#jim hopper x y/n

[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?"

[fictionalwench]

Want

Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings: smut, age gap, size kink slightly, praise, foul language, Jim being fucking oblivious.

Hoppers old.

Or getting there at least.

And he knows it.

   But somehow you're still here in his bed, your youthful cheek squished against his chest, your arm thrown around his middle that he knows isn't as toned as it used to be. 'A Dad bod,' you'd called it. Said it was hot. He'd just rolled his eyes, giving your ass a playful swat.

   You'd met when you began secretary work at the police station. It was a long, pining heavy minute before he ever approached you romantically. You'd flirted with him, or tried, but he couldn't possibly fathom someone as young and vibrant as you wanting him. He'd tried to avoid you, despite working so closely together. That all changed one night when he had to stay late to do paperwork, and you'd volunteered to stay behind to help. He'd tried insisting you go home, telling you he'd take care of it, saying you should get some rest. But you'd stayed, helpfully pointing out that it'd go twice as fast with 2 people.

   So there he was, 1am with the prettiest girl to give him any attention in a long time, your thigh bumping his under the table. He crosses his legs. Partially to put space between the two of you, partially to hide the growing tent at the front of his pants.

The view you'd given him wasn't helping. The white button down you wore was slightly undone at top, unbuttoned in you're frustration, allowing him a view of your breasts swelling past the top of your bra everytime you bent to retrieve your dropped pen.

   You're barely through half the stack of reports and files when you suddenly stand and lean across him, your hair in his face, your chest brushing his arm.

   'Sorry Cheif, just looking for the notes that go with this case,' you explained, flipping through the stack. He let out an involuntary groan, the scent of your shampoo flooding his senses, his cock straining painfully against his pants. If you heard, you never let on, finding the folder you were looking for and sitting back down. Looking back now, the memory makes him chuckle, wondering how he'd been so oblivious to your advances.

   'I'm gonna..ima run to my office quick,' he said, standing and turning quickly, 'left some notes somewhere in my desk. Might be a minute.'

   'O-oh! Take your time!' You told him, but you looked-and it had to be his mind playing tricks on him-disappointed? He shook his head as he hurried off to his office, quickly shutting the door behind him, fumbling with his belt, desperate for some relief from the pressure. He fell back into his chair, giving his throbbing cock a couple long pumps.

   'Fuuuck,' he breathed, precum leaking out of the angry red tip and onto his fingers. He used it to glide his hand over himself with ease, moaning as he imagined it was your spit, your pretty lips wrapped around him, bobbing your head up and down, those big innocent eyes staring into his. Your name tumbles from his mouth, sweet on his tongue.

   Just as he felt his release rising in him, there was a knock on the door.

His door.

That he forgot to lock.

    There was no time to stuff himself back into his pants before you're opening the door and peaking your head in, so he just spun his chair to face front, hiding his lap under his desk.

   'Hop? Everything good? You find those papers?' You asked, knitting your eyebrows together, making him want to kiss the bump that formed between them.

   'Oh, yea, no, sorry,' he said a little too quickly, 'I uh, I think Flow might have had them last, but she keeps her desk locked at night. No big deal.' He shrugged, wishing you'd take his explanation and leave. He was still exposed under his desk, twitching, his release still sitting on the brink.

   Instead of leaving, you stride into the room, shutting the door behind you, 'maybe they're still in here. Here, lemme che-,' you'd walked around the edge of his desk and he'd nearly jumped to stop you.

   'No! That's REALLY ok, it doesn't matt-,' he didn't speak quickly enough, watching in horror as you shut the drawer open next him, finally exposing his dirty secret to yourself. He braced himself, ready for you to scream, ready for you to call him a dirty old man, a pig, ready for the profanities to spill like venom from the mouth he'd wished so many times to kiss.

   But it never came. You just stood there, your mouth open in a small O shape, your clear and intelligent eyes wide.

   'I'm so sorry,' he breathed, and moved to pull his pants back up, his face cherry red, 'God, I'm sorry, please-' you stopped him in his tracks, resting your small, soft hand on one of his large calloused ones. You bit your lip and looked up through your lashes at him, and he swears he's never wanted anyone or anything like he did in that moment.

   'I thought- thought you-,' you spoke softly, fumbling over your words, and then you whispered 'I thought you didn't want me.'

   He pulled you forward by your waist at this, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing out shakily, 'you have no idea how long I've wanted...' He trailed off, brushing his hands lightly over both sides of your face, like you're delicate and precious, like he could break you if he touched you too hard.

He wanted to break you.

   'Can- can I?' He looked at your lips as he asked his half question. He didn't need to finish. You knew what he meant because you wanted the same thing. You nodded slowly and bit your lip again. He threw  his head back and whispered a curse under his breath, and sighed, 'let me do that for you.'

   He kissed you softly at first, his pointer finger and thumb tilting your head by your chin. And then he got hungrier, greedier. He kissed you like you were fresh air and he was a man drowning, his fingers digging so hard into your sides that you could imagine his fingerprints bruising onto your skin, his teeth nipping the soft flesh. He kissed down your jaw and neck, his stubble scratching and tickling your skin in just the right way, and you moaned, digging your nails into his back. He pulled you down onto his thigh, one leg on each side of his, the pressure and friction on your clit making you dizzy.

   'So damn beautiful,' he said it against your skin, like it pained him, and it did. In his mind, this was a fluke. There was no way you'd want him more than once. Sex with an older man, that's all it was. Just a taboo to you.

   So when you ran your hands down his chest and sang his praises, he thought he was going to melt right then and there.

   He put his hands on your hips and began guiding you on his thigh, relishing the way your eyes flit back into your head. 'Yeah sweet girl? Feel good? Come on, ride my thigh, get yourself nice and wet for me. That's a good girl' he growled the last part, ripping open your shirt, the snap buttons coming open with a loud CLACK. He bent his head and softly kissed your chest, sucking and leaving hickeys anywhere that wasn't covered by your bra.

   As if reading his mind, you reached around and undid the clasp, letting both your shirt and your bra fall off your shoulders. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as he looked at you. The moonlight from the window behind him illuminating your skin, your head thrown back and your eyes shut tight as you ground yourself onto him. The need to be close to you was settled in his very bones, every fiber of his being wanted you like an addict wants a drug.

   He had so much he wanted to do. He wanted to sit you on the desk and bury his face between the pillowy thighs he so often found himself daydreaming about. Wanted to see you bruising your knees for him, your eyes glassy while he hits the back of your throat. But all that could wait. He needed you too badly to take his time, to worship your body like the alter it was to him.

   'Want me pumpkin? Hm? Need me to stretch you out good? Make you feel full?' He purred, brushing the hair from your face. You could hardly answer, your mind already so scrambled for him, babbling your pleas and cries.

   He lifted you by your thighs, his hands finding home on your ass under your skirt as he held you above him, ready to lower you down onto him. He couldn't believe his luck as he watched you in wonder, his head falling forwards and into the crook your neck as you lowered yourself onto him, your tightness wrapping around him, ripping a loud, full moan from his throat. He helped you bounce, keeping you upright as you fucked yourself onto him, kissing him hard and deliberately.

   'Jus' like that honey. Fuck, you're so good. Wanted you for so long. Drive me absolutely insane,' you felt him say against your lips. He hugged you tight to him, one hand cradling the back of your head, and bucked his hips up into yours, holding you and cooing sweet praises as he used you, just like he always wanted to. The amount of times he'd imagined this exact scenario at night, when the only one to keep him company was his hand, was uncountable.

   He could feel his orgasam rising again already, and he would have been disappointed in himself if he couldn't feel you reaching your own breaking point.

   'Gonna cum for me? Hm? Gonna cum for your Police Cheif like a good little whore?' Oh, he was loving this. 'Where do you want it baby? Where do you want me to cum? All over that pretty face? On those perfect tits of yours?'

   You're were panting, your face pressed to his shoulder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

   'Jim- I,' you stumbled over your words, moaning as he hit your sweet spot over and over again, 'pill. Have the pill.'

   His head spun, 'yea? Want me to fill you up with my cum? I wanna see it leaking all over those perfect fucking thighs of yours, oh FU-' he almost loses himself to his own words, hips slamming messily against your ass.

   'Cum for me princess. That's it, be a good girl, scream it for me.'

   And you did, your release white hot. You pulled down the collar of his shirt, biting his shoulder, leaving teeth marks he was still admiring in the mirror the next day.

   He followed you closely, shooting thick, hot ropes inside of you, moaning and cursing, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you shook against him.

   'Did so good f'me honey. Made me cum so hard. God,'  he buried his face in your neck and breathed in, high off the scent of you and him mixed together.

  

Now, as you stir against him, whining softly in your sleep when he kisses your forehead because he just can't help himself, he smiles softly.

   He might be old, but damn do you love him. And if a few gray hairs don't bother you, then he can keep coping with it.

[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.

[strangererotica]

Jim Hopper x Reader • EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI • Includes: oral (f receiving) squirting, piss, multiple orgasms, office sex

Hopper guided you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist, cock straining against his pants. The khaki fabric did little to conceal Hopper’s erection beneath it. You rubbed your bare cunt against the outline of his cock, spreading your slick lips over Hopper’s shaft. A shiver ran through you as your clit nudged one of the more prominent veins along Hopper’s dick. He hummed deeply at the sound you made, a cute little gasp that left your lips and went straight to his balls.

“You tryin’ to make me come in my pants?” Hopper drawled. “Keep makin’ those pretty little sounds, and I might have to.”

It was partially a joke, and partially true. Hopper could tell he was close; it had been a few days since he’d had the time or energy to relieve himself. This morning had been particularly stressful, and now that Hopper had some time to himself, he was using it just how he liked: by using you, his naive, lovestruck little secretary, in his office over lunch…

Hopper bucked his knees, bouncing you. Another pretty little whimper squeaked out of you; Hopper grinned at your response. He enjoyed the way you were absolutely obsessed with him, how completely vulnerable you were in his presence. Your infatuation had been obvious since you began working at the station.

Your fingers tugged Hopper’s uniform, clinging to his shirt as you rutted on top of him. The smell of your cunt was everywhere; you were dripping for him, making a mess of his pants that would surely require him to change afterwards. Hopper didn’t mind a little mess, though. He’d told you as much many times before. It gave you the freedom to be as unrestrained as you needed, knowing that whatever the two of you left behind on his clothes, desk or floor, Hopper would take care of cleaning it up before anyone saw.

You buried your nose in the collar of his shirt as you humped the outline of his cock, moaning when it pulsed between your legs. “Hey sweetheart?” Hopper grunted, his voice breathy and low.

“Mm-hmm?” you whimpered into his neck.

“Do somethin’ for me?” Hopper murmured. You parted your lips over his neck, tasting his skin, inhaling the scent of tobacco and musk imbued in his collar. “Anything,” you panted at Hopper’s ear, your eyes fluttering closed, drunk on the taste of him.

“Get on the desk for me-keep your legs open,” Hopper said, a wry grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “It’s lunch, and I haven’t eaten a damn thing yet…”

He lifted you off his lap and onto the desk, holding your legs apart with his big, calloused hands. You let your head dip over the other side of the desk, your eyes closing in blissful anticipation as you waited for Hopper’s tongue. He lowered his face between your legs, pressing gentle kisses onto your inner thighs. Your hips jerked when Hopper moved his kisses to your center, tugging your labia between his lips and sucking gently. After teasing you a moment longer, Hopper gave you the stimulation you craved. He sank his lips over your clit and sucked, tugging the puffy bud between his lips in a pulsing rhythm. Your eyes flew open, head whipping up from the side of Hopper’s desk. You watched his face moving between your legs, bobbing on your clit as he suckled your most sensitive space.

Every nerve in your body seemed concentrated under the seal of Hopper’s mouth over your cunt. When he dipped his tongue inside you, it sent a jolt through your body so intense, it almost hurt. You clamped a hand over your lips, screaming into your palm as Hopper made you come, hard. It wasn’t a pretty orgasm, but the best ones never are. It was brutal, exquisite, Hopper’s lips torturing your clit beyond the point of climax, till a throbbing ache bloomed between your legs. He forced them further apart, not allowing you to buck away from him. Hopper’s tongue licked at your bullied clit, simultaneously soothing and abusing it with further stimulation.

You came again, orgasms consuming you back-to-back. Every ounce of control left your body, and maybe your soul left, too. Because as you gazed between your trembling thighs, all you could do was succumb, allowing Hopper to do with you as he liked, overwhelmed with sensation. He lifted from between your legs, replacing his mouth over you with his hand. Hopper’s chest was heaving, his eyes like lasers fixed on your cunt, sweat lining his tensed forehead as he watched you coming beneath him, pumping his cock in rhythm with his other hand working your clit.

You came a third time, completely at Hopper’s mercy, your hands clamped to the sides of his desk, no longer able or caring to quiet your screams. You lost control of your bladder, spraying a mix of piss and your slippery arousal onto the floor, splashed across his desk by Hopper’s hand working your cunt mercilessly. “Oh fuck,” he groaned in absolute awe as your cum and piss spattered the ground at his feet.

Hopper released your pussy and moved between your legs, aiming his cock at your puffy cunt. He growled as he ejaculated onto you, coating your plump, swollen lips in white. He watched as his cum dripped down your pussy, combined with your release. Piss and cum pooled on the floor at Hopper’s feet, a mess he’d have to clean up, but he didn’t mind. He kept a roll of paper towels in his desk for just this reason. You were still trembling, softly crying as Hopper helped you sit up and then pulled you into his arms.

“…Made a mess,” you quietly observed, your eyes on the floor. Hopper chuckled, stroking your hair at the back of your head. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up,” he muttered. “Now, give me about fifteen minutes-.” Hopper planted a kiss on your forehead. “And I’ll feed you your lunch too, alright?”

@mrshopper84 @umnitsa

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Daddy's good girl | Jim Hopper x FEM!Reader

Summary: Getting your guts rearranged by Hopper <3

Cw: Rough sex, daddy kink, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex, piv, big dick, dad bod talk

Getting fucked doesn't begin to describe it, you were getting railed, pounded, rammed into, getting your guts rearranged by your husband Jim Hopper.

How did he get the stamina to do it? He's a cop, he's got to have it and he used it for the better

Legs bent to your chest, face a mess and drool everywhere while your cunt was being pounded mercilessly

"Fuck, such a good girl for daddy, that's it take it like a good girl baby" he spoke with that raspy voice you loved

Everything about him got you going, he was just a treat and you wanted to fuck him every second of the day

"Daddy- gonna cum!" You managed to say in between moans

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over daddy's fat cock? Yeah?"

You nodded dumbly along with him, completely cock drunk from his huge dick that was hitting your g spot dead on every time

"Cum baby, cum for daddy, be a good girl and cum"

You always wanted to be his good girl

With a loud shriek you came all over him, your pussy gripping him like a vice, making him moan as he finally came deep inside you

"Fuck, there we go, all nice and stuffed baby, fuck such a pretty pussy deserves to be bred" he said patting your mound

Soon he pulled out making you whine at the loss of him, he chuckled at how greedy you are for him

"It's okay baby, I'll give you another one when I come back home okay?" He said getting up to get dressed for work

You had forgotten it was 6 am on a Tuesday and he had to work

"Yes daddy" you said to him totally blissful

"I love you baby" he kissed you again before leaving the room

[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.

[strangerxperv]

Imagine step dad Jim Hopper being addicted to babying you. At the breakfast table in your cutsie pink nightgown. Your sweet face covered with crumbs and strawberry jam. The way you lick your small fingers clean even though there are crumbs stuck to your tongue. Fuck. You're so cute.

He can't help but reach over with a napkin to help clean you up. The action gifts the large man with a sweet smile where you sit beaming up at him. Jim's hand lingers at your pretty jam sticky lips to gather some. He brings it to his own mouth keeping eye contact.

His thick and long tongue slowly swipes the sweetness off, "Meet me up stairs, baby. Daddy bought you a new dress."

[bakerydoll]

random jim hopper thoughts 💭

jim hopper is a jealous lover, he loves looking at you but despises when anyone else does. he's willing to knock someone's lights out over a glance. always has to have a hand on you, around your waist, on the small of your back, holding your hand. no matter, he has to have in arm's reach.

♡

jim hopper’s day is instantly improved anytime that you walk into his office. everyone around him can see it. the instant change from gruff and annoyance, to his face lighting up with a ‘hey darlin.’ he'd notice the bag of food in your hands and rub his hand together in excitement. guiding you to his office to have a sweet lunch date with you.

♡

jim hopper’s favorite thing is eating pussy. he loves the way your juices taste on his tongue. he can never get enough, his big arms wrapped around your thighs. face buried in your cunt, even after you've come. you're trying to detach from him, eliciting a groan from him. he's staying there until you're shaking unable to gove him anymore.

♡

jim hopper more often than not, smells of beer and cigarettes. he's always got a can in his hand and a smoke hanging from his mouth. watching everything all the time, then you're there. and you're all he can think about, he ain't ever been this hung up on a girl before. he swears you've cast a spell on him, for him to be enamoured. with you around, he's slowing down the drinking but nothing could stop that man from smoking. but he tries to take care of himself, for you.

[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.

[choerypetal]

Helpless Romantic / Jim Hopper

summary: Jim had always harbored feelings for you, but never in a thousand years did he think he'd let something as small as an age gap hold him back. You were in your mid-twenties—young, but not out of reach. And if it took landing a punch on a friend’s face to claim the heart he once believed was unattainable, well… that was a price he was more than willing to pay.

P.S. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any syntax or grammatical errors. I do hope you enjoy it!

Jim’s stare was never subtle, never went unnoticed. And it certainly wasn’t now, not when Hopper’s cold, unrelenting gaze locked onto you. Joyce sighed—a quiet, weary thing that was enough to break his fixation, forcing him to glance her way before making a show of slumping back into his car. Binoculars in hand, silhouette barely concealed in the dark.

“You know,” she muttered, arms crossed, “if you keep this up, she’s gonna figure out someone really was watching her last week.”

Hopper rolled his eyes. “And you told me it was a smart plan, didn’t you? Let her think it was some random creep—only for her to go running to patch up Billy Hargrove.”

The words tasted bitter even as he said them. He already knew he’d screwed up; didn’t need Joyce rubbing salt in the wound. But watching you with him, hovering close, pressing ice to the bruise on his cheek with all the tenderness Hopper had convinced himself you were too guarded to show—it made his stomach churn. Boil, even. And yet, he kept his face unreadable. Steady. Because after his college crush, after Joyce, he never thought he’d feel this again. Never thought he’d be jealous of another man.

Billy was younger, cocky, reckless. But to you, he was more than that. A friend. Not just a colleague, either—not after that one time he covered your shift when your body felt like it was tearing itself apart, an unspoken favor you never let him forget. You owed him something, you always said. But you hadn’t expected that something to end with a fist near Billy’s jaw. Neither had he.

"Maybe a thanks," Joyce said.

Hopper's grip on the binoculars slackened, fingers loosening as his brows pulled together. He exhaled sharply through his nose, half a scoff, half disbelief. Was she serious?

His jaw tightened as he stared straight ahead, pretending like he hadn’t heard her. Pretending like you wouldn’t hear him, either—not that his truck was parked far enough for that. Finally, he turned to her, expression unreadable. "Thanks?" His voice came low, edged with something unsteady. "You want me to thank you for what?”

“My speed, obviously. Duh.”

Joyce shot him a look—one of those exaggerated expressions that made it painfully clear she was recalling exactly what had happened. Not two minutes ago. No, he meant weeks ago—back when Hopper had overheard El talking about your date.

By some stroke of luck, he’d managed to get details out of her. No peeking, of course. As he’d figured Mike was probably in her room anyway. But then he found out you were there. With Max. Fussing over her hair, twisting strands into something new while she sat cross-legged on El’s bed.

And just like that, the conversation had turned into something else entirely.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Your voice cut through the moment, snapping his attention back to you. His brows had furrowed—first in anger, then confusion, then something closer to relief. “Did you need something?” you asked again, a chuckle slipping past your lips at his sudden, unannounced entrance. It had caught you off guard, sure, but not as much as the memory El had mentioned earlier. Last night. Mike included. Hopper sure needed to loosen up a bit.

Hopper hesitated. “No… nothing.” His voice was gruff, clipped. Then, after a beat, “What are you doing here?” Now it was him throwing the question back at you. And maybe it was the absurdity of it all, or maybe just him, but your lips curled into a soft smile.

“Max and El wanted some new stuff from the mall. And considering you barely let her step outside—let alone bring Mike—you can imagine how that went.” Hopper scoffed, exhaling a sigh as he shook his head. Typical.

“And you’re staying for dinner?” he asked. Almost forced. You shook your head, appreciating the offer, yet again. But before you could even get a word out, Max beat you to it—grinning, eyes flashing with something smug and a little too pleased. “She needs to prepare herself,” she teased. “Got a date in a couple of days.”

A date?

Hopper blinked. Once. Twice. His brain stalled, like he needed Max to rewind and hit play again—just to make sure he’d actually heard those words and wasn’t just losing it.

He swallowed hard. “A d-date?” His gaze dropped to you, sharp and questioning, and for a second, you almost frowned. Confused. Because, first of all, he wasn’t your father. And second? He didn’t get to make the rules for you. Let alone be all protective Hopper on you. 

“With who?”

The girls exchanged a glance first—silent, knowing. Then their eyes flicked to you, teasing, daring.

They shrugged. Innocent.

But they weren’t. Not even close.

“No one,” they said in unison, straight-faced, before turning back to Jim, their lips twitching with barely concealed grins. To your surprise, that answer satisfied him more than you would have liked. But as soon as the door shut with a quiet click, Hopper gave a single nod—to himself, to the room, to the inevitable conclusion that calling Joyce was not an option. Then— “Oh and—”

The door swung open again, slamming against the frame. El and Max jumped. You, especially. Hopper’s eyes locked onto you.

“When?”

“And you really thought she wouldn’t notice you lurking around?”

Joyce’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with disbelief. “As if it wasn’t enough either, to almost knock Billy out when you scared the hell out of her?” Hopper exhaled, jaw tight, but he didn’t argue—because she was right. “Then again, I am kind of proud that she didn’t noticed you.”  He could still feel the ghost of that damn punch. And yet, none of that had stopped him. Not when he found out where the date was happening. 

Hawkins Forest.

Of all places.

Being Chief had its perks—like sneaking into your date’s location without a second thought. And eureka, there you were, right in the middle of the damn woods. “So now you’re blaming me for protecting her?” His voice came low, defensive, but Joyce just sighed, exasperated.

Joyce sighed, shaking her head before snatching the binoculars from his hands.

Hopper tensed, ready to protest, but she cut him off with a look. “I’d call this stalking more than protecting…” Her voice trailed off, unimpressed.

He rolled his eyes.

But then—

Shit.

One second, you were there. The next? Gone.

And Billy, too.

“Fuck!” 

Hopper searched for you all night.

Rang every damn doorbell he could think of—from the Wheelers to the Hargroves. Even though he knew where you were. And still, you hadn’t noticed him. Hadn’t put the pieces together. The hints, the warnings—everything.

It baffled him.

But Billy? With Billy? That was unthinkable. Insane. It clawed at his ribs, made his blood run hot. Because in Hopper’s heart, you were his. And he’d do whatever the hell it took to keep it that way. 

Hopper’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he drove, music blaring—loud enough to drown out his own thoughts. Joyce sat beside him, quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. He was trying to forget. Trying to make sense of it.

The idea of a life with you.

Pointless, at this hour. But still, he let himself believe that this little date in the woods meant something—that maybe, just maybe, it proved something, too. The thought curled bitter in his chest as he lit a cigarette, lips brushing warm paper before the smoke filled the cab.

After dropping Joyce off, he saw it.

His house, lights on.

He knew El was home—curfew was curfew, his rules—but something else was off. Something subtle. Something different. The smell.

Rotisserie chicken. Mashed potatoes. Home-cooked.

Someone else was inside.

His hand hovered near his gun as he stepped out, tension knotting in his shoulders. But it wasn’t the food that set his nerves on edge. It was the music.Low, crooning, bleeding through the walls. And never—not in his lifetime—would he ever blast this kind of shit.

Romantic jazz?

Yeah. Not a fucking chance. 

“El!”

Hopper’s voice cut through the night, sharp, urgent. His first instinct was to call for her—he had every damn right to. Being protective wasn’t just second nature; it was who he was. And if she’d wandered off, thinking a home-cooked meal could buy her way out of trouble, she had another thing coming.

But as he stormed up the porch, fingers twitching as they hovered over the brass doorknob, something about the whole thing felt wrong.

The music. The smell. Too familiar, too intentional. Whoever was inside better have a damn good explanation. Then the door swung open.

And there you were.

Framed in the doorway, wrapped in an apron like you belonged there, lips curling into a soft, easy smile. “Hopper!”

Your voice—light, warm, effortless—settled into him like it fit. Like it had always belonged there. And for a brief, fleeting second, he wasn’t sure if you were even real. “I hope you don’t mind,” you said, an amused tilt to your tone. “I might’ve gotten a little creative tonight. El and I have been planning to bake for a while, and my date just—”

But Hopper barely heard the rest. His stomach twisted. His pulse thrummed.

Because suddenly, all that mattered was that last damn word.

Date.

Jim blinked. Once. Twice. Just enough to process what he’d heard. “Wait—wait, wait. What do you mean your date just—?” He tried to sound casual, indifferent. Like he hadn’t already known where you were just minutes ago. Like he hadn’t been watching. And if he was right—if he had been right all along—then Billy Hargrove would have a word or two coming his way—

“Billy was the one who found me.”

That stopped him cold.

“Poor thing,” you continued, shaking your head. “Something scared me half to death while I was waiting for him. And before I knew it, Billy showed up and gave me a ride home.” Something in Hopper loosened—uncoiled. Relief. Relief. But that also meant, he would need to explain himself later. 

Because Billy, for all his flaws, for all the ways Hopper knew he wasn’t the right guy for you—was still better than what his mind had conjured. A breath slipped past his lips—half a scoff, half something else entirely.

You caught it.

Your brow lifted, head tilting slightly as the corners of your lips curved into something soft, something dangerous.“What’s so funny, Hopper?” 

He shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“You really think a date would show up? And out of all places, Hawkins Forest?” His voice dropped into that familiar father-knows-best tone, the same one he used on El when she was testing her limits.

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t help myself, Hop.”

There was something almost vulnerable in your voice now—something real.

“These days… not many guys my age are thinking about the future. The second I bring it up, they freak—like they’ve seen a ghost or something. I thought maybe if I changed things up—if I took a risk—it might spark something.”

You sighed.

“That could’ve gotten you killed, Y/N.” His voice was firm—final—but you already knew that. You knew. A beat passed between you. Heavy. Unspoken. Then—El peeked out from behind you, her soft, sweet presence slicing through the tension like a blade wrapped in silk.

“What’s taking so long?” she huffed, arms crossed, lips forming an almost comically dramatic pout. “I’m hungry.” And she wasn’t wrong.

Because just then, as if on cue, Hopper’s stomach gave an unmistakable growl, betraying him. You almost laughed. Almost.

Because right now, all you wanted was food, warmth, and rest. Anything to erase the weight of the night hanging over you like a second skin. “Then let’s go,” you murmured, fingers ruffling through El’s curls before stepping aside, holding the door open.

An unspoken invitation. Jim hesitated for only a second before stepping in.

And for the first time tonight, something settled.

Settling in, Jim had to admit—he was impressed. Really impressed. You had somehow managed to pull together a full spread in no time, the mashed potatoes smooth and buttery, the chicken practically melting on his tongue. “Damn,” he muttered, savoring the bite. “If I had a penny every time your food was this good, I’d be rich.”

You laughed, soft and warm, wiping a stray smear of sauce from the corner of your lips—then, without thinking, did the same for him.

His body tensed. Just for a second. A split second.

Stay still. Don’t panic.

But it was moments like this—small things, thoughtless things—that did something to him. Something dangerous. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, his gaze didn’t waver.

Didn’t move an inch.

“You okay?” you asked, voice light, a nervous giggle slipping through.

God, you hoped he hadn’t noticed the pink dusting your cheeks.

But he had. Oh, he had.

And it took everything in him not to grin like a damn fool—except, of course, he did. That slow, ego-centric smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

Cocky. Innocent. Infuriating.

“Yep. Totally.”

And that was the moment Jim Hopper—grizzled, cynical, guarded Jim Hopper—felt something hit him straight in the chest.

Love at first sight.

God help him.

"Three-inch minimum."

El’s face twisted in open disgust as Hopper leaned in, his breath close enough to stir the air between you. Almost—almost—he could feel the ghost of your lips brushing his, a sigh slipping through as if the thought alone exhausted him. He hated this. Every second of it. Because, goddamn it, she was right.

Still, he smiled, lopsided, weary. "Maybe I’ve been a little too protective, huh?"

You matched his smirk, eyes flickering with something just sharp enough to cut. A slow nod. A knowing wink tossed El’s way. "And maybe then," you murmured, "you’d let me kiss you instead."

[daryladdixonn]

life with chief jim hopper ✩‧₊°

all pictures are from Pinterest.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Unregistered vehicle - Jim Hopper

summary: When Hopper interrupts a sleepover because of your unregistered vehicle, he is forced to take you to the station to complete some paperwork. wc: 2.3k+

Loud giggles on the other side of the front door have Hopper glancing down at his watch with a tired sigh. He could absolutely not deal with excited teenagers at this ungodly hour. The door swings open and you stand there with a wide smile. Clad in your tiny pyjama shorts and revealing tank top that allows everyone a view of your nipples, waving money in the air, you're clearly not expecting the Chief of Police to be standing at your door. Your hand drops down to your side and Hopper hears your disappointed mumble of "You're not the pizza guy." There's a long silence before your eyes widen and a quiet gasp leaves you. Quickly realising what you look like, you scramble to find a blanket or a jumper to cover yourself in, nearly slipping from the fluffy socks you're wearing before returning to the front door, with a hoodie halfway down your chest. It almost manages a smile out of Hopper. Almost.

"Chief!" You breathed out, smiling nervously. Hopper doesn’t know why you’re being so formal, the two of you were more than well acquainted with each other. "How can I help?" Hopper glances behind you into the unfamiliar house, where Nancy and Robin have paused their conversation to observe your interaction. He thought you lived on the other side of town, with your rich parents who leave the city every other week for business trips. Not here. Smiling ineptly at the two girls in the house, he turns his attention back to you. Nancy and Robin are frozen in place, and Hopper realises they are similarly styled to you. He's definitely more interested in your outfit than their's, taking a quick glance at what's exposed of your legs. He must have interrupted a sleepover. He sighs again. "Are your parents home?" You smile proudly, stating "There are no parents in this household, Chief." The man's eyebrows furrow. Tonight could not get more confusing. "What do you mean?"

You give him a moment to look around the inside of the small house. He's not surprised that there are no parents in the household, especially not yours. They'd probably have a heard attack if they saw this place. There's one couch in the living room, and your friends are sitting on a mattress that should probably be in the bedroom. The living room and open kitchen are completely bare, with the only other piece of furniture in the house being a television sat on the floor, connected to a single plug. Oh, and three glasses of wine and a half empty bottle. There's an open door leading to another room, where he can spot a few boxes strewn on the floor. "I've moved out. Want to join the housewarming party?" Hopper's face twists into one of confusion, and he asks "Isn't it dangerous for a young woman to be living all alone out here?" You shake your head with a 'nuh-uh' "Not all alone. It's me and Robin." You grin at the unfazed look on his face "Roomies!" Hopper reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, lighting it up instantly. Your energy always makes him require a smoke, whether it be on a regular Tuesday night, or fighting demodogs with him in the woods.

"Well, there's a car outside that needs to be registered. I'm assuming that's you?" You nod sheepishly at the Chief's words. "I was going to do that first thing tomorrow morning, I swear... Jesus, it's warm in here." Hopper steps back as you quickly undo the covering up you had worried about so much, eyes widening when he finally gets to take a proper look at you. You look back to the girls in the room, pulling an annoyed face at them, and shut the door so that you're stood outside with Hopper. You cross your arms over your chest, looking up hopefully at the cop. "Well?" "I could fine you for this." You feel the blood drain from your face, and quickly throw your hands up, begging "No, come on Hopper! Do you know how expensive moving is? And having to- to get furniture!?"

The man in front of you laughs, nodding his head. "Look, if we go get it registered now, everything will be fine." He sees the way your face drops, an unimpressed look gracing your features. “Hop, come on. You know me! Can’t you just let it slide?” You whine, and for a second, the cop considers letting it go. But he’s already been too lenient with you in the past. "Won't even take thirty minutes and I won't fine you!" You make a show of throwing your head back with a groan before mumbling "Fine" and turning around to step into the house, sliding your feet into slippers, grabbing your jumper and following the Chief out your house without a single word to the girls in your living room.

The drive to the station is quick, the car filled with a comfortable silence. Hopper parks carelessly and you follow him outside, where he stomps his cigarette on the floor, and into the station. You're reaching to pull your jumper over your head when you notice how empty it is inside. You don't bother with your hoodie, holding it limply at your side, walking into the near empty station and into the Chief's office. Sitting down on a chair in front of Hopper's desk, you slip your feet out of your slippers, pulling your feet up on the chair and hugging your legs close to your chest. Hopper sits at his desk, opening and closing random drawers. You hear the shuffle of papers and rest your chin on your hand, watching lazily as he finally pulls out some very official looking paperwork.

Hopper begins scrawling things down on the paper and you stand up, rounding his desk to watch what he’s writing over his shoulder. One of your hands rests on Hopper’s big shoulder, the other one laid flat on the desk. You squint, unable to read his messy hand writing. “Okay!” Hopper announces, turning his chair to look up at you when he freezes. His eyes widen, and he takes his time looking over your revealing attire. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna freeze.” You shake your head, mumbling an “It’s fine.” and gesturing to your hoodie, but Hopper has already stood up, removing his sheriff’s jacket to sling it over your shoulder. He guides your arms into the big sleeves, ensuring your warmth before turning back towards the paperwork.

“Ooh, stylish.” You giggle, catching your reflection in the office window. You spin around, hands sunken in the pockets, and Hopper huffs at the sight, trying to hide his amusement. “Jesus, come… y/n, come sit down!” You mumble something under your breath, and begin approaching him again. Hopper raises an eyebrow at you when you stand next to him, gesturing for him to move his chair back. He listens, and is about to stand up, making a comment about ‘young audacity’, but instead, you plant yourself straight on his lap. Hopper’s eyes go wide, and his hands fly up as he tries to make sense of the situation.

You hum, leaning forward to read through the papers in front of you and your ass pushes back just right against Hopper’s cock. The older man nearly groans, but he holds himself back, listening closely as you ask “So what do I need to fill out?” Hopper gulps loudly, leaning forward to point specific slots out on the sheets of paper in front of you. You don’t hold back the grin on your face, hearing the shake in the man’s voice. “Here, license plate. Fuck, please tell me you know your license plate.” Hopper begs, both hands coming down to grip your hips. You make sure to ground them down in his lap, feeling the way his cock impossibly hardens underneath you. Hopper doesn’t bother trying to hide his grunt this time, his hips bucking up into you.

The unexpected movement had a surprised moan leaving your lips, and you feel Hopper’s chest vibrate with a deep laugh. “How’d you like that when it’s done to you?” He asks teasingly, but is brought to silence when you reply with an almost pornographic moan of “Oh god, so much.”

“Fuck, I knew these pyjamas were doing something to me.” ”That why you’re so desperate to cover me up, huh?”

You shoot back, grinding your hips down even harder on Hopper’s cock. “Shit, okay, that’s enough.” He finally exclaims, gripping both your hips and lifting you up slightly, a sign for you to get up. You squeak, spinning around to face the solemn faced officer. Shit, what if you had crossed a line? But those thoughts are immediately put to rest when Hopper stands up, pushing you back so you stumble against his desk, his big hand coming to cradle the back of your head as he brings you into a kiss.

Your reaction is immediate — melting against his chest as a loud moan rips out of yours. You grip his tie, desperately trying to bring him closer to you. Hopper breaks the kiss, mumbling against your skin “Your friends are going to get suspicious if you’re gone for long.” But you only throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours as you respond with “My friends are drunk Hop.” The man laughs, accepting the kiss you bring him into. One of his feet kicks your legs open and you gasp, mouth opening just enough to let Hopper slide his tongue into your mouth. Hopper’s hand moves from the back of your head and down your front, snaking into your pyjama shorts to feel around for your wetness. “Shit. We haven’t even done anything yet.” He teases, and you scoff, saying “I can say the same for you, soldier.”

Hopper huffs, watching as you cackle in front of him at your stupid comeback. He doesn’t ask before pulling your short down, making you gasp, eyes worriedly shooting straight to the glass windows and doors of the Chief’s office. “Lay back.” Hopper orders you, nodding towards his desk. You swallow thickly, hopping on his desk before laying down, your legs hanging over the edge of the table. Hopper carefully places the newly signed paperwork in one of his drawers before mindfully folding your legs up so your feet can rest on the edge of his desk. He quickly makes work of his belt, pushing his trousers and boxers down just enough for him to take his cock out.

Hopper grips your hips, experimentally thrusting his hips forward so that his dick brushes against your sensitive cunt. You gasp, watching the older man’s every move. He grins, meeting your gaze to wink at you, finally gripping his cock and lining himself up with your entrance. You whimper when he thrusts into you slowly, eyes glued on where his hips are pushing into you. Similarly, Hopper’s gaze is fixed on his cock stretching your pussy out, watching as your arousal engulfs his cock before dribbling out of your hole. “Oh yeah” Hopper whispers, more so to himself as he begins setting a pace that immediately has you moaning. “Oh god!” You cry, hands looking for anything to grip. Not finding anything to hold, they start trailing down your body until one of them lands on your clit, rubbing tight circles, the other one pinching at your nipples. Hopper curses loudly at the sight, increasing the power of each and every thrust into you.

Objects on the desk rattle with the power of each thrust, and a pen holder falls off the desk, causing a dozen of pens and pencils to go rolling on the floor. You moan loudly, thighs beginning to shake as pleasure shoots up your abdomen. “Yeah, that’s good.” Hopper praises as your pussy clamps down on his cock. He embraces the sight of you in his police jacket, and just the mere thought that it’s going to smell like you afterwards is enough to bring him closer to his orgasm. Hopper bottoms out with each thrust, his balls smacking against the skin of your ass. He pulls out all the way until just the tip is in before slamming all the way back in as hard as he can, which has you crying out due to his generous size, back arching against the cold wood of the desk.

Hopper’s hands move from your hips to your knees, which he uses to push your legs closer to your chest, leaning his body weight on your legs as he continues thrusting into you. The new angle has your head reeling, and one of your hands eagerly comes up to grip his wrist, as though that will bring you closer to your orgasm. You begin squirming at the stimulation, but Hopper only drills into you harder — it’s the least he can do with his pace slowing down. “Fuck you’re so needy. Pussy fucking swallowing my cock.” He grunts, watching as your pussy squeezes him in. It seems his words have a positive effect on you because you’re suddenly seeing white, back arching as your soul is brought to a different dimension.

You pussy flutters around Hopper’s cock, and he’s immediately halting inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides white. You gasp, back arching, and Hopper exhales deeply, gently releasing pressure off your legs, which flop tiredly on his desk, your entire body feeling exhausted. Hopper pulls out, and you hear the rattle of his belt as he makes himself modest again. You jump at the feeling of wet tissues on your cunt, looking up to find Hopper staring down at you worriedly. “Sorry kiddo. You okay down there?” You hum, nodding lazily and putting your hands up so that he can help you sit up. You tuck yourself deeper into Hopper’s jacket, hoping he’ll let you take it home, and it seems he reads your mind because when he pulls your shorts back up, he stands there for a moment smiling at you before finally saying:

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Working Lunch

Jim Hopper x AFAB! Reader

Plot? What Plot? It's straight up Hopper porn. It's not alluded to in this story but Reader is younger than Hopper like late 20's to his mid 40's as I'll probably string this, the Dirty Dancing story and others to come into a linked series of oneshots.

Warnings: Smut with a capital S, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (F receiving), p in v sex, creampie, rough sex, rough Hopper, size kink - we live for Dad bod! Hopper, semi-public sex? Light choking? Do better warnings shithead.

It’s a slow day at the diner, mostly due to the beautiful day outside, sun blazing in through the windows, making the vinyl booths almost too hot to the touch. You let out a huff, it’s bad enough that you’re missing the sunshine, but you’re also missing Hopper. The two of you have been super busy with work, helping Jane study, trying to fix up the cabin, most evenings you’re both so tired you crawl into bed with only a small kiss or two before succumbing to exhaustion. You thrive on affection, something that Jim was usually only too eager to give, so you’re feeling significantly touch-starved and needy.

You wonder what Jim is doing right now, it’s almost lunchtime, you knew from Flo that’s he’s barely been stopping to eat and when he does it’s usually from the station’s giant tray of donuts. A devious little idea starts to form in your mind, you could take Jim some lunch and maybe, just maybe get some attention whilst you’re there.

“Hey Donna, would you be ok for half an hour if I take some lunch over for Hop?” You ask your colleague, who is currently overfilling the sugar dispensers in a daze.

“Oh, sure sweetie take the time you need, it’s not exactly Grand Central.” She smiles, gesturing to the empty tables as you quickly make up a BLT, shoving it into a paper bag.

“Call me at the station, if it picks up.” You say, pressing a grateful kiss to her cheek.

The midday sun hits you in a stifling wave, heat gathering about your ankles from the burning sidewalk, you’re glad to be wearing your light pink work dress as you skip across the street towards the station.

It’s barely cooler in the building, despite the numerous fans humming and grating on every available surface, Flo has her nose pressed into a gossip magazine when you clear your throat.

“Hey there hunny, you here to see the Chief?” She smiles indulgently at you.

“Just thought I’d bring him some proper lunch for once.” You say shaking the bag.

“You’re too good to him, you know that?” Flo reminds you affectionately.

“I know.” You laugh, heading down the corridor, waving at Powell in greeting from where he’s stood by the xerox machine. 

  The door to Jim’s office is shut, no doubt to keep Callahan from bothering him incessantly, you knock smartly on the wood, buzzing with excitement to see the man on the other side.

“Yeah?” Jim grunts and you roll your eyes at his manners opening the door, he’s pouring over some paperwork, head in his hands not having bothered to look up, the air stale with cigarette smoke and coffee.

“Special delivery for Jim Hopper.” You chime, shutting the door with your butt.

His head shoots up straight away, the deep frown of concentration on his face morphing into a beaming grin that makes your heart swell and sputter. 

“Well this is a surprise.” Jim says happily, pushing his chair out, moving quickly around the desk. His large hands envelop your waist pulling you close, you wouldn’t be surprised if the heat from his palms burn a hole through your dress.

“It’s lunchtime, can’t have the big, strong, Chief of Police going hungry.” You smile, holding the paper bag aloft.

“You’re too good to me.” He murmurs, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“You know it’s funny, Flo said exactly the same thing.” You tease, chasing his lips for a kiss of your own.

“She did huh?” Jim asks, eyebrow cocked, hands drifting down past your waist to cup your ass. “Well I can’t have my best girl going around thinking she’s underappreciated can I?” He teases, bringing you flush to his body, kissing you hard.

Your head is spinning as his tongue licks into your mouth, threading your fingers through his hair, moaning softly as he manhandles you, lifting you to sit on the edge of this desk. Jim hitches your dress up, hands disappearing under the fabric to rub along your thighs, his lips quirk up in a cocky smile when he coaxes another soft moan from your throat.

“So eager baby girl.” He croons, sinking to his knees in front of you, finger hooking at the waistband of your panties dragging them down slowly revealing your wet core. “Jesus baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping for me.” Jim groans, placing heated kisses to your inner thighs, up and up, until his nose nudges at your sensitive clit, tongue swiping through your creamy slick before pushing in.

“Jim!” You gasp, head thrown back, fingers tugging at his short hair.

He growls against your cunt, hands grabbing at your ass, dragging you forward so his tongue fucks you deeper. You bite your lip to keep from crying out, aware that the majority of the Hawkins’ Police force is just on the other side of the door, but it’s hard to concentrate when Jim is lapping at your pussy in such a sinful way. Two thick fingers replace his tongue, stretching and scissoring, making you ready for his cock, the tip of his tongue now firmly focused on your sensitive clit, circling insistently.

Your body seizes, shivers wracking up through your spine as your orgasm pulses from your belly down to your curled toes and back again.

Jim is on his feet, frantically unbuckling his belt, unleashing his thick, girthy cock from the straining confines of his uniform, the tip ruddy and leaking heavily with pre-cum. You can only reach for him, with hooded eyes, head tucked into his neck as he leans over you.

“Fuck.” Jim grunts, lining himself up with your weeping slit, pussy stretching with a delicious burn as he works his way in. You already feel impossibly full, whimpering with each thrust, the edge of the desk digging into your back, your nails biting into Jim’s shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good baby.” He groans, hauling you up to his chest, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.

“Hop, fuck, want you to bend me over your desk.” You whine, licking the sweat from his exposed throat.

“Oh fuck, you’ll be the death of me.” He says in awed disbelief, pulling out, flipping you over and slamming back in, in one fluid motion, flicking your dress up over your ass so he can see his cock piston in and out. His large hand strikes the back of your thigh, leaving a welting red mark that makes you squeak, the sting only sending you closer and closer to your climax again. Papers, pens and clutter falling to the floor with the force of Hopper’s movements, fucking into you without hesitation, drunk on the tight, wet heat of your pulsing cunt.

“Jim, baby, I’m so close.” You whimper, tucking a hand between your legs to rub at your clit, feeling his heavy balls slap against you.

“Oh Jesus.” He huffs, his grip on your hips sure to leave bruises, there’s a knock at the door but Jim doesn’t stop if anything he drills into you harder than ever. “Go away - I’m busy!” He yells, breathing heavily.

“Yeah - Chief I have a question abou-”

“Callahan - if you don’t step away from my fucking door right now - I will fire your sorry ass!” Jim shouts and you have to stifle a giggle, which cuts off abruptly into a strangled moan as Jim presses against throat, hauling your back to his chest. “Something funny baby girl?” He growls in your ear, biting down on the sensitive lobe.

“Jim -” You whine brokenly, he bats your hand away from your clit, circling with his rough thick fingers.

“That’s it doll, come on my cock, lemme feel you squeeze me.” He encourages, voice rough and low.

The tight band in your stomach snaps, wave after wave of burning pleasure coursing through you, making your legs shake.

“God fucking dammit!” Hopper chokes, snapping his hips in staggered thrusts, his cum filling you to the very brim, leaning heavily against your back, trying to put his weight onto the desk, panting from exertion.

“Jim -?” You murmur weakly.

“Yeah baby?” He asks breathlessly, rubbing soothing circles over your back.

“We squished your sandwich.” 

[luveline]

i’m addicted to ur hop stuff omg!! no one writes hop fluff like u do 🥺🥺 could u do smth like a slow morning w hop!! ft el if u feel like it xx

“Why are you still in bed?” 

You stir at the question, but are quickly settled by a hand on your back so much bigger than your own. “I don’t want to wake her up.” 

“You say sleeping the morning away is a waste of time.” 

“I let you sleep in all the time.” The big hand rubs a circle into your back. It takes you a few moments to orientate yourself without moving. Your face is in someone’s lap, your arm hugging strong thighs. “She’s still not used to staying up that late to watch Miami Vice.” 

“Twenty three hours isn’t late.” 

“Eleven o’clock is late for people who work all day, El. Can you keep the noise down until she wakes up by herself?” 

“You’re with her.” 

“I mean when she wakes herself up. No intervention.” 

“Okay. Do you want me to make breakfast?” 

Hopper’s smile is audible. “Yeah, kid, okay. You can make breakfast. Don’t burn yourself on the toaster, okay? You remember? It gets hot all over.” 

“Hot all over,” El repeats. 

Quiet is restored for a while. You sleep some more, dozing on a loving lap, likely dribbling a patch into pants. The big hand never stops moving, not once to what you can tell, scrubbing circles into your skin until you feel numb to his touch, almost ticklish. It makes you squirm.

“About time.” 

“What’s about time?” you mumble, forcing your face further into his leg. 

“You’ve been sleeping for hours.” 

Your head tips back, intent on meeting his eyes and proving you’re not the slovenly creature he seems to think you are, but your eyelids are heavy and he’s warm in your arms. “Good morning,” you say affectionately. 

Hopper can pretend to be as much of a hard ass as he likes, he hears your scratchy morning voice in tandem with your saccharine greeting and obviously melts. Even half-asleep, you can sense it, and as his arms slide under your arms and he leans back against his pillows, you force yourself to open your eyes and see his chuffed smile. 

He’s grinning like he won something, hugging you to his chest. 

“Good morning,” he says quietly. 

You press your face to his front. 

“I heard El,” you say. 

“She’s making breakfast.” 

You’d been worried about staying the night because El’s still young, and Hopper’s bedroom is just a section of the cabin’s living room; if she needs to pee at night or if she wakes up before you, she is forcefully presented with an adult relationship. Which isn’t to say you’d risk being inappropriate with Hopper somewhere she could see, it just means that intimacy comes in all shapes and sizes, and El is unfamiliar with so much of it, and, more importantly, Hopper’s her dad. She hasn’t had to share him before. 

But El’s loving, and she hasn’t minded you being here. She doesn’t falter when she comes upon you and Hop tangled together in the morning, she just asks for toast or tells Hop he needs to come and open a window for her. 

She brings breakfast for you all on a tray and sits on the end of Hopper’s bed. It’s a frankly audacious amount of undercooked waffles and toast, a maple syrup bottle sticky from abuse laying side down with the knives and forks. 

“Thanks, baby,” Hopper says quietly. “This is perfect.” 

“Why do you guys hug so much?” she asks, spearing a waffle with her fork. 

You, having pulled yourself from Hopper’s lap just long enough to come around, don’t have the wits to answer. Hopper clearly hopes you will, and deliberates for a long time before he says, “It’s comforting.”

“Like you’re upset?” she asks. 

“Nope. Just, it makes me feel better to– to make sure she feels happy.” 

You yawn. “It’s like making breakfast, honey. You made everyone breakfast and now we’re all looked after. You feel good because we appreciate you for doing it, and we feel good because somebody did something nice for us.” You yawn again, your jaw clicking formidably.

El likes this answer, eating the majority of her portion before she talks again. “Thanks for staying up to watch Miami Vice,” she says. “Mike says it’s a waste of time.” 

“Mike’s a waste of time,” Hopper says, not quite without heat. 

“I like Miami Vice,” you say, trying to bat crumbs off of the sheets before Hopper notices them. 

Hopper grabs your hand. He’s laughing already, tugging you toward him, muttering, “God, you’re so messy,” as you lean in to be kissed on the cheek. 

“Not that messy,” you say, making eye contact with El hopefully. 

“Super messy,” she says. 

[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?”

[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?