your damn hands." "My hands?"

He nods slowly and swallows. His body is screaming for some friction, some relief to the craziness that is this situation. You move your hand again and he lets it go, never breaking eye contact. You unbuckle his belt, popping the button of his jeans open. “You don’t have to–,” he starts, but you tut him.  "What is it about my hands?" You ask innocently as you shove your fingertips behind the waistband of his boxers, slowly dragging them and his pants down just enough to wrap your hand around him. He breathes out with a hum as you oh so slowly drag your hand along his length, eyes fluttering close.

"This okay?"

He huffs out a laugh, not daring to look at you right now, his grip on the vanity tightening, "Yeah. More'n okay."  "Now tell me what's so interesting about my hands that it's got you rock hard like this, Hopper," you say, and he can hear the damn smile in your voice. Your thumb wipes over the tip before you drag your hand down again, picking up the pace just a bit. He shakes his head and opens his eyes again to look at you. Oh, you're enjoying this a lot. His jaw tightens as he tries to find the right words. "Shut up," he grunts. "Aw, come on," you insist with a cheeky smile, "Just wanna know what goes on in that dirty Chief of Police mind of yours. What more is there when just my hands got you like this, hm?" You tighten your grip for a moment, and his belly tightens, keeping him from making a sound. 

You murmur sweet nothings, encouraging him to indulge in his thoughts. His gaze drops down to your hand stroking him. “Your rings, fuck–” He loses his words as you twist your wrist just the right way, his knuckles turning white as he’s gripping the edge with all his power.  “Oh, do you want me to take them off? Are they uncomfor–?”  “No,” he replies, hips slightly moving towards your touch, a low groan rumbling in his chest, “Keep’em on.” “You like how they feel?” You ask. He takes another deep breath, focusing on just letting your hand work him. “Like how they look on you. ‘Specially that one,” he rumbles and you know which one he’s talking about. You bite the inside of your lip, but the smile still spreads as you look at him.  “Hm, wonder why,” you muse, picking up your speed, urging him closer to the edge. He clears his throat hastily, “Don’t play stupid, you fucking know why.”

You stroke him faster, noticing his breath faltering a bit. One of his arms slings around your waist, pulling you closer to him to lean his forehead against yours, cussing under his breath. His hooded gaze bores into yours with such a carnal need and longing, almost making you lose momentum. Your free hand drifts up his torso, toying with the top button of his shirt and slowly popping it open, letting your fingertips lightly dance over his warm skin. Jim’s hips buck into your hand again and his eyes flutter close, he’s drawing in a sharp breath.  “Tease,” he growls, followed by a short, breathless laugh. You chuckle softly, “What’s the matter, big guy?” He looks at you again, a light sparkle in his eyes, “Matter’s that I– hm, won’t be able t’stop myself ‘f you keep this up.”

“Then don’t.”

He scans your face for any signs of hesitation and just finds that maddening smile of yours again. His legs and belly tighten. His other hand cups your face and smashes your lips together for a heated, bruising kiss. His mustache scratches against your skin and you whimper at feeling him nip your bottom lip. Your body freezes momentarily, and you’re only brought back to reality by Jim’s hand wrapping around yours, tightening your grip around him even more, and moving your hand with his.  “Just like that,” he hushes into your mouth and with a few more quick strokes the tension in his body finally snaps.  He’s kissing you again, muffling his broken moan, tongue swiping over your lip.

You keep your fingers wrapped just below his tip, changing the grip in small pulses. Your thumb swipes over the sensitive head, making him shudder through his release, his warmth coating your hand and shirt. Your other hand is resting above his racing heart, beating so fast you’re worried he’s gonna be dizzy. He slowly tears his lips from yours, his thumb wiping softly over your cheek.

His eyes flick down for a second and his face flushes. “Sorry ‘bout the mess. Usually have better manners than that.” You look down and snort, tugging at your shirt, “Ah, this old thing’s seen worse.“ You smile as you bring your glistening fingers up, “As for these…” 

Jim watches breathlessly as your tongue darts out to lick over each digit, releasing each with a wet pop. “You‘re enjoying yourself a lot right now,“ he notes with a smirk, smoothly tucking himself away. An innocent shrug is the only answer he gets. He rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance and clicks his tongue.

You grab his face to pull him in for another kiss. He can taste himself on your lips, feeling the blood rush through his body again, his fingertips tingling with eagerness to touch you. His hands drop to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping beneath, shoving the fabric up your torso. You raise your arms, letting him go all the way till he tosses your shirt aside, lips immediately locking together again. You chuckle. 

“Not done with you yet,” he hums with a content sigh, “Time for payback.” “Careful with that, big guy, you’re still hurt.” He pecks your lips and smirks, “Thought we’d agreed I’ve had worse?”

I'm a slut for feedback so don't hold back and tell me how you liked this! Like, comment, reblog, slide in my asks, whatever you prefer! Thank you for reading, I hope you're eager for more.

[velvetcloxds]

A MAN IN UNIFORM | J.H.

pairing: brother's best friend!jim hopper x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (reader in her late 20s)

summary: your brother's best friend has always been hot, but him stepping in when you got an unfair ticket strutting around in his sheriff uniform has you feeling some type of way

Now, had Hopper walked out of his office to find anyone else making a scene in the middle of the police station, shouting at the top of their lungs, catching every eye in the room, throwing things at one of his best officers- he’d have thrown them right out the door. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you, his best friend’s little sister and heaven knows he at least had to give you a chance before doing exactly that. He folded his arms and leaned against the open door of his office as he shook his head to stop his deputy from getting your attention.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately, picked up the phone and slammed it down again, dialed your number, and then shoved the phone away, imagining your voice on the other end- would you be excited to hear from him, surprised maybe? He saw you properly at Christmas and Thanksgiving every year and sometimes easter, ran into you around town, and flirted a little in the movie store but not nearly as often as when you were teenagers hopping between diners and bars in high school.

“Listen here, bucko,” you pointed a bright red-nailed finger at the officer who was smirking far too smugly in your opinion, all things considered. “Do you have any idea how close I am to kicking you right off that chair?” he didn’t think you were serious, Hopper knew you were, so when you took a step forward, he did too.

“Lady, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s just a ticket.”

“Just a ticket,” you shrieked, it was a familiar sound, one much like the one you’d give him when he’d thrown you in the pool on summer break or cut you off from the jello shots back in university, it didn’t mean anything good was to come. “If my brother finds out I was given a ticket in his car by some dipshit who just got his badge, he’ll have my head- no matter the reason for said ticket being that the asshat in question had his little ego bruised when I didn’t want to go out with him and decided to get back at me,” Hopper moved at that, a gentle hand on the small of your back, a dangerous look aimed at the officer in front of you as he mumbled your last name just loud enough to let you know it’s him.

“Hopper,” the officer tutted, seemingly under the impression that he was about to be backed and not the other way around, smugness only growing as he stood up to hand over the ticket that you’d thrown at him earlier. “I tried to talk her down,” he scoffed, you fumed, the audacity. “You know how these girls are, can’t take no for an answer.”

“You little shit.”

“Language,” Hopper reminded you, but he was smiling in a way that meant he didn’t mind nearly as much as he should, lightly pulling you behind him and pointing towards his office, it was a clear command and you’d not take it so seriously were he not looking down at you, were he not so close to you, had you not realized in a split second how long it’s been since you’d seen him in uniform doing all of the above somehow making it all seem absurdly attractive. “I’ll take care of it, yeah, meet me in my office. “

Jim Hopper was the only man who could give you an order like that and have it obeyed, even with a big huff and stomped steps and a whole ordeal of uttered musings and threats, you did go to his office, and you busied yourself with the little figurines on his desk while you waited. He was talking to or rather at the officer you’d lost your cool with and you weren’t nearly as curious about what he was saying as you should’ve been. He’s always been attractive, always been too kind to be that hot and you remember countless years being wasted on having a crush on your lame brother’s very cool best friend who picked you up from school and carried your books and turned down nights with girls far out of his league in favor of keeping an eye on you and put out his cigarette when you were near- and now that very cool, very hot, very kind man was walking right towards looking far too damn good in a uniform you’d have to stop yourself from imagining him without.

“Is it safe in there?” he hummed as he stilled in the doorway, one hand holding a crumbled-up ticket, the other reaching to the coat rack to take his hat and you watched him with narrowed eyes as he set it on his head. “Stop frowning at me like that, trouble,” he wasn’t serious, really, he found it adorable even though he knew he shouldn’t, then again, he also shouldn’t have disciplined an officer for being an ass to his friend, but that ship has also sailed.

“Did you put him in his place?” you dared, taking his keys from his paper stack before sliding off his desk to meet him at the door, that same finger that you used to point at the officer now sliding over his tie to straighten it. “Because I’ll walk right back to him if you didn’t.”

“Course I did,” he was the smug one this time and it had the exact opposite effect on you, especially when the officer came walking past the office with a box full of goods and his tail between his legs on his way to the public complaint department of the station and you understood why Hopper seemed so pleased with himself. “Happy?” he dared but of course you were, so much so that you tugged his tie lightly to pull him closer and placed a red-lipped kiss right on his cheek, giggling from the feeling of the little hairs of his beard creeping up over tinted skin.

“Very happy, Jimmy,” you cooed, and he was glad for the door frame because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself standing were it not there. “Seems that uniform of yours is good for more than just making me nervous,” you admitted and gave him no time to push for more before slipping past him into the hallway, stealing his hat and gripping his keys tightly as you did. “Are you taking me out for lunch to celebrate, sheriff?” as if he’d ever say no, as if you’d ever let him.

“As long as you’re not driving,” he knew it would rile you up just enough to frown all perfectly at him, with big eyes and scrunched nose as you walked backward towards the exit.

“I’m ordering an extra piece of pie just for that.”

“I thought we were sharing,” he countered, quick to follow just in case you tripped and hurt yourself. You shook your head, tutting as he caught up with you just in time to grab your hand and pull you out of the way of some stranger.

“No way, got to keep those pants of yours looking nice and tight.”

“Naughty,” he breathed, and he paired the word with a little whistle and desperate glance away from your teasing, very longing gaze. You made quite the little show of licking your thumb and wiping carefully at the red lip stain on his face, for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to cover him with those all over, his neck, his chest, those big arms of his and in turn you found your cheeks spreading with warmth and wondered if you were too old to have a crush on your brother’s best friend or the town sheriff for that matter.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi could I request a cute hopper x reader fic set in season 2, where El helps hopper get ready for his date with the reader and a few months after they are dating, she meets El for the first time. Reader is nervous to meet El as she really wants El to like her, and El loves the reader and Hopper is in love with the reader especially after seeing his two favourite girls get along

Thank you for requesting! I miss writing about Hopper. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it <3

Fair warning - I barely have experience in writing El and I haven't seen season 2 in years so I hope it's semi correct with the timeline? And I hope her character is somewhat correct🤞🏻

His girls

Jim hasn't been on a date in ages, as well as asked a girl out on a date. But the few times Y/N stopped by the station, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She captured his attention more than the cigarettes and donuts that sat on his desk. He watched her through the blinds of his office, up until she left.

Jim didn't have the balls to ask her out until she beat him to it.

Now he tore apart his closet as El microwaved her small frozen dinner.

El could hear him cursing to himself and the sound of things hitting the floor. She walked over to his room, knocking on the door.

"WHAT!" Jim yelled, El opened the door with a worried face. Her eyes took in the disaster of his room.

"Do you..help?" She asked, she still was learning how to properly speak. She learned words here and there from the group but she never was out in the world to learn how to communicate.

Jim thought about it. His first reaction was to say no and deal with it. But maybe help would be nice. Maybe it would calm his nerves.

"I need a shirt and jeans." Jim sighed. El smiled and raced into the room. Her eyes looked over his different shirts.

"For a date. Fancy? You know fancy?" He asked, El shrugged. She had no clue what that meant but she wanted to help.

"Date?" She asked

"Yeah, you know how you like Mike?" Jim gagged out, but he knew this was the only way she'd understand.

"Yes." She said in a dead tone.

"I like a girl, and we are going to get dinner." He explained, that the fewer words for her the better.

"Dinner. Girl. Like." She muttered to herself. Her brown eyes scanned his room. She reached forward to grab a button-up. She'd seen Mike wear lots of those, but he always paired it with a jacket.

"Jacket?" She asked, holding up the shirt.

"I need a jacket?" He asked, when she nodded he pulled one out of his closet.

~~~

Jim couldn't lie, he was very impressed with El. He stood in dark blue jeans, a black button up and a brown jacket resting on his shoulders.

"Hair," El said, handing him a hairbrush. Jim smiled and thanked her. Brushing through his hair and trying to push down the bumps.

"Okay, El. I'm going to leave now. Stay here, you know the rules." He said, hands on his knees as he got in her eye level.

"Yes, hopper."

~~~

After many more dates, and once they made it official, Jim was ready for Y/N and El to meet.

Y/N was terrified. She could feel all the air get stuck in her throat when he brought it up.

"Really?" She squeaked out nervously. She'd heard lots about El, which meant she knew El wasn't easily impressed. She was blunt and honest. Two things that scared Y/N to death.

Jim kept pushing and pushing. Y/N knew it was important to him and she felt honored he wanted them to meet. She couldn't help but worry if El didn't like her. Would Jim end it all together? She didn't want to lose Jim, she felt herself falling for him.

~~~

"El this is Y/N!" Jim said a huge smile on his face. A smile El barely ever saw. El knew that Hopper didn't smile often. He was always grumpy and annoyed. She made him crack a smile every once and a while. And she felt her stomach warm as she watched Hopper smile toward whoever Y/N was.

"Pleasure!" El said, a big smile on her face as she held out her hand.

Jim may have given El a lesson in manners before this event. He prepped El just as much, or even more than he prepped Y/N.

"Oh! It's a pleasure for me too!" Y/N said she shook the young girl's hand.

"Compliment her haircut," Jim whispered against Y/N's head.

"I love your hair! The curls suit you very well." Y/N said, thanking Jim in her head, El's smile somehow got bigger.

"Thank you!" She said excitedly. Her face felt warm and her stomach fluttered.

"Pretty," El said, looking at Hopper.

"I agree." Jim smiled.

They sat down for dinner, a simple take-out delivery of pizza. It was so simple that it made Jim feel like they already were a family. El told her jokes that Jim never understood, but Y/N laughed at every single one. El didn't understand much of what Y/N talked about, but she listened closely. She watched her lips move and nodded along.

Jim worked hard on helping El with her communication, and he could see the improvement as she talked to Y/N.

~~~

After they met, El asked for Y/N to come over every day. She claimed it was nice to talk to a girl for a change. Jim rolled his eyes but he loved that El wanted Y/N around, because he did too.

Months down the road, El and Y/N communicated better than ever. El learned new words and Y/N kept her sentences short. Sometimes Y/N was there when Jim wasn't.

He lost count of the times he came home from work to see El learning to braid Y/N's hair. Eyeshadow on El's eyes and lipstick on her lips. Her nails were in a bright pink, and Y/N's nails matched.

"We had a girl's day!" El said, looking towards Y/N to see if she said it correctly. When Y/N gave her a nod and thumbs up, El smiled again and looked back to Hopper.

Jim hasn't had a family in a while. And he worried he'd never feel the love for a family like he did before. He was scared he'd feel too guilty and think he was replacing his old family. But he wasn't.

The two girls in front of him were his chosen family. And he'd pick them over and over again.

"I think Jim needs a makeover too!" Y/N said, a smirk on her face as El immediately agreed.

"No!" Jim argued.

~~~

"Nice nails, Hop!" One of the officers said as Jim walked into the office.

"Shut it," Jim muttered, grabbing a donut and walking into his office.

"Are your nails pink?" Joyce asked, sitting in his chair as she waited for him to arrive.

"My girls wanted to give me a makeover. Now what's up?"

[stvolanis]

Don’t Wanna Grow Up.

( one shot )

PAIRINGS: Rockstar! OC X Mean! Jim Hopper

WARNINGS: guys Hopper is really mean in this, small plot, OC is in a band (corroded coffin), she’s Eddie’s best friend/step-sister, age gap (OC is 19 and hops in his 40s), dubcon, drinking, usual rockstar things, OC is also kinda an asshole,nice jim at the end, hop being a cop (that rhymed lol)

NSFW INCLUDES: anal play, degradation (slut, brat, bitch), spitting, (hard) slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, breath play, power play, size kink, manhandling, choking, oral (m receiving), praising (if you squint), heavy sir kink, humiliation, public sex (parking lot), p in v sex, overstimulation, cum eating, SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING<3

Istg I got horny while writing this so I hope y’all enjoy !!<3

please lmk if you guys are interested in a part 2!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the night was lively and booming in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a big contrast to the usual boring nights that the locals were used to, and it was surely a huge difference for on-duty chief of police, Jim Hopper.

Rowdy teens were one thing, but full grown adults plus teenagers being loud and obnoxious was not how hopper wanted to spend his night. Of course the big commotion would only mean one thing, lots of paperwork and phone calls.

It was a Tuesday night. A school night. A work night, even. What could have possibly caused all this up roar in the town? This much disruption and constant noise complaint phone calls from a small, quiet and local bar were unusual. But, nonetheless, the chief loaded up in his cruiser and made quick work of heading to the busy bar.

Jim could hear the faint blaring music from down the road, much to his dismay. As he pulled in and got out of his car, slamming the door shut, he quickly took notice of the locals stumbling out of the bar drunkenly, hollering only god knows what as he watched one fall into a bush. It was gonna be a long night.

Hopper walked into the noisy bar and was instantly met with the smell of strong alcohol and must coming from the sweaty bodies dancing around in the crowd. Unfortunately, he could also smell the lingering remanence of throw up, cause his face to crinkle up in disgust. Suddenly, the bright stage that was flashing every color under the sun caught his attention.

Of course she would be what was causing all of this nonsense.

Blood red hair sticking up in all kinds of directions bounced up and down while singing wildly. One of her dainty, fishnet covered hands in the air as her other held a microphone. The deep red lipstick she was wearing was slightly smeared, as was her eyeliner and mascara. Her honey brown eyes peering over the crowd with a wicked smile dancing on her lips at the mess she’s stirred. The lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Cherrie.

A Highschool drop-out who was on the upcoming charts with her band, soon to be leaving the small town to start touring across America for a hefty price. A delinquent since she became friends with the Munson boy, who she’d met in the 5th grade after she stabbed him in the thigh with her pink pencil.

Cherrie was a force to be reckoned with, and Hop can’t even count on his fingers anymore how many times she’d spent the night in the county jail either high out of her mind or drunk on gin. She’d spent her whole life in and out of the system, till Eddie Munsons uncle, Wayne, decided he’d take her in. Her love for music started when she’d stumbled across Eddie’s massive music collection. Once Eddie got his guitar and she had a microphone in her hand, the rest was history.

The band started off as something they did for fun with their friends, but then it turned into something they couldn’t even imagine. Once their producer released their first album, it went flying off the shelves after about a lingering week of nothing. Before they knew it, they were ushered to go on tour in 2 weeks times. Cherrie always felt she was destined for more than the small town had to offer, but she could never quite place it till now. She had wanted an escape for as long as she can remember, and now that she finally had one, she wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

The small town she lived in seen the worst in her, even the ones who were much worse than her. The difference between them was that she wasn’t afraid to show it. She didn’t need to put up a facade for people, because they’d always just see her as the burnt out Highschool drop out. But when she was on stage, it was like she was on top of the world. For once, the people who’d whisper terrible things about her and spread ugly rumors were looking up at her and cheering their hearts out. It was a nice change. It was a euphoric feeling.

Cherrie was no stranger when it came to the male gaze, as she’d dealt with it since she was only about 14. It’s always made her uncomfortable, for sure, but after a while she’d learned how to use it to her advantage. So it was no surprise when she’d tried attempt to seduce Jim Hopper a few months prior when he’d threaten to lock her up for good. She’d ended up spending the night in a jail cell. Ever since then, Jim’s felt uneasy around the ball of fire. Almost afraid she’d pounce at any moment on him.

But right now, it was almost as if he was in a trance as he watched her body move enchantingly. The lighting made her deep olive skin appear more vibrant, and hopper could see the sweat dripping down her chest and into her open cleavage. She wore a tight strapless corset that was laced and a small mini skirt that was so short, he was sure if she turned around he’d be able to see her ass. The fishnets that adorned her arms and legs had skulls embroidered onto them, but hopper could still see her colorful Paul Stanley star-man tattoo on the side of her thigh.

The choker she wore had protruding spikes on it and the chains she wore along with it complimented her slim neck. Hopper instinctively locked his dry lips as he stared at her for a moment longer before their eyes connected, and he felt the hairs on his arm stand up and his back straighten.

Cherrie watched Hopper walked to the side of the stage with furrowed eyebrows as he unplugged Eddie’s amp and the strobe lights, effectively making everyone let out noises of confusion and annoyance. Cherrie rolled her eyes and groaned as she dropped the mic onto the ground angrily before hopping off of the stage, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Jim. Eddie was hot on her tail, trying to calm down the fire he could’ve swore he saw in her eyes begin to spark, but he was soon lost in the crowd as he called out to her.

“What the fuck are you doing, shithead?!” Cherrie yelled out as she stood in front of Jim. “Doin’ my job, Cherrie. But you always gotta make it harder f’me, huh?” He huffed out with annoyance as he pushed past her towards the crowd of rowdy people.

“Everyone out! Right now, unless you’d like to spend the night with me at the station.” He yelled to the crowd, who quickly dispersed. Many sending Hopper ugly glances, but he was too over everything to care. “No, this is my scene, why’d you have to come fuck it up?!” She said with a groan as she stood chest to chest with him, though she was much smaller than him.

“Noise complaints, from multiple people.” He replied dryly. “Why can’t you just stay out of trouble for 2 fuckin’ minutes, is it that hard?” He added with a scoff. Cherrie didn’t process what happened as she felt her fist connect with his cheek, wincing as she rubbed her knuckles before slowly looking back up at an angry chief.

“Shit—Wait—” she muttered as she tried backing away from him, but Hop wasn’t having it. He harshly gripped her upper arm before slamming her front into the wall. “Cmon, yknow I didn’t mean to.” She said as she tried to wiggle free from his tight hold. “Shut up, brat.” He replied through clenched teeth as he snapped his cuffs onto her wrists.

“Ow!” She shouted as the cuffs tightened around her wrists painfully. Hop ignored her please as he dragged her out of the now almost empty bar. Eddie was by his van as he watched Cherrie get taken out in handcuffs with a shake of his head and a frown. “M’ sorry, Eds!” She shouted to him across the parking lot with a shrug of her shoulders. Eddie sighed as their band loaded up their belongings into his car.

Hopper pushed her forward towards the car. “We ain’t stoppin’ for chit-chat.” He grumbled under his breath. Cherrie merely rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Asshole.” She muttered under her breath. Hopper gripped her wrists in the cuffs tighter and he watched as she winced in pain. “What was that? Hm?” He muttered lowly in her ear.

She could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear, and that’s all it took for her body to feel like it’s on fire. His grip on her wrists and the way she could feel his crotch area brush against her ass as they walked to the car from how close they are had her body on edge. She bit her lip as he opened the backseat door for her before roughly shoving her in and slamming the door shut.

Hopper got in his seat and fumbled with his keys with a huff before starting his cruiser. “Yknow you’re kinda hot when you’re mad to me, chief.” Cherrie giggled as she batted her lashes. Hopper eyed her through the rearview mirror, his eyes briefly trailing down to her open cleavage that was now free of sweat before rolling his eyes and adjusting the mirror to see better behind him, but really it’s just so his boner wouldn’t further harden from the sight of her in cuffs in his back seat.

Cherrie giggled lightly as she made herself comfortable in the backseat as Jim began driving to the police station. And then an idea hit her. “Yknow, I always thought you were a pretty shitty cop.” She said aloud as she looked out the window with a smirk. “Excuse me?” Hopper said, taken slightly aback.

“You heard me. I don’t even know you you became chief—I mean, aren’t you always drinking on the job? Yet you wanna make me seem like I’m the worst person ever.” She scoffed out with an eye roll. Hopper slammed on the breaks, making Cherrie hurl forward, hitting the head rest with a loud ‘thud’.

“Shit—what the fuck, Hop?!” She yelled out with furrowed brows. Jim’s breathing was erratic and hit fists were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. “Yeah? You think I’m a shitty cop? Alright, y’little bitch.” He muttered with a dark chuckle as he drove into an empty parking lot that was some what hidden behind trees.

“What’re you doin? you aren’t gonna kill me are you?” Cherrie giggled, feigning fear. Hopper didn’t respond as he parked the car and swung his door open, quickly opening Cherries too. “Hey—” she started, but was cut off when hopper gripped her upper arm tightly, yanking her out of her seat and onto the ground. Cherrie sat on her knees in front of the cop, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“Y’gonna hurt me, Hop?” She challenged with raised brows and a taunting smirk. Hoppers hand harshly made contact with the side of her cheek, roughly slapping her, making her head spin to the side as a stinging pain overtook her cheek. Cherrie whimpered lightly, making Hopper chuckle. “Thought this was what you wanted, brat.” He said tauntingly as he gripped her hair, making her look up at him.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen—” he started . “Y’gonna suck my cock like a good girl n then I’m gonna fuck that tight little cunt until I’m through with you, n maybe your ass if I feel like it. You’ve been a little bitch all night so don’t expect to fucking cum, y’hear me?” He stated as he peered down at her. Cherrie felt her pussy begin to ache with need, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to actually want him the way she does now.

Cherrie nodded and Hopper slapped her once again, but on her other cheek. “Words, slut.” He spit out. Cherrie moaned at the slap, making hopper chuckle. “Yes, sir.” She muttered as she bit down on her lip. Jim groaned at the name. “Good girl.” He praised as he began to unzip his pants, letting them fall to his knees.

Cherrie could see his large bulge and a small wet patch where his tip is that’s seeping through. “M’gonna teach you how to suck cock properly, little girl.” He said as he let his hard cock spring free, long and so thick. A vein ran along the underside of it and Cherries mouth watered at the sight, but she wasn’t gonna let up so easily. “S’ not gonna fit in my mouth. Don’t want it to.” She said.

“I don’t give a fuck, you act like a brat n’ you get treated like one.” He said as he slapped his cock against the side of her cheek with a smirk. He soon forced Cherries mouth open with his thumb and shoved his throbbing member down her throat without warning, making her gag aloud. Cherrie could feel her eyes watering as his cock hit the back of her throat with no mercy. It was getting hard to breathe, and it didn’t help when the mean man above her pinched her nose shut as he held his cock in the back of her throat with a loud groan.

After a few seconds he let her nose go and she released his throbbing dick, gasping for air, hee chest heaving. “Please—” she begged through breaths of air. Jim quickly shoved his cock back down her throat that was now becoming unbearably sore, along with her jaw. She moaned around his cock as she began to grind her sopping cunt against the chiefs freshly polished boots.

Hopper felt his end coming near at the sight it. “Look at you— h-humping my boot l-l-like a bitch in heat.” He moaned at through clenched teeth as he watched her mascara and eyeliner run down her cheeks from her tears that he caused. The way she feverishly humped against his boot harder after his comment made him cum down her throat with a groan and a string of ‘fuckkk, just like that’ and ‘so fuckin good’.

Cherries senses were overwhelmed as she tasted him down her throat and on her tongue. Salty, but not bitter. Hopper slightly pulled out and released the rest of his cum on her tongue that was hanging outside of her mouth with a satisfied moan. Cherrie made quick work of swallowing his generous load. “Whaddya say, baby?” He mocked.

“Thank you for your cum, sir.” Cherrie said as she gripped at his leg, her panty covered pussy still dripping on his boot. “Needy little girl, aren’t you, Cherrie?” He asked as he clicked his tongue. She nodded and muttered a small ‘yes, sir’ as he surprisingly, gently pulled her up from the ground. Hopper gripped Cherries throat and pulled her face close to his, just enough to where their lips were brushing against each other.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good.” He muttered, and Cherrie groaned as he lips finally crashed with his. The kiss was messy and heated, and their teeth clashed together as did their tongues. They fought for dominance, but Jim over powered her as his tongue danced with hers. “Fuckkk, y’taste so good.” He groaned against her as his grip on her slim throat tighten just above her spiked choker that he adored so much on her.

He opened her mouth before spitting into it, his boner growing larger as he watched her swallow it obediently. It was just something about making her go from a bratty, loud, rude and arrogant little girl to a submissive, hot mess with not much to say now that made Jim Hopper go absolutely fucking feral. The need to be inside of her hurled into his senses as he dragged her to the front of his cruiser, bending her over the hood.

Jim got down onto his knees, now eye level with her wet, fishnet covered baby pink panties with lace on the trim of it. “So cute, baby.” He muttered as he kissed the flesh of her ass before gripping both cheeks in his large hands. He pressed his nose into her panties and inhaled her scent deeply, his dick throbbing at the smell of her arousal. Cherrie whimpered as his nose brushed against her aching clit as she tried to wiggle her pussy even closer to his face.

Hopper chuckled at his needy girl and licked a long stripe over her panties. Cherrie let out a pornographic moan as he sucked her panty covered clit into his mouth. “Please, sir, ‘m sorry for bein’ a bad girl, need you so bad. promise I’ll be good.” She whined out as her eyes began to water again.

“Since you asked so nicely f’me, whore.” He said as though he were pondering it. He stood up and easily towered over the small girl bent over the hood of his car as he ripped her fishnets big enough to wear he could push her panties to the side. He groaned as he watched her slick drip out of her pussy and down her thighs. “Hop, my fishnets..” she muttered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy you new fishnets, baby, whatever you want.” He muttered as leaned over and kissed her shoulder. He slapped her ass, once, twice, just to watch it jiggle against the impact before spreading her ass once again to get a better view of her pussy. “So wet..” he murmured to himself as he slapped her gently slapped her cunt, making her let out a soft groan.

Hopper aligned his massive cock to her entrance and pushed in forcefully before pausing for a moment to get the smaller girl used to his size. Her cunt squeezed around him in a vice grip, almost painfully as he hissed. Cherrie moaned as she felt him fill her small cunt to the brim, kissing her cervix. She could feel him throbbing inside of her, begging to move.

“Please, sir—” she started, and Jim wasted no time in pulling out just to slam back into her again, causing Cherrie to let out a gasp. Hopper began pounding into the red haired girl, one of his hands gripping her wrists that were still in handcuffs while the other harshly smacked her ass hard enough to leave a deep red hand print, making Cherries eyes water.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned out loud ‘uhs’ each time he slammed back into her. As his pace began to gradually increase, the sweaty sound of skin slapping together could be heard throughout the parking lot and Jim felt like he was on cloud 9. Her cunt was so warm and tight. Almost as if she were a virgin.

Hop imagined her stomach swollen and her breasts enlarged and swollen with milk. How she’d become domesticated and obedient, much to his pleasure. He imagined her whimpers and moans as he’d fondle her nipples and squeezed the bundle of nerves just to watch the milk come out of them.

His hips slammed into hers harder and faster, taking Cherries breath away as her moans were uncontrollable and throat sore. Her mind was blank and all she could think about was the way he was filling her up. “Like the way I fuck you, hm? Stuffin’ this little pussy just the way you like.” The older man said as he threw his head back with a loud moan.

God, she loved how vocal he was. It made her pussy clench around him as she felt her orgasm approaching. “Sir—‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, oh my god—” she moaned out, her voice a higher pitch as she whined at the stimulation. Hopper sounded almost animalistic as he let out a what sounded close to a growl. “I told you you’re not gonna fuckin’ cum, you hear me?” He said through pants. Cherrie could tell he was being serious, but she just couldn’t hold it.

“please, ‘m sorry, sorry, I c—ca—can’t hold it.” She gasped out as her mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape as her orgasm slammed into her. Cherrie squirted all over Jim’s lower body, making him let out a groan. “Fuckkk..” he groaned out again. Cherrie thought Hopper would let up since she’d already came, but it seemed like the man had other plans.

Her pussy was so sensitive as he continued his brutal thrusts in and out with no remorse to her aching cunt. “please—stop, I can’t—“ she begged loudly as she tried to push her cuffed hands against his lower stomach, weakly trying to push him away from her but failing miserably. “No, you wanted to cum so you’re gonna fuckin cum for me as many times as I tell you to.” He said as he watched her ass jiggle each time his hips hit hers.

Hopper moved his hand that was around her wrist to her ass cheek, spreading it before spitting down into her puckered hole. He used his thumb to smear around his saliva before he slowly pushed it in, making Cherrie hiss out in pain. “This is what little girls who don’t listen get. They get their assholes used and violated.” He said with a chuckle as he began to fuck her tight ass with his thumb.

Broken moans left her throat as she felt herself go cross eyed, body shaking at the stimulation of her clit dragging against the hood of the car with each violent thrust delivered to her over-used cunt, paired with his thumb fucking into her ass made her orgasm quickly approach again.

“Sir, ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please, please!” She yelled out like it was a chant. Hopper bit down harshly on his lip, drawing blood before speaking. “Hold on, ‘m almost there, slut.” He huffed out as his thrusts became erratic and sloppy. “Y’want me to cum in this pussy? Make you nice n’ full? Make you all nice n swollen with my fuckin’ babies?” He moaned out.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh my god, need your cum, please cum in me. Need it so bad.” She moaned out, drunk on his cock that was drilling into her now more sloppy. “Yeah? Fuck , yes. Cum f’me right now, Cherrie. Cum f’me.” He repeated over and over till she squirted all over his cock for a second time, her body shaking and spasming with each dragging thrust he blew.

His hips stilled as his cock stuffed her full, and she could feel him getting soft inside of her before lazily pulling out. Hopper dropped down to his knees again and began licking up both of their release from her hole, savoring the taste of her juices that were now dripping down the starved man’s chin, making his beard sticky. “Oh my god.” Cherrie moaned as her legs shook violently at the harsh overstimulation of him fucking his cum back into her pussy with three of his large fingers.

Jim let up and slapped her cunt a few times for safe measures before he grabbed the keys to her handcuffs and took them off. Hopper put her panties back in place to make sure none of his valued cum can get out of her used cunt. He let her body fall limp against him as he picked her up bridal style as he opened the passenger door, gently putting her in.

“‘M takin’ you to my house, baby. Gon’ take good care of you, Cherrie.” He murmured gently as he kissed her temple. Cherrie nodded and blushed madly at his gentle, loving tone. A tone no one besides Wayne or Eddie used for her.

Maybe Jim Hopper wasn’t so bad after all.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

[wannabespacesmuggler]

J.H. | The Duality of Jim Hopper

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. You’re certain that there is no truth behind the rumors until you take one hell of a beating and Hopper wants answers.

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings: mentions of an injury, teenagers being punks, swearing, Hopper being Hopper

Word Count: 4.5k

“How are you settling in?”

The voice tears your attention away from one of the books piled up on the table in front of you. You glance toward the sound and see Marissa, the librarian, standing beside you. A part of you wants to groan at her question because you are acutely aware that you don’t share the same history as most of your friends in Hawkins. 

You didn’t approach another child on the playground during your first day of kindergarten and establish a once in a lifetime kind of friendship -- like Mike and Will. You didn’t share cigarettes under the bleachers of your local high school while attempting to not get busted by administration -- like Joyce and Hopper. You didn’t attend new mother classes and bond over the newfound joy of motherhood -- like Karen and Marsha.

No. You haven’t lived in this small town your entire life. You moved to Hawkins after everyone your age had settled into their lives -- with jobs, and spouses, and children. Meanwhile, you came to Hawkins from Indianapolis in an attempt to have a quieter life. No children, no spouse, and no job -- that is until you had an interview with Donald Melvald.

And Melvald’s is where you met Joyce Byers, who quickly became your lifeline in Hawkins. You remember your first day at work, when she took all day just to train you. Little did you know, Joyce was just as excited as you were to have some company throughout the day. She easily took you under her wing and brought you up to date with the history of Hawkins. Eventually, she invited you into her life and home. Dinners at the Byers’ home became more frequent as you continued working together. The Byers slowly became your family in Hawkins.

“I’m doing well. Thank you for checking in.”

She gives you a polite smile. You were hoping she’d leave the conversation at that, but she asks you another question.

“Are you still working over at Melvald’s with Joyce?”

You give her a nod in response and turn your attention back to the stack of books that Will had recommended to you. It’s not that you don’t like Marissa. She’s fantastic at her job and you enjoyed the few conversations you have had with her, but you know she’s also a gossip -- or at least that’s what Joyce told you when you asked why the local librarian started asking you so many personal questions during your first visit. 

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. So are the boys. I’m actually going over there for dinner tonight.”

You hope you’ve given her enough information to quench her thirst for details.

“Oh. With the Chief?”

Apparently not. 

Your brow furrows at her question and you shake your head. Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. 

The two of you became quick friends, but you weren’t aware of his reputation in town until after you had dinner with him. It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you at Benny’s; Joyce was actually the one who had planned the little outing, but Will ended up coming home from school early that day with a fever, so Joyce had to cancel last minute. Hopper ended up wandering into Melvald’s later that day after Joyce had called the two of you about her predicament. 

“We can still go tonight. If you want?”

Hopper will never tell you that he wants to take you out to dinner. Instead, he leaves the decision to you; afraid of the rejection that could come if he were to just blatantly ask you out. 

You shrug before giving him a verbal answer.

“I don’t have anything else going on tonight.”

Hopper smiles as he leans against the counter, watching as you continue restocking the shelves. 

“Meet you at Benny’s? 7:00 o’clock?”

You stop restocking and glance up at him. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was intimidating. He’s a large man and his presence practically demands your attention. Hell, his broad frame is taking up half the counter. But then his hands are anxiously fiddling with an unlit cigarette as he waits for your response. It almost makes you laugh -- the duality of Jim Hopper.

“Actually, can you pick me up? My car has been acting up.”

“I’ll be there at 7:00 and maybe I can take a look at your car?”

Jim watches you stand up. As you walk past him to get behind the counter, you gently place your hand on his bicep. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, but for some reason, every single fucking time you touch him, Hopper has to fight off the shiver that begs to journey down his spine. He doesn’t give it a second thought though. He can’t. He’s had his heart locked up tight for years. He isn’t sure if he could find the key even if he tried.

“You’re a lifesaver, Hop.”

You enjoyed dinner and Jim did end up fixing your car that night. You repaid him for the ride and a free tune-up with a case of beer, which the two of you powered through in the span of a few hours. At some point, you stole the keys to Hopper’s truck and convinced him the crash on your couch for the night. The next day, you two were the talk of the town after your neighbor told everyone she knew that the chief of police was leaving your house awfully early in the morning.

Since then, you’ve gotten quite a few questions about Hopper from the local citizens who didn’t know you too well -- assuming you were just another one of his many flings.

It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at Marissa. Still, you offer her a polite response.

“Hopper’s working tonight.”

Marissa seems to be content in your answer and leaves you with your stack of books. You let out a sigh of relief and glance out the window. A small smile pulls at your lips as you spot Jonathan and Nancy talking to a group of boys in the parking lot, until you see one of the boys throw a punch a Jonathan.

You hastily push out your chair, turn on your heels, burst through the doors and sprint through the parking lot. You can hear Nancy begging for the boys to stop, but her protests fall on deaf ears as the boys continue to pummel Jonathan. Nancy turns toward you and relief washes over her features -- she doesn’t know you well, but Jonathan has always spoke highly of you and right now she’ll take any help offered.

“Get off of him!” 

Your voice gets one of the boys’ attention for just a moment.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

You furrow your brow at the comment. Jonathan may not be your child; however, you care for him as if he was your own and you’re not going to let this teenager lay another hand on him. Quickly, you try to get inbetween the two boys. You think you have the upperhand until the boy on top of Jonathan throws his elbow back in an attempt to get you off of him. His elbow cracks you in the nose and immediately sends you crashing to the ground. The sound of your body hitting the gravel stops the boy’s assault on Jonathan. He turns to you and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he did not mean to hurt you; he had been blinded by anger and made a stupid decision.

However, those stupid decisions seem to continue as you watch red and blue lights reflect off of Jonathan’s car. You can vaguely hear the sound of a police siren and someone yelling your name, as you watch the boy who had been pummeling Jonathan into the pavement run in the other direction. You take a moment to take in details about the boy, knowing that you’ll end up at the station giving a description of the boy to Hopper. 

As you try to get up, you’re met with the face of Officer Callahan. 

“Woah, there. Seems like you took quite a beating.”

“No, no, no. Jonathan. You need to check on Jonathan.”

Officer Callahan puts a gentle, but firm hand on your shoulder to keep you in place as you frantically search for the boy.

“It’s okay. Powell’s with him right now. We’re going to get you both to the hospital. Chief is already on his way.”

You give Callahan a nod and lay back down on the rough gravel. As the adrenaline begins to leave your system, the pounding in your head starts to take precedence. In an attempt to ease the pain, you close your eyes. You only mean for it to be a minute, but as you hear Callahan’s voice begging for you to just hold on, you feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

When you open your eyes again, the pounding in your head has dulled and your ears are met with the rhythmic sound of your heart beat on the monitor next to you. You’re about to call for a nurse to get some information when you hear a woman yell from down the hall. 

“Sir, you can’t smoke in here!”

You hear a string of grumbled expletives before a familiar figure leans against the doorframe of your hospital room. 

“Hey, Hop.”

He’s disheveled. His uniform shirt is fully unbuttoned and falling off one shoulder, leaving his henley to be on full display. It looks as though he threw on the shirt hastily as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Somewhere in the chaos he’s lost his hat as well, allowing you a glimpse at his unusually tousled hair -- he’s been running his hands through it in frustration since he got the call from Callahan that you were on your way to the hospital.

His eyes rake over your body, checking for injuries, before they settle on your face. The hardened anger in his gaze quickly fades to a tender concern as he studies your broken nose and two black eyes. 

Eventually, he moves from the doorframe and takes large strides toward you. He towers over your body as he stands beside your hospital bed. His jaw is clenched so hard that you begin to worry that the man might crack a tooth. The anger in the pit of his stomach begins boiling over once more as he gets a better look at your injuries -- they’re much worse upon closer inspection. Callahan was right -- you took one hell of a beating.

“Hop.”

Hopper lets out a solemn sigh as you slide your hand into his. Finally, he meets your gaze and his features soften. You swallow a string of emotions -- Hopper has never looked at you this tenderly before. It’s a lot to take in -- on one hand he’s got a warmth in his features that you’ve never witnessed before that only seemed to spark once he entered your hospital room and, on the otherhand, his body is so rigid that you fear he might snap if another goddamn thing happens today.

Keeping a tight grip on your hand, he takes a seat beside you on the small hospital bed. He reaches out and places his free hand on the side of your face. Your breath catches in your chest as his thumb gently traces over your wounds. His touch is careful, the softest whisper of contact. He’d stop if you asked him to, but you wouldn’t dare. You’d let him trace over the bridge of your nose over and over and over again, if it means that you’ll maintain Jim Hopper’s undivided attention. However, as he grazes over the area where the kid split your nose open, you flinch away from his touch. He pulls his hand back immediately and anger washes over his features once more. It was only for a second, but it was enough for you to recognize the festering rage stewing in the back of Hopper’s mind. 

“Who did this to you?”

His voice is low and he ducks his head down to your level, maintaining eye contact with you as he speaks. You open your mouth but no words come out. You’re entirely enamored in the duality of Jim Hopper once again -- fierce and rageful, while simultaneously gentle and kind. A protector in every sense of the word. He moves cautiously, placing his hands on either side of your face. He’s cradling your face like a coveted prize jewel. He takes a moment and then asks you again.

“Sweetheart, who hurt you?”

You finally let out the breath that got caught in your throat. His voice is somehow sweet as honey while simultaneously laced with venom. 

“It was just some punk kid that was giving Jonathan trouble.”

His brow furrows immediately at your response.

“What kid? I’ll make sure he never touches you again. And Jonathan.”

There’s a beat before he says the last two words. He rushes to add Jonathan into the equation in an attempt to make it seem like he’s sitting here with you because it’s his job, and not because his heart dropped into his stomach when he got the call from Callahan. He didn’t even both listening to the rest of Callahan’s message over the walkie. He knew someone hurt you and that you were being escorted by an ambulance -- that was more than enough to get him racing to his truck and speeding to the hospital. But now, in this moment, where it is just you and Hopper, he tries to cover up the fact that he’s here solely because he cares for you. 

“He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He looks at you with an incredulous expression. Where Jim is harsh, you are forgiving. He’s always appreciated the ways you’ve challenged him since you moved to Hawkins. But, right now, he wishes you were as angry as he was. But, instead, you’re sitting here with your infinite grace and it’s just pissing him off more. He retracts his hands from your face and stands up, before raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Oh, he didn’t mean to hurt you? Sorry, sweetheart, Callahan didn’t relay that to me that in his message -- you know the one where he let me know you were unconscious! I should go find him then, right? So I can check in on him?”

The honey is long gone from his voice, it is all venom. And the way he says ‘sweetheart’ this time is almost condescending. You’ve heard Hopper raise his voice before, his anger is no stranger to you; however, this is the first time he has risen his voice at you. It startles you for a moment. You let out a frustrated breath and furrow your brow.

“Hey, don’t take this out on me. That isn’t fair.”

“You scared the shit out of me!”

And then there is a painful silence between the two of you. Hopper is practically panting as he tries to regain his composure. Against his better judgment, he glances in your direction. Guilt immediately blooms where anger had previously resided. Deciding he’s done enough damage, he turns and begins to walk toward the door in an attempt to find Jonathan’s room. 

“Hey, Hop. Wait.”

Hopper stops as he hears your voice. It sounds smaller than normal -- almost as if you were scared that he’d cast your plea aside and leave you in this room alone. Don’t you know by now he would do anything you asked of him? He lets out a sigh before turning back to you. 

“Please don’t go.”

Hopper nods at your request before slowly making his way back over to you. This time, instead of sitting beside you on the small hospital bed, he pulls a chair up to your bedside and slumps into it. He no longer looks angry or concerned or soft. No, he just looks exhausted and the sight causes a sharp pain in your heart. The two of you sit in silence for a few moment before Hopper notices your hands wringing anxiously. He decides then to break the silence.

“How did you even get caught up in this mess?”

You let out a laugh before answering, catching Hopper off guard.

“I was actually at the library.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow at your confession and looks at you in disbelief. 

“You’re joking.”

The two of you laugh together at your absolute dumb luck. You’re glad that the tension in the room has dissipated. Now, the silence is comfortable.

“You know Marissa?”

Hopper raises a brow at you once more.

“The librarian?”

“Yes, the librarian. I think she likes you.”

Hopper lets out a half-hearted laugh at your comment. A part of him wishes you were around when he was a younger man -- when he was less bitter. Before the war totured the boyish charmisa out of him. Yet another is glad that you weren’t there to witness his past. That unlike everyone else, you don’t assume that he’s already slept with the local librarian -- even if it’s true.

“Trust me. I know.”

You stare at him with a look of naive confusion. Eventually, you put the pieces together and your eyes light up. You roll your eyes and laugh before covering you face with your hands.

“This explains so much.”

Now it’s Hopper’s turn to be confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“She asks about you all the time.”

If Hopper were a few years younger, that comment would fuel his ego; however, those days are behind him.

“And that explains why she doesn’t like me.”

Hopper is taken aback by that comment. He can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like you.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because she believes what everyone else does.”

Hopper looks at you as if you’re speaking a different language. You let out a laugh at his oblivious nature which only seems to confuse him more. It makes sense that the comments were directed toward you and not the intimidating chief of police; however, you can’t believe he hasn’t overheard anyone talking about it at this point.

“People talked after you crashed on my couch that night.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have to get into details about what they said. Hopper knows. He knows his reputation proceeds him. And he should have known that spending more time with you would raise a few eyebrows in town. Sometimes he hates this stupid small town and the fact that someone is always watching.

“Did you think about it?”

Hopper looks at you for a moment before he furrows his brow. God, this oblivious man is going to kill you. Deciding that it’s too late to back out now, you decide to double down. 

“Did you think about me that night like you thought about Marissa?”

“How hard did that kid hit you?”

He attempts to lighten the mood and brush off the question, but you won’t have it. He’s avoiding your eye contact, deciding instead to fiddle with the pack of cigarettes that he pulled out from his pocket.

“Jim.”

It knocks the breath out of his lungs. You’ve only called him that one other time -- the same night you’re asking about. Hopper was already one too many beers in when you fell beside him, onto the couch. He let out a loud laugh while throwing an arm behind you, on the back of the couch. You laugh along with him and lean your head back into his arm. You turn your head to face him and you’re suddenly aware of how close you are to Hopper. He’s looking at you like you’re a goddamn dream. And you’re not sure what time it is but Hopper looks softer in the moonlight. And you know you’re not thinking straight; however, leaning into the sudden intimacy between you and Hopper doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.

And then you say his name. And it sounds like a goddamn prayer. His mind is fuzzy and he swears you’ve never looked as stunning as you do right now -- he takes a moment to capture this memory and file it away into the back of his subconscious.

He watches as you lean into him. You move slowly, allowing him room to back away if he wanted; however, he doesn’t pull back. Instead, he takes your lead and leans in as well. Before any drunken, heat of the moment decisions can be made, your phone rings, cutting through the thick silence. Hopper emits a low growl, but allows you to pull away and leave the room. You answer the phone and he can hear your voice from the other room. He sets his beer down on your coffee table, deciding that he’s definitely had enough to drink. By the time you return to your living room, Hopper is snoring and the moment has passed.

He may not be drunk now; however, he’s just as enamored as he was that night as you say his name. 

“No.”

His answer hits you harder the elbow you took to the face. Your eyes fall to your hands and you nod. Hopper is immediately filled with regret. God, he’s an idiot. That’s not what he meant. Of course he’s thought about you. It’s just different and he’s not quite sure how to explain it to you, but he’s going to try because he cannot stand the sadness that has washed over your features.

“Sweetheart, you’re not Marissa. When I was with her, I wasn’t thinking about her; I was just thinking about me. Of course I thought about it that night -- you and I.  It’s just you could never be just a fling to me.”

Hopper avoids eye contact with you as he speaks, but it doesn’t matter. His honest words make your heart flutter and repair the heartbreak that his previous answer caused. A small smile spread across your face at the sudden realization that Hopper likes you. 

“I thought about it too, that night.”

Hopper’s head rises and he meets your gaze. 

“You know -- you and I.”

You repeat Hopper’s words back to him with a small smile on your face. Hopper can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The two of you have entered uncharted waters; however, Hopper has never felt more comfortable than he does right nwo, wading into the deep end with you. He moves his chair closer to your bedside and takes your hand in his once again. When he meets your eyes, your breath is once again trapped in your lungs. It’s like you’ve transported right back to that night and you’re Jim Hopper’s answered prayer. 

“You know, the kid hit you pretty fucking hard. Are you sure you’re thinking straight?”

You roll your eyes; however, Hopper still manages to get a good laugh out of you. Even when he’s flirting, he’s still a goddamn smartass.

“Just kiss me, Jim.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. In a moment, he’s out of his seat -- towering over you once again. If you were any other person in Hawkins, you would probably perceive Jim’s presence so close to you as formidable, but, right now, you just feel safe. And you can’t help but lost in the duality of Jim Hopper. 

He moves his hands and gently cradles your face. Your eyes close as you lean into his touch. You allow yourself to just enjoy the feeling of Jim’s skin on your own, until he traces his thumb over your bottom lip. As you open your eyes, you’re met with Jim only a breath away from you. You lean into him and then his lips meet yours and it just feels right - like everything has finally fallen into place; Hawkins, Melvald’s, the Byer’s family, Jim.

Jim’s movements are gentle and slow, until you grab a fistful of his open sheriff’s uniform and pull him closer. The guttural growl that reverberates in Jim’s chest as he moves his hands down your body, sends a shiver down your spine. The sweet, lazy kiss has now turned into something more passionate and desperate. Seemingly lost in the moment, Jim nudges his nose against yours which makes you involuntarily let out a pained hiss. Jim pulls away instantly and his eyes fill with panic, until he realizes what he’s done. A soft chuckle escapes him as he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

His voice is low and sultry. You’ve never heard anything so heavenly before. And then you're laughing with him. Today has been overwhelming, to say the least, and it’s comical to you. Jim leans back again and meets your eyes. There’s a new fierceness in his gaze that isn’t quite so rageful. He moves his hand to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by footsteps stopping just outside your hospital room and a surprised gasp. Jim’s eyes close and he shakes his head. He should have known -- there is no such thing as privacy in this small town. He opens his eyes and you’re smiling at him. You’re fucking smiling at him and it takes everything in him to not kiss you again. 

“It’s Joyce isn’t it?”

You peek over his shoulder and spot Joyce standing in the doorway with both of her hands over her mouth. The sight makes your smile grow and you nod your head to answer Jim’s question. He lets out an annoyed sigh and finally moves away from you. Jim doesn’t go too far though, he simply sits on the edge of your hospital bed and keeps a protective hand on your thigh.

“Joyce.”

Jim’s voice is stern. The dramatic change in tone almost gives you whiplash. Joyce seems to be at a loss for words as she just moves her gaze between you both. Jim finally throws both of his hands up in front of him, exasperatedly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Jim rolls his eyes at her apology, but there’s a small smile plastered on his face. He might be impatient and uncordial with almost everyone in this small town; however, Jim Hopper has always had a soft spot for Joyce Byers. And right now, Jim feels like he’s back in high school. Joyce has never been nonchalant, so every time Jim included her in his extracurricular activities, it always seemed to bite him in the ass; however, no amount of detentions ever stopped him from inviting her into his life. 

“It’s fine, Joyce. How’s Jonathan?”

Your nerves dissipate once Joyce lets you both know that Jonathan is perfectly fine -- a little bruised and battered, but ultimately okay. She attempts to make some awkward small talk with you both, before excusing herself from the conversation so that she can go check on Jonathan. 

With that, Jim’s attention is once again focused solely on you. He moves to kiss you again, but stops once his forehead meets yours.

“I swear to God, if a nurse barges in next.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Hopper.”

A content smile spreads across his face at your words. He could get used to hearing those words -- he could get used to all of this. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader • Jealousy, angst, posessive Hopper • Hopper has a corruption kink and some dark fantasies about reader

PART TWO

Chief Jim Hopper knew he had a problem; several, in fact. There was his moderate abuse of alcohol which bordered on severe, especially under times of heightened stress (which to be fair, seemed like most of the time these days). Then there was his pill addiction, the ones he found himself leaning on throughout the day when the effects of the previous night’s alcohol had worn off. But the problem Hopper had that bothered him the most, perhaps, was the one that involved YOU…

He was absolutely, unequivocally in lust with you. Every time Hopper saw you, the limited bit of feminism he’d learned over the years flew right out the window. He wanted you, and not in a pretty way, or any way that implied romance, flowers, dating, none of that. He wanted you carnally, in a way that almost frightened him because of the strength behind it.

Hopper knew he could control himself, at least physically. He wasn’t worried about that, wasn’t concerned that he’d hurt you. But mentally…he was out of control. The fantasies that filled his mind involving you were beyond pornographic; they were sinful. Everything sweet about you, everything pure, Hopper wanted to corrupt.

As the station’s new secretary, he saw you daily, heard your voice chatting on the phone and with your co-workers. And fuck, how he wanted you. He wanted to know if your pretty face would still look so sweet, so innocent, with his cum running down it? How distorted would your sweet voice sound with his cock rammed down your throat? Would you still be smiling if his hands were in your hair, yanking it backwards as he stretched your asshole beyond its capacity to take him?

Hopper knew he was sick. And sometimes, when he was alone and drunk, or high, he didn’t fucking care that he was sick. He didn’t mind being a monster, in those moments with his hand around his cock, lying on his back with his eyes closed, imagining your mouth around him instead. Servicing him, seducing him, your pretty eyes on his and only him.

He was your boss, after all. Your superior in every way. How Hopper wished he could take advantage of that superiority, to abuse his position of power as thoroughly as he longed to abuse your throat. It was all fantasy, of course, and therefore safe. A secret indulgence that Hopper took little pride in during sobriety, but that he found himself a slave to when intoxicated. Even at the station, he’d have no choice but to relieve himself in the privacy of his office.

Hearing your voice just outside his door, knowing what you were wearing as he’d seen you when he entered the station that morning, Hopper would lock his door and have his pants undone before he got back to his chair. He’d loosen the top buttons of his shirt, sit back and stroke himself to the sound of your voice beyond the door, hanging on your words, the gentle trill of your laughter. He’d imagine how pretty your moans would sound as he took you from behind, how sweetly you’d whimper as he pumped his cum inside you, then licked you clean.

Hopper would reach for whatever was nearby, usually his emptied coffee cup from that morning, and ejaculate into it. And what a poor substitute for your mouth it was, he’d think, breathless and leaning fully back in his chair, cock still leaking and twitching in his hand. He’d always toss the cup into the trash can and clean himself up, so no one suspected a thing. No one else at the station was aware of his perversions, and that’s how Hopper wanted it to be. He knew that if his secret got out, it would ruin his already faltering reputation within the community. Hawkins was his hometown, and had generally been sympathetic considering his past trauma and choice to return home after the death of his daughter. But this? Combined with the rumors of Hopper’s substance abuse, the fact that he was lusting after the new secretary at least ten years his junior would likely solidify his reputation as a degenerate and render him unfit for duty.

Hopper was lonely, very lonely. It had been months since he’d last had a woman, and even then, it was so casual and boring that it meant nothing to him. He hadn’t even wanted her, truthfully; she was just a wet, willing mouth to suck him off, parked behind The Hideaway bar downtown after they’d both indulged in far too many beers. She’d swallowed his cum, he’d fingered her in the front seat to climax, and that was the end of it. She’d left his car for her own, parked a few feet away, and they’d never seen each other since. She’d tried to get his attention in the weeks after, but Hopper wasn’t interested.

Because a week later, you’d come to work at the station, and Hopper’s world (at least, his internal world) had been flipped upside down. He’d never been more attracted to anyone in his life, never felt such an instinctive, primal yearning for a woman who he literally knew almost nothing about. But really, Hopper would ask himself, did he need to know more? He could see everything he wanted to take from you, from just one look in your direction. That body…those soft pink lips that would look even softer with his cum dripping out of them…Your eyes, beautiful eyes that he needed to see rolled back while gagging on his cock…

Hopper was reaching a breaking point, he feared. Although he knew he’d never hurt you, he needed to. He needed to know what you felt like around his dick, what sounds you’d make taking him. He wondered if you’d ever been with a man as big as him before? Hopper knew he was hung, at least three inches above the average man’s size. He was thick too, and he knew from experience that women appreciate a cock with not only length but girth as well. He knew he could pease you, could do things to your body that no other man ever had, if only you’d allow him. If only, if only, if only…

Hopper was drowning in ‘if only’s.’ One way or another, he would have you. The first step , he decided, was to approach you as a colleague. Not as your boss, necessarily, even though that’s what he was. He needed to be subtle about his approach, so as not to come across as abusing his position of power over you. This needed to go down smoothly, softly, a calculated plan of action that Hopper was dedicated to seeing through, from the beginning to where it ended with his cock buried inside you…

He planned to approach you at the station’s annual ‘Spring Fling,’ a community fundraising event for local charities held every year on the second Saturday in April. Hopper chose this event because it was outside of work, yet as an employee of the Hawkins P.D. you were sure to be there. The days leading up to the Spring Fling were the hardest for Hopper, both figuratively and literally. He’d never had to masturbate so often in his life, finding himself painfully hard through most of the work day just being near you. Thank god for the privacy of his office and the lock on its door. Hopper had begun taking extra coffee in the morning with the excuse that he was more tied than usual, with the actual intent of dumping the coffee out and using the empty cups to cum inside.

He groomed himself as usual the morning of the event, taking slightly longer to adjust himself in the mirror before leaving his trailer. Hopper had been a little self conscious about his weight in recent years, but he was tall and knew that his height worked as an advantage for him. Straightening in the mirror, pressing his shoulders back, he met his eyes in his reflection, their deep, intense blue. He was ready.

Hopper planned to make casual, friendly conversation with you, before inviting you to dinner. He’d control his body as best he could, force his eyes not to wander from your eyes to anywhere besides your lips, perhaps, and even then, for the briefest of moments. He needed to seal this deal, to secure your trust (although as Chief of Police and your employer, he was reasonably sure he already had it). No need to get ahead of himself, however, Hopper remembered. It was better to assume you had at least a neutral opinion of him before proceeding, rather than expect your automatic approval.

When he arrived at the Spring Fling, Hopper was surprised to see how just many people had turned out. The event usually drew a big crowd, but the majority of Hawkins seemed to be there this year. It was promising for the charities hoping to earn donations that day, but made Hopper’s effort to spot you in the crowd more difficult. He met up with officers Callahan and Powell, and lingered with them near the stage set up for music to be performed later, hoping that perhaps the trio of them would catch your eye and prompt you to say hello.

When Hopper did see you, he was awestruck. You were, to him, like something divine: an angel dressed in white, your long skirt moving gently in the light April breeze, the neckline low enough to display your breasts but modest enough to keep his mind actively wondering for more. Your hair was pinned up by bright yellow ribbons, tied together at the back of your head to create what looked to Hopper like the crown a princess in a fairytale might wear.

You were so effortlessly elegant, so perfectly innocent, moving through the crowd completely unaware of the effect you were having on Hopper, and likely most of the other men in attendance. Hopper opened his lips to speak as you approached, but was stopped short when he noticed the young man walking alongside you. Hopper hadn’t seen him before, had been so lost in the sight of you that anyone else near you had faded into the background of his vision, blurred by your presence.

The young man smiled and placed his arm around your waist, as if to claim you. Hopper’s jaw tightened; he’d seen this man before. Up close, he was barely a man at all, at least as Hopper perceived. This was a boy, in his early twenties Hopper assumed. Hopper wondered what this boy was doing for you, what he was doing to you, knowing full well that he could do it so much better, regardless of how good this boy was in bed-

“Chief!” you said brightly, pulling Hopper from his vindictive string of thoughts. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe this many people showed up today, isn’t it great?”

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m glad to see such a big turnout.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man with his arm around your waist. “You look beautiful, (y/n),” he said, and you smiled, cheeks going slightly pink. Because of course they did. Of course you blushed easily, because you were so sweet, so soft. And it made Hopper want to absolutely ruin you…

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone slightly sharper than he’d intended. You smiled and looked up at the (admittedly handsome, Hopper conceded) man beside you. “This is Steve, my boyfriend,” you replied, your cheeks going pinker. The young man extended his hand to Hopper for a friendly shake. “Steve Harrington,” he said, his big brown eyes full of a joy that Hopper had only dreamed of ever experiencing. “My mom runs one of the charities participating here today, right over-.” He pointed awkwardly past Hopper, who didn’t bother to look, chuckling slightly. “-Over there,” Steve continued, adding “it’s good to meet you, Chief.”

Hopper studied the boy a moment longer, committing to memory all of the details about him he’d have to pick apart and analyze later. “Likewise,” Hopper lied, taking Steve’s hand and squeezing harder than he needed. Steve’s eyebrows rose but his smile remained polite. “Well uh, (y/n) tells me a lot about her new job,” Steve said, his tone pleasant as ever. Hopper’s eyes shifted back to you. “Does she?” he asked, and you smiled up at Steve.

“I tell him what I can,” you teased. “But not all the details; I can’t give away too much information about everything that goes on at the station-.” You playfully patted Hopper’s arm, and he swallowed. “-You know,” you continued. “Official police business and all that…”

Hopper knew you only were being friendly, but his paranoia made him wonder exactly how much you knew about what went on at the station? Specifically, his daily masturbation when you were just outside his door? Hopper forced the possibility away, refusing to entertain it. If you knew about it, you probably wouldn’t be so friendly towards him right now, or anytime for that matter. You’d probably think your boss was a pervert (and that’s exactly what Hopper knew he was) never speaking to him again unless you had to. You were too sweet, too innocent, to ever condone such carnal, almost animalistic behavior from a man, surely. At least, that’s what Hopper had always assumed. It’s why he wanted to test how far he could soil such a pretty little flower, to pluck every petal and see what you were capable of underneath?

“Only good things,” Steve assured Hopper. He nodded politely. “Well that’s good to hear,” Hopper said, but he wasn’t looking at Steve; he was looking at you. “(Y/N) is a real asset to the station. We’re lucky to have her.”

Steve smiled down at you warmly. “Me too,” he murmured, and you leaned into each other for a quick kiss. Hopper felt his blood boiling.

You noticed the odd look on the Chief’s face, and felt slightly embarrassed. Even though you weren’t at work, and in a casual setting, you worried maybe it was still unprofessional to give your boyfriend a kiss in this situation? In front of your boss? You were still learning the proper decorum for working at the station, and you hoped your innocent display with Steve hadn’t rubbed Hopper the wrong way. The last thing you wanted to be was unprofessional.

To lighten the mood, you decided to attempt a joke. “I think,” you told Steve, glancing from him to Hopper. “The reason the Chief likes me is because I get him those extra cups of coffee right away every time he asks for them.”

Hopper couldn’t help it; his eyes widened slightly. You were giggling, probably oblivious to the actual weight of what you’d said, but…Hopper’s paranoia lurched in his stomach. What if…what if you did know? He scanned your eyes for any sign of hidden meaning, for any indication that you were on to his behavior behind the office door. But all Hopper saw in your eyes was, as usual, a beautiful innocence that lay waiting to be corrupted…

Steve chimed in with “I’ll bet you need every last drop too, huh Chief?”

Hopper frowned at him, not understanding for a moment before he realized Steve was talking about coffee. “With your job, being so stressful, I mean.”

Hopper nodded, realizing that his dislike of Steve Harrington was rapidly shifting to hatred. “Yeah, it’s a job alright,” Hopper muttered in Steve’s direction, still avoiding looking at him.

You noticed a friend of your and Steve’s a few feet away, and waved to them. Steve saw them as well, and you both took a step in their direction. “Gotta go, boss,” you smiled warmly at Hopper. “See you Monday morning.”

Hopper grinned tightly, glancing very briefly at Steve when the younger man took his hand again. “Pleasure to meet ya, Chief,” Steve told him. Hopper didn’t return the sentiment.

The rest of the event dragged on for Hopper monotonously. Although he tried his best to avoid seeking you out in the crowd, he still found himself looking for the yellow ribbons adorning your hair, and the white dress that drifted so gently in the breeze. It was a welcome distraction in a way, having so many people around, speaking to him even though he had no interest in them or their conversation. There was only one person in the crowd that he cared about; and now, he knew that having you would be more of a challenge than ever.

Hopper felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned. He was looking at a woman, and it took him a solid thirty seconds to recognize that she was the woman he’d fucked in his car months ago. “Hello there, Sherrif,” she said with an overly flirtatious drawl, her voice and demeanor reeking of desperation. She slid her hand down Hopper’s arm, and he watched it, noting the harsh, tacky shade of her nail polish. He knew that you would never wear such a color. You kept your nails neat and pretty, painted in soft pastels like the flowers in your hair.

Hopper hated this woman’s hand on him. He hated the way her neon pink lipstick had transferred onto her teeth as she smiled up at him, waiting for validation. Hopper wondered how long it would take to wash that disgusting pink lipstick off his dick later? He smiled back at the woman, watching her light up at his attention, that he remembered her. There was nothing in this for Hopper, he realized, besides a quick fix to a problem only your body, your mouth, could solve for him.

He looked past the woman briefly just in time to see you and Steve leaving the event together, hardly able to keep your hands off each other. It was all the motivation Hopper needed to make yet another bad decision; and so he took the woman’s hand in his, and asked her a question he already knew the answer to: “What’re you doing tonight?”

[luveline]

ah okay wait i could kinda see hopper with like a younger ish reader and he’s all like grumbly old man about it and doesn’t get why r likes him and reader is just like calm down lets go get ice cream

Your boyfriend has anger issues. Seriously, he’s easy to rile, easier to complain, and he doesn’t like doing things he doesn’t wanna do, which is lots of things, but thankfully isn’t you. 

You offer your hand, butterflies in your stomach squeezing up into your chest when he takes it, his eyes dark with his squared brow. You love being with him in part because he intimidates you, what with his frowning, his uniform, his arguable silly hate. He suits the hat. He pulls it down over his eyes when it rains, a cigarette between his teeth like he’s in a noir film.

“Where’s your hat today, Chief?” you ask. 

He nods toward the backseat. “Why, you like it?” 

“You know I like the hat. It’s a great hat. It makes you look like the Lone Ranger.” 

“I’m never wearing it again,” he says severely. 

“Come on, Hopper, don’t be like that,” you tease back, back of your head dipping back to brush the headrest, your hand right in his. Hopper had this way of making you feel pretty, or cared for? It’s definitely something. He holds your hand and rubs your knuckles and your hand feels pretty, or fine. Not delicate, but held. “I really like it. I meant it as a compliment.” 

“You mean everything as a compliment.” 

You side-eye his muttering. “You know you’re my boyfriend, right?” 

“Doesn’t make any sense.” 

“What, that you’d ever go out with me?” 

“That you’d be with me,” he corrects. 

“That’s really…” You bite your tongue. Perturbed, you crane your neck, kissing the back of his hand softly. Barely a kiss, no smack nor pressure, just a soft brush of your lips. “Hop, I don’t get you sometimes.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he insists. 

“You act like we’re worlds apart. I like you. I don’t get why you don’t get it.” 

He sighs at your small tone. “Don’t take it the wrong way.” 

“Then don’t mean it that way.” 

He glares at the road outside, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. He stays rubbing soft lines with his thumb on your skin, the car speeding fast toward his cabin, snow falling in chunky flakes against the windows. You tuck your other hand over your twined fingers, thinking. What’s the right thing to say? He’s clearly upset believing that he’s not good enough for you, or not right for you, something. 

“Okay,” you say, “alright, here’s what’s gonna happen, handsome,” —he snorts— “we’re gonna go for milkshakes, you’re gonna kiss me up against the car, and I’m gonna tell you how much I like being with you, because it’s true.” 

“In that order?” 

“In that order.” 

Hopper steers the car into a u-turn. “Fucking. Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you a milkshake.” 

[spookyrealms]

Final Essay

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝟐𝟓-𝟐𝟔 𝐲𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄/𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

𝐖𝐂: 𝟏.𝟒𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫… 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭! 𝐏𝐥𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 :)

Your head hung dangerously close to the paper on the desk, your eyes focused. Lower lip pinned back by your teeth as you wrote line after line. It had been over an hour of nonstop writing as you neared the long awaited end of your final essay.

After graduating high school, you had no intention of jumping right into college. You took two years to freely enjoy your life, nothing held you down. Once you felt like enough life experiences had been had, you enrolled in a community college thirty minutes from your home town of Hawkins, Indiana.

Six years had passed since you graduated high school. You settled with a business degree and now, in your senior year, the final semester of your senior year, the finish line was within sight.

A loud, dramatic sigh was heard from directly behind you. The noise caused you to jump slightly. The intense focus you had been caught up in caused you to forget that your boyfriend, Jim Hopper, was existing in the same room.

How you ended up dating the Chief of Hawkins was a story about as complex as the multi page essay you were writing. Age gap and being a college student aside, you two were happy. Sure, it was the talk of the town when the two of you made it “official”, but it was better than hiding it forever.

The slight squeak of the Lazy Boy chair followed by Hopper’s heavy footsteps pulled you from your work. You blinked a couple times to regain focus and continued to write.

“Almost done?” Hopper asked, standing next to the table, scanning the multiple completed papers that were scattered around you.

“I think I have about two more pages.” You answered with a nod.

That was clearly not the answer Hopper wanted to hear based on the low grumble that emanated from his throat. “You really gonna get graded on all of this? Who has time to read every sentence anyway?”

“Yes, Hopper, I am. And believe me the professor will read everything. That’s why I have to make sure it’s perfect. Now shoo, I need to finish.”

You waved your right hand in dismissal. When he didn’t budge you sat back against your chair and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and slightly hooded as he gazed down at you. The expression caused your stomach to knot and cheeks to flush a rosey pink. You knew this expression. It’s one you fantasize about the most, the one you wish to always see on his face. Once Hopper had that look in his eye, there was nothing that would shake it till he got what he wanted which was you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You answered, although that statement was far from the truth.

“Like what?” Hopper’s voice was deeper, thick with desire as he leaned his weight against the table.

“Like that. As if I don’t know what you’re thinking. I really need to get this paper done, Hop.”

There was a tense moment of silence that filled the room. You did your best to ignore the feeling of having Hopper’s eyes fixated on you as you resumed your writing. Your heart beat quickened, thinking about the things you could be doing with him if this damn paper wasn’t due in the morning.

“You’ve been working on that paper long enough. I think you need a break.” His words were like butter, smooth, rich with want and desire.

Hopper gently brushed back some of your hair as you desperately tried to focus on the paper. Eyes fixated on the blank spot next to your last written word, pencil in hand, yet you couldn’t physically get yourself to write. You had become completely distracted.

Hopper knew this. A sly smirk spread across his lips as he traced his hand along your back and down to your waist. Playing with the fabric of your shorts, he had hoped you’d give in at that point. Much to his dismay, you still had your eyes on the paper in front of you.

“I’ve been stressing over this paper for days. It’s due tomorrow, I have to finish it now.” You made one final attempt to thwart his efforts.

“You can take a little break sweetheart, I hate seeing you so stressed.” Hopper countered, hand still playing with the fabric of your shorts.

The man didn’t even need to physically come close to the space between your legs for it to start throbbing for him. Sometimes you hated how much you yearned for him.

With his desire at an all time high but earning none of your attention in return, Hopper decided to take matters into his own hands.

Placing his left hand on the back of your chair, Hopper forcefully tipped it back so you were leaning at an angle. The sudden shift in the way you sat caused you to gasp and drop your pencil. Hopper leaned down, crashing his lips against yours.

“Hop-“ you managed, the words getting swallowed by the kiss, you didn’t mind.

Your lips moved with Hopper’s with a sense of urgency and determination. His right hand drifted upward, snaking under your oversized tshirt and giving your braless chest a gentle squeeze. You hummed against his lips in response to his touch. The final essay had all but been forgotten by now.

“I think you need that break now.” Hopper muttered against your lips.

"I think you're right." you breathed.

In a sequence of quick movements fueled by searing hot passion, Hopper had you flat out on the couch as he thrusted his cock into you. You moaned into a small decorative pillow that cushioned your face.

Hopper placed one hand flat against the small of your back, pushing you down against the scratchy fabric of the old sofa. Your right leg dangled off the couch, the other leg bent, knee pressed deeply into the sofa as Hopper leaned into your lower half to drive himself deeper into your tight cavern.

"Holy shit..." you muttered, the words barely forming from the amount of pleasure that flooded your mind.

The man knew exactly the right spots to hit. Every angle and every stroke was purposeful. He knew your body literally inside and out.

"How's that baby?" Hopper asked, his voice strained slightly from breathing heavy as he continued the quick pace he set the moment he entered you.

"Amazing." you said barely above a whisper.

Hopper removed his right hand off your back, instead gripping your hair and pulling back just enough to lift your head off the pillow. The very action of him taking a fistful of your hair was nearly enough to send you completely over the edge.

"I'm sorry I didn't hear that, what did you say?" the man's voice was low, thick with desire as he spoke.

"It's fucking amazing." you said louder, a moan chasing the statement.

"That's what I thought."

You couldn't see his face but you could tell he sported a satisfied smirk on his lips.

The thought of his facial expression was quickly interrupted with the tingling sensation that rapidly built up inside you. Your legs quivered at the sensation and it caused you to suck in a large amount of air.

"Hop, I'm- I'm gonna cum." your voice wavered, the pleasure was almost too intense to speak.

Your boyfriend didn't answer. Instead, Hopper let go of your hair, placing both of his hands on the arm of the couch directly in front of you. His hips pressed against your bare ass, the position caused each stroke to now hit deeper than before.

"Hopper!" you squeaked, the peak of your orgasm being reached causing you to desperately grip his arms as your walls fluttered around his cock.

Your orgasm prompted Hopper to reach his own. The man groaned a few times as he filled you completely, taking his weight off you and sitting up slightly. The two of you panted heavily, no words were spoken for a minute. It was a mutual satisfaction over the events that had just transpired.

A sharp smack to your left ass cheek caused you to jolt slightly and giggle. Hopper pulled himself out of you and rose to his feet.

"How was that for a break from your paper?"

You turned onto your side, meeting Hopper's gaze. The eye contact caused both of you to smile at one another.

"It was just the mental break I needed, thank you." you replied.

"Go on, get back to work, just don't over exert yourself alright?" Hopper pulled his jeans back on as he spoke.

"Mmmm," you hummed, watching your boyfriend dress himself. "I think I already have."

[ddejavvu]

no matter how much fingering, you can't take all of stepdad hoppers cock inside you, he's just so biggg and thick it makes your head hurt.. and he loves it

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters) and dark, minors dni.

"No- no! I can't," You cry, gripping at Jim's shoulders, broad and smattered with hair, "It's too big! I can't."

"Okay, okay," He hums gruffly, slowing his movements so that his cock isn't ramming into your cunt anymore, "We'll go slow, sweetheart. Real slow."

"Not even slow," You choke, shaking your head while tears bead at your eyes, "I can't do it! It's- there's too much."

"Alright," He glances down, seeing himself only half-buried between your legs, "This, then? That's enough?"

"No," You whimper, shaking your head, "I need more."

"You can't take it," He chuckles, "This is it, honey."

"No, I need-! Your fingers! Your fingers," You reach for his hand when it comes to stroke at your flushed cheek. You press the pads of his fingers to your lips, kissing them desperately, "Please, please just stretch me more."

"It won't work," He croons, voice scratchy as he slowly rolls his hips against yours again, "It's okay, honey. If y'really want the rest of it you can suck it later."

[strangerxperv]

65. “you’re being particularly insufferable today”

Exasperated Dom/ Daddy Jim Hopper x loser perv sub/ little reader

Warnings: NSFW/ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Age difference, degradation, you're a loser/ unkept/ chapped lips/ almost constant dehydration, curvy fem bodied, Jim is a Dom turned annoyed daddy, you're disgusting and full of lust, Jim secretly loves its, spitting, and breeding.

Daddy's Little Pervy Loser

You're not Jim's usual type and you've found peace in this knowledge. He likes you and hasn't broken up with your degenerate ass yet. Most people in this situation would try to bend over backwards. You?

You like to annoy Jim so he'll be mean to you. You love how it feels for him to make you feel small. The way Jim's big burly arms cage you in close.

Jim's cock stuffed down your throat forcing drool and precum to waterfall. Slip past your chapped split lips and drip off his full balls. His hands engulfing the sides of your face with his calloused thick fingers entangled in your hair.

But you loved it even more when Jim fucked you full of cum over and over, promising to knock you up. All the while his deep voice whispers words of twisted praise. The degrading look and tone fills you with satisfaction knowing you have brought him to sin.

Chief Jim Hopper a true and just man laying with a disgusting young perverted loser. You tempt him and he used to hate it. Jim thought he hated you and was even cruel. But that didn't deter you and instead it encouraged you to push harder, like it was a game.

So yes, your relationship is odd and most don't understand how it works. Jim isn't embarrassed by you or ashamed of the relationship. He does hate that you like to make people uncomfortable by jokingly calling him daddy.

He hates it even more feeling his dick twitch to life at the title you've given him, "Daddy!" Your goading bratty tone pulls all the right strings. Jim wants to make you scream it until your horse voice begs Daddy to forgive you. He wonders if you're aware of the effect that name has for the large man.

You must know to some extent based on your current behavior, "Mmm...I can't reach my cup! Can you pleeease help me, daddy?" It's obvious that you can reach the cup on the shelf completely in grasping distance.

Or when you bent over to grab the remote from under the couch. Your ass poking out from your skirt before you widened your stance. Ass up and back arched he sees your glistening petals, "Oooooh! My fingers can't reach it, daddy! I need your help!"

But worse yet you sitting on his lap bugging him during the game, "Don't you wanna play with me instead daddy?" And this time you feel him twitch, "I can catch you balls until it rains!"

Jim begins to shake from under you before his boisterous laugh echos around you, "You want me to fuck you? Till you squirt?!" It's humiliating that him laughing at your flirtatious offer makes you more desperate, "How you're dehydrated-" Jim's laughing so hard he can't breath and his face is getting red, "The only drinks you ever open your mouth for is daddy's spit or cum!"

You feel hot all over from embarrassment and excitement, "That's cause daddy tastes so much better than yucky water!" With that you open your mouth as wide as you can physically handle. Your tongue lolling out in a lewdly debauched display of submission.

"you’re being particularly insufferable today," He's not laughing anymore, "Only good girls get daddy's spit. You want it?" His hand grips your jaw forcing your face away, "Earn it and drink that big glass of water." To prove his point Jim spits onto your puffy cheek.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You can't help but hump your ass onto his throbbing cock. It's so fucking mean you want more. Stumbling off his lap, Jim rights you, almost tripping over your own feet before gripping the large cup.

Gulp after gulp you're soon drenched and your shirt is soaked, clinging to your fat tits. Nipples are poking out at Jim and he barely takes notice of you gasping for breath. A few gulps more and the cup is empty so you toss it aside.

"Wow," it's sarcastic, "You're that much of a desperate fucking loser whose only thought is to get stuffed with cock-" a shake of his head, "You're willing to drench your shirt just to obey your daddy?"

A moan squeaks from your dripping lips while you wiggle in place. Your hands pull your skirt up to show your puffy cunt. The fabric bunched in your small hands, "Please, Please look at me!" Jim can't look away from your pussy squished between thick thighs, "I wan' you to fill my fuck hole full of your sticky cum. Wan' you to fuck me, daddy, I wan' feel your full balls slapping me!" One hand slips down as you spread your stance and then your lips, "My clit is so hard it hurts!" Your whine makes Jim clench his jaw.

"You're a degenerate pervert." Jim growls out as his glare watches slick drool from your hole. It only makes you more wet and serves to piss Jim off further, "I swear to God. You dumb fucking whore, do you know what You've done to me? How you seduced me and twisted me from a good man to one that craves you constantly?" He rises from his chair to tower over you, "I need to ruin you like you've ruined me."