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sleep-paralysis-buddy · 5 months

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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.

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strangererotica · 3 months

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

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The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

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Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

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Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

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You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84

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wtfsteveharrington · 2 months

Text

- stranger things masterlist -

18+ minors dni | please check content warnings

✨ - smut | ♡ - fluff | 🥀 - angst

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DUOS

steve harrington x robin buckley - fem!reader

you’re dating steve & you think robin’s hot. literally almost 23k words of smut and banter.

✨ tequila & strawberry lipgloss | part one

✨ coffee & mint chapstick | part two

✨ chai & hot pink lipstick | part three

✨ vodka & watermelon chapstick | part four

INDIVIDUAL

steve harrington | blurbs | fic recs

♡ grocery shopping - gn!reader

a lil domestic piece about boyfriend steve following you around the store & doing his best

✨put away my pride - gn!reader

roommate!steve. you find him late one night & steve offers to help take care of your frustrations.

✨ sorry to interrupt - fem!reader

set during s4 where steve sleeps next to you instead of in the basement & escalates from there

✨ what i’m waiting for - fem!reader

period sex!! written lower case & bullet point style.

eddie munson | blurbs |fic recs

✨ & ♡ something i don’t know - gn!reader

eddie’s hand is around your neck and you can’t help your reaction, much to his entertainment

♡ dungeon master - fem!reader

blurb about eddie’s greatest campaign but it literally warms my heart and i wanna share it

robin buckley | blurbs |fic recs

coming soon

chief hopper

✨ come by the station - fem!reader

you surprise your boyfriend at work by pretending you need to file a police report. needless to say it escalates from there.

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sargebarnesx · 2 months

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex, sex in his office, Hop’s a bit of a dom

Words: 2.3k ish?

Summary: Phil Callahan has a massive crush on you and Jim Hopper doesn’t want to admit that he’s jealous.

Author’s Note: please forgive me for two things: 1. If Hopper seems a bit OOC, it’s been a while since I’ve watched ST but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while. 2. If I missed any warning/info that should have been provided. I haven’t posted fanfic on tumblr in about a decade so I’m out of practice. Hope y’all enjoy though!

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous.

He would describe himself as laid back when it came to relationships. Besides, when was he ever tied down to anyone long enough to get jealous? He would go with the flow, which usually meant he would have one night stand after one night stand and never call any of them ever again.

Until he met you.

You were a decade younger, but that didn’t bother him. You had a past, hell, so did he. He didn’t care. You started working at the station, that was great, he could see you every day and he definitely didn’t mind that. There was only one thing that seemed to be bothering him lately…

Phil Callahan had a massive crush on you.

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous, especially not of Phil Callahan.

You wore tight skirts and cute heels to work, a stark contrast from Flo’s ankle-length dresses and sensible shoes. You were young and pretty, what did he expect? You spent a lot of your time flittering around the station, helping where you could, filing, cleaning, making and answering calls. In between all of that, you found time to innocently flirt with Phil. You knew what you were doing; you knew it was going to make Jim’s blood boil every time he caught you sitting on the corner of Phil’s desk in your tight black skirt that hugged the curve of your ass perfectly. You were putting on a show, albeit one that had maybe gone on for too long. But you wanted to see how long it would take Hopper to crack.

Your white button-up top exposed your collarbone, giving everyone at the station a tiny peek of the smooth skin hiding underneath it. The black pumps that adorned your feet made a clicking sound as you walked back and forth and back and forth. Every time you passed by Jim’s open office door, he looked up from his paperwork in the hope of catching a glimpse. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

Neither could Phil.

Why did that make him seethe with jealousy?

Deep down, he knew why. He knew why seeing another man’s eyes rake over your body drove him absolutely insane.

He knew it was because that body had been writhing underneath him a mere seven hours ago. He knew it was because when you woke up next to him this morning, all you wanted was his dick in your mouth. He knew that you were probably still thinking about the way he railed you before your morning shower with your hair wrapped around his fist. How could you not be? He certainly was.

You were walking around the station with a familiar swing in your hips, a skip in your step, humming one of your favorite songs. Flo had commented that you were in a surprisingly good mood for a Monday morning. No one knew the things the two of you did off the clock and Jim wasn’t sure if they should. He didn’t want people to think you only had a job because you were screwing the chief. You deserved a better reputation than the one he had earned.

Jim heard the clicking of your heels getting closer as you approached his office. “Hey chief,” you say, rapping your knuckles against the door frame. You held a brown folder in your hand. “Whatcha got?” Hopper asks, holding his hand out to take the folder. Before you could respond, you slowly pushed the door closed. “Somethin’ serious?” Jim raises an eyebrow at your actions but doesn’t question you further. You set the folder down on his desk gently.

“I can feel your eyes on me every time I walk by,” you say, sitting in the chair opposite his desk and crossing your legs at the knee. Hopper leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out. You can feel the tip of his shoe rub against your ankle. “Yeah?” He remarks, “Can you feel Callahan’s too?” You nod, rolling your eyes, “Of course I can, but you looking up from your paperwork each time I walk by is what’s got me distracted.”

Hopper smirks, dragging his eyes over your exposed thighs. “Is that so?” He asks, “Not Callahan panting like a dog at your feet?”

You run a hand slowly through your hair, flipping it to one side. “Phil has been like that since high school. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to realize that if he hasn’t gotten any from me by now, he never will,” you explain. Hopper nods, his face emotionless as he moves his legs away from you. You follow his actions and lean in toward his desk.

“Besides,” you say, “I’ve had a lot on my mind today and I can’t say Phil Callahan has crossed it even once. You, on the other hand…”

“Me?” Jim asks, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, “What about me?”

He knows what he’s doing. That was your invitation and he knows you’ll take it. He watches as your mouth quirks up the tiniest bit in the corner, always one for a challenge. Hopper watches intently as you stand and make your way around the desk. He happily obliges when you motion for him to push his chair back a bit.

His hands immediately fly to the backs of your thighs when you straddle him and he has to hold back a groan as your hot pussy brushes against him. He takes in a sharp breath as you lean close to his ear.

“The chief wants to know what I’m thinkin’?” Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear. He nods, rubbing his hands from the backs of your knees to the curve of your ass. “I’m thinkin’ about your cock, chief, and how it feels when you’re filling up my pussy,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, “I’m thinkin’ about laying back on this desk so you can fuck me right now.”

Jim presses his face in the crook of your neck to hide his groan. He hopes his office is far enough away from everyone so they can’t hear him. “You feel too good, baby,” he thrusts his hips up, trying to get closer but there are too many layers, “You know I’ll be too loud.”

You kiss him, deep and hard, taking his hands and pushing them onto your ass. “Maybe Phil will hear you and realize he doesn’t stand a chance,” you whisper with a smirk against his mouth. Hopper squeezes your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You push yourself back up into a standing position, then take a seat on his desk. “So, are you gonna help me?” You ask, placing your right foot on the arm of his chair, feeling your skirt ride up. His eyes rake over you, going from your hip to your ankle, and you can tell his fingers are itching to touch you. “Or am I gonna have to do it myself?” You lift your left leg and place it on the opposite arm, exposing yourself to him. You trail your fingers down between your legs, feeling the wet heat that has soaked your panties.

“Touch me,” you whine, pushing your panties to the side to thrust a finger deep into your throbbing pussy, “please.” He watches under hooded eyes, his hands resting on your ankles. Your finger circles your clit and you hold back a moan, remembering that there’s only a door separating the two of you from everyone else. His hands creep higher and he traces lightly across your skin. “Unbutton your shirt,” he murmurs. You pull your fingers away from your pussy, wet and glistening, and slowly slip your buttons open.

One by one, you expose the skin of your chest to him. He can see the black lace of your bra and the swell of your breasts, heaving up and down as you pull your shirt off. “Fuck,” he mutters, “You’re so damn beautiful.” He gets closer to you with these words, filling the space between your thighs. He places a kiss at the base of your throat and you gasp as his beard tickles your skin. “Jim…” you groan, “I need you right now.”

He stands, crowding you, towering over you, with one hand on his belt buckle. You can see how hard he is, how his big dick strains against his uniform pants. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you on my desk?” He asks under his breath, palming himself over his pants. You nod, lying back over folders and papers. He hooks a finger in each cup of your bra and pulls, exposing your tight, hard nipples. “You are so turned on, baby,” he whispers against your nipple before wrapping his lips around you, “Bet that sweet pussy is soaked.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. You want nothing more than to have him ram his thick cock inside of you, but his tongue on your tits is driving you absolutely insane. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Jim, please,” you’re getting desperate at this point. You want him inside you now.

His belt falls open first. Then he pops open the button and lowers the zipper. You’re one layer away from finally feeling him. You tighten your legs and pull him into you, whining when you feel his length pressed against you. “Easy, baby,” he says softly, “Be patient.”

He pulls away from you and pushes his boxers down, finally. His cock bobs between the two of you and he hisses when the cool air hits him. He pumps himself a few times while you watch, wetness pooling between your legs. You want your panties off, you want him to fill you up, you want to feel him. “You ready for this cock, baby?” He says. You nod, “I’ve been ready. You know this pussy is yours.” He smirks, reaches under your skirt, and pulls your panties down your legs in one movement. You squirm as he takes his place back between your thighs. The head of his cock brushes against you and you moan, bucking your hips towards him.

Jim is grinning; he loves seeing how much you want him, how much you need him.

“You want it all?”

You nod again.

He pushes into you, so familiar, so filling. He groans into your mouth, bites down on your lip, and pumps his hips back and forth. You’re gripping his biceps, your noses are touching, and his eyes are trained on yours.

“Atta girl,” he groans, “Atta fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this. Taking my cock on my desk at the station. You think Callahan could take you like this? You think Callahan could make your pussy this wet?”

You shake your head.

“You want Callahan to fuck you on his desk out there? You wanna tease him until he can’t take it anymore?”

His thrusts are getting sloppy, his desk is creaking beneath you. He’s already gotten you there twice and is working towards a third. “Oh…baby…girl…fuck,” he moans, his words each enunciated by a snap of his hips. Your hands are gripping the hair at the base of his neck and you know without a doubt that your bottom lip will have an intense indent from your teeth.

“You want my cum? You want it deep inside this pussy?” He growls. You nod, unable to form words, unable to think with the cloud of bliss that is currently fogging up your brain. “Use your words, baby. I wanna hear you…” he says, gripping your wrists and slamming them down on his desk above your head. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “Yes, please, cum inside me.”

Suddenly, you feel like a rubber band snaps somewhere deep inside of you. Your back arches off of the desk and your eyes squeeze shut; you wish he didn’t have your hands pinned above your head because you’d love to dig your nails into his strong shoulders. Then he’s moaning - loud and deep, while he spills himself inside of you. Your body goes limp as he wraps his arms around you. He’s so warm and you cry out at the absence of his heat when he pulls out of you. “Jim…” you whine.

“Shh,” he says, digging through his drawers to find a random towel that he knows is buried in there somewhere. It’s scratchy and has a couple of holes, but he uses it to clean you up. His rough grips have turned to soft touches. He gingerly puts your heels back on your feet while you fix your bra and pull your shirt back on. When you stand, he pulls the bottom of your skirt down and gives your ass a gentle squeeze.

It’s a silent remark, something that tells you he enjoyed himself, that he loves you, and that he wouldn’t mind a round two this evening when you both get home.

“How do I look?” You ask, gesturing to your hair. Hopper leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette, “Gorgeous, as always.”

You smooth your hands through your hair and quickly swipe under your eyes, realizing then that you’ve been in Hopper’s office for far too long, your mascara is far too smeared, and your once crisp and perfect shirt is far too wrinkled.

With one last glance at him, you reach for his office door handle and pull it open. An officer is standing there, frozen in place with his fist in the air as though he was about to knock. You slip past him, grab a stack of folders on your way back to your desk, and call over your shoulder, “Oh, hi Phil!”

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x you #david harbour #stranger things smut

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

Plain Old Man - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Jim can't figure out why you love him. After all, isn't he just a plain old man?

Contents/Warnings: hop's self-conscious :(, consensual + legal age gap, fem!reader

requested: hopper x younger really feminine reader. he think she’s the cutest thing ever and that she’s too good for him so he’s kind of upset, but she figures it out and sits on his lap and kissing all over his body </333 // slightly deviated from, but i hope you still enjoy it!

WC: 1.47K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You love Fridays, because when Jim swings by the pizza place for your dinner, he stops into the boutique next door, and always brings you something. Last week it was a pair of dangly earrings, shimmery and green in the shapes of fairy wings. The week before that it was a silver necklace with a pearl charm, to match a set of earrings he'd gotten before that.

You're buzzing with excitement as you hear his car pull up outside, and you bypass the hand he's balancing the pizza on to wrap your arms around his waist. They interlock behind him and you squeeze, wishing you could latch yourself onto him forever and hang off of him like a sloth.

"Hop!"

"Hey, sweetheart." You feel a kiss placed on the crown of your head, his mustache prickling the skin there, "Let's get inside, okay? Pizza's gonna get cold."

Your nose is, too, so you let him nudge you back inside before it starts to ache.

"I baked us muffins," You inform him, taking the box from his hands and watching him toe off his muddy work shoes by the door, "They're blueberry, but I added that topping over them that you liked last time on the banana ones. It's a little sticky, and kinda clumpy, but it tastes the same!"

He nods through your ramble, eyes lighting up at not only the prospect of muffins but of the special crumble you lay over top. He ushers you into the kitchen, but when you reach for the lid of the pizza box he sets a hand on your waist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he pats the breast pocket of his jacket, and you visibly brighten.

"Oh! Oh," You gush, reaching eagerly for the bag that he hands you, crinkly plastic and purple-tinted, "Thank you, honey."

Your nails pry at the tissue paper that's wrapping whatever present you've gotten, and when you rip the tape away it reveals two barrettes, one pink and one blue. they're beaded, shimmery under the light, and they'll look adorable tucked into your hair.

"Hop," You gush, surging forwards to face-plant into his chest, "I love them! I can use them to twist my hair back like I've been doing lately."

"I know," He nods, leaning forwards to bump his nose into your own, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, "That's why I bought them. I know the pins haven't been holding it."

You'd stolen two worn-out, dented bobby pins from Jim's nightstand, that you're fairly certain he'd used to pick locks with. It concerned you, but he hasn't asked for them back, so you're sure his lock-picking days are behind him.

"Put 'em in!" You urge him, unclipping the barrettes from the card they're on and dumping them into his large, rough hand, "You know how to do it, right?"

"I know how to pull your hair back," He scoffs, sticking one clip between his teeth so that his words muffle as he uses his hands to twist a chunk of your hair away from your face. He pulls it back and secures it with the clip, a snap letting you know it won't fall out.

"Perfect," He praises you (though you think it might be aimed at himself), and pops a kiss to the metal clip.

Your smile is infectious as he uses the other clip on the opposite side of your head, thick fingers twisting your delicate hair carefully. When it's pinned he kisses that side, too, and backs away to look at you head-on.

He smiles, but it's strange. It doesn't fade, per se, but the look in his eyes shifts, and your gut churns with nerves when they seem to be sad.

"Hop?" You tilt your head, watching him try and fail to focus on you instead of whatever's happening in his head, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, pressing a mediocre kiss to your cheek as he rushes for the pizza box behind you, "Yeah, sweetheart. You look real pretty. Let's eat, okay?"

He plates his pizza in silence, so you do too. But it's strange, because he always complains about the cheese not being gooey when he pulls slices apart, and there's not a peep out of him today. Just a downcast glance that tracks his feet all the way to the couch. He typically spreads out, eager to relax after a day of work, but he sits proper, plate on his lap and eyes on the tv.

You reach down to flick it on when you pass, and you sit closer to his side than you normally would. You feel his thigh tense up against your own, and you frown, glancing over at him.

"Jim," You croon, setting your hand cautiously against his thigh, "Are you okay? The truth this time, please."

"Yeah, honey, I.. I don't know." He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly and sighing, "It's fine, really. I like your clips, sweetheart, they look good."

He goes to take another bite of pizza, but you pull it out of his hands just before he can. It means that his teeth clack together instead of meeting the bread, and he looks bewilderedly at you, hand still outstretched.

"Hey," He frowns, "That's my pizza."

"I know it's your pizza," You plop it back onto the plate, setting it on the coffee table and taking its place in his lap, "It'll still be your pizza when you tell me what's bothering you."

He sighs again, and this time you feel it where your hands are braced on his belly. You smooth your hands over it, tracing your thumbs from the dip of his navel out to his sides.

"Tell me, Jim," You plead, "I'm worried about you."

He looks at you for a moment, head-on, eye to eye and face to face, and breaks. He murmurs a gruff 'fuck,' under his breath, head drooping down so that his chin meets his chest.

"Jim," You whine, tucking your fingers under his chin and lifting it so that he can't avoid your eyes, "Just tell me, honey. I need to know."

"You are.." He pauses, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly at you, "Gorgeous. You know that?"

"You tell me all the time," You promise him, shimmying your hips slightly to press your tummy further into his, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I think you're too gorgeous for me. And sweet, and nice, and perfect. I'm a plain old man," He gestures to himself, his beige uniform and scruffy stubble, "That's it."

"You're not a plain old man," You chide him, pinching at the pudge of his belly, "You're the man I love. You know that, don't you? That I love you."

"I'd like to think so," His smile stays sad, "I just can't think of a reason you would."

"Well because- because you're.. you! Jim," Your brows furrow and you lean closer, nose-to-nose, "I love you because of who you are. Not because of any one specific reason, the reason is just you. I love you, Jim Hopper."

His hand cups the back of your neck and pushes you forwards. It's not a kiss, but your lips meet, as do your foreheads as your noses smush together.

"You're too good to me," He murmurs, his voice slightly raspy.

"No," You protest, pecking his lower lip in a sweet smooch, "I could never be too good to you. 'Cause you deserve the best."

"You are cheesy today," He chuckles, but you know it's not an insult as much as it is an observation, "Did those muffins have extra sugar in them? Something's got you all sweet."

"It's you," You grin, knocking your nose into his once more and digging your hands into the soft chub of his belly, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you all day, I wanted to call you a bunch but I didn't wanna bother you."

"You wouldn't bother me," He promises, smoothing a hand down your back, "But it's probably not good to hold up the line at the police station."

"Yeah," You hum sadly, and lean down to tuck your face over his shoulder in a much-needed hug, "It's better when El's here. She keeps me company."

"Speaking of," He glances at the clock, patting your back gently, "We need to go get her soon. Max's mom said she can't stay another night, she's got chores to do."

"Finish your pizza," You clamber off of his lap and rush for your own plate, "Because before she comes back, you're going to make me happy scream."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughs as you settle yourself back against him on the couch, attention finally turned to the television, "We should brush our teeth first, then. I'm not kissing pizza breath."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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strangerxperv · 2 months

Text

65. “you’re being particularly insufferable today”

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

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

Daddy's Little Pervy Loser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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eupheme · 2 years

Text

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags!#been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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ervotica · 7 months

Text

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.

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stvolanis · 8 months

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Don’t Wanna Grow Up.

( one shot )

PAIRINGS: Rockstar! OC X Mean! Jim Hopper

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

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

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

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

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Jim Hopper wasn’t so bad after all.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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artemisthewh0re · 9 months

Note

OMFG IK YOU’D EAT THIS UPPPP

a Season3 mean!dbf! Hopper X wealthy!girly!fem blk reader

The reader is an annoying, snarky, smart-ass and loves especially teasing and annoying Jim at any given time.

and then one day he already was not having a great day so he finds the reader walking home after a party she snuck out to and she begs him for a ride and (as always) he does.

“Pleaseee hopper?? I won’t be able to go to the formal if he grounds me!”

He’s like “I’m not covering for ya kid, your a smart-ass, bad-ass brat who always wants her way cuz she has daddy’s money! So shut up and let me drive goddamnit!”

Then shuts reader up by stuffing his dick in her mouth and fcks the absolute SHIT out of her in his truck. Like she can’t remember her name or respond.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH 🤭🤭🤭

“Got something to say now? Huh smart-ass??”

“Yeah that shut you right up. I guess my cock is all it takes to shut that pretty mouth up”

“I don’t kiss sweetie”

“Take it like a champ sweetheart!! You talk so much shit you should.”

“Cmon you got it, alllllll the way in there, mhmm”

“Whats your name? Huh? Can you not remember?”

“Dumb slut can’t even speak cuz of daddy’s dick”

Then after all of this he’d carry you to your window and tuck you in cuz you’re so fcked out 😭😭

Hopper 🔛🔝

You literally read my mind, I've been planning to do a Hopper smut for months! Also your mind is amazing chefs kiss 🤌🏾

Dbf!Jim Hopper x Black Reader

Warnings: Age gap (18 & 40+), breeding kink (kinda), dad's best friend, unprotected piv, blowjob

Katydids fill the dark street with a calming ambience as you walk. The only other sound being the click-clack of your purple heels. You had already walked half a mile and your legs are close to giving out when you hear a car coming up behind you.

"Might as well hitchhike the rest of the way," you whisper under your breath, sticking out your thumb towards the car. As it gets closer you notice that it's not a regular car, but the Chief of Police's Chevy. The car slows in front of you and the passenger window lowers. A scowling Jim Hopper meets your thankful gaze.

"What're you doin' out this late, sweetheart?" Hopper questions, a frown plastered on his face.

"I could ask you the same thing, officer," you tease, trying to avoid the fact that you had committed several acts of underaged drinking and drugs. Hopper's unamused expression lets you know his mood is even worse than usual. "Can I hitch a ride home?"

"Not tonight, I don't have the time for your antics," Hopper responds.

"Pleaseee hopper??I won't be able to go to the winter formal if my dad grounds me!" You whine.

A sigh escapes the Chief's lips before he unlocks the passenger side door. You trot your way over to the car and get in without a second thought. The car starts back up with a hum and heads twenty minutes out of town to your ritzy neighborhood.

The silence filling the car is almost deafening. You try to fight back the urge to speak, fidgeting in your seat, but your mouth won the battle over your brain.

"So what's got your panties in a twist? You're usually less of an asshole," you tease him with a poke on the cheek.

"I'm fucking peachy," Hopper responds, turning to you with a death glare.

"And what's with the get up? You look like you're going on a vacation," you say, finally noticing his Hawaiian shirt and casual jeans.

"Can you just shut it? I'm not in the mood for this tonight!"

You quiet down for a moment, the smile you had falling from your face. "Sorry, can you just not tell my dad you found me tipsy on the side of the road?"

"I'm not covering for you kid, you're a smart-ass, bad-ass brat who always wants her way because she has daddy's money! So shut up and let me drive goddamnit!"

A muttered insult escapes your lips as you turn away from Hopper, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Alright, that's it!" Hopper yells, apparently hearing your insult.

The car suddenly turns off the main road into a wooded area. You whip your head around, trying to figure out where you are. The car stops in a clearing in front of a small stream.

"Hopper?" You question, looking around the wooded area.

"I'm so sick of spoiled little girls in this town thinking they can do whatever they want just because their daddy's rich," Hopper rants, turning off the car.

You can't help but laugh. Your dad's closest friend giving you a lecture about being spoiled wasn't a new thing, but dragging you to the middle of the woods just to yell at you was comical.

"Oh please, you can't fix my attitude. Dad has tried and failed for years."

"He hasn't tried my technique."

"Whatever." You roll your eyes and turn away from Hopper. Suddenly Hopper grabs your neck with a firm grip.

"I think it's high time someone taught you how to shut up," Hopper gruffly whispers only two inches away from your face.

A part of your brain knew that this was fucked up. But an even deeper part of you had fantasized about this late at night. Touching yourself at the thought of Hopper's warm breath grazing your neck, placing rough kisses anywhere he could.

"Okay, Chief," you tease.

Hopper releases your neck and relaxes in his seat. His legs spread apart to reveal his growing bulge. A loud gulp comes from your throat as you stare. You'd never done something like this before and your nerves were betraying you.

"Unzip it," Hopper says. His eyes are looking at the zipper on his washed out jeans.

You move closer to the Chief with caution. Once you're right next to him, he lights a cigarette and places it between his teeth. Hopper rolls the window down before the truck fills with smoke. Your hand moves your lap to his and makes its way up to his crotch.

His erection is firm and much bigger than you expected. Hopper is silent as you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as it pulls Hopper cock free from his briefs.

Precum leaks from his light pink tip. You can see small veins running from the base to the head. You look over to Hopper for some sort of instruction, but he silently smirks instead. Hopper moves his hand from the back of the seat and grabs the back of your neck, a lot gentler than the first time. Your head moves closer to his cock and you place an awkward kiss on it.

"Why so shy? You were all talk earlier," Hopper teases.

You open your mouth and place it around his head. His precum has a slightly salty taste as it hits your tongue. Before you can think about what to do next, Hopper pushes your head all the way down, so your nose is pressed against his crotch. You gag around his cock before he pulls your head up.

"Got something to say now, smart ass?"

For the first time in your life you're actually quiet, except for your heaving breathing. Your chin has spit dribbling down it and your eyes are watering. You loved it. Hopper pushes your head back down again, but this time you take more control. Your hand wraps around his base and you try to remember the moves Nancy had taught you. You bob your head up and down, careful not to use your teeth. The flat of your tongue swirls up and down his shaft with ease, eliciting a muffled groan from the Chief.

"Yeah that shut you right up. Guess my cock is all it takes to shut that pretty mouth up," Hopper grunts, still firmly holding your head. Your once perfect curls become a sweaty mess sticking to the back of your neck and forehead. A hum of contentment resonates from your chest as you continue sucking. Hopper's breath becomes labored and his legs twitch with every movement of your hands and mouth.

A pool forms in your panties, leaving you aching for his cock. You slip your hand between your thighs and stick a finger inside yourself. It's not enough to satisfy you, so you push in another finger. The sounds of your fingers desperately fucking your wet pussy immediately alert Hopper.

"That's enough sweetheart," Hopper says, lifting your head off of him. A whine comes from your throat, but you obey his command.

A firm hand pushes you from your sitting position to laying across the long seat of the truck. The Chief hovers above your body, his legs on either side of you. His eyes look you up and down with pure lust. You get shy and place your arms over yourself out of embarrassment.

"Are you going to sit there all day?" You ask.

"Clearly I haven't fixed your attitude yet," Hopper responds, hiking up your dress and pulling your soaked underwear to the side. He spits into his hand to lubricate his cock before pushing into you.

You let out a gasp as you feel his large cock stretching your pussy around him. The pain leaves your hair standing up, but subsides. Hopper's pace is cruel in its unrelenting speed. Once the pain has stopped you're just left wide-eyed with your mouth agape, unable to speak a word.

"Take it like a champ sweetheart! You talk so much shit, you should be able to," Hopper whispers into your ear.

The Chief's hands grab your thighs and put one over each shoulder. Your heels hit the top of the truck as he hammers deeper inside you. His washed-out jeans provide a rough cushion for your bare legs as they slap against his.

"C'mon you got it, all the way in there, mhmm."

Your attempt at response is a loud moan as he hits your g-spot. Hopper's grunts get louder and more ragged with every thrust. Your pussy grips around him desperately begging for more. Every word you try to form turns into a pathetic whine vibrating in your chest. Your eyebrows knit together as the pressure of your impending orgasm builds in your core. This only riles Hopper up even more.

"What's your name, huh? Can't remember?" Hopper laughs at your poor attempt at communicating. When you're close to a word, he moves his hips faster to stutter your brain. "Dumb slut can't even speak 'cause of Daddy's dick."

Your cunt aches painfully at your horniness. The Chief was already balls deep inside of you, but somehow you still need more. Hopper's cock is slathered in your slick, making it harder to stay inside of you without slipping out. Frustration builds with every thrust before he jackhammers into you.

The first you word you've speak since the start of this encounter is, "FUCK!"

Your orgasm runs straight into you like a freight train. Your pussy creams on Hopper's length, adding extra lubrication for his cock.

"That's it, atta girl," Hopper moans, looking down at your cunt. He fucks your cum back into you with a brutal pace. Your legs tremble in his grip, but he doesn't stop.

"Oh my God!" You shout, thankful that you were in the middle woods. Your eyes roll back into your head from the overstimulation.

"Almost there sweetheart." Hopper's thrusts stutter and his breath hitches for a second before he lets out a sigh. His spend fills up your sore cunt and he forces it back inside you. You can only let out weak little whimpers as the Chief pulls out of you. "Finally got you quiet for once," Hopper whispers against your ear.

Gentle hands pull your dress back down. The truck starts back up and pulls out of the woods. Your eyes close from exhaustion, but you can feel Hopper gently caressing your ankle laying across lap. The drive is a blur of street lights and turns before the car moves up a familiar back road.

You had used this back road many times to sneak into your bedroom after a night of partying. Hopper lifts you out of the truck and carries you to your window. It opens with ease and he places you on the bed that sits right underneath it. He pulls a pink blanket over you before slipping back into the darkness.

Taglist

@hatterripper31

@aiyaaayei

@vipersecret-blog

@kelly-fushiguro345

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luveline · 8 days

Note

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.

#jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫

requested by @eddiesquinn

A/N: this is kinda filthy I can’t lie lmao I hope you like it! thank you for the request!!

“Tough day at work?” You hum with a smirk as Jim collides his body with yours almost as soon as he’s through the door.

“You have no idea,” he grumbles against your mouth.

His lips are hungry and dominating on top of yours. His hands quickly find their way to your hips, giving them a squeeze and signalling for you to jump. You oblige, jumping up and hooking your legs around his waist. He walks you over to the closest piece of furniture, which just so happened to be small table you guys ate dinner at.

He drops you unceremoniously onto the table top, slotting his hips between your open legs. He grunts as he makes quick work of his belt and fastenings, quickly pulling free his hard cock. He doesn’t even bother with taking your panties off. He simply hikes up your dress, pulls your underwear to the side, before he’s roughly pushing into you. You bite you lip at the slight pain of the stretch. Jim was was clearly in need of fucking out his bad day and you were always more than happy to oblige.

He doesn’t take his time, he goes right to setting a brutal and ruthless pace as he fucks into you. You moan out loudly as he grunts deeply in your ear. You have to put an arm behind you to support yourself as he fucks you with enough force to have the table banging against the wall it was leaning against.

The most sinful of moans escapes your lips when Jim suddenly dips his head down, pulling your panties even more to the side with his fingers, and spits right onto your aching clit. Your head flies back with pleasure as he starts to work his spit over your bundle of nerves, rubbing with his thumb, setting a brutal pace to match that of his cock thrusting inside you.

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” He asks gruffly, his voice even deeper than usually.

You nod incoherently as you cling onto him frantically, fingers scrambling to find purchase on his broad shoulders.

“Yeah? Cum for me sweetheart, I need to feel it. Need to feel you squeeze me so good,” he grunts as he thrusts into you harshly a few more times.

His words tip you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him tight as your body convulses through your high.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he grinds through gritted teeth as you feel him spill inside you.

He spurts rope after rope of his seed inside you, continuing to fuck you harshly through both your climaxes. He keeps his cock moving inside you until you can start to feel the warm, sticky mess of his cum dribbling down the back of your ass as he essentially fucks his own cum out of you.

Without warning he’s suddenly pulling out of you, his eyes instantly locking on your exposed and ruined pussy. You feel your pussy clench again with a final remnant of pleasure and you can feel even more of his release pool out of you.

“Mmm,” he hums darkly with a smirk, “now that’s a sight to cure any bad day.”

Your face flushes with the heat of embarrassment as you look down to where his gaze lay.

“Oh my god Jim!” You chastise. “It’s on the table, we eat here!” You smack his shoulder lightly.

His smirk only grows, “well I didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #jim hopper #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper smut #hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #stranger things smut

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strangererotica · 26 days

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

perv!mean!Hopper, dom!Steve, soft!dom!Eddie x sub!Reader

Includes: MFM relationship, Hopper is a dirty cop/really sleazy human, oral sex, anal sex, guilt/shame/angst, blood mention, surgery mention, abuse of power, vomit, fingering, praise kink, piss, deepthroating, cockwarming, masturbation, swallowing, unprotected vaginal sex, pregnancy, shame, lies, secrets, squirting, and bubble bath sex… 🫨

PART ONE

@wordynerdygurl @eddiesguitarskills

• Our story begins in Chief Hopper’s Blazer, parked somewhere secluded in the woods of Hawkins •

“You got somethin’ to say kid-,” Hopper sighed, irritated. “Just fuckin’ say it.”

He was in a bad mood today…impatient. And honestly, it was the last thing you needed. “Why’re you so quiet anyway?” he asked, his hand sliding between your thighs. “Usually by now, you’d have this sweet little cunt in my fa-.” Hopper stopped speaking when he realized you were wearing underwear.

“The hell is this?” he asked. “You know my rules. No fuckin’ panties when you’re with me.” Hopper cursed, stamping out his burned-down cigarette. “You on the rag or somethin?” he asked, adding “I told you, it doesn’t fuckin’ bother me. There’s towels in the back, and besides-.” Hopper squeezed your thigh, a wry grin on his lips. “-I like it when you make a mess…”

You met his eyes, his deep blue gaze almost sinister with hunger. It would be difficult to say no to Hopper, even with the information you’d been wrestling with since morning.

“Jim,” you began, and he looked at you strangely, since you rarely ever addressed him by anything other than ‘Chief.’

“Yeah?” he asked flatly.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, as you recalled the way your morning had started…nausea roiling in your stomach on the way to the bathroom from bed, vomit spraying the toilet bowl, and the piece of plastic you’d held between trembling hands, watching as two bold lines of color bloomed in the result area of the test…

“I’m pregnant,” you murmured softly. Hopper stared at you for a moment, before bursting out laughing. “Christ!” he exclaimed, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “How about that?” You watched Hopper light his cigarette, stunned silent by his reaction. “You told him yet?”

“Have I told who?” you asked. Hopper frowned back at you, confused but still smirking. “Your loser boyfriend,” he clarified, snapping his lighter closed. “You told The Freak he’s about to be somebody’s daddy?” Hopper chuckled again at his own words, finding the idea of Eddie being a father hilarious.

The shock you were feeling began to morph into anger. “What if it’s yours?” you asked, a bitter lump rising in your throat. Hopper’s laughter died quickly, his eyes going dark. “It’s not,” he retorted coldly, shifting in his seat to face the road, and not you.

“How do you know?” you asked, and he quickly (almost defensively) replied “because it’s not.” Hopper blew a cloud of smoke at the dashboard, resting his elbow against the driver’s side door. “Can’t be. I had the surgery-.” Hopper made a snipping motion with his fingers. “-Vasectomy. The kid’s not mine…”

You had no reason to believe him. Hopper could see the doubt in your eyes, so he chose to elaborate. “Had it done years ago. After my daughter, uh…” Hopper paused, his voice wavering. “…after my kid died. I decided I never wanted to go through that kind of…” He sniffed, clearing his throat. “…loss, again. So-.” Hopper shook his head slightly, as if shaking away a bad memory. “-I got fixed. Can’t lose a kid I can’t have in the first place, y’know?”

You wanted to believe Hopper. It would relieve at least some of your anxiety, but not all of it. You still wouldn’t be sure whether the baby was Eddie or Steve’s; but at least the affair you were having with Hopper could remain hidden, if the baby couldn’t be his…

“Besides,” Hopper said, interrupting your thoughts. “Can’t risk knocking up a girl like you, right?”

His question caught you off guard. “Like me?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Hopper replied. “One of my girls.”

Your lips parted, a weight sinking in your chest. Hopper’s smile took on a cruel affect.

“Oh?” he teased. “You thought you were the only girl I screw around with out here?” He waved his hand to the window, indicating the forest around you. “Trust me sweetheart,” Hopper continued, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You aren’t the only pretty girl in Hawkins with a boyfriend she wants to keep out of jail...”

His callous attitude was breaking your heart. You felt like a complete idiot for giving so much of yourself to Hopper, far more than your body alone. You’d felt safe with him, for some ungodly reason you couldn’t identify now. Regardless of how good Hopper was at fucking you, the reality of his monstrous character was finally, truly sinking in.

Hopper noticed the look of sorrow that had washed over you, and it annoyed him. “Now let’s get one thing straight,” he told you, leaning closer. “I still own this-.” Hopper slid his hand further between your thighs till he was cupping your pussy, squeezing it so hard you winced. “I still own you,” he added, his tone harsh. “And unless you want Eddie to miss the birth of his kid ‘cause he’s rotting in a jail cell-.” Hopper ripped the crotch of your panties aside and forced two fingers inside you. “-Nothin’ about our little arrangement changes. Understand?”

You nodded resignedly, a tear trickling down your cheek. Hopper rested his cigarette between his lips, using the fingers that had been holding it to pull down your shirt, and your bra along with it. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger, pinching till you yelped.

In some sense, he felt that you were at fault in all of this…that you’d fucked up by getting pregnant. And the main reason Hopper wanted to punish you, was out of fear. Because he knew there was a very real possibility that you were pregnant with his baby. The vasectomy story was a lie, a well-rehearsed one he’d told many girls before you. Hopper really was just a selfish asshole who came in multiple women every week, and didn’t care about the consequences his reckless behavior might cause.

But this time, Hopper was afraid. He’d managed to escape the consequences of his actions for too long now; the truth would eventually come out. Hopper felt like this time, he might have really fucked things up. His bad mood from earlier was now a simmering rage. And he was going to take out all of his frustration on you.

Hopper pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch. “Get your ass in the back,” he ordered.

You obeyed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Eddie and Steve weren’t stupid. They’d seen you rush to the bathroom that morning, obviously feeling unwell. They’d found it suspicious when you stayed in there for over an hour, blowing them off each time they asked through the door if you were alright.

You’d locked yourself in the bathroom as if guarding a terrible secret inside it. As soon as you’d left to go meet a friend for lunch Hopper for sex, Steve and Eddie had done a bit of investigating. And it didn’t take them long to figure out the reason you’d been hiding in the bathroom, and why you’d looked so upset when you left it.

The positive pregnancy test was thrown into the back of the cabinet under the sink, but Steve managed to find it. Eddie covered his mouth in shock when he saw it, a big smile on his face. Steve was less enthusiastic, but not because he didn’t want you to be pregnant. Steve was uncomfortable with the possibility that Eddie, and not him, could be the baby’s father. If Steve was going to have kids with anyone, he’d want it to be you. The idea of Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson beating him to it…pissed Steve off.

For his part, Eddie was just happy. He was babbling excitedly to Steve about baby names, what the three of you would need to change around the apartment before the baby arrived, etc. He was buzzing with energy, while Steve was taking the news of your pregnancy in stride. He was happy for you, but he wanted to be happy for the two of you...excited for your baby and his. Not your baby and Eddie’s…

While Steve sat on the couch in silent contemplation, Eddie paced back and forth restlessly, chatting away at Steve about all his plans for the baby. “(Y/N)’ll be home soon,” Eddie told Steve. “When she walks in, we should both jump out and be like, hey mama!”

Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie. “Nobody’s jumping out at anybody, okay?” he retorted. “She hid the test, Ed. She didn’t want us to know.”

Eddie’s look of joy faded. He knew Steve was right.

“If she wanted to tell us, she would’ve this morning,” Steve continued. “We have to respect her privacy. God only knows what’s going through her mind right now.” Eddie flopped down on the couch beside Steve, his leg bouncing nervously.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Eddie asked, even though he knew the man beside him didn’t have an answer. Steve shrugged his shoulders in an attempt at indifference. “I’m sure she has her reasons,” he replied. “And she will tell us, when she’s ready...”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hopper dropped you off a few streets over from the apartment complex, just as he always did after driving you out into the woods and fucking you. This time was different from the others. You were sore. Hopper had fucked you in the ass today, and not gently. It would take some time to recover, and the most appealing thing in the world to you right now was a warm bath you could lay back and relax in.

Standing outside the door to your apartment, you could hear Steve and Eddie talking inside. Part of you was happy they seemed to be bonding in your absence. Another part of you worried that they somehow knew about the pregnancy…or worse, about your affair with Hopper.

Your worries disappeared as soon as you opened the door. Steve and Eddie were busy in the kitchen making dinner, politely arguing about whether or not the pasta they were boiling was truly al dente. Your keys jingling got their attention. “Hey babe,” Steve called out. “Hope you’re hungry; Eddie and I boiled a shit ton of pasta by accident.”

Eddie held up the empty box the pasta had come from, idly inspecting it. “Yeah,” he commented as his eyes scanned the label. “Turns out one box yields, um…” Eddie pursed his lips, trying to do the math in his head. “…Waaaay more than we need,” he finished with a lighthearted grin in Steve’s direction. “Math was never my strong suit, okay?”

Steve left the stove and approached you, resting his big hands on your shoulders like protective mitts. The gesture was tender, warm, very unlike the affection you were used to getting from Steve. “Thought we’d eat in tonight,” he said, massaging your shoulders softly. “Maybe watch a movie together.” Steve was being so gentle, it took you completely by surprise, in the best way.

Eddie leaned in to your neck, nuzzling you with a soft kiss. “Dinner can wait,” he said, turning your chin to face him. “I think I’m in the mood to have dessert first…”

Steve nodded in agreement- “I second that,” -and let his hands glide down your arms, lingering around your wrists. “What d’you say, (y/n)?”

You realized how lucky you were, in that moment. These two beautiful men were standing there, wanting only to please you. A part of you wanted to reveal your pregnancy, but the possibility of ruining such a tender moment gave you pause. Guilt washed over your heart as you remembered your other secret, the one you were most afraid of confessing: Hopper.

“I think I’d like to have a bath first,” you told them. “And afterwards, I’ll absolutely be ready for dessert…”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The bath Steve ran for you was perfect. Big, fluffy piles of cotton candy-scented bubbles floated on top of the water, swallowing you in a warm hug as you sank beneath them. You let your hair fan out on the water’s surface, your eyes drifting closed as you tried to relax. A cassette player on the sink played a tape of ambient music that Eddie had chosen for you. The lights were dimmed, with a few candles flickering beside you on the edge of the tub.

It should have been the perfect atmosphere to relax in, but your mind was running circles. Additionally, the work Hopper had done on your ass earlier that day made sitting uncomfortable, even in a warm tub of bubbles. You tried to avoid thinking of the pregnancy, but it was impossible. Over the course of one day, you’d gone from worrying you were falling in love with Hopper to bitterly resenting the power he held over you. Could you really trust him, that there was no way the baby could be his? As much as you wanted it to be true, based on what you knew of Hopper’s character, you had plenty of reason to doubt him.

How could you have been so naive, to think that Hopper didn’t have similar arrangements with other girls? He’d taken such good care of you sexually, fucking you slowly, unselfishly. Maybe it really had been for him all this time; but Hopper made it seem like he was fucking you for your pleasure more than his own. Like he genuinely cared about you. The way he ate you out for hours on end, licking you till the pleasure turned to pain. Why would a man who had so many girls dedicate that much time to your satisfaction? To making sure you came at least six times in one afternoon? Was there something about you that Hopper couldn’t get from all his other girls?

You hated feeling jealous, especially over someone like him. Here you were, sitting in a beautiful bath prepared by Steve and Eddie, about to be fucked by both of them as soon as you were finished. And yet, you were jealous over a filthy son of a bitch that was twice your age and fucking who knows how many other girls?? You shook your head, bubbles fizzing at your ears. A quiet little sob escaped your lips, but not quiet enough for Eddie’s perceptive ears to miss.

He peeked around the doorframe, a concerned look on his face. “You good, (y/n)?” he asked. With a heavy sigh, you managed a smile, and rested your chin on the side of the tub. “I’d be better if you and Steve joined me,” you said.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a grin. He stuck his head around the corner and called for Steve, “get in here Harrington, she wants us in the tub with her.”

When Steve entered the bathroom, he was met with a view of you sucking Eddie off at the side of the tub. The image made Steve’s brain go a little hazy, and all he wanted was to be naked, too. Your eyes left Eddie’s and locked with Steve’s as you sucked. The look on Steve’s face made you grin around Eddie’s cock, the corners of your lips stinging at the stretch. “Fucking look at her,” Eddie marveled, running his fingers through your damp hair. “Look at how good she sucks it…”

Steve removed his shirt and began to work his belt undone. His cock was hard and leaking by this point, wet and ready for the moist heat of your mouth. He removed his pants and his boxers, kicking them aside as he made his way to the tub.

Eddie’s legs quivered as he stood beside the bath, with you on your knees in the tub taking his cock down your throat. Steve watched while masturbating to the view in front of him, massaging his cock in slow, patient pumps from base to tip. He knew he’d get the same treatment from your lips as Eddie, that all he had to do was enjoy the show till his turn came.

The soft gurgling sounds you made around Eddie’s cock had both men groaning. “Good fuckin’ girl,” Steve praised. “Takin’ such good care of Eddie’s cock…gonna take care of mine too, yeah?”

You nodded, your head bobbing on Eddie’s dick. Pulling your lips off his tip with a loud pop, you shifted in the water and reached for Steve. “Uh-uh,” he scolded, swatting away your touch. “No hands. You want my cock? Then find it with your mouth like a good little girl…”

Greedy, hungry to taste the sweet pearly liquid oozing from Steve’s tip, you did as he instructed. Clasping your hands behind your back, you leaned forward till Steve’s cock was bumping your mouth, smearing precum over your lips and chin. “Open up,” Eddie murmured down at you, patting his hand against your cheek. “Take care of Steve’s cock the way you took care of mine, pretty thing.”

As Steve pressed himself between your lips, his girth caused an even sharper sting than Eddie’s. Usually, this was the order you sucked them in; Eddie was a little longer than Steve but not as thick, so he generally went first and got your throat warmed up for Steve.

A hum of pleasure rolled deep in Steve’s chest as he fucked your mouth, watching his cock disappear between your lips again and again with every thrust. Eddie climbed into the tub, reaching for your hips and tugging them to meet his.

As Steve continued to use your mouth, Eddie pulled you onto his lap beneath the water. He splashed away a hill of bubbles to watch your pussy swallowing his cock under the water. Steve lifted his leg and braced his foot against the edge of the tub. This position gave him even deeper access to your throat, his balls slapping full and heavy against your chin as he took you. Gripping your hair in his fist, Steve used it as leverage to fuck your face as rough as possible, till your gag reflex activated and you smacked his thigh, telling him to pull back. Vomit spilled onto the ceramic bathroom tile. Steve wiped your lips clean with a towel and cradled your face in his hands. “You wanna stop, baby?” he asked, and you shook your head ‘no,’ in response.

Steve complied, burying his cock down your throat again without pause. Eddie’s dick was nestled balls-deep inside your cunt as he let you cockwarm him. The urge to buck up into you was deliriously tempting, but Eddie forced himself still, knowing he’d come too soon if he moved even slightly. The sounds you were making on Steve’s cock were beyond pornographic. Gulping, choking, gagging around the thick outline of his shaft, you forced every inch down your throat till you’d swallowed him completely.

Steve exhaled a flurry of curses, his hands in your hair gripping for dear life as his knees went weak. “Oh my-oh my god baby-how d’you-how d’you do that?” he gasped. “I’m gonna-fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna come honey, shit!”

Steve ejaculated so far down your throat, his cum slid straight to your stomach. Eddie completely lost it, watching Steve’s face contort in pleasure as he relieved himself inside your mouth. Unable to hold back any longer, Eddie bucked his hips upward, punching into you with a few hard, breathless thrusts. As Steve staggered back to lean against the bathroom sink, Eddie groaned into your shoulder and painted your pussy with cum. “Oh my god!” he exhaled, falling against the back of the tub, a big smile on his face. “That was…I’ve never come that hard in my life, (y/n)-.”

“Neither have I,” Steve chuckled, finding his breath again. He returned to the edge of the tub and caressed your cheek, smiling warmly down at you. “Good girl,” he said, and then left for the bedroom, ready to pass out in bed.

Eddie lifted you off of him, resting your ass on the side of the tub, and parted your legs over his shoulders. You held onto his hair as Eddie buried his face against your cunt, his tongue searching out and swallowing every drop of his orgasm. Your thighs were shaking, clamped around Eddie’s face as he ate you, licking your cunt clean, hoping to get you all dirty again.

His wish came true less than a minute later. Biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming, you came all over Eddie’s tongue. A mix of cum and piss squirted inside his mouth and ran down his chin in slippery streams, dripping into the tub. Eddie growled into your cunt, his hand furiously working his dick under the water, a second climax overtaking him as he swallowed your release. Thick ropes of semen expelled under the water, clinging to the hair on Eddie’s legs. He pulled you into the tub with him, soaking your bodies in both your cum and his, kissing you so deeply you’d swear Eddie’s tongue touched your soul.

Eddie gently rocked you in his arms, in the mix of bubbles, water and cum. His body stretched across yours and covered you like a protective shield. You felt safer than you ever had before, looking into the eyes of the man you loved more than anything, the man you would do anything for…

…even if that meant doing Jim Hopper, to keep Eddie safe. There he was, that horrible, cruel bastard, forcing his way into your mind again, even as you lay in Eddie’s arms. The urge to tell, at least one of your secrets, became overwhelming.

You held Eddie’s cheek and gently stroked his hair, your words barely above a whisper as you told him: “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes lit happily, the corners of his lips turning up into a grin. “I love you, (y/n),” Eddie said.

And that, you realized, was all the assurance you needed that no matter what happened from here on, things were going to be alright… 🖤

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