#Jim hopper fanfic

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x Reader | angsty smut | includes infidelity, Reader is married to a different public servant of Hawkins (can you guess who, @umnitsa ? 😉) Hopper is married as well, death of Hopper’s daughter mentioned, Hopper is a real ass here, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, ANGST ANGST ANGST…

@mrshopper84 @travelingtwentysomething @beefrobeefcal @braincell-pingpong @skye-44 @midwest-princess @riotrhythm

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“This isn’t right.”

At first, Hopper didn’t hear you speak. He was too distracted by the taste of your soft skin on his tongue, his mouth pressed to your neck in an open kiss. When your words did register in his mind, he disregarded them. Who gave a fuck whether what the two of you were doing was right or wrong? Hadn’t you both earned some happiness? You, with a husband too absorbed in his work to pay you any attention, and Hopper, whose wife had grown so cold and distant after the death of their daughter that she barely let him touch her anymore?

“This isn’t right, Hopper,” you repeated, insistent this time. His grip on your hips tightened, almost hurting. You were sitting on his lap in his office, after hours at the station. In the darkness, just the two of you, just how you liked it. How you needed it to be, to avoid a scandal that would turn the small town of Hawkins upside down...

You became frustrated at Hopper’s disregard for your words, pulling back from him. His jaw tightened, his lips a thin, hard line. “And what makes you think I fuckin’ care if it’s right or wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and impatient. “I want you.” Hopper bounced his knee under you, making you gasp as your cunt settled against the thick outline of his cock. Hopper exhaled as you shifted on top of the erection painfully straining against his uniform. “I want you,” he reiterated, speaking through grit teeth. “I want you and that asshole you’re married to doesn’t.” Hopper’s words stung already, but they were about to get worse.

“That new secretary he just hired? Remember her?” You braced yourself for what you already knew was coming. “He’s fucking her, did y’know that?” Hopper didn’t waste time softening the blow of his words with pretty euphemisms. Why should he? You’d come this far, let him touch you already. You were straddling Hopper’s lap for fucks sake. You wanted this as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he let you pretend to have grown a conscience between the time you straddled his lap and now…

Hopper knew you were a smart woman. You must have known your husband was having an affair, that he’d been unfaithful for as long as the two of you had been married. “Mrs. Kline,” Hopper uttered your name through a cruel smirk. He reached for the strand of hair spilling down your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as Hopper’s thumb grazed your earlobe, his skin warm. “Don’t let this time we have go to waste,” Hopper told you. “We both know things aren’t going to change anytime soon, for either one of us.”

You shifted a little on top of his thighs, Hopper’s cock pulsing against your cunt in response. You’d already soaked through your panties, a wet patch leaking through onto Hopper’s pants. He’d have to wash those himself, later. Couldn’t risk his wife finding them in the laundry and asking questions. But a bit of deception was a small price to pay if it meant finally getting inside you.

“Larry is-,” you began, but Hopper bucked you on his knee again, silencing you.

“Mm-mm,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Don’t say the bastard’s name. Not when you’re with me.”

Hopper swallowed any words you may have had left in a kiss. His tongue licked back the apprehension sitting on the edge of yours, the things you knew you should say, but didn’t want to. Mainly, the word “no.” You didn’t want to tell Hopper no.

His large hands held you down against his lap, thumbs finding purchase in the space where your hips and thighs met. Being the mayor’s wife, you’d interacted with the Chief of Police several times over the years. But never like this. The time you’d spent together had been social, limited to local events. Always public, always within the gaze of the people of Hawkins. The eyes of the public on you had forced both you and Hopper to keep your desire for one another a secret. But now, years later, you’d both grown weary of pretending, of keeping things professional. His hand slipped between your legs, gliding under the waist of your panties. You gasped as Hopper inserted two of his thick, calloused fingers inside you without warning. A cocky little grin pulled at his lips. “Just warming you up, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently, adding “Christ you’re fuckin’ tight…Might send you back to Lare a little broken, y’know…?”

You moaned into Hopper’s chest as he fingered you, humping against his palm. No matter how fucking good his fingers felt inside you, he was still Jim Hopper. The same man who’d developed a reputation for drinking and drug use while on the job. The same man whose wife was presumably sleeping soundly right now, at the home she shared with Hopper, having bought the lie he’d sold her about needing to stay late at the station for ‘work.’ He was working, but not the way he’d implied. Hopper’s fingers working inside you were an altogether different kind of work, the way he manipulated your cunt yet another form of manipulation he was very skilled at, in addition to lying to his wife.

“You’re so close,” Hopper gloated at your ear in a low, smug voice. The fact that he was getting you off with nothing but his fingers was stroking Hopper’s ego, just like his fingers were stroking your insides. He held a misplaced sense of pride in being able to do for you what your husband couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It was something Hopper could accomplish, something he could succeed at, in contrast with his crumbling marriage. Maybe instead of thrusting his fingers up another woman’s cunt, he should have been at home with his wife, working on repairing his marriage. But Hopper wasn’t interested in what he should be doing. All he wanted to do, was you.

The sound of Hopper’s chair creaked loudly in the small office at the impact of you grinding on his lap. He smacked your ass with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, then carefully removed the one that was. You whimpered at being suddenly empty, pouting up at Hopper in frustration. He didn’t deny you for long, quickly working his belt and pants undone, his cock springing free and smacking thick and wet against your cunt with an audible slap. Hopper lifted you by your hips, guiding you onto his plump, leaking tip and letting you sink onto him at your own pace.

Hungry, greedy, your cunt swallowed Hopper with minimal difficulty. You managed to take him whole, your clit pressed against the coarse dark hair above Hopper’s cock. He growled behind grit teeth, as the sensation of being consumed by you overtook him. It had been years since Hopper had been with a woman besides his wife. The grip of fresh pussy moving up and down his shaft caused Hopper’s brain to temporarily glaze over. He was lurched back into awareness by the harsh ring of the telephone sitting on his desk.

“Ignore it,” Hopper panted, speaking to himself as much as you. A moment later, the phone ceased ringing. When the shrill sound began again less than a minute later, Hopper pulled his lips from your throat and cursed. He knew there was only one person who would be trying to reach him here at this time of night. Hopper reached for the phone, gently lifting it from the receiver. He brought his index finger against his lips, instructing you to remain quiet. Forcing his voice as steady as possible, considering you were grinding up and down on his cock, Hopper spoke: “Diane?” You nuzzled your face into Hopper’s neck, muffling your own sounds into his shirt. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line spoke, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to keep riding Hopper, moving closer and closer to your peak.

“I can’t-I uh-,” Hopper stammered, swallowing. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the sweat blooming beneath the hair peeking out from his shirt collar. “I’m gonna be a little longer, sweetheart,” Hopper managed, clearing his throat. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remove the image of your breasts bouncing in front of him with every descent you made on his cock. His wife’s voice chattered away on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes,” Hopper said, and inwardly, you grimaced. You wanted all night with him, but under the circumstances, both your options and Hopper’s were limited.

“Yeah,” Hopper grunted, followed by a rushed “love you too,” before he quickly replaced the phone on top of the receiver. You paused, meeting his eyes in the dim light of his office. “Is that true?” you asked tentatively, your voice breathless. Hopper’s hands were all over you again, as if the phone call had never happened. His expression conveyed annoyance as he sorted out what you were asking him, his response a confused “what?”

“She said I love you,” you explained. “Your wife. And you said it back.” Hopper’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s your point?”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, despising how pitiful and small you sounded in this moment. Hopper exhaled, the cruel smirk returning to his lips. “How is that any of your fucking business?” he asked through a humorless chuckle. His smile evaporated as a darker look replaced it. “Now you listen to me, because here’s how this is gonna work-.” His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing a little too hard. “-You’re gonna keep these legs spread till I come in between them and then we’re gonna part ways like this never fuckin’ happened, understand?” You nodded, forcing the tears behind your eyes not to fall. You wouldn’t give Hopper the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you anymore than he already had.

Hopper nodded, satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he said, without any sentiment behind his words. Hopper’s arms crushed you against him as he bucked up into you. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightening. Hopper’s grunts of exertion grew sharper, till his body stilled tight against yours, his cum spilling inside you. With his forehead pressed to your shoulder, Hopper panted hot and labored against your chest.

The absence of sound in the office, apart from Hopper’s breath, was far from quiet. A sick tension hung in the air, his cold words repeating back in your mind on a loop. After a moment, Hopper patted your ass and instructed you to “get up.” He held onto the base of his cock as you slid off it, a thick trail of semen gushing out and landing on his thigh. Hopper cursed, almost as if implying the mess was your fault. He turned his back to you, lighting a cigarette. Feeling unsatisfied and worse, ashamed, your voice was trembling when you quietly asked, “should I…go?”

Hopper’s shoulders moved in small chuckle, and he turned to face you. His cock was still hanging out, as if he was in no hurry to put it away. You, by contrast, had already begun to dress. Hopper sucked a long drag out of his cigarette, exhaling as he informed you flatly, “yeah, we’re done here.” He reached for his coat and made his way to the door. Even though you were fully dressed by now, you felt more exposed than ever. He waved his hand ahead of him, ushering you out the front door of the station. “See yourself out,” Hopper directed. The hurt inside you was beginning to boil over into rage. You’d never felt more used in your life, even after being humiliated by your husband’s affairs for years. “Fuck you, Jim,” you spat at him, your saliva landing on his cheek. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted in a look of amusement. “Well that already happened,” he taunted.

The cold night air was oddly welcoming as you burst through the station door and out into the parking lot. You found your vehicle and quickly got inside, your hands squeezing the steering wheel till your fingers cracked. You left the station and made your way home to your husband, while another man’s cum slowly leaked out of you onto the driver’s seat the whole way home.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, Officer - Jim Hopper

summary: Eddie and gf!reader get busted by Hopper. Hopper "drives" reader home... warnings: age gap, cheating, smut, perv hopper wc: 2.1k+

The image of Eddie Munson with a blunt between his fingers had become an almost regular occurrence for Hopper, their usual game of cat and mouse, however the chief of police hadn't been expecting this sight when he flashed his light through the window of Munson's old van. Perched on Eddie's lap in the driver's seat, skirt ridden up high enough to show your bare ass underneath, lips tangled in a messy kiss with Eddie's hand disappearing under your skirt, his other holding the flaming joint. Hopper's perfect little neighbour who lived with her parents in the house just across from his. Smiling politely with the sweetest "Good morning Chief Hopper!" every goddamn morning as you left the house for university.

Eddie's lips quickly separated from yours when the beam of light from Hopper's flashlight entered his field of vision, the smile leaving his features when he saw the older man looking right at him. The moment your lips detached from your boyfriend's, you threw your head back, mouth opening in a loud moan as he curled his fingers inside you just right. You didn't realise that you'd been loud enough to alert the Hawking chief of police about the activities taking place in the driver's seat.

"Fuck! Shit!" Your head snapped back towards Eddie when his fingers quickly slipped out of your wet entrance, gaze fixed on the older man on the other side of the window. You didn't have time to question Eddie before he was putting out the joint and shoving it in the compartment on his door. You scanned your surroundings, mouth falling agape at the sight of the police officer, embarrassingly tugging your denim skirt down the swell of your ass, and closing your spread legs as best you could in the position you were in. Two knocks on the car window had Eddie rolling down the window with a nervous smile, saying "Hey Hop!" The officer didn't play along, eyebrows furrowing as he barked out the order "Get out of the car."

Gulping nervously, you let Eddie open the door, quickly scrambling off him, high heels wobbling on the crunchy autumn leaves, your boyfriend immediately following. You stared with wide eyes as Hopper's eyes examined the scene. His nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of weed, hand diving into the side compartment without hesitation to pull out the joint. "You carrying any more on you Munson?" Eddie shook his head hurriedly from next to you and you winced at the obvious lie. When Hopper's eyes landed on you, you knew your face had said too much. His intimidating stare had you instantly looking down at your feet, avoiding eye-contact. "Your girlfriend's face says otherwise, arms out for me."

"Fuck." Eddie whispered from next to you, obeying Hopper's order to let the man pat him down. "What's in this pocket?" The policeman interrogated, pulling out the sachet of weed and rolling paper from Eddie's pocket. "Please don't arrest me Hop, you know me man!" Eddie begged, throwing his hands up in surrender. Hopper huffed, hand coming up to rub his forehead in thought. "This is your last warning Munson. I catch you one more time and I'll be cuffing you, okay?" Eddie nodded eagerly, feet glued in place. "This is the only time I'm letting you off. Now get in the car and drive off." Eddie grinned widely and you bit back a smile, beginning to walk around to the passenger's side.

"You stay right here y/n, I'm driving you home." Your face dropped completely, spinning around on your heels to face the chief as Eddie stopped in his tracks. "I know your parents pretty well. You think they'll be happy with this?" It was now your turn to shake your head, putting on your best doe eyes for him as you begged "No, you can't tell them, please Chief!" "They know about your good for nothing boyfriend?" Shaking your head once more, you frowned at the man's scoff. "Get going kid." He said once more, turning his attention back to your boyfriend. Eddie hesitated, looking back and forth between Hopper and your smaller figure, glancing at the man in worry before scurrying into his van, starting the engine, and sparing you one last glimpse before driving away.

When the sound of Eddie's van was out of earshot, you took two steps towards Hopper, clasping your two hands around his forearm. "Please Hopper, don't tell my parents!" He hummed, gazing intensely down at you. "You know, I'm surprised. I always thought you were a good girl." Unconsciously, your thighs squeezed tightly at the familiar words, and you suddenly remembered what you'd been doing before Hopper interrupted you. Fuck, you wish you'd gotten off before he did. If you focused hard enough, you could probably still feel Eddie's thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

When you looked back up at Hopper, it was clear that he had caught the movement, eyebrows raising in mock surprise. You gulped, seeing the look in Hopper's eyes change, and bit your lip to stop yourself from grinning as you formed a plan in your head. Your fingers moved against his forearm, caressing him softly, and you made show to squeeze your thighs once more, putting on the most desperate tone in your voice when you said "Please, I can't go home to my parents like this. What if... What if they hear me?"

Hopper's eyes shot wide open, imagining you in your bedroom after bringing you home, not bothering to take off your skirt before hiding under the covers and sliding your fingers down your body, finishing what your boyfriend had started. He can picture your flexible back arching, eyes shutting as you bite your lip trying to hide your moans, his name accidentally slipping out of your mouth instead of your boyfriend's when you finally finish all over your fingers. And suddenly, Hopper can feel his trousers beginning to tighten, but he cannot let you know you've won him over so quickly. You need to think he's the one in charge.

"Bad girls deserve to be humiliated, whether that be in front of their parents of not. Whose fault is it you snuck out here to have sex with a boy who couldn't make you finish fast enough?" Hopper knew he was crossing a line, knew that if he'd shown up probably a minute late he'd have found you with your orgasm covering Eddie's long fingers. But he hadn't, and he planned on using that to his advantage. You felt your face heating up in degradation at his comment, licking your lips as one of your hands moved to trail up the Chief's chest. "But here I am now with a man who could make me finish. Or, I'm assuming he could." When Hopper didn't answer you, you decided to push just a little further, adding "Could you, Mr. Hopper?"

Your heart was beating adamantly fast at Hopper's silence. He lowered his head closer to yours with a scowl on his face, whispering "That's Chief Hopper to you." His hands tightly gripped your hips, walking forward until your back hit the cold steel of his car. "Now get naked." He spat. You felt the blood drain from your face. Yes, you were getting what you wanted, but you'd expected the chief of Hawkins to have the decency of taking you in the back of his fancy police car, not in the open forest. You gulped as you pulled your skirt down your legs, kicking it off your ankles. Eddie would probably find your panties in his van at some point, you assumed. Pulling the cozy jumper above your head, you shivered at the cool breeze, undoing your bra as your nipples hardened from the cold.

Hands began roaming your body, landing on your hips to quickly spin you around, and pushing you forward so you bent over the hood of the shiny police car. Hopper's hands trailed upwards, sneaking around your torso to find your tits, groping them and tugging harshly at your sensitive nipples. You moaned softly, legs spreading on instinct before a calloused hand was spanking the soft flesh of your ass. Crying out in surprise, you looked over your shoulder to look at Hopper's face, watching at he observed your head-to-toe reactions. "Please Chief" You whimpered, pushing your ass back into his hips, glancing as his eyes shut, thrusting his hips into you as a response. "Want you cock. Please." You begged again, hand roaming behind you to hook onto his belt hoops, pulling him closer to you.

"How fucking needy. This is what happens when you get with someone your own age. Doesn't fucking satisfy you enough, so you end up a slut, begging to be fucked by the Chief of Police." His words were enough to make you moan, but not enough to make you forget about being completely naked in the woods. You sighed impatiently, finally turning back around to face Hopper and throwing yourself onto him, arms wrapping over his shoulders to pull him into your, slamming your lips against his in a desperate kiss. Hopper gasped, arms immediately wrapping around your waist in return, pulling your body impossibly closer to his as he forced his tongue in your mouth, pushing your body back against his car.

Using the support of the car behind you, you hooked a leg over his hip, pushing your hips out to grind against Hopper's boner desperately. "Fuck." He whispered between kisses, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue against yours. Both his hands moved down to your thighs, pushing his body against yours as he lifted you up without warning, prompting you to wrap your legs against his torso, giving you perfect friction against the tent in his trousers. The rough fabric of his pants had you whining into the kiss, rutting your hips harder against him as you began craving your orgasm.

Pulling away from the kiss, Hopper put a hand on your bare hip, pushing your pelvis away from his as he cursed loudly. "Calm down, let me - fuck." He pressed you harder against the car, balancing you with one arm as his other hand made work to free his dick from his trousers. Eagerly, you helped, taking over and pushing his boxers down to take his heavy cock in your hands. "Fuck, put it in, put it in." You mumbled, allowing Hopper to lift you up higher as you manoeuvred his cock between your folds and into your tight hole. "Oh my god!" You cried, arms wrapping around Hopper's shoulder's once more as he began bouncing you up and down his cock, humping upwards into you to meet your movements.

Digging you face into the crook of the older man's neck, you began leaving kisses there, switching between sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin to distract you from coming too early. Indeed, Eddie had nearly driven you to your orgasm, but Hopper's giant cock was bringing you there much quicker. You clit rubbed against the pubic hair near Hopper's balls, adding just the little bit of friction you needed. Failing to hold back any longer, you bucked your hips forward, grinding down on Hopper's cock as your legs tightened around his torso, screaming out a moan as your orgasm over took you, body shaking in Hopper's arms.

Cunt clamping down on Hopper's cock, you heard him beginning to curse, thrusts becoming more rapid and inconsistent as he lost his rhythm, his cock burying itself so deep inside you, you could practically feel him grazing your cervix. With a loud grunt, Hopper's movements completely stilled, emptying his thick load inside you. You breathed heavily, running a hand through Hopper's hair, pressing soft kisses on his cheek and jaw before the man pulled away from you, one hand reaching up to squeeze your face, his lips meeting yours in a wet kiss. "Shit." Hopper mumbled as he pulled out of you. You cringed, feeling your thighs get sticky as his cum dripped out of your entrance, legs untangling to stand up properly.

You waited as Hopper gathered your clothes, helping you put your jumper on before diving into his car in search of tissues to wipe his mess off you. He pulled your skirt up your hips, patting your butt a couple of times when he finally turned opened the passenger's door for you. Hopping into the driver's seat, he turned on the engine, beginning the drive home. "Um, Hopper, this isn't the way to my house." You peered at the man, whose hand was searching in his pocket for his wallet before finally tossing it at you.

"I'm driving you to a pharmacy. How much does plan B cost?"

[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.” 

[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.

[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!

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 5: Hot Chocolate or Tea

Jim Hopper x wife!reader

wc: 0.7k

warnings: literally just tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: Hopper has a special place in my heart and making him happy is the least I can do. Reblog if you enjoyed please, and I'll see you tomorrow for Day 6!

It’s no secret that Jim Hopper is not exactly a happy man. Sure he has his moments, usually when he is around his girls, but the majority of people you ask would say that the Chief of Police generally has the demeanor of a storm cloud. 

That ‘storm cloud’ is currently leaning against the sink in your shared kitchen, wearing a soft worn  New York Jets tee shirt, a pair of Levi's, and grey wool socks. He’s also sporting a comically large whipped cream mustache and pretending not to notice because it makes his daughters laugh. 

Jane’s giggles are hidden behind her own mug full to the top with hot chocolate, whipped cream, and coated with the leftover holiday sprinkles you found in the pantry from last year’s cookie-baking marathon. 

Your youngest, Emmie, though. Her laughter takes over her whole body. It comes straight from her tummy and spills out of her mouth as she throws her head back.

“Daddy!” She yells, “It’s right there!” She tries to point at his face but her shoulders are shaking far too much for her aim to be anywhere close to accurate,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about bug.” Jim takes another sip of his cocoa, making sure to really shove his face deep into the pillow of white floating on the top. 

She bursts out in new peels of laughter and he catches your gaze and winks.

Jane tries and fails to keep in a snort of her own and decides to join in on the fun. She takes a drink and comes up for air with her own, multicolored lip ornament. 

“Janie you have one too!” Emmie yells and her gaze quickly flashes between her father and her older sister. “Mommy look!” She turns to you.

“I don’t know lovebug, I don’t see anything different.” You tilt your head and look back at your little girl. 

“Mommy!” She shrieks and looks at you in disbelief. You have to use every ounce of willpower in your body to not burst out laughing at the look on her face. 

“Emmie, why don’t you show us what you mean?” Jim asks her, a faux look of innocence painting his features.

She looks down at her own Winnie the Pooh mug and steels herself, shoving her face into the whipped cream. She comes up for air a second later, with a whipped cream goatee instead of just a mustache and looks at the three of you before she starts to laugh again.

You quickly run to get the camera sitting on the entryway table next to the kitchen and hustle back. You make it just in time to snap a photo of your family, all sporting some pretty impressive cream facial hair. 

“Alright you three, maybe we drink our cocoa instead of shoving our faces into it.” You relent, grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink next to Jim. You cross the small space to wipe off Emmie’s face before turning to Jane.

The teenager grumbles but lets you clean her off, and you quickly kiss the crown of her head as a thank you. 

Jim grabs you by your waist and hauls your back into his chest, quickly spinning you so that the two of you are chest to chest. He still has some whipped cream in his actual mustache and you use your thumb to wipe it away. Licking your thumb clean quickly after. 

Jim pulls you closer and into a soft kiss that lingers for a moment or two longer than it really should with children present.

“Mommy ew!” Emmie yells from her seat at the table. 

“Yeah guys, ew.” Jane agrees nodding in agreement at her little sister’s sentiment. 

You turn out of Jim holds and pick up your own mug from where it rested on the counter. You playfully stick your tongue out at the girls. Before taking the first sip of your drink.

Your cocoa is more warm than hot at this point but it’s still delicious. And if you make sure to tilt the mug just right so you come out with a cream ‘stache of your own that’s your own business.

“Mommy!” Emmie yells and her little giggling fit starts all over again. 

[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?"

[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?”

[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꒱ ˚

[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.

[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.” 

[pinkypromisepascal]

A story request when hopper is your dad best friend and you like each other, thank youu

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 (𝚍𝚋𝚏!𝙷𝚘𝚙 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

summary: You're home from college and Hop's over for dinner. You realize you can't get your dad's best friend out of your head.

content: some sexual tension (MDNI), age gap (reader's in her 20s, Hop's like 40), and some curse words 'cause I can't live without them

word count: 3.9k

author's note: don't get me started on how long I took for this. This was actually 6.9k words, but I split it into two parts (and I got even more planned AHHH). Also, this is set pre-season one. Anon, I am so sorry I took so long for this, I hope you remember this request and like how it turned out!

and thanks to @strang3lov3 for helping me work on this, don't know what I'd do without you!

part two!

________________________________________________________

You were on summer break from college, finally visiting your parents again. You loved living in a bigger city, but you also loved Hawkins every time you visited. The small town just seemed so calm, so unwinding. Plus, staying with your parents always guaranteed a fun time, they were always trying to make the best of your stay.

The sun was gonna set soon as you drove into Hawkins, the temperature was comfortably warm, allowing you to dress in one of your favorite summer dresses.

Your dad was already out on the porch of your small house, a bottle of beer in his hand and a wide smile on his lips as you pulled up the driveway in your car.

“Hey, sunshine!”, he called as you stepped out, lifting himself off the porch stairs and approaching you with spread arms.

You hugged him happily and rubbed his back.

“I see you’ve started celebrating without me.”, you giggled, nodding to the beer bottle.

“Oh, well, Mom and I were just so happy you’re coming by -” You chuckled at that, “I’m joking, I don’t care when you start drinking. As long as it’s not that good whisky you bought, I’d be mad if you started that without me.” Your dad raised his hands in defense, “I would never, sunshine, y’know that. Oh by the way, totally forgot to tell ya, but Hop’s coming over tonight as well. Told him about our barbecue plans and thought he’d have a good time with us.”

You stopped in your tracks to the trunk and cocked an eyebrow at your dad. “Jim Hopper? Huh, haven’t seen him in a while. Still Chief of Police?” Your dad nodded with a smile. 

“Still drinking on duty?”, you asked with a cocky grin. 

He laughed at that and shrugged, “You’ll have to ask him that yourself, I won’t be the telltale here.” You shook your head with a smile and unloaded your trunk, handing your dad the small suitcase.

As you entered the house, you could already smell the food that was gonna be served soon.

You sighed happily as you took the scent of your mom’s salad in, “I really miss this smell sometimes when I’m in college.”

You placed your backpack on the couch and went to your mom, who was standing in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables. You greeted her softly and hugged her. “Good to see you, sweetie, how are you? How’s college going for you? Anything fun happen outside of college? Anything romantic?” 

You smiled at her and scrunched your nose, avoiding her last question, “Eh, it’s stressful, got some papers that I need to work on, but it’s still fun. Need some help with the food?”

You internally cringed; talking about romantic topics was the last thing you could use at the moment. It wasn’t like there would be much to talk about anyway.

Your mom waved a hand at you with a smile, “I’m good, you can just sit down and grab a drink to cool off a little.” 

“I will, just gonna get my stuff to my room real quick.”

You returned a minute later, your father handing you a bottle of beer with a questioning look. You grabbed the drink with a smile and took a swig before getting plates and cutlery from the kitchen and taking them outside to set the table. Your mom jokingly scolded you for that, but you just waved her off with a grin.

You enjoyed the light breeze outside, the warm summer air gently brushing your hair out of your face. As you ordered the plates, you heard some commotion from inside. 

You finished your task and stepped back inside, your eyes instantly locking with the blue ones of Chief Jim Hopper who was standing next to your dad.

“Evening, Chief.”, you chimed in and watched his lips twist into a smirk. 

“Hey there.”, he responded as he took his hat off and held it in his hands. You noticed that he was still in uniform. He probably came over here right from work.

“Like the uniform.”, you smiled as you pointed at it, “Makes you look all serious.”

Jim chuckled, “So I don’t look serious when I’m not in uniform?”

You raised your arms in a defensive gesture and walked over to your mum who was almost done with preparing the food.

“No comment on that, Chief. Don’t wanna get arrested.”, you joked. You briefly glanced over to him to see him smiling warmly at you again.

You felt your heart skip a beat and cleared your throat, turning to your mother to help her carry the salad and the bread outside.

At first, you were a little unsure how the mood at dinner would be when your dad told you Hopper would be joining you. You didn’t have anything against him, you just never really felt like you could read him, and that bothered you sometimes.

He always seemed so serious, stoic almost, although he and your dad were pretty chatty with each other, just like today.

You glanced over to Hop, who was sitting right across you, as he talked to your parents. He looked more relaxed than you remembered. Maybe it was his third beer slowly letting him loose the serious demeanor.

You kept looking at him, observing him. You looked at his right hand that was holding the bottle on the table, noticing that his middle finger was drawing small circles on it. It was probably an unconscious habit, and you couldn’t help but find it somewhat adorable.

As you smiled to yourself, you noticed his gaze shifting to you. You looked into his blue eyes and your heart skipped a beat again.

*Since when did you find him so attractive?

Was that just the uniform?*

His look made you feel like he was expecting your answer to something. Your eyes widened. Had you zoned out that bad over watching him?

“Sorry, what?”, you asked, trying to play it off with a grin, noticing your parents were looking at you as well. 

“We were just talking about your college life.”, your mom smiled as she patted your hair, a gesture she hadn’t shaken off ever since you were a kid. It still sent a warm flush across your face, it made you feel safe.

“You alright? You’ve been quiet since we’ve been out here.”, your dad asked with a smile, not too concerned that something was really bothering you. 

“Yeah, no, I’m good, just a little tired, that’s all.”, you replied. 

You were hoping your parents would go back to their conversation again, but that hope was shattered when Hopper asked you how you liked college. 

You took a deep breath and laughed, “Jesus, I hate these questions… Uhm, it’s fun.” 

You shrugged, not knowing what exactly he, or anyone who ever asked you that, wanted to hear. “It’s fine. I mean, there’s a lot of input and there are some lectures, some professors, or some other students I really can’t stand, but other than that…”, you shrugged again, laughing awkwardly, “Fine.”

Hopper smiled at that and chuckled. “Art history, right?”, he asked softly, “That’s what you’re studying.” 

You smiled back at him and felt a light blush coming to your cheeks. “Yeah.” 

“So you wanna work in a museum when you’re done? Or in a gallery?”, he asked, his attention now fully on you.

Your breath caught in your throat. The way he sat there, his body relaxed, his right hand still holding the bottle, his eyes staying on you as he took a sip from it, his tongue quickly swiping over his bottom lip as he set the bottle down again, and his uniform just fitting him so right.

Your smile grew bigger at his question. “That’d be perfect, but I haven’t decided yet. But, yeah, I’d love to work in an art museum.” You briefly looked over to your parents who were both looking at you proudly.

“Bet you’d fit great in there.”, Hopper smirked. You nodded at him and mumbled a quick “thanks”, a little overwhelmed with how he seemed so focused on you.

Lucky for you, his attention switched to your father again as he asked something about work at the police station. This gave you time to collect your thoughts a little.

Why did you feel so attracted to your dad’s friend? What exactly was it about him? Was it just that he looked very handsome, with his somewhat rugged behavior most of the time, which made you wonder why he was so kind towards you? Was it his seemingly genuine interest in you and what you did? Or was it just the thought of doing something potentially immoral? Or simply your lack of love and romance at college that made you fall for every guy that was nice to you?

You looked at Hopper again as he talked to your dad, almost admiring him. You couldn’t grasp what made him so attractive to you, he was just your dad’s friend. There was nothing special about him. Nothing that really stood out. Except for his eyes, maybe. And his beard. And his voice… And his uniform, obviously. Your eyes widened a little as you realized your thoughts, finding more and more things about him you considered attractive. You silently cursed yourself and shifted a little in your chair, untangling your crossed legs and stretching them out under the table.

You startled a little as you brushed against another leg. You quickly pulled back and saw Hopper glancing at you with a smirk before shifting his focus on your dad again as they kept chatting. To get a hold of yourself again, you grabbed your glass in front of you and took a big sip of the cold water, using the condensation on the glass to cool yourself on your wrists as your mother started telling you something about all the things you could do during your stay in Hawkins.

Thankful for the distraction, you happily listened to her ramble about all the things the two of you could do together and all the things you could teach her once you finished your studies.

“We could go to all kinds of museums across the world and see all your favorite paintings! Wouldn’t that be great?”  You nodded, giggling to yourself, “That would be awesome.” 

As you told your mom about a recent lecture you’d found very interesting, you watched Hopper through the corner of your eye.

He took a cigarette out of a pack and stuffed it between his lips. He grabbed a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette. You didn’t care about smoking yourself, but there was something about the way it sat between his lips or dangled between his fingers when he held it in his hand.

God fucking dammit, get a hold of yourself, your mind screamed at you. You cleared your throat again and looked at your mum, quickly excusing yourself and heading to the bathroom.

“It’s gotta be a hormonal thing.”, you muttered to yourself as you entered the bathroom and locked the door.

You turned on the faucet and let cold water run over your hands and wrists to cool yourself. After a few moments, you shook some water off your hands before placing them on your neck, dampening the skin. You closed your eyes as you enjoyed the coolness, startling when an image of Hopper standing in front of you, taking your hand away and putting his on your neck instead to cool you down popped up. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror with a confused look.  “Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake.”, you said to your reflection. You walked out the bathroom and back into the garden, joining your mom and Hopper again.

Before you could ask, your dad came into view with a bottle of whisky. You chuckled to yourself and rubbed your hands together playfully. 

“If that one’s not good, I’m heading home first thing in the morning.”, you warned with a laugh.  Your dad shook his head with a smile as he poured the drinks for everyone. As you grabbed your glass and lifted it to your lips, you noticed Hopper glancing at you yet again. Something about his look made you a little uneasy, but you couldn’t figure out what. He looked attentive and a little stern. 

You tried not to think about the sweet shiver his look gave you and kept eye contact as both of you took a sip. The liquid burnt slightly in your throat, almost making you cough, but you kept a straight face as you swallowed quickly. 

Hopper nodded approvingly, “Not a single twitch in her face. Didn’t expect that.” He looked over to your dad who just shrugged and chuckled, “Told ya so.” You looked at both of them with a cocked eyebrow. “Just told him you handle whisky pretty well, that’s all.”, your dad smiled. You didn’t know what to answer, so you remained silent at first and shrugged a little, but couldn’t hide a smirk. “Bet I could drink you old men under the table anytime.”, you teased, earning a laugh from both your parents.  “That a challenge?”, Hopper asked and you didn’t even have to look at him to sense the amusement in his voice. You shrugged again, trying to look serious as you locked eyes with him, but failing immediately, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling of some sort of tension between Hop and yourself. You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination, if he was just in a mood to taunt you or if there was something else you hadn’t caught on to yet.

And you could’ve sworn he was eyeing you when you stood up to grab a coke from the fridge.

At around ten, Hopper announced he’d be heading home, despite your dad suggesting he could just crash on the couch.

You waved him goodbye with a sweet smile and watched as he got into his car. Before he drove off, you noticed his eyes lingering on you a tad too long as his lips twitched into a slight smirk and reached forward to start the car before driving off.

As you headed inside, you helped your parents clear the table outside. You grabbed the glasses and took them into the kitchen. Your mother mentioned some plans for the upcoming week. “Your dad and I are havin’ our date night on Wednesday. That okay with you?”

You nodded firmly, “‘Course that’s okay, Mom, I don’t mind. I’ll just try to make some plans myself for that night so you can have your space ‘round here, don’t wanna interrupt you two havin’ fun.” You cringed a little at your phrasing, definitely not intending for the last part to sound so suggestive. Your mum just chuckled, “Thank you, sweetie. Maybe some old friends from high school’re around that you wanna meet up with.” “Not sure if I really want that, I think my taste in people has changed.”, you groaned bitterly.

As you got ready for bed and changed into your pajamas, moments from the dinner kept replaying in your head and sent a shiver through your whole body. You couldn’t ignore the way Hopper had looked at you with his pretty blue eyes. His expressions never gave much away, but sometimes, his eyes could say more than he would ever dare to speak. You laid down and tried to clear your mind from him, but you couldn’t help thinking about what he’d be like if you got to know him better. How he would take care of you if you had a bad day, how he would always ask about your major and listen to everything you’d tell him.

“My fucking god.”, you mumbled to yourself and rubbed your eyes before turning to your side, focusing on just getting some sleep.

Throughout the next days, your mind kept drifting off, which was messing you up when you were trying to work on a paper for college. You were sitting at the table in the kitchen, sipping on your third cup of coffee for the day and staring at the book in front of you with wide eyes and ruffling your hair in frustration. You couldn’t focus. At all.

You groaned and threw your head back as you heard your parents’ car pull up the driveway.  “Thank god for the distraction.”, you mumbled and got up from the chair and walked to the front door, ready to help your mom get the groceries out of the car.  “You look-”, your mom started. “I know.”, you laughed and groaned again as you took two bags out of the car, “I’m just trying to work on a paper, but nothing’s working today.” 

She gave you a sympathetic smile and rubbed your arm before taking another bag out of the car and following you inside. “Something on your mind you wanna talk about?”  “I don’t know, not really? And please don’t ask me if it’s boy trouble or something like that, that question will be my last straw.”

She laughed and apologized immediately, “But if there’s something you wanna talk about, anything, you know you can talk it out with me, right?” You just nodded as you started packing away the groceries. “Maybe I’ll just head to the library later and see if I find something helpful there. Or something to distract me and clear my mind.” “I bet you’ll figure something out, don’t stress yourself too much.”, she said and patted your head again.

Two hours later, you were roaming through Hawkin’s library. Initially, you just wanted to look for any book that seemed interesting enough to keep your mind busy. But once you found the small section on art history, you couldn’t resist. 

You scanned the books on each shelf with a smile, taking one out now and then to skim through it and see if it could help with your paper.  As focused as you were on the books, you could still hear faint background noises. Though the library was mostly quiet, you swore you could hear someone talking. You were too far away to distinguish words, but the voice alone made your heart skip a beat.

Shit. 

You turned around and peeped around the corner as inconspicuously as possible. Of course, as you turned around the corner, one of the books you were holding slipped out of your grip and fell to the floor with a loud thump.  You rolled your eyes and silently cursed to yourself as you bent down to pick up the book.  “This day, I swear… Feel like I’m going insane.” As you got up again, you quickly looked around. No one nearby, no one there to give you strange looks because you dropped a book.

You shook your head and looked back to the shelf in front of you, this time placing the books you already took on an empty space in the shelf to keep another one from falling. You looked to the upper rows of the shelf, quickly scanning the books for titles that seemed interesting.  You reached out to pull one out that seemed to be stuck between the other ones around it. You groaned and tried again with more force. You did it get it out, but you also got the other two around it out. Before you realized what happened, the books were stopped by a big hand. “Clumsy today, aren’t we?”  Hopper’s low and quiet voice instantly sent a shiver down your spine. You looked at him with big eyes as he put the books back.

“What?” 

He chuckled. “That book you dropped a minute ago might have gotten my attention. Wanted to see who’s being loud in here.”  You rolled your eyes at him and smiled a little.  “You okay? You seem a bit off.”, he asked.  “Off how?”  “Well, first of all, your hair looks a lil’ messed up.”, he chuckled again and raised his hand to carefully move a strand of your hair. You froze as his hand slightly grazed your forehead. 

“And you just seem… off. I dunno, a little jumpy. Not to mention you dropping books all the time.”

Now you laughed quietly too, “It was one book, gimme a break!” Hopper smiled down at you, “You okay, though?” You puffed out a breath, “I don’t know, this day’s been driving me insane, tugging at the last of my nerves. Can’t focus on anything.”  He frowned a little, “Something happen? Something making you think too much?”

Yes, you, but I can’t tell you that for various reasons, you thought.

“No, not really. I’m just trying to work on a paper and thought looking through the library would help… What are you doing here anyway?” Hop shrugged. “Just needed to check some old newspaper articles. Nothin’ important.”  You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t help a smile, “I pour out my trouble to you and that’s all I get from you, that’s a lil’ disappointing, Hop!” Hop smirked, “Maybe I just stay out of trouble better than you do.” “I’m not in trouble.”, you chuckled as you scanned the shelf for more books.

Anything that kept your eyes off that damn uniform. 

“Well, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be so stressed and jumpy.”, he teased, “You can talk to me if something’s bothering you, a’ight? I won’t tell anyone.” You looked over at him and noticed a warm smile as his eyes scanned your face. You inhaled deeply and nodded, “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Hop. Don’t you need to get back to the station?”

“I’m the-”, he began.  “Chief of Police, I can do whatever I want.”, you both said. You looked at him and tried to suppress your laugh as his jaw dropped a little. “You kinda say that a lot.”, you said quietly. He smirked at you.  Was that too much? Did you just flirt with him?

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

You mentally prepared yourself for an awkward situation and prayed you wouldn’t start stuttering or something. “My parents got that… date night tomorrow night, and, uh… I told them I’d just stay away so they can have the house to themselves, but turns out I didn’t think this through, so I-”  You looked at Hopper and saw his smirk get bigger as you rambled. You took a deep breath and kept going, “Long story short: I don’t know where the hell I should go and now I wanna awkwardly ask you if I can maybe stay at your place? I swear you won’t even notice me, I can keep myself busy the whole night with my paper or read a book or-"

You internally screamed when he didn’t say anything, just looking at you and smirking. “Please just say something, don’t leave me hanging like this!”, you quietly whined.  You heard a low chuckle come from him before he answered, “Y’know where my trailer is? I’ll put a spare key under the doormat and you can let yourself in whenever you want, a’ight?”  You sighed in relief and thanked him. “I can even cook dinner if you want?” Hopper cocked his eyebrow, “Hell no. I‘m not putting you to work.” “But I make a really good-”  He raised his hand to stop you and smiled again, “Listen, when I get off from work, I just come home, you get in my car, and we’ll get something from Benny’s. Sound good?”  You smiled back at him and nodded, “Sounds good.”  “Good. And don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?” You simply nodded at him before he took off, his lips twitching into another small smirk as he looked at you.

This wasn’t weird, right? You and your dad’s best friend just hanging out?

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tags: @strang3lov3 @whyamiheresomeonehelp

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