#chief jim hopper x reader

[flamehairedwritings]

Do Not Touch

Characters: Jim Hopper x Female Reader 

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 10k

A/N: My take on your friend and mine: sex-pollen! I started writing this two years ago, isn’t that wild.

Tags: s3 Hop’, dub-con because of sex-pollen, fuck or die situation, Hopper being a huge dick at first, swearing, masturbation, dirty talk, thigh-riding, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, doggy-style, creampies, hand on neck/throat but no choking, gentle-mdom Hop’, more submissive reader, slight praise kink, slight cum play.

Summary: A visit to Murray’s house of wonders provides a lot more than you bargained for.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites.

—

“... fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“They’re tapping your phones, Jim, how can you not see it?”

“‘cause it’s not fuckin’ true.”

“Oh, right, so...”

As Murray sets off on another rant, you raise your eyes to the heavens, or rather the dirty, damp ceiling, and tip your head back against the wall, exhaling a long, long breath.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Not impossible, but not easy.

And even Hopper had known Murray was your only hope with this kind of thing.

This kind of thing being that neither of you speak Russian and Murray does.

You’d heard the message over the Hawkins Police Radio two days ago while you and Hop were working late in his office. He’d been adjusting the frequency, fiddling, more like, when the voice had suddenly come through, delivering a short message. You’d both stared at each other, then it had come through again. You’d realised it was the same passage and had quickly grabbed a pen, repeating it to yourself as you wrote it down phonetically on your notepad.

Neither of you had known what to do, so you’d just carried on with your evening, working on your new case. But it had weighed heavy on your mind when you’d left; with the strange things that had gone on in Hawkins in the last couple of years, you are suspicious of everything. Hopper apparently had shared your thoughts as, the next morning, he’d called you into his office, shut the door, and asked if you’d kept the note. When you said you had, you’d both then decided that deciphering it would put your minds at ease.

... Except it was really fucking hard because none of the words sounded close to anything you recognised.

Barely ten minutes later, Hopper had shoved his chair back and hissed out curses.

“We’re gonna go and see Murray,” he’d muttered as he’d strode out of the room to get more coffee.

You’d watched him go, irritation prickling at you because everything needed to be done right now with him these days. In the four years you’d known him, he’d never exactly been a very patient man, but this was different. In the last few weeks he was quick to rile, short-tempered, irritable, yelling more often than not, and you were starting to get sick of it.

So maybe it’s a good thing that he can let that all out on Murray now, who can give back as good as he gets, often, actually, better.

Not that you don’t stand up for yourself when Hopper is in one of his new moods and snaps. He never yells at you, he never has, just raises his voice slightly or gets unnecessarily snippy or even borderline patronising, but your usual tactic is to just walk away, leaving him to stew until he comes to you and makes his kind of apology (offering you a hot drink or a pastry), or you try and lighten the mood. That’s just getting tiring now, though. 

And it’s also a huge turn-off.

Yeah, okay, fine, you’ve admitted it to yourself, you’re attracted to him, but it’s a line you don’t like to cross; he’s your boss and your close friend, too, considering everything you’ve both been through with El, Joyce and the kids.

Now, though, you’re not even sure you want to be his friend.

You’ve tried to talk to him, ask him why he’s so God damn angry all the time but he just brushes you off or says he didn’t sleep well. The latter is nothing new, he was a mess when you’d arrived in Hawkins, sleeping for a few hours at a time on his couch in his trailer, but he’d really come into his own since then, especially when he’d had to start taking care of El. The former is new. Living through life or death situations, spending many late nights working together, and the town being small has brought you two closer together, and you’ve confided in him and he in you, so it stings when he brushes you off like you don’t have a history, like you aren’t his friend. Like you don’t matter.

“Do you know what it fuckin’ says or not?” Hopper thunders in the next room, and the patronising edge to his tone has your nose wrinkling.

“Of course I do, you neanderthal, if you give me the fucking piece of paper then I will be able to write it down for you.”

For once, and you never thought that you ever would, you’re on Murray’s side.

There’s the muffled sound of cursing, then a patronising ‘thank you’ from Murray, and then it’s quiet, except for the sound of a chair squeaking as one of them sits down. From the huff, probably Hopper. Folding your arms across your chest, you exhale another breath as you let your gaze travel the room.

It’s exactly how you’d imagine Murray’s place would be. There are... things everywhere, on every surface, some things you don’t even recognise like devices and folders with foreign writing on them, all just strewn around. To your left on a counter there’s even a corked jar marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH’, filled with a russet-coloured liquid, an unfamiliar, what was once probably red, flower head submerged in it. It looks rather like a lily, but there are strange, swirling patterns on the petals that you don’t recognise.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of the chair squeaking again, boots on wood, and then Murray’s voice.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do I get, Chief?” 

“What?”

“What do I get for my services?”

“What do you get? You don’t get a fuckin’ broken nose, you asshole.”

There’s the sound of paper sliding against skin.

“... What the fuck is this?”

“It’s what was written for me, word for word, so unless you got something wrong, then that’s it.”

There’s silence, then the sound of Hopper striding closer to the room you’re in.

“You’re welcome,” Murray calls as Hopper exits the room, and you press your lips together at his thunderous expression.

“Thank you, Murray,” you answer for him, raising your voice a little.

“Ah, you’re welcome.”

Dropping your arms as Hopper nears, you raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“It doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense,” he mutters, thrusting the note towards you.

Taking it from him, you read it, then frown as you read it again.

The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.

Inhaling a long breath, you shrug and look up at him. “Yeah, that makes no sense to me.”

“Yeah, I thought it wouldn’t.”

You make yourself interpret that in a kind way as you look at him, watching him lean against the counter beside you and take the note from you, shoving it into his pocket.

It’s complicated. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not making a comment on my intelligence.

Licking your lips, pressing them together for a moment, you open your mouth, then close it... then open it again, your voice low, “Do you think this maybe has something to do with what Joyce was saying about the magnets? And the lab?”

If his expression was thunderous before, it’s just full on pissed off now. His gaze darting up to you, you can see how tight his jaw is.

“We don’t know that.”

“I know we don’t, but it’s a little suspicious—”

“Or it could just be some people communicating via code.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s suspicious, isn’t it—”

“Not necessarily—”

He goes to put a hand on his hip as he huffs out a breath, but his elbow knocks against the jar, pushing it off the ledge, and your eyes widen as your hands dart out in the same moment Hopper’s do. Both of you acting on instinct, it fumbles in both your hands for all but two seconds as you try to catch it, in the process the cork top sliding off and some of the liquid spilling onto your hands and his arms and you’re waiting for it to sting and burn but it doesn’t and then— 

And then it’s falling and smashing on the floor.

You stare at the spreading liquid, the flower resting limply on it before your eyes dart up to meet Hopper’s, your mouth open. His is closed firmly, his hands, like yours, still raised.

“What was that?!” Murray calls, and you hear him approaching, your eyes now darting to the archway.

“Uh, it—”

“Nothin’, bye, Murray.”

Hopper grabs your hand and pulls you towards the front door, shoving it open and leading you out into the fresh air. He releases you and pulls his car keys out of his pocket as you head for the passenger side of the Blazer, both of you swiftly climbing in once he’s opened it. He’s starting the engine and turning the Blazer around before either of your seatbelts are on properly. Good. There’s only so much shit a human being can take from Murray.

Your seatbelt secured, a glance in the wing-mirror shows you the man himself, waving his arms frantically and faintly yelling for you to come back.

Absolutely fucking not.

Whatever it was, you’re sure it’s replaceable. Sure he collects weird things but it was just a flower, how precious could it be?

You hear Hopper blow out a breath as you head back to the main road, both of you relaxing. Leaning your head back, you keep your eyes on the road, letting the riddle swirl in your mind. You’re certain it’s connected to Joyce’s theories; in all the time you’ve been working at the Station you’ve not once heard someone speaking in code over the radio that wasn’t one of your own or kids, and as for Russian? You’d be very surprised if anyone in the little old town of Hawkins spoke it.

You want to broach the subject with him again, but maybe not now when you’re stuck in a hot car with him and only just starting a nearly two hour drive.

Boy, is it hot.

It’s just gone noon and it’s already sweltering. Rolling the window down, you tilt your head towards it, expecting some kind of breeze. There’s a light one, but it does nothing, so you grip the front of your shirt between your thumb and forefinger and waft it, trying to create some air. The way the shirt moves against your skin... every time it touches against it, slides against you with the movement, you’re hyper-aware of it. Maybe it’s just because you’re more aware of your body in general considering how hot you are.

God, it is uncomfortably hot.

You’re about to ask Hop to put the aircon on when he does so, angling a few of the grates towards himself. Glancing at him, you notice a few beads of sweat at his hairline.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?”

“Hm.”

Oh, well, that’s that conversation over.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he’s probably thinking about the riddle, too, so you return your thoughts to it, repeating it, turning it over and over—

It’s so hot it’s actually quite hard to think. 

Blinking and widening your eyes a little, you say each word of the riddle slowly in your mind, but they just end up being words, and when you try and say it all together again you just end up stopping halfway through, forgetting it momentarily.

Just wait until you’re back, you can have a cool drink, whack the aircon right up and think about it until you go mad.

You angle the grates on your side so one’s sending a cool breeze to your face, the other your body, and then drop your hand into your lap—

Jesus Christ.

Your leg jerks a little, involuntarily, as you register the sensation of your fingers on your clothed inner thigh. You quickly move your hand to your side but even that, your fingers gliding over your leg, makes your stomach muscles tighten.

It had felt good. Far better than it usually did.

You’re just hyper-aware of yourself because of how hot you feel, it’s fine.

You shift a little in your seat and— 

You catch yourself before a sound escapes you.

Fucking hell, that had felt good. So good in fact, your pussy is actually starting to ache.

Usually when you’re turned on, very turned on, the smallest of touches can have you gasping but... Are you turned on? You take a moment to consider it and find... Fuck, you are. Where the fuck has this come from? 

Hopper clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts, glancing at him. He’s sweating a little more and he’s gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles almost white, but that’ll just be the heat, another thing that pisses him off.

You need a distraction from... whatever this is your body has decided to feel.

“Maybe it’s from another town.”

“What?” He says it so sharply, almost like you’ve said something completely ridiculous.

“The message? Maybe it’s from another town and just carried over—”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your mouth closes tightly and you return your gaze to the road, staring at it.

Take a breath. He’s in one of his moods. Murray has riled him up. Just let him ride it out... Fuck that, I really need to say something to him about his attitude.

It’s the perfect distraction, planning in your mind what you’re going to say when you get back to Hawkins, coming up with retorts and come-backs to whatever he could say, acting out the conversation in your head and going down every route imaginable. You get so in to it, in fact, that you manage to just about forget how warm you are, and you don’t notice that Hopper is sweating profusely, his hips shifting every few minutes.

—

Your clothes are sticking to every inch of you. Your entire body aches.

What the hell is going on.

You’ve been in the car for a total of thirty minutes now, but it feels like a God damn lifetime. Thinking about arguing with Hop had only gotten you so far; it had channelled some of this weird energy you’re feeling but then suddenly you’d thought about ripping his shirt off and shoving him onto his God damn uncomfortable couch and sitting in his lap while you told him all about how God damn annoying he is.

And then the aches, the bone deep aches, had started.

Fuck, do I have the flu?

You just feel awful. Your elbow rests against the car door, your hand supporting your head, and you stare out of the window, taking slow, deep, steadying breaths. You feel nauseous and your skin is on fire. You’ve tried to keep quiet but you actually think you might be sick, and between throwing up in his car and asking him to pull over, you think the latter will annoy him less.

“Hop’.”

“What?” He doesn’t snap this time, instead he sounds... strained.

“Can we pull over soon? I don’t feel well.”

“Yeah.”

Wow.

Okay.

That hadn’t been so hard. 

His voice is still strained and short, but, again, that could just be the heat. He doesn’t pull over immediately and as you glance up you notice a sign for a motel not too far ahead.

Oh, good.

Ten minutes later, the tyres of the Blazer are screeching as he turns sharply into the parking lot of the motel. You have to grip at the handle of the door as he swings in, parking swiftly and braking hard.

“I’ll get rooms.” The words are said so sharply it’s like they’ve been punched out of him.

God, he really doesn’t want me to throw up in here.

Wait, ‘rooms’? Are we staying for a night? That’d be nice.

You both climb out, and you’re almost dizzy from the action. Hopper’s already striding towards the reception booth and you slowly follow after him, wiping the sweat from your brow. You have to walk with your legs slightly apart because your thighs rubbing together... What the fuck is going on? By the time you reach Hopper he’s already got a key and is turning on his heel, walking back behind you.

“C’mon.”

As he passes you, his elbow brushes against your arm and you both flinch because, fuck, a weird little electric shock thing happens. Except, whereas when that usually happens you only feel it on your skin, this time you feel it all over your body, spreading down and curling somewhere in your lower stomach.

And it felt good.

Beads of sweat run down your arms, back and chest as you follow him up a flight of stairs to the first floor. It takes every ounce of energy you have to get up there, whereas Hopper’s almost running. The door’s open when you finally reach it and he’s got the aircon on high which you’re grateful for. Closing the door behind yourself, you’re about to thank him when you look over at him and you notice that he’s drenched in sweat, just as you are.

He glances up and briefly meets your gaze before he runs a hand through his damp hair, his eyes sweeping the room as he paces, his eyebrows raised.

“Only one room left. Sorry.”

You shake your head, the action just increasing your nausea, as you shrug. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we need to spend the night. Just... think I need a nap, or something. Feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a short silence in which you sit down on the nearest of the two double beds, your hands on your knees.

“Me, too.”

You look up at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

Hopper gestures at himself before he drops his hand, exhaling a hard breath. “Feel like... feel like I’m gonna be sick, too. Feel so fuckin’ hot, can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, me as well...” Your frown deepens. “Are we both sick?”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know. It came on so suddenly, too, only after we left...”

You meet his gaze as he presses his lips together, following your train of thought.

“That son of a bitch...”

Crossing the room, he grabs the phone from the bedside table and dials Murray’s number. At any other time you would have laughed that he had it memorised. Like they’re pals.

His tongue darting over his lips, your eyes following it for some reason, he holds the phone to his ear, his jaw clenched.

Murray answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Murray—”

You can hear the other man even from where you’re sat.

“You broke the jar, didn’t you.”

“Uh, yeah, but I can—”

“Oh, you fucking idiot. Is she with you?”

Hopper’s eyes briefly dart to you. “Uh, yeah, hey, I’m sure it’s replaceable, I can pay—”

“One, no, it’s not, and two, it’s not me you should be thinking about, you ass.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, are you feelin’ a little weird, Jim? Huh? Is your lady friend?”

“Uh...” He glances at you again before turning his back, lowering his voice slightly. “Yeah, why?”

You stood up instantly as he turned, and, ooff, there’s the dizziness again, though you manage to move closer to him, a frown pulling at your features as you tut, so you hear Murray’s humourlessly chuckled reply.

“Oooh, hoooo, you’re both in for quite a day.”

“Why, you fuckin’ asshole?”

“Let’s just say you’re going to be feeling certain urges... or maybe you’re already feeling them?”

Hopper glances at you yet again before turning his back away from you again. You hiss and move closer, brushing against him, which just makes you both grimace because there’s the electric current again. You try to stay as close as possible without touching him.

“Just tell me what’s fuckin’ goin’ on, Murray.”

“The best and most polite thing to call it would be an aphrodisiac.”

You frown as you glance up at Hopper, but he’s just staring at the wall.

“What? Why the fuck do you have something like this, Murray?”

“I was going to dilute it to sell in certain markets.”

“As what?”

“An aphrodisiac, dumbass.”

As Hopper snarls and opens his mouth, you grab the phone, your fingers brushing together making your stomach flip and something clench inside you.

Holding the phone to your ear, you swallow before exhaling a breath and murmuring, “What do we do, Murray? How do we stop feeling awful?”

He sighs, and you’re surprised and also slightly unsettled by his tone softening a little. “There’s not much you can do, except what you have wanted to do for a long time that neither of you will admit.”

Before you can speak, Hopper calls, even though he’s right beside you, “And what the hell does that mean?”

“Fuck each other!”

Your mouth drops open as you think your heart stops, and Hopper freezes beside you.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean—”

“No, Murray, I mean,” you quickly cut him off, rubbing at your damp forehead as you lick your dry lips, your cheeks burning. “What did you, why would we need to, uhm, do that?”

"It’s the only way to ease the aches and pains, honey, that—”

“Pain?”

You’re aching, yes, but you wouldn’t say you’re in pain.

“Stop interrupting me, Jesus...” You press your lips together at his exasperated sigh, before he takes a breath. “The pollen from that flower is like an instant aphrodisiac. If it comes into contact with your skin, that’s it, kiddos, you’re horny. I was diluting it so it’s less lethal, hence why it was in that jar marinating in that liquid. I’m assuming you got some of it on you when you oh so cleverly broke it for no reason?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t mean to—”

“What did I say about interrupting? Depending on how much you got on you, you’re gonna feel hot, then your whole body’s gonna ache, then’ll come the urges and the pain, and once those hit, hooo... so you two had better get to it.”

You feel like you’re having some kind of a fever dream. Rubbing your forehead again, you close your eyes for a few moments as you almost trip over your words, “What, hang on, w-what do you mean by lethal, what happens if we don’t, you know, do anything? It’ll just wear off, won’t it?”

Murray’s silent.

Oh... this is bad.

“C’mon, Murray, answer her.” Hopper’s sudden voice makes you jump.

There’s a quiet sigh. “You gotta take care of each other, together, or... or you’ll die.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Murray speak in an entirely gentle tone.

You don’t know what stuns you more; that, or his words.

“... What.” Your voice is so quiet.

Hopper is silent.

“I don’t know how much you were exposed to but no matter how much, the need and the pain, if nothing is done, can get so bad that your organs start to fail and shut down. If it was just a little, it’ll take longer, if it was a lot then I’d say it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, it... it was just a little. Few splashes. I think.” Your voice sounds far away to your own ears.

“Well, you’ve got some time, then. But it’s gonna be uncomfortable so get to it.”

“Right... Thanks, Murray.” You place the phone down, feeling so far out of your body, hanging up before he can say another word.

Silence.

You look up at Hopper as he clears his throat and moves away, being very careful not to brush against you, his hand running through his hair again. As he sits down in the armchair, you sit on the edge of the bed opposite, staring at the floor.

It’s... it’s... You don’t have the word for it. Wild. Outlandish. Crazy.

“He could be lying, right.” You look up at Hopper as he speaks, meeting his gaze. “He could be mad that we broke somethin’ of his and is just makin’ this all up.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“This could just be a reaction to it.”

“Yeah...” You shrug after a moment, blowing out a breath. “Pretty fucking bizarre thing to make up.”

“Well, that’s Murray.”

You both fall silent as he stares at the wall and you stare at the bed. It’s got a patchwork blanket on it, all red squares with other panels of red floral designs. It reminds you of the damn flower. It’s like it’s taunting you. As are the beads of sweat sliding down your spine. And the new, faint, throbbing in your cunt.

You believe Murray.

It’s... wild and bizarre and you don’t understand it at all but, yes, you believe him. Your lips are suddenly dry, either from the realisation or the flower, and you lick them as you lift your gaze to Hopper. He’s still staring so intently at the wall, hands gripping the armrests.

His eyes flick to you as you speak gently.

“I think we should stay the night. Until this wears off. Don’t want to infect anyone else, if that’s possible.”

He nods curtly, expressionless. “Okay.”

Thankfully, Joyce has El for the night, Hopper having asked her to take her in case you both stayed longer than you thought you would, so that’s one less thing. You think about saying that out loud to him, then swiftly decide against it. Of course he’ll already thought about that, will probably take offence at you asking and think it implies you think he hasn’t.

You hate the silence of the room, though, hate the space it provides to think, so you continue instead with, “We’ll just... ride this shit out. It was only a few drops. We’ll be fine.”

Hopper may be expressionless, but what you can’t see are his blunt nails digging into the fabric of the chair. 

“Okay.”

—

It was a mistake, turning the TV on.

It’s too loud, too bright, but, fuck, you need the distraction. Your eyes are fixed on it like you’re possessed, and your shirt is soaked, sticking to your skin. Uncomfortable. Your skin is slick, you can feel sweat sliding down your face, arms, back. A loud commercial comes on and you grab the TV remote, turning it off as a wild burst of irritation suddenly flashes through you.

Focus on the room. Two double beds. Bare desk. Mini fridge. Bathroom. Standard motel room. Boring. Plain. Dull. So dull. Think about how dull it is.

It doesn’t work. It hasn’t been working for the last twenty minutes. Has it been twenty minutes? Longer? Less? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. Your body is aching, not only physically but with need, like you’ve never, ever felt before. You feel almost drunk, too, unchallenged words on the tip of your tongue, your brain doing the bare minimum to stop them from coming out... but they’re not just words, they’re pleas.

Touch me.

Kiss me.

Fuck me.

Your eyes dart to Hopper. He’s not moved but his shirt is soaked, too, the hair on his chest, peeking out the top of the grey, flannel button down, damp. That hair... You stare at it. How far down does it go... What would it feel like if you ran your fingers through it...

Your pussy clenches around nothing and tears start to sting at your eyes.

Fuck, I need to be touched.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, thick with unshed tears. “Hop’, I feel awful.”

A muscle in his jaw moves. “It’s just a reaction to whatever it is—”

“Yeah, and what if it’s the kind of reaction he was talking about?”

Hopper finally looks at you, brow dipping. “You believe him?”

You hate the way he says it, all disbelieving, making you feel like you’re an idiot. 

“Yeah, I do. Why would he lie, especially about something like this? Yes, he’s a dick, but he’s not this much of a dick. He’s more likely to just rip into us and go on and on than make something up.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t know him.”

Brushed off. Again.

Your chin rises slightly, meeting a challenge you might be imagining. “I’ve known him long enough.”

His jaw moves as he arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you hang out all the time do you? You best pals, know everythin’ about him?”

“No, it just doesn’t seem like him—”

“Doesn’t seem like your good pal Murray? How would you know? You can’t just make assumptions like that, he is a—”

The words lash out of you. “Oh, just shut the fuck up, Hopper.”

He pauses, lips still parted, his own words dying on his tongue... until new ones return, his eyebrows raising as his head tilts. “... Excuse me?”

Anger feels good, it channels some of this increasingly restless energy swirling inside you. “Just shut up, you’ve been a real asshole all week, all month, all the time I’ve God damn known you, actually—”

“You didn’t think I was an asshole at the Christmas party.”

You freeze, staring at him.

Last year’s Station Christmas party.

Why did he bring that up.

Was he thinking about that.

You know he was thinking about that.

Because you’ve been thinking about it, too, minutes earlier, intently. It had suddenly come rushing back to you, his hands on your waist, your lips on his, tongues stroking at each other, the moaned sigh you’d released as he’d pressed against you.

You’d both been drunk, though, and lonely and alcohol makes you horny so you’d wanted him to kiss you and he’d spent the last hour before it looking like he’d wanted to, too, your eyes constantly finding each other, looking, really looking, and then you’d just bumped into each other as you’d come out of the bathroom, but it seemed like he’d almost been waiting for you and then you’d talked, no, you’d flirted, he liked your dress, you liked his comically festive tie, and you were both laughing, your hands somehow on each other, maybe to steady yourselves, and then you’d... then you’d kissed.

Neither of you had brought it up, ever, until now. You’d been so horribly hungover the next day that you hadn’t even remembered it until late in the evening and you’d felt so embarrassed. You’d fretted for the rest of the night, wondering if you’d ruined your friendship and a relationship that meant so much to you, but when you’d gone into work the following Monday he hadn’t said a thing, hadn’t even looked at you differently. You’d been so incredibly relieved, but it had come back to you every now and then; how good his lips had felt, how passionate the kiss was, how his hands had felt on you.

All this time you’d thought he had just forgotten it... and it appeared that wasn’t the case at all. 

Your already warm face becomes warmer.

“I was drunk.”

He’s got a fucking smug look on his face, like a fucking petty bastard.

“You kissed me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, you pulled me in.”

“Oh, just shut up, Hopper, it doesn’t matter or count anyway because we were drunk.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me—”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” you snap, staring at him.

He pauses, the smug look quickly fading. Then, he shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down. “It doesn’t.”

“Good, shut up, then.”

Silence descends.

And you fucking hate it. At least while snapping at one another you don’t think about how your panties are now soaked and you just want to feel some fingers against your cunt and a cock deep inside you...

A strained groan slips from your lips.

“You okay?” he mumbles, and you blow out a harsh breath.

“No, I’m not, I just—”

Oh, fuck.

You were just about to say it. You were just about to ask him to fuck you. Rolling your neck, your breaths slightly shorter, ragged, you lick your dry lips again.

What the fuck do I do, I’m literally about to ask my boss, my friend, the absolute pain in my ass to fuck me so I don’t, possibly, die.

Then, it comes to you.

“... You just what—”

“Just need the bathroom,” you cut him off exasperatedly, every intonation of his voice prickling your skin, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

“Jesus, fine,” he mutters, and you hope he doesn’t notice how quickly you turn your back to him as you stand, striding towards the wooden door to the bathroom.

Closing it firmly behind you and turning the lock, you step back from it, releasing a breath that has your shoulders relaxing minutely. You catch your reflection in the mirror to your left and release another breath at your expression; sweaty, tense, and, yes, there’s a trace of panic in your eyes.

Just do it. Do it then you’ll stop thinking about it and then it’ll be over and you’ll feel okay.

Your fingers, seemingly of their own accord, move to your jeans, fumbling with the button and zip. In your haste, the zip catches on the material and tears fill your eyes again.

Oh, come on, come on, come on, please...

You don’t realise you’re murmuring the words out loud, so fixated on what your fingers are doing. Finally after a moment or so you can shove them down, your panties with them, and then you’re spreading your legs as one hand braces against the door and the other slides between your pussy lips.

You can just about muffle the moan that falls from your mouth as your finger tips glide back and forth over your clit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Oh, fuck...

It feels heavenly, unlike any pleasure you’ve felt before from a first touch. You’re dripping, too, so soaking wet that you can hear it as your fingers quicken their pace... but it’s not enough.

How is it not enough?

Tears are slipping out of the corners of your eyes as you grit your teeth, a need so desperate coursing through you that it’s painful.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck... Why isn’t it working?

You slip two fingers inside your pussy, hoping filling yourself even a little will help but... no. It just makes you crave a cock inside you even more, increasing the aching that’s running through your entire body.

Oh, please, come on—

Two gentle knocks sound against the door. You freeze again, mouth open as your fingers stay buried inside you.

A throat clears on the other side, and then Hopper speaks, voice slightly muffled.

“Hey, uh... I’m sorry for snappin’, and for my shitty attitude, I... I know I haven’t been the best to be around lately...”

His words just become sounds as a kind of white-noise, ringing starts in your head.

Oh, no, no, no... No...

Your cunt is throbbing. You can’t help but think about him murmuring those apologies in your ear as his cock thrusts slow and deep inside you, as he tells you he’ll make it all up to you, everything, that you feel so good around his cock and he wants to make you feel so good all the time...

As your hand drops and you straighten, you don’t think you have absolute control of your body anymore. 

And you don’t fucking care.

Unlocking and yanking the door open, you instantly meet Hopper’s gaze, watching him blink as he abruptly silences whatever he was saying.

“Woah, you okay?”

How is he so normal? Yes, he’s sweating, profusely, but that’s it, seemingly. What a sight you must look in comparison. You watch his gaze travel down you, settling on your jeans and panties that are around your knees. His eyes dart back up to yours, and you watch his slick throat bob as he swallows hard.

“What the hell you doin’.”

You can hear your own breathing, ragged, short. Staring at him, you don’t know if it’s sweat or tears running down your cheeks.

“Hop’, I need you to touch me.”

It’s as if you’ve just asked him to detonate a bomb. His eyes widening, his mouth moves but nothing comes out for quite a few moments.

“I... Hey, now, hang on—”

“Please.” At any other time you might have been embarrassed for sounding so tragically desperate. “I tried, I tried to touch myself and it didn’t work, I’m aching so bad, please—”

“Sweetheart—”

That nearly has your knees weakening, a faint sound emitting from the back of your throat. He swallows again at hearing it and runs a hand down his mouth, shaking his head.

“I mean—”

“Fuck, Hop’, please. Don’t you feel it, too? I feel like, my, my, my whole body is just in pain, it fucking hurts, Hop’.”

You don’t know whether he feels it, too, or he’s just pitying you, because confliction is rife across his face.

And then he takes a step back, and he might as well have punched you in the stomach with the gasped breath that releases from you.

No, no, no, no...

“Hop’...”

He takes another step back, unable to stop his gaze from flicking down to where your hands are pushing your jeans and panties down and off, your shoes with them, kicking them aside. Then, he looks away, so sharply and suddenly, his fingers flexing by his sides.

“I can’t.”

“Why.”

You can’t think of any reason that would be damn good enough right now.

Hopper can’t look at you as he shakes his head again. “It’s not right, you don’t want this, it’s just the flower—”

“I want this, I want you, Hop’, I need you...” You’ve stepped towards him, your hands on his chest, sliding over his damp shirt, fisting it in your hands. “... I need you inside me...”

His jaw is so tight, his whole body is, you can feel his muscles underneath your hands, and his breathing is harsher. He raises a hand, which you don’t notice is shaking until he places it on one of your forearms. You wait for him to try and pull it away, but he just grips it lightly.

“You... You don’t want me really, this, this isn’t right—”

“I do, I do...” Your chin lifts and your lips brush against his jaw, and you swear you hear him groan quietly. You cling onto it, even if it isn’t real, and the words tumble out of you. “... I’ve thought about you before, inside me, making me cum, I’ve fucked myself imagining it was you before, so many times, please, Hop’, I’m begging you...”

He must have groaned because now his head is tilted against yours, lips against your cheekbone. His thumb is brushing against your inner wrist, too, so lightly. You press against him... and feel it.

His cock straining against his jeans.

Maybe it’s not just you, then. The arm he isn’t gripping moves, your hand dropping to settle on his thigh, your fingers caressing.

“Please, Hop’...” you whisper.

You know he groans this time, his lips so close to your ear. You know he’s seconds from crumbling, too, his hips angling towards your hand, his hand sliding from your wrist to your bicep, head turning closer towards yours, lips inches away—

Then, he freezes, a breath hissing out through his teeth.

He doesn’t move away but, staring at him, you can see the confliction return and even some anger that washes over his features.

“Hop’—”

“This isn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

You pause, lips parted so your harsh breaths can escape audibly. He hadn’t wanted to say that. He’d hissed the words out, eyes unable to meet yours, in fact he’s now closed them; regret swirling inside him.

But you can only think about one thing right now. 

You’re shaking with relief and anticipation. “... You’ve thought about me, too, then.”

A statement, not a question.

His eyes open, finding yours. “Yeah.”

You relish every word you say. “Then fuck me like you’ve wanted to.”

Any last restraint he has crumbles.

And he must have be in just as much pain as you because it happens in mere seconds.

Hopper’s hand grips the back of your head, holding you close and tight against him as his lips crash against yours. A combination of a sob and a moan emits from the back of your throat as you grip at his shirt, desire burning through your veins. His other arm wraps around your lower back and part of your brain is grateful for his strong grip because then he’s suddenly turning you and walking you back towards the closest bed.

The backs of your legs knock against it and you fall back on the soft covers, and it’s like he didn’t let you go at all as he’s already on top of you, one arm by the side of your head, the hand of the other resting on your torso, fingers splayed. One leg is between yours to hold himself up and your brain is working so fast, trying to find any way to soothe what your body is crying out for, that it takes you a moment to initiate its plan. Shifting down, your back arching with the movement, you start to rock your bare cunt against his thigh. The moaned cry you release is swallowed by his mouth, but he gives a groan in return.

“Fuck...” he hisses, feeling how wet you are as you’ve already soaking through his jeans.

The material is rough but that just makes it more heavenly against your swollen, aching clit and folds. Gripping his biceps, your lips tear from his as you tip your head back with a loud moan, eyes closed tightly. It’s not enough but it still feels so fucking good.

It takes you a few moments to realise he’s pushed your shirt and bra up, and his lips instantly descend upon your hard nipples, kissing, licking, sucking, pulling with his teeth slightly.

Tears are sliding down your cheeks in relief and a smile is pulling at your lips because—

“Yes...” you gasp, fingers curling tightly into his hair, tugging at his scalp.

His hips jerk as you do, and his grunts tell you just how much he likes it. So you do it again, and again, and again... and realise he’s grinding his hips against your thigh, just like you’re doing to him.

“Fu-uck...” he growls against your chest, his mouth moving in a deliciously sloppy way up your skin to your neck.

You whine as he kisses you there, your head tipping back, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

It’s so, so fucking good... but it’s still not enough.

“Hop’, need more...”

“Shh, don’t worry, baby, I know...”

How can he string words together? You had just about managed to breathe yours out.

What delicious words they were, though.

You must have done something in response to them, bucked your hips a certain way or made a sound, you don’t quite know because your mind is starting to feel like liquid, because he’s suddenly smiling now.

A lazy, smug smile that makes you clench.

Gazing down at you, his hands splay across your waist, and he presses his thigh a little harder against your cunt, which has your back arching.

“You like when I call you baby, huh? When I talk to you?”

“Yeah…” is all you can so eloquently answer with.

“That’s good to know.”

How is he capable of this much talking? Does the pollen enhance sexual characteristics that are already there?

Whatever it does, you can’t think on it much further because the hand on your waist is now travelling down your stomach, and you’re about to complain at his thigh suddenly disappearing when they’re now replaced by his long fingers sliding over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp as he groans, your eyes falling shut.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet, you’re fuckin’ dripping…”

You don’t even bother trying to respond. Gripping at his shoulders, all you can do is moan as three of his fingers drag up and down your folds. When they move over your clit, you don’t know whether it’s a sob or a moan that falls from your open mouth. Either way, pure pleasure courses through you. Maybe at any other point you would have cum right there and then from how intense it is, but you need something inside you. Whatever is happening, that’s all you know.

“God, Hop’, please…”

“I know, baby…”

And as he says the words, he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Yes…” you cry, your hips pushing down so they slide all the way inside you, but if you’d been coherent enough to you would have bet he would have done so anyway.

“Jesus…” he hisses, tone strained, and he instantly starts to slip them in and out of you, sinking them in as far as he can each time. “… You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

He groans again when you clench down on his fingers, and it seems to break whatever kind of resolve he was still holding onto, however the hell he was holding on to it.

A pitiful whine of protest escapes you when his fingers pull out, and he just nods swiftly, strands of hair falling over his forehead as he rises up onto his knees.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, just let me… Fuck…”

Lifting your head, you watch him shift backwards until his boots can touch down on the ground, but it’s only a moment before he’s kneeling on the floor and then his hands are wrapping around your thighs, widening them, and then he’s lowering his head and then… and then…

Your mouth drops open wider as your hands dart to his hair, plunging in once again as his tongue licks a long, wide path up your folds.

“Just needed to fuckin’ taste you…” he mumbles against you, the vibration of his voice making you mewl.

If his hands weren’t keeping your thighs apart you would have wrapped them around his head. All you can do, though, is rock your hips and grind against his tongue. He growls with pleasure, and just as you inhale a breath to beg for more, he pushes three fingers inside of you.

Three.

Three of his thick, long fingers slide inside you with no resistance or pain at all, and you throw your head back with a loud cry as you clench around them.

“Fu-uck...” he groans, curling them a little, stroking inside you. “... Look how fuckin’ easy that was, huh... How fuckin’ easy are you gonna take my cock, baby? Huh? Is it gonna slide right in? Fill you all up on the first stroke?”

Again, at any other time, you would have cum right there and then, but... somehow it’s just not enough.

Gritting your teeth, because while it’s not enough, the pleasure is still so fucking good, you release a sound between a sob and a moan.

“Hop’... Fucking need more...”

“You want my cock in you, sweetheart, huh?”

“Please.”

He groans again, and then you hear it.

He’s stroking his cock in swift, firm movements, and you want to be doing that, you want to be touching him, tasting him, pleasuring him, and—

“Want you to cum on my tongue, wanna fuckin’ taste you,” he mumbles against your pussy, lapping at you again, and you have to take in a few ragged breaths before you can speak.

“... Can’t... Not enough... Need your cock...”

“Christ...” He exhales a breath that closely resembles another growl. “... Do you know what hearin’ those words does to me, huh? Oh, you’re gonna cum on my cock, baby, but I’ve fuckin’ dreamed about you cumming in my mouth so you know what you’re gonna do?” He lifts his head, and you open your half-lidded eyes to look at him. “... You’re gonna cum on my tongue.”

And lowering his head again, he sucks hard at your aching clit.

And maybe it is just enough, because your back is arching and you’re pulling at his hair and he’s having to tighten his grip on your thigh and tears of relief or maybe it’s beads of sweat are sliding down your cheeks because yes, yes, yes...

You don’t realise you’re chanting the word as your climax builds, and when it rolls through you, a blissful serenity follows it...

That lasts all of a few seconds before you’re squirming again, the throbbing in your core somehow sharper, more desperate.

Hopper, however, is sucking and licking at you still, lapping up your release as he moans, an arm moving to settle over your lower stomach. Opening your eyes, you gaze down at him and see his hand working over his cock still and you want to move and touch him but his arm is keeping you down and his tongue is continuing to move so deliciously against your cunt.

And then he’s releasing short, sharp groans, and his hips are jerking and his hand is starting to slow, and then he cums, and you can only watch as it trickles down his fingers.

No, no, no, you want to feel him cum, you want it inside you—

He lifts his head, licking his lips, and the hunger still burning in his eyes steals your breath away.

He rises, and you can only watch with ragged breaths as he kicks his boots away and pushes his trousers and boxers off. His dick is still hard, pressed flat against his stomach, tip red and weeping.

“You want my cock? You want my fuckin’ cock inside you...?” he’s murmuring, and your eyes dart up to meet his as you release a breath.

“God, fuck, yes, Hop’...”

“C’mere...” He’s suddenly on top of you, then, cupping the top of your head with his large hand as he props himself up on his elbow. It eases some more of the pain a little, having him crowd you, feeling his skin on yours, but you both know exactly what you need.

His eyes are boring down into yours, and your nails are digging into shoulders, and then, finally, you feel the tip of his cock against your cunt.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck, inside me...” you’re breathing, pleading, half out of your mind with need as you nod.

And then, without any more teasing or talking, his thick cock slides all the way inside you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out and your back arches. Pure pleasure and relief and bliss overwhelms you, and you haven’t even cum on him yet. In fact, he can’t move yet because you’re clenched so tightly around him, your slick walls gripping at him like your cunt doesn’t want him to ever leave.

His breaths are short, sharp, strained, and his hand has moved to rest under your head, a gesture that, at any other time, you would have recognised as tender.

“Oh, fuck, baby... Fuck... Feel every inch of my dick... You feel it, huh?”

Words aren’t possible anymore, so you can only nod, eyes still shut tight, and your breaths fall away into moans as he kisses at your neck, all of them sloppy, uncoordinated, needy, and you suddenly realise he’s murmuring to you.

“... Wanna fuckin’ move, wanna make you feel so fuckin’ good, wanna cum in your wet cunt and feel you cum on me, want you screamin’ my fuckin’ name...”

As if his words were the key, you unclench around him with a whine of desire, and, with a hiss, he instantly draws his hips back and then snaps them forward, sinking fully into you once again.

Fucking lighting zips through your body, you’ve never felt anything like it.

He must feel it, too, because he doesn’t stop for one moment, drawing all the way back and thrusting right back into you to the hilt, each time harder than the last and, distantly, you can hear the headboard smacking against the wall.

“... Good girl... Good fuckin’ girl...” he’s growling through gritted teeth, and you realise you are because you’re doing exactly as he wanted.

You’re shouting his name amongst your moans.

And not even just ‘Hop’ or ‘Hopper’; ‘Jim’ is falling from your lips, and each time he hears it his hips snap forward just that little bit harder.

“Yeah, baby, good fuckin’ girl... Good girl... Fuckin’ Christ... Can you hear how fuckin’ wet you are? Listen to how fuckin’ good you take my cock, baby... Take it... Fuck, take it...”

Nevermind listening, it’s how he feels inside you that’s making sparks skitter across your skin. He fills and stretches you perfectly, dragging and sliding against your sensitive walls deliciously each time. You’re not going to last much longer, the last coherent part of your mind knows, and it nearly makes you sob with both relief and dread.

You never want this fucking feeling to end, it’s all so good, so fucking good but you know it’s just going to feel even better when you cum, when you feel him cum.

Managing to open your eyes, you find his gaze still on you, flicking from your parted lips to your chest.

“... Cum...” you whisper, voice hoarse, and you have to swallow before you try again. “... Cum inside me, please... Want to feel you cum... Fill me with your cum...”

“Yeah?” His jaw is tight, eyes boring into your own again. “... Wanna feel my fuckin’ cum fillin’ you up, baby, huh? Want my fuckin’ cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes”, you chant over and over and over breathlessly, gaze fixed on his, unable to look away because his hips are stuttering in their rhythm, just slightly, but enough that you know.

He’s close.

“Cum, cum for me...” you start to plead now, “... Wanna feel you cum, cum inside me, Jim, please... I need it...”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ need it, baby?” he grunts, voice low, gravelling.

“Yeah, give it to me, please...”

“Take it, fuckin’ take it, take my cum...” He groans sharply then, mouth dropping open. “... Fuck...” His hand darts out from under your head and grips at the bedcovers, and with a few more thrusts, he then buries deep inside you and cums with a shout, eyes shut tight.

And euphoria spreads through you.

You feel his cum spill inside you, and the pleasure that courses through you from the sensation sends you spiralling into your own release. Gripping at his arms, nails digging in probably to the point of pain, you throw your head back and cry out.

It’s unlike any bliss you’ve ever felt before.

For a few moments you may even black out as it rolls through you in wave upon wave upon wave.

Hopper feels closer, as well, as if he’s collapsed slightly but just about managed to hold himself up in time. His lips are against your jaw, and you can feel his panted breaths, his lightly trembling frame.

Oh, you’re trembling, too, can hear it in your own breaths.

At least you can try and calm your heart rate, now, because it must be over, it has to be. It’s been done now, it’s...

It’s...

It’s...

It’s still there. That strange energy, whatever the hell it is. It’s not as intense now, but it’s there. Enough so that you lick your lips and gaze up at him, finger tips gliding down his arms.

“Hop’... I can still feel it.”

It’s a few moments before his eyes open, and when his gaze meets yours, and you realise he’s still hard inside you, you know before he speaks what he’s going to say.

“... Me, too.”

Neither of you speak, or move, just gaze at each other. Enough sense has returned that you take these few moments to breathe, but not enough that when those moments do start to stretch on... you just can’t help yourself.

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you start to slowly roll your hips.

His eyes fall shut with a guttural groan, and your involuntary mewl answers him.

When his eyes then snap open, you also can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“You not satisfied yet?” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, and you shake your head as your tongue glides across your lips.

“Fuck me again, Jim.”

His thumb and forefinger are suddenly gripping your chin, and his lips hover over yours as he exhales a breath.

“It not enough that my cum is fillin’ you up? You need some fuckin’ more?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, trying to lift your chin higher so you can kiss him, but he holds firm.

“You want me to fuck you again, sweetheart?”

“Please, Jim...”

His lips brush against yours, and it’s the lightest of touches, but it’s enough to have you moaning as you rock your hips again.

“Please...”

“Well, seein’ as you’ve been a good fuckin’ girl...”

Pulling back, he rises up onto his knees, and pulls out of you. You mewl softly at feeling empty now, but you’re instantly distracted by his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them parted wide, and the fact his eyes are fixed on your cunt.

“Fuck... Your pussy looks so pretty with my cum spilling out of it...”

Fucking hell.

“Hop’, please, fuck me, I need you again, I need your cock—”

“I know, baby, I know.” Your words have his gaze tearing away and returning to your own, and he releases your thighs with a groan. “Turn over. On your stomach.”

You don’t need telling twice.

Except you have your own demand.

“Take your shirt off, I want to feel all of you.”

When his fingers fly to the buttons of it and start undoing them, then you roll over onto your front, resting your cheek against the covers.

You hear him toss it aside, and then his fingers are sliding down your back, over your ass and to your cunt. His fingertips caress your pussy lips lightly, gliding up and down, and your eyes fall shut at the gentle waves of pleasure that pulse through you. He’s toying with your mixed cum, gently pushing it back inside you and spreading it along your cunt.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, half in awe, half aroused.

Any other time you would have left him indulge himself for as long as he wanted, but the desperate need inside you is growing once more.

“Jim... Fuck me...”

You’ve only just finished pleading him, when his cock sinks inside you, this time in a slow, long thrust.

As your mouth drops open in a high moan, your fingers gripping onto the covers, he releases a long groan, eyes fixed on his dick disappearing inside you.

“Fuck, look at that...” His hands grip your ass, spreading you open wider. “... Take me so fuckin’ good... So fuckin’ good...”

Your eyes nearly roll back when you close them, as he starts to repeatedly give you slow, long thrusts, watching his own cock spread your soaked lips apart. You’re nearly delirious with pleasure, cunt pulsing around him, and when you feel him move, you can’t even open your eyes.

He settles over you, holding himself up on his forearm while his other hand slides under your neck and grips it gently, making you lift your head, tipping it back a little.

And now his lips are right against your ear.

“Fucking perfection... Like you were fuckin’ made for my cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply as his thrusts speed up a little.

The position you’re now in somehow makes it feel more delicious than before, like his cock is somehow filling you even more. You now focus on the lewd sounds caused by how wet your pussy is, too, and it’s so lewd, so filthy and hot that it’s making your stomach clench.

You must clench around him again, too, because he inhales a ragged breath before speaking.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, mind starting to turn blank.

“Gonna cum on my hard cock? Soak it and the fuckin’ bed?”

“Please...”

It feels more intense this time, the mounting pleasure, and your fingers twist into the bed covers as you try and ground yourself. He’s murmuring into your ear still, hand on your throat still gentle.

“... what a good fuckin’ girl you are, taking my cock so good, gonna take my cum again, huh? How many times can I cum in this pretty little pussy, how many times can I fill you up until you’re satisfied, huh...”

It’s all too much, too good...

Your orgasm crashes over you.

Your brow dipping, your mouth dropping open, a scream is pulled from your throat, and the world goes dark.

—

Your eyes snap open.

Oh, fuck.

There’s a slight pounding in your head, the beginnings of a headache most likely from dehydration.

Annoying.

When did I last have a drink, though? Or eat? Must’ve been...

Oh.

It all comes flooding back to you.

That... That actually happened?

Releasing a soft groan, you lift a heavy hand to try and rub at your forehead—

Another hand catches it, and the space beside you dips slightly.

“Hey, hey, woah, you okay?”

Your gaze darts to the source, and you find Hopper sat there, concern etched across his features. You don’t have time to think about it or answer, though, as he swiftly releases your hand and a glass of water suddenly appears before you.

“Here, drink this.”

Sitting up a little, you drink deeply, your throat dry, raw, actually, and the entire contents is nearly gone when you finally lower it, gasping a breath in.

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the bedside table, and as you lick your lips and adjust against the pillows, he watches you, fingers rubbing against his mouth.

Clearing his throat after a few moments, he ask quietly, “You okay?”

Is it too soon to tell him that was probably the best fuck of your life?

Raising your eyebrows, a light smile pulls at your lips. “Yeah. A little sore, but...” Your smile fades as he looks down at his hands, his jaw moving. “... Oh, Hop’, I didn’t—”

He can’t look at you, his head shaking. “I am so... I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t be.” Leaning forward, you place your hand on his arm, hating that he stiffens. “We couldn’t control ourselves—”

“I could’ve, I could’ve held out longer, I could’ve locked myself in that fucking bathroom, I just...” He looks fucking devastated.

Shifting closer, you wrap your other hand around his arm, tightening your grip. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I mean it. I...” Well, it’s now or fucking never, and all things considered... “... I wanted it, Hop’. Even without that aphrodisiac thing. I wanted you. I have for a long time.”

Your face is burning and your heart is pounding but relief settles on your shoulders the moment you finish speaking.

His head turns towards you now, gaze darting to meet yours, searching it. “You... You’re not lyin’ to me?”

Your lips lifting again, you shake your head before murmuring, “No.”

Hopper exhales a breath, his hand setting over both of yours. “I’ve... Fuck, I’ve wanted you, too. Just... I imagined it going a little differently.”

You give a soft laugh as delight overwhelms you, and his thumb brushes against your skin. “Yeah, we really skipped the first date, didn’t we.”

“In the traditional sense.” He smiles as you laugh again, but it’s gone just as soon as it arrived. “... You sure you’re okay?”

You don’t care how foolish you look, with your tender smile, gaze openly filled with affection. Probably because his gaze is exactly the same.

“I am. Really. It’s a good sore.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your teeth graze over your lower lip. “I wouldn’t mind getting used to it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d hoped you’d say that...”

Cupping your cheek, he closes the gap between you and kisses you tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing against your skin gently. It’s sweet, gentler than you had ever imagined him to be.

It’s perfect.

When his lips leave yours but he remains close, you smile again. “I guess we can give Murray a thorough review, then.”

He growls quietly as he brushes his nose against yours. “Don’t talk about that man right now...”

As he moves closer, laying you back on the bed, your arms slide around his neck and your smile widens.

“Yes, Chief.”

—

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Tagged: @herb-welch, @clonecaptainrex @davidkharboursex, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby,  @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather,  @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire22, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari,  @norcula, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna, @justsimplevicky, @ginasellsbooks, @vale0413, @mrslydiaholden, @kimberliinabox, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @allylupin, @cant-shake-this-feeling-off, @the-bitch-gotham-deserves, @warriorqueen1991, @thesurestthing, @zuni21798,  @quietlovelovely-blog, , @windinyoursnail, @my-rosegold-soul @madkskillz, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @sergeantangel, @bitchinsinclair, @dewy-biitch, @focusonspn, @wearethebrokenones, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @thatprettymvthafvcka, @pulplorrd, @gifsbysimplysonia, @opalsandlacemain @gothackedalready, @ayatimascd, @missaudreyhorney, @chiefharbour, @saltandroot, @ollypopp @soyuncheez, @ladydmalfoy, @morphoportis, @stop-the-world-i-wanna-get-off, @the--king--in--yellow

Apologies to those Tumblr won’t let me tag!

[strangerxperv]

Bratty (In)Dependence

NSFW/ Minors let's make Tumblr great again by sending you to the corner, no porn for you.

Daddy Dom Jim Hopper x Sub Little (Lemon/Lemonade) Reader

Hopper is a patient daddy that lets you get away with more than most. He thinks it's cute when you talk back to him or act bratty. It's the reason he calls you Lemon because most can't handle your tartness.

He loves when you act disrespectfully to other people but he has no patience when you behave badly (with him). He also loves reminding you who is in charge by fucking your bratty mouth. The lesson doesn't stick because you like being face fucked too.

"Fucking your pretty throat isn't a punishment for you so I've thought of something better." Jim grins wolfishly down at your gasping face as your glazed eyes peer up, "No cumming for a month."

"No! No, Daddy, please! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'll be good Daddy! I promise!!" Your begging only makes him gleefully pat your swollen lips with his twitching tip.

"Nope, I've warned you all day to stop throwing your stupid little baby fit when you were slam shit around and havin' an attitude." His cock slams into the back of your throat purposely causing you to gag around him. His pace is rushed and rough as Jim fucks your mouth selfishly seeking oblivion.

He doesn't even give you the satisfaction of drinking his cum. His cum splashes onto your lips before he aims at your pretty tits. Drenching the shirt you're wearing in his thick cream.

"Go clean... clean up your coloring stuff, now." His breath is fast as he sits in the recliner.

"Can I get changed first?" Your tone is already defiant and annoyed.

"Not with that attitude, Lemon, you'll just have to wear it as a reminder until I'm happy again."

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Working Lunch

Jim Hopper x AFAB! Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah - Chief I have a question abou-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jim -?” You murmur weakly.

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

“We squished your sandwich.” 

[mynameis-noe-body]

I have in idea for a hopper story where you wake up early in the morning while hopper is still peacefully sleeping so you decide prepare breakfast and when the breakfast is ready you go in the bedroom and to wake up hopper in the best way so you get under the cover and start giving him a special kisses =) and when hopper wakes up from the pleasure you continue until he can't help it anymore and after that you look into his eyes full of love and pleasure and say I just wanted to say to you that breakfast is ready.

A sweet and spicy story idea, if you like this idea i know you would make a very good story🫶🏻

Can I just say there aren't enough Jim's gifs? Gif artists, please provide.

Sunday morning: pancakes and...

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

The table was set. His favorite breakfast displayed on a checkered table cloth, together with hot, bitter, black coffee, orange juice and milk. Everything he could ever desire. It was, indeed, Sunday morning, and after the hard week he had to endure at the Police Station, you wanted to make him feel loved — he always had a sweet thoot, and food was a part of his love language. You cooking for him? It was paradise on earth, you were aware. At almost nine thirty you thought it was time for him to wake up; when you entered, however, you couldn't help stopping a while to just look at him. You eyes gliding up and down on his body. Jim was sleeping, lightly snoring, his delicious dad bod all naked with an arm above his head, his eyes peacefully closed in a deep rest. Around the hips he was still covered with the white sheets, but underneath... you knew — you could see how naked he was. His morning hard wood was right there, you could see the outline of his lovely cock getting hard from a sweet dream he was enjoying in the first hours of the morning. Jim was too beautiful, and too delicious, there was no way you'd find the strength to fight that visceral desire to touch him, kiss him, taste him and — overall — worship him.

That's why you slipped on the bed, moving the sheets with just a couple of fingers to not wake him up, and took a moment to revel in the breathtaking vision of his naked body. Jim was all hard, and all man. His soft belly, his muscular arms, his massive legs, his thick mustache and — god — his big, hard cock.

You rest your cheek on his tight, wondering what to do and admiring his form. Jim exhaled a little breath, and kept snoring slowly, widening his legs a little. You chuckled — he was just asking for it, wasn't he? With one hand, you started caressing the soft skin of his left tight, just right between his legs... he didn't move, which was a good sign. Still asleep. He didn't move either when the palm of your hand came to palm his balls, weighting them gently, caressing his soft skin and his rough hair, just cuddling his intimacy. Poor baby, you thought, so tired. I'll take care of you.

The tip of your middle finger traveled north on his hard lenght, always astonished by his girth, and his tickness — such a delicious dick, it was always so lovely and arousing to pleasure him with your hand and mouth. When you reached his head, spreading the precum with the fingertip, Jim whimpered, just a second, before falling again in what appeared to be a nice rest. But it had been enough to spark your desire; you couldn't help but reach for his cock, taking him in your hand and raising above him in the middle of his legs to put him in your mouth. You licked him, initially, with exasperating slowness, tasting the sweet liquid that came from him. But then, completely taken by that desperate longing, you opened your lips wide, and took him all in your throat. Jim gasped and groaned softly, his thick eyebrows furrowing. The hand above his head gripped the pillow tightly. His legs opened a little more.

Good, you thought. More. You started bobbing your head, your soft tongue kept licking and wetting his lenght with saliva, and your mouth felt so warm, so wet, so tight. It was a challenge to take him all down to your troath, and soon you were gagging and milking his cock with both hands, your lips and tongue worshipping the purple head of his hard dick.

That's when he woke up.

"What the — o-oh, fuck" he moaned, barely opening his eyes to see you blowing him with such passion. "Jesus Christ, baby, don't stop."

His hand found your hair. It was lovely to have him sleeping, but this — this was fire. Still foggy from sleep, he gripped your hair tighter than usual, desperately pushing on your head down.

"Holy shit — that's so good, good girl, take it all. A-ah — just like that, oh god."

His incoherent babbling turned into deep, muffled moans, slowly moving his hips, fucking your lips and throat with a desperate heat. He was close, you could feel it in the tension that ran through his entire body.

"Baby, I'm gonna come — fuck, I'm coming, I'm coming in your mouth baby, keep going, keep—" with a last, guttural moan, he painted your throat with his white load, coming deep inside your mouth and on your tongue, as you swallowed him all. In the end, he was sweaty, and happy — with that silly smile on his lips. He urged you to his side, hugging you tight against his warm chest, as you listened to his deep breathing and the beating of his heart.

You kissed his neck as he smiled wider. "Breakfast's ready. I made pancakes."

He kissed your forehead, running a hand through your hair. "And I love you."

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

chief jim hopper's kinklist (top 5) ✨

i'm liking these lists, so i've elected to explore hop's kinks. ur welcome

oral (receiving)~

as a soft!dom i'd say that hopper's definitely into this. i've said it before (in this post here!), and i'll say it again; hop loves getting his dick sucked. not even sucked like blowjob sucked, but straight up slobbered all over for an hour-long session kind of sucked. he's happy to eat you out, but not nearly as much as seeing your pretty face nestled up against his throbbing cock, smearing his precum all over your cheeks and pink lips for him.

it's hot, and he's perfectly happy to let you know with the soft, hearty groans, 'fffuck..'s and 'hnnnghs' he lets out for both your and his pleasure. something about feeling that wet, sticky heat of your mouth tightly suckling on his swollen head, all the while feeling your warm tongue licking languidly at his cock + seeing your glazed over doe-eyes and spit-covered face just makes him get all hard and leaky for you, ngl.

somnophilia/sleep play~

this form of foreplay can often extend to other aspects of your sex lives too - once consent is all figured out, he's more than happy to wake you up with some groping, squeezing and hot open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and exposed neck. nuzzled together, spooning in bed is his favorite. despite loving to let you suck him off, it's only because he lets you. he's still a soft dom, so having the power to awaken his partner, and immediately get them all wet and warm from his ministrations is def a big kink of his.

likewise, he's not against the occasional morning cock-sucking session; opening his eyes, casting his now lusty gaze down to you, softly and sensually deepthroating his thickened length, only taking breaks to slurp and kiss his shaft and balls isn't likely something he's going to reject. esp after a hard day's work at the station, maybe he gets back for a 'quick' nap, only to wake up to spurting his warm load all over your awaiting tongue i mean- ofc he'd like that

experimentation~

perhaps more left-field here, but i see hopper as pretty open to things in the bedroom. the only rule is that it's relaxed, honest and relatively simple (i def think he's a bit of a lazy papa bear in bed). for example, he's happy to experiment with bondage: seeing you tied up against the bedposts, legs forcibly spread, pussy open and aching for his reddened cock is a more than welcome fantasy; but this is via some fuzzy handcuffs (or straight up the ones he keeps on his belt, reminding him on the job of just who he's going home to), not an elaborate set of knots and loops, or something resembling spiderman's webs more than you tied up and ready for a good, long, lusty fuck.

really, i think anything you bring up he'll give a try; as long as it has a 'here's one i made earlier' kind of energy. want to smear maple syrup all over your tits, and have him lick it off? sure, but if you don't have that syrup with you on-hand, he's putting the prospect in his save-for-later-spankbank and might buy some next time he's in the grocery store. he's not one for prepping in advance, but if you have what you want, he's happy to watch you struggle and squirm into place, and then get pleasuring you bc he's soft!dom material through and through.

24/7 play~

he's def the stereotype of wide but shallow net i think. he's game for anything, but not to the point of keeping you locked up in a cage all day, or leading you on a leash (etc). that said, he's happy to continue whatever it is you're both currently into all day long. doesn't matter where he is. as we've seen, he's often unbothered about how he comes across, and does exactly what he wants, when he wants. this applies to you, too.

if you have a choker you love to wear, a vibrator you love to walk around with inside you, an extra tight pair of panties that rub just right, or an affinity for calling him a special name, he's perfectly happy to let it fly anywhere. the store? he's turning the vibrator up to 6 to watch u squirm. the station? he's getting up close behind you and pulling those panties extra high, just to make you squeal. in the kitchen? he's looping an index finger around your collar, and pulling u in for an extra sloppy kiss. his soft!dom logic is that when his baby's happy, he's happy. aww what a papa bear slut

sensual foreplay/body worship~

linking heavily to his need for domming, but in with daddy energy, he's a lover of sensual foreplay. this is less rose petals, candles or fancy dates, and more lubed up oily erotic massages (on him esp), leaving a trail of hot wet hickeys along your ass and thighs, or wantonly, unabashedly groping and squeezing whatever body part he can reach of yours. he esp loves to do so when you bend over to reach the tv remote on the coffee table; right in front of him your pretty soft thighs and pussy are so close, so ofc he's running his fingers across ur clothed opening, or giving some playful spanks to the swells of ur ass, i mean-

for him it's the same deal. he's a himbo, even if he lacks the self-awareness to know, he knows he likes it when you eyefuck him, or check him out extra obviously when he's fixing a car or screwing a light bulb for u. similarly, a very easy way to get him worked up is to make a comment abt his weight; if he's looking extra insulated and you grope his tummy or thighs, he's gonne feel extra hot ngl. likewise, when he's back from work, heaving a big sigh and unbuttoning his just a little too-tight work shirt, nothing gets him harder than seeing your lip caught between your teeth, looking him up and down, and rubbing your pussy to the view of him standing right there, tbh.

mmmm i liked this one and season two hopper was extra special ngl

[creedslove]

CUM PLAY WITH HOPPER - HEADCANON

Repost from 2019 - my own work

Season 3 Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Summary: headcanons on how Hopper views cum play

Warning: filthy dirty shameless smut

°°°

• Hopper and cum play… where do I start? 

• Oh yeah, our man Jim Hopper LOVES cum play 

• He is indeed very possessive of his little girl, so having her soaked and dripping with his cum is definitely something that brings him great pleasure 

• It can be something discreet between the two of you 

• Or something very dirty like you having to be covered in his cum in public 😏 

• When you blow or jerk him off, Hopper loves to cum in your mouth, it is just so dirty to see his sweetheart swallowing his cum it is enough to spark a hint of his arousal again 

• But he likes seeing you dripping, remember that 

• So when he cums all over your face it feels like heaven 

• And ohhh your tits too, it drives him insane to see your hard nipples covered in his hot juices 

• But he is very respectful, so he'll avoid shooting his seed into places you don't like to, for example your hair, in case it does bother you 

• He enjoys when you taste his pre cum too!! It turns him on A LOT 

• Hop also likes to cum on your ass, especially after a few spankings so he'll see your reddened flesh receiving his load 

• And also cum into your asshole, so you can clench it around his thick juices and they'll drip down your pussy and thighs 

• Ohhhh speaking of that, Hop likes to spread your pussy lips wide and cum inside of it, right into your hole 

• So he'll either tell you to clench it tight so you'll keep it inside of you 

• Or he'll demand you to rub it all over or clit and use it as lubricant to touch yourself for him 

• If he wants to keep dominance, he definitely cums into your panties and makes you wear them warm and wet with his honey so you'll remember you belong to him 💕 

___

[thebackseatofjimsblazer]

GIF BY ME YOURE WELCOME

Imma def use this gif when I do my StarcourtSanta!Hopper x StarcourtElf!Reader bc it’s too good not to wtffffffff🫠🫠🫠

[likedovesinthewnd]

STRANGER THINGS-CHIEF HOPPER MASTERLIST

ONE SHOTS- HOPPER X FEM!READER

•Make Me

•Fireworks

•Happy Drinking with Hopper

•The Drive-In

SERIES- HOPPER X OFC

•Coffee & Infatuation- pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

•The Killing Moon

[cherryc1nnam0n]

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

Summary: Getting your guts rearranged by Hopper <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You always wanted to be his good girl

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes daddy" you said to him totally blissful

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

[strangerxperv]

Daddy Dom Jim Hopper X Little Sub (Lemon/ Lemonade) Reader

Lemon is Sour Until you add Sugar

NSFW/ Minors the lemon factory is closed for you, go drink mud.

It's only been two weeks since Jim grounded you and you're already fed up. He's had as many orgasms as he wants but you've had zero. The larger man has made it a point to fuck you till he cums before pulling out to cum on you. Never cumming in your mouth or cunt and certainly never letting you cum.

It's not fair. How's he going to stop you from cumming? He can't be with you all the time! His punishment only sticks if you let it and what's to stop you? You can make yourself see stars without that mean old daddy!!

Jim leaves for work with you throbbing in need after cumming on your thighs. You decide to finally make good on your promise. Grabbing the toys from under the bed closed away in a cutesy toy box. You swiftly lay back with your favorite dildo stuck up your cunt and the wand buzzing away.

The dildo stays stationary in your hole as you try to conserve energy. The wand buzzes away just above your throbbing clit. It feels so good. So fucking good being stuffed full with the attention solely on your stiff people.

Your body tenses up as the coil in your womb pulls taught. Mouth agape in a silent scream your tiny hand wraps around the dildo. Thrusting up into your g-spot you turn the wand up to its highest setting.

Everything comes crashing down as waves of pleasure take hold. A whine escapes your slip lips when you being to spray. Cum splashes around the dildo and and cascades onto the mattress.

"That good, huh?" Jim's face is hard to read but it's hard to be afraid when you're a twitching pliant mess.

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Dirty Dancing

Jim Hopper x AFAB! Reader One day I'll write a story which actually has strange things happening but today is not that day. Bob didn't die, Eleven closed the rift at the end of Season 2 everyone is happy, leave me alone. I'm a Jopper fan 'til I die, but not for the purposes of this. Set 1987 - Jim is approx 44/45, reader is approx 30/31.

Warnings: Swearing, p in v sex, lots of references to Hopper's size, creampie, multiple orgasms, slightly rough Hopper, cock bulging, age gap, nicknames - baby, babygirl.

_______________________________________________

Jim has been oddly detached and quiet since yesterday evening. The stars had aligned along with your busy schedules and you’d managed to have a rare date night, going to the movies to watch ‘Dirty Dancing'. You thought he had enjoyed it, seeming engrossed rather than trying to get under the skirt of your dress like normal, but when you asked him what he thought on the drive home he simply shrugged and went to bed.

The following morning he’s still in his funk, not saying a word, departing for work with a distracted kiss to your cheek, a far cry from his usual passionate goodbyes that often left him running late and you in a state of undress.

His attitude bothers you all the way to the Diner.

“How was date night?” Donna asks you cautiously when you arrive, instantly noticing the way you fling your purse to the side and how you punch your card in with slightly more force than necessary.

“Well, I thought it went great, I really enjoyed the movie, evidently Jim’s experience of the evening was vastly different.” You rant, trying to tie up your apron, before giving up, elbows resting on the counter, head bowed in frustration.

“He didn’t like it?”

“I’m guessing he didn’t, but how would I know? He’s barely said two words to me.” You mumble despondently, the whole thing has left you feeling rattled, you and Jim fought plenty but you’d never been given the cold shoulder without a good reason. Donna opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by Joyce coming in to collect her usual lunch order to share with Bob.

“Hey! How was the date ni-?” She greets you excitedly, cutting off at the look on your face, and Donna’s frantic shaking of her head. “What happened?”

“Jim hasn’t spoken to her since the movie.” Donna stage whispers, hastily departing to wipe down tables at your glare. 

“Hop’s not talking to you?” Joyce asks in concern, sitting on one of the vinyl stools.

“Apparently not.” You grunt, making up Bob’s sandwich.

“Did you have an argument?”

“No, we went out, we watched ‘Dirty Dancing’ then he was just off with me and still is.” You snap, knife ripping through the slice of bread you had been buttering, Joyce reaches across taking your shaking hand in hers. “Sorry Joyce, I didn’t mean to -” You trail off gesturing at her apologetically, she gives you a small understanding smile in return.

“Bob and I went to see ‘Dirty Dancing’ last week, and I think I know what’s bothering Hop - he feels old.” She says softly.

“Old?” You ask, feeling lost.

“Sweetie, you gotta remember Hopper, and I -” She adds with a slight wince, “- we were in our twenties in the sixties, the stuff they do in the film, the dances, we were doing that years ago. I think maybe it’s made him feel his age.”

“That's ridiculous! You and Jim aren’t old.” You say laughing.

“But we’re not young either, certainly not as young as you” She reminds you gently.

When you and Hopper had started dating a year ago it sent shockwaves through Hawkins, which was ironic considering all the other crazy shit that had happened, kids going missing left, right and center, secret government lab, literal demon creatures crawling out of the ground. Oh no, all that was nothing compared to the chief of police dating a woman 14 years his junior, 29 to his 43 at the time, never mind that you were a fully consenting adult, and you were the one that had pursued him.

Jim couldn’t for the life of him work out why ‘a sweet young thing like you’ could ever want ‘a grumpy, fat, miserable, old guy like him’, you couldn’t give him a proper answer, all you knew was that you loved him and there wasn’t a single thing he could do or say that would change your mind.

"So what should I do to make him feel less old?” You ask Joyce somewhat desperately.

“I might have a suggestion.” She grins wickedly, leaning in close.

_______________________________________________

The plan was in place. Jane was staying at Max’s for another evening.You had primped and prepped yourself, wearing a dress not too dissimilar from Penny’s red halterneck in the film. The wine was poured, a couple of glasses already consumed for Dutch courage, you’d thrown pieces of coloured cloth over the table lamps to give the cabin an orange-reddish glow, and finally you had one of Jim’s favorites from his vinyl collection queued up and ready; Solomon Burke’s Rock ‘N Soul. You wring your hands nervously upon hearing the truck pull up outside, straightening out your dress, and quickly rechecking your hair in the small mirror on the wall as Jim tiredly trudges in toeing his boots off without looking at you.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m a little late Callahan screwed up a report and I -” He trails off finally glancing up at you, brows creased slightly in confusion, as he surveys you and the cabin. “ - what’s all this?” 

“I know what’s been bothering you since yesterday, and I want you to know that I understand why, and I want to help.” You say softly, approaching him, going up on bare tiptoes to kiss him gently. He returns the kiss eagerly albeit somewhat surprised, a large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Baby, I'm at a loss here.” He murmurs against your lips, but allows you to pull him by his belt to the centre of the room nonetheless.

“Joyce said the film last night might have made you feel - nostalgic, and I want to show you that you’re not down and out just yet Jim Hopper.” You purr, leaning away to put the record on, Cry to Me filling the room. “Dance with me?” You ask quietly, unable to keep the pleading edge out of your voice.

Jim lets out a shaky breath, as you loop your arms around his neck, your height difference making him lean down slightly, chest to chest, his strong hands splayed across the top and small of your back.

You weren’t one hundred percent sure how to move so you simply rocked your hips, letting the music take control, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of Jim’s neck. He sighs softly, eyes closing at your touch, and you smile as you feel him start to move along with you. You experimentally lean back, pressing into his grip, he follows you lips tracing against your throat, before bringing you close again. You’re both smiling now, swaying more, his pelvis flush with yours, grinding against each other. You unbutton his police shirt, the fabric falling forgotten to the floor, leaving him in just a tight white vest, hands wandering again tracing his muscles stopping just shy of crotch. 

“Tease.” He rumbles.

“Not teasing baby, just dancing.” You say sweetly.

Jim’s touch snakes from the small of your back to the flesh of your ass, gripping firmly, using his hold to hook one of your legs up, slotting his broad thigh into the gap, smirking wickedly when you gasp at the pressure against your clit, the material of your panties shifting with Jim’s movements.

“Hop -” You sigh dreamily, as he uses his strength to rock you back and forth.

“This is how we used to do it in the good old days, baby.” He says, voice gravelly. “You’d hold your best girl tight, dancing nice and close.” He grips you harder for emphasis, dress half bunched up around your waist, fingers digging into the soft swell of your ass.

“I’m your best girl?” You ask softly, clinging onto his shoulders, gyrating slightly as your head falls back.

Jim lifts you up suddenly, your legs automatically locking around his thick hips, breath catching in your throat at the look of desire in his eyes. 

“My best everything.” He whispers before bringing you to his lips in a searing kiss, tongue licking languidly into your mouth. You reach up, pulling at the straps of your halterneck until they come undone, the dress slipping past your bare breasts. Hopper groans, nipping at your earlobe, your jaw line, your throat, you can feel his hardness pressed to your center straining against his slacks.

He carries you to the bedroom, lowering you gently to the bed, pupils blown wide as he steps back to watch you pull the dress off your lower half, taking your panties with it, leaving your glistening core on display.

“Shit baby, I am one lucky son of a bitch.” He breathes, yanking his vest over his head, you crawl towards him on your knees, unbuckling his belt, both of you working with frantic hands to get his pants and underwear down.

Jim wraps his arms around you again, manhandling you with ease to rest against the pillows, his large frame dwarfing you. Your kisses are messy, verging on desperation, hands petting each other heavily, hips bucking with need. 

He rubs his thick cock over your dripping slit, and you let out a soft moan, back arching up into his strong chest, nipples peaked and sensitive.

“This all for me, baby girl?” He hums, grinning as you nod wordlessly, rocking the swollen head of his dick against your aching pussy, slipping in just an inch before pulling back again.

“Don’t tease me Jim.” You pout, hands on his ass trying to bring him closer.

“Not teasing baby, just dancing.” He coos smugly, filling you with a single thrust that has you crying out, cunt clenching at the delicious stretch.

His hips are flush to your own, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling against your clit, heavy balls slapping your ass with each drag and hit. Hopper is marking up the delicate skin of your neck with multiple hickies, like you’re teenagers, the harsh suck and gentle soothing lick sends you higher, a fresh surge of wetness coating his cock in a ring of cream.

“I can feel you squeezing me baby.” He growls, muscular arm braced against the headboard, driving him harder and deeper into your fluttering cunt.

“Hop!” You squeak, unable to do anything other than grip his shoulders, anchoring you to him through the onslaught of pounding thrusts. You feel your slick dribbling out, pussy squelching obscenely, being made to fit around Jim’s hard length.

“You gonna cum for me baby girl?” He asks, panting, the large hand that was gripping your hip moving to stroke over your swollen clit. 

“J-Jim…” You whine brokenly, orgasm rushing through you like a flash-flood, wrapping your legs around his hips again, cock hitting you relentlessly.

“Yes - shit - so good, my best girl.” He groans, flipping you suddenly so you’re on top, limp like a rag doll as Jim squeezes your hips in a bruising hold, rutting up into you. “You’re getting my balls wet baby.” He chuckles, voice strained, you can only whimper, nails digging into his chest, back arched, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat.

He sits up, strong arms wrapped tight around your back, jackhammering his cock so deep you feel your belly concave with the bulge. You’re keening into his mouth, tongues sliding against each other, your stomach tightening again with a telltale warmth.

“Jim - I’m - oh my god.” You stammer weakly, foreheads pressed together.

“That’s it baby girl cum with me, let me fill you up.” He says roughly, grunting as you clamp and spasm around his cock once more, drawing out his own release, spurting thick heavy loads deep within you.

There’s a vague ringing in your ears, and you register that the record has long stopped playing, the only sound in the cabin being your light gasps and Jim’s staggered breathing. He kisses you tenderly, as he pulls out, dick twitching at the sight of his seed dripping from your puffy cunt.

“I love you so much baby.” He murmurs, cradling your face, laying back against the pillows, with you still sprawled listless on top of him. 

“I love you Jim.” You smile blissfully, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips. 

“Sorry for being a grump.” He sighs.

“Hop - I don’t care how old you are, I’d have loved you when you were twenty, and I’ll love you just as much as I do now when you’re sixty.” You say sincerely, giggling when he grimaces at the word ‘sixty’. “There’s no one else I’ll ever want.”

“You keep saying sweet things like that, we’ll be dancing again.” He warns, hands slipping down to squeeze your ass.

“Sure you don’t need a rest, old man?” You tease, choking on a moan, as Jim presses his rock hard cock back into your tight wet heat. 

“You’re in for it now baby girl.”

_______________________________________________

[wtfsteveharrington]

- 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.

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

getting horned up on the couch + chief jim hopper ✨

🧡 you two were lying on the couch, watching a movie like usual on one of hop's day's off, legs intertwined, his big, broad chest pressed up against yours

🧡 you could feel his deep breaths against your neck, the occasional baritone chuckle or hum in agreement to an observation you made, and tbh, it made your pussy flutter

🧡 at first it was fine, bc the show was relatively interesting, but after an hour had gone by, you couldn't help but notice the feeling of his strong, thick arms wrapped around your middle, and cradling your head; or the soft bristle of his beard buried against your face

🧡 suddenly the temperature started to rise in the room, and the urge to subtly grind your hips into his groin was one you couldn't hold off on any longer

🧡 softly gyrating, nuzzling into his one arm behind your head, you let out a barely audible whine. quiet, high-pitched, straining against your pursed lips,

🧡 it was only after that whine that he noticed something was up; glancing down, he saw what could only be described as your classic horny expression: furrowed brows, the biggest babydoll pout, nose partially-scrunched up in concealed frustration~

🧡 only then did he start to piece things together, really taking in the sight; your left hand on the pillow underneath you, inadvertently pushing up your breasts to the point of spilling out of your top, exposing your horned up, perky nipples

🧡 he'd eventually let out a bigger sigh, testing to see if you caught onto his awareness, but you didn't. your aims to keep it to yourself, and keep pretending to watch the show were definitely valiant efforts, but now he knew, he wasn't going to let it slide that easily

🧡 leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to your exposed jaw, he whispered a soft, "..baby..somethin' you wanna tell me..?", chuckling when your eyes shifted from the tv up to his small smirk, biting your lip in embarrassment

🧡 "i.. just- hmhmm..i'm horny, hop..need your help.." was the only thing you could muster. a little pathetic, although he knew exactly what you needed; but after the brattiness of yesterday, he wasn't in any mood to give you what you wanted

🧡 leaning down, he parted his lips for a lazy, sloppy kiss; groaning softly as it only made you grind harder into his now hardened erection

🧡 lifting a hand up to cup his face, you continued the kiss, turning away from the tv to gain better access to his lips- maybe if you behaved extra well, he'd give you exactly what you wanted. but that would take a lot more than a kiss and some grinding..

this was on my mind, i couldn't help it- season 2 thick hopper makes me >O< >o< >O< if u get my gist.

+ if you liked this, maybe try requesting urself - i'm currently open and accepting, so here's the link!

[creedslove]

ANAL SEX WITH HOPPER - HEADCANON

repost from 2019 - my own work

Season 3 Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Summary: headcanons on having anal sex with Hopper

Warnings: explicit smut, anal sex, mentions of ice and food play

°°°

• There are two things we can't forget about Hopper when it comes to anal sex or any other sexual activities, really which is: 

• One: he is very experienced and knows what he's doing 

• Two: he is very big and he is aware of that 

• Combining the two of them together, we get to the conclusion that Hop will be more than careful with you 

• He knows the key for a pleasurable experience when it comes to that it is the preparation and the after care 

• That's why he makes sure to engage in both activities with you, because he wants it to be good for both of you, he would never consider doing it if it had to hurt you in any way 

• Starting with the fact he wouldn't even insisting on that 

• Of course, Hop being a dirty man as we know, likes fucking his sweethearts in the ass, but he would never be pushy towards you 

• Although he would always drop hints, or make jokes about it just to see your reaction 

• During sex, he would always have a soft spot for your butt, squeezing and massaging and even spanking it 

• Seeing you receptive, he would start by exploring it a bit further, so, when he goes down on you, he can also lick you down there or massage your opening with the tip of his fingers 

• And have you realize it feels really good 😏 

• So, once the idea had been accepted and discussed, Hopper knew it wouldn't right away, it would take time, patience and preparation, which you both had sparingly  

• To get you used to the idea, Jim asked for a bit of trust, in which he showed his powers and moves  

• Whenever he would go down on you, he would also eat your ass 

• And let me tell you: that man knows how to do it

• He would have you on all fours, spreading your cheeks and his face sunk between them, alternating between licking your soaked cunt or your tight little clenching hole 

• When he spanks you, he would begin to finger your ass, carefully and with a lot of lube, one finger at time, until you are used to taking two (it might not sound much, but remember how big and thick he is) 

• Then, Hop would make sure to get you some plugs; whichever ones you want, you can choose the size, the color etc, and nothing makes him more pleased than having his baby girl welcome him home wearing just her sexy plug and nothing else, after a hard day of work 

• Hop would also love to play with ice or other stuff in your ass like lollipops (ice and food play for Hop is another thing I'll not talk about now, but if someone requests… 🤭) 

• When you finally feel ready to do it, he will make you wild. After teasing you, making you wet, playing with your clit for hours, then he'll began to spread lube all over your body

• He'd jerk himself off between your ass cheeks; as you wiggled your butt and make him drip of pre cum 

• If you can only take his tip, he is okay with it and he'll make sure to remind you of that 

• When you finally do it, he will let you get used to his size, rubbing your clit gently and kissing your shoulder, your neck and your back, reminding you of the good girl you are and how happy you make your chief of police 

• It will be a good experience for both of you, in which you will both cum, get satisfied but also, show how much you trust each other 

• Once it is done, Hop will take you to a warm bath, carrying you and praising you for being his talented baby girl 

• He would make sure to get you some painkillers and a warm tea or hot chocolate 

• And once you are done showering, he would take you to bed, wrap his strong arms around you and snuggle you to sleep 

_____

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

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

PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlemissvincentvega]

MORNING WOOD / a perv!hopper one shot 💕

a/n: yes i know i actually wrote something for the first time in a century i had muse and i was horny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway hi everyone hope you enjoy 🥺

18+ explicit content / perv! jim hopper x his hand (fem! reader)

cw: masturbation, mention of facefucking and p in v sex. implied age gap. just a lot of dirty thoughts from our lovely chief of police

Something of an annoyed groan, thick with sleep, came from Jim Hopper's throat that morning. He had (like normal) been drinking the night before, enjoying the evening to himself-- settled in his armchair with a pack of cigarettes and a few beers to keep him company, a family-size pack of chips in case he got hungry. He rolled over in bed, the muscles in his back tensing as he reached over to take his alarm clock in his hand to check the time-- fine, it wasn't too late for him to have an enjoyable, slow start to the day. The last thing Hopper enjoyed doing was rushing around before work. He wasn't exactly a morning person in the first place.

Jim pushed the clock back onto the bedside table and rolled onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. He was pondering what to do about his morning wood, actually, thinking back to the dream he was having before his body decided it was time to wake up. He never was that talented at recalling dreams, but he definitely remembered the images that had blessed his sleep that night.

Hopper was aquainted with you purely because you both lived in the same trailer park. You knew he was the Chief of Police and you always made an effort to say hello, ask him how his day was going. And, whether you knew it or not, you were inadvertently making him more and more curious. He wondered why you bothered to speak to him at all-- he wasn't the most approachable guy. Hopper had a good heart and the majority of the people in Hawkins knew that, but he had a stoic persona that a lot of people were intimidated by. Not you, though. But why?

Maybe it was the tight shirts you wore without bothering to put on a bra underneath (surely you knew he could see your nipples?), or maybe it was that you liked to wear shorts or skirts that showed a little too much of your asscheeks (it was like you wanted him to look). But Jim Hopper wanted to see what was underneath. Not just beneath your attire, but what was behind that sickly-sweet innocent persona you were putting out to the world. Perhaps it wasn't an act at all and he was just being perverted, but Jim liked to imagine you were, deep down, pure filth.

Jim's hand closed around his member, eyes falling closed as a relieved breath escaped his lips. He began to pump himself to the thought of you. In his mind, you were at his mercy. You'd been batting those damn eyelashes at him far too long and far too many times for him to just write you off as a 'nice kid'. No, he wanted to see you on your knees, lips parted and ready to gag on his size. Hopper wondered if you'd liked to be facefucked by him, imagined how your ample tits would bounce. He'd smudge your lipstick and guide those pretty little lips expertly, make you gag just enough so tears would sting your eyes and smear your mascara. He grunted, squeezing his length. Yes, he'd like that.

But facefucking you wouldn't be enough, he thought. He'd felt bad so many times for allowing his gaze to roam your body whether you knew he was looking or not-- how couldn't he, though, when you were wearing shit like that? No, he would have to get you into submission. It wouldn't take much, he imagined, if you were as slutty as he thought you were. You had to be. No, facefucking was your warm up.

Hopper's grip on himself tightened and he picked up the pace at which he jerked himself, little grunts here and there erupting from deep inside of him. He imagined the noises that would come from you when he pushed his tip inside of that little pussy of yours. Jim convinced himself that you would have the perfect pussy, that he would just need to be patient because, and he knew this, his cock was an impressive size. Yes, he had the length, but he was also thick. And he knew women needed a little love and patience to be able to take all of him-- which was exactly what he would do with you. Jim imagined how good it would feel once you accomodated his size, how you would clench around his cock and scream when he rocked his hips against yours. He wondered if you'd still call him Chief-- he especially liked that in the bedroom. It was one of the things he got off to the most.

The thought that pushed Hopper over the edge was imagining the way you'd tremble and shake beneath his large frame after he helped you reach your climax. He'd gently squeeze your nipple, using his thumb on his other hand to rub sweet little circles on your throbbing bud. Your clenching around his cock would put him into overdrive and he would have to ask permission to unload in your pretty little cunt. And you'd say yes, intoxicated by everything about him. He'd bury his face in the curve of your neck, slamming into you, stubble rough against your skin as he fucked his seed deep inside your hole. "Oh-- oh, fuck," Hopper grunted, feeling his stomach tense. Throbbing cock began to pulse and empty itself, semen gently spraying out and collecting in his pubic hair. It was an unholy amount, he thought, chest rising & falling as he attempted to bring himself back to reality. The poor man didn't know how he'd face you when he left for work that morning... but, hey, at least his morning wood was taken care of!

PART 2