[X] A dress like that deserves to be hiked up as you're fucked good and hard until you squirt.
[X] The way Hopper holds his breath, eyes closed, concentrates, you wonder if he’s close already too. Does he get off on this sneaking around thing just as much as you do? (Age gap, wall sex, dirty talk, creampie.)
[X] “You aren’t naked on my desk in thirty seconds, I get myself off."
[X] “Any reason you came looking for me the other day? Were you on the edge of losing this little game we’re playing?” (fucking him while cuffed in his Blazer)
[X] He bites his cheek, stares at the sky, unable to sit back or the neighborhood will be talking about big Jim's hard on at the splash zone opening event. Talk about a splash zone...He hums your name low in his throat, a warning. You need to leave. Now. Or he's going to do something stupid.
[X] In which you give Hopper road head after you'd been teasing him all night.
[X] Picking up your drunken father at his colleague's cabin means you get to see Jim, get to be tempted by Jim. You don't expect him to even care that you're there. And you surely don't expect him to finger fuck you on the porch, whisper dirty things in your ear, then demand you suck him off and make plans for the weekend.
[X] Hopper waking you up to oral after being greedy with his pleasure all night.
[X] Hopper showing up at your door, sporting an erection, after inhaling spores from a weird plant during a crawl in the Upside Down. Sex pollen. Desperate Hopper. Tons of sex (lots of warnings for this one. I pulled out all the stops)
[X] "Yeah? Well, you're mine." This gives him pause, stops him mid-motion. The dark, hungry look he gives you sets you alight. He spends the night at your place. The first fuck is hurried and needy, desperate to get each other off. The next time is 3am. He takes you slow, takes his time with you, makes sure you cum first. You think you're falling in love.
[X] (Worshipping Hopper's dad bod.) "Too fucking good to me..." he hums. "Teaching you to be better to yourself," you correct.
[X] A slumber party, you'd said. Jane wants a slumber party. He knows he's not going to survive this. Especially when he comes home and you're wearing his t-shirt. Thigh highs. A steamy hookup is in order.
Hopper x reader In which reader works at a new strip joint and has the biggest crush on one Chief of Police.
Summary: A new strip joint opens in town. When Jim discovers Reader working there...well, he can't stay away. He offers to work security to keep you girls safe, which is surely is only intention and has nothing to do with being alone since everyone moved on from Hawkins. Has nothing to do with wanting you to fuck the lonely out of him.
Cw: 18+ mdni, explicit themes, age gap, overprotective Hopper, nudity, lots of flirtation, groping. kissing, suggestive language, pinv sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, lonely Hopper, post season 5 in which everyone moves away and Hop is stuck in Hawkins, Hopper has little self-control at this point, in which he's embarrassed because he doesn't last long, Hopper maybe gets emotional with this orgasm idk what came over me when I wrote this but I'm also not sorry.
This is a long one, kinda story-drive, not just smut. I couldn't get it out of my head...might become a two-parter because I have no self-control either.
The door to the station opens in a flurry of energy, to Hopper's surprise. He's on his second cup of coffee this shift, and he'd just been considering doing a patrol and inhaling the last much-craved cigarette in his pack.
Apparently not.
A, "Hi! I'm so sorry, Chief," is uttered while he feels your hands on his arms. You'd bumped into him in your hurry inside.
"I'm super late for work, but I found this wallet on my walk," you're pressing it into his empty palm. "I can follow up if there's anything else you need from me, but I have to run."
Hopper's slow gaze takes in your erratic energy. He's seen you around a few times - couldn't recall your name to save his life - but you're pretty in this flurry of yours...
"Where's you find it?"
"On the sidewalk on Cornwallace and Center," you say, matter-of-fact, hoisting a large purse on your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll stop by later if you need - but my car broke down which is why I was walking and...I have to go or I'll be written up."
Hopper nods, pops that cigarette between his lips. You watch with eager eyes, take a heavy breath.
"Need a ride?"
The relief is written all over your face. You thank him profusely.
He nods simply, leads you to his Blazer out front, watches you hoist yourself in the front seat.
"Where ya work?" he speaks around his cigarette as he lights it.
"Berry's..." you speak without making eye contact.
Hopper glances over at you, lets his eyes trail down your body.
The new booby bar, as everyone called it. Laz, the owner got a lot of praise, yet a lot of backlash for the place when it opened a few weeks back.
From what he'd heard, the exterior looks more like a diner, but it's apparently for a mature clientele, as every waitress is dressed skimpy. He'd heard Laz intentionally hired women of different sizes to appeal to every type.
And, he'd heard, Saturdays they weren't truly "closed", but was more of a strip joint that Laz didn't let everybody in town into, as he faced a lot of backlash.
Hopper hadn't made his way over there yet, with everything happening in Hawkins lately as he settled into life now...18 months post...well, everything; Joyce moving away, the kids no longer around. Place felt lonely, felt haunted to him.
He exhales smoke, pockets his lighter, says, "Ya like it there?" as he backs out of his parking space.
You purse your lips, shrug. "It's a job. Money's nice."
He hums, pauses, tries to ignore when you begin shifting out of your jacket.
"I'm sorry to do this, but I won't have time to change there, so I just wore this under..." you strip from your sweatpants too and Hopper coughs at the sight of you in this getup.
Holy Hell.
Tight t-shirt with "Berry's" embroidered across your tits, mini skirt with a slit in it, boots up to your knees...
He's silent the rest of the drive, unable to think of anything other than everyone's eyes on you while you serve them.
When he pulls into the lot, he pauses, debates if he wants to go in or not. He'd hate for this Laz guy to write you up after you'd done such a public service...
"You hungry? On my tab. Thank you so much, sir."
You lay it on thick. He feels a jolt of arousal run to his gut, swears his cock stirs to life.
His, "sure" comes out before he's really comprehended.
He feels like such a creep, following you in like this, can't help but stare at your ass as you make your way to the staff door.
"You're the Chief, so I'm pretty sure you can't get in trouble. I just know if my regulars see me, I won't be able to punch in on time."
Regulars. Right. Why does this stir jealousy in his gut? He just fuckin' met you.
Cheers of your name erupt as you walk in - you coworkers overjoyed that you made it in time, apparently. A few hugs are given, lots of curious glances shot his way.
"Got lucky!" you explain, "Hitched a ride with the Chief."
The way you speak is purposefully in innuendo, he's sure it comes with the job.
God. Damn.
You grip his bicep, he notices a soft squeeze, as you lead him through the maze of the staff area, clock in, then turn to him.
"I can seat you in my area, or I can pass along that you're covered for the night, if you saw another girl who caught your eye." You do this adorable nose scrunch thing.
Hopper. Is. Hooked.
"Yours sounds good," he leans into some flirtation, glances at your hand still on his bicep, follows his gaze along your arm until he's met eyes with you.
Lips parted, you inhale sharply then let out a little laugh.
"Great! Look forward to serving you tonight, Chief."
You break connection with his arm, but put your hand on his back as you lead him to an empty table.
"Gary, he's mine tonight - no charge!" you call to the bartender who salutes you. "What'll you start with?"
Your attention on him while the other guests eye you up...Hopper feels like the luckiest guy in the room.
This is going to be a problem.
That proves to be true as the night goes on.
Hopper isn't surprised to watch you hustle around the room, making everyone feel like they're your only worry for the night. The free drinks and dinner are a plus, but it pales in comparison to watching you walk around the place; serve, chat with colleagues. He's so focused on you, he notices you linger at his table longest, stop by more frequently, begin then continue conversations, and attempt to get to know him. It's...charming, really.
"You closing the place out tonight?" you tease after clearing his table off, bringing him some water.
"Depends," he shrugs, "how soon do you get off?"
You raise your brow at him, lean in to the innuendo, smirk at him before saying, "That all depends...for you, it wouldn't take too long."
His jaw drops before he regains his composure.
"Jesus..." he whistles.
"I am so sorry," you pause, try to read his reaction. "I shouldn't have...it's not part of the job at all. Please don't tell Laz. I just...I'll behave."
He grips your hand, meets eyes with you.
"Don't."
You bite your lower lip.
"In all seriousness, I get off in an hour. You don't have to wait; I can get a ride from one of the girls."
Hopper nods. "I'm sure. But that's too bad. You're coming with me."
The innuendo hits once more. He knows he's nowhere near wasted, so he's positive you lean a little closer to him. He hums low in his throat.
A man approaches, causing you to straighten, the moment broken.
"Chief! So good of you to finally visit us." Laz, the owner, greets, placing his hand on your shoulder.
Hopper hates the envy he's feeling.
"Pretty interesting setup you got here," he nods.
"Oh. This is nothing. You ought to see Saturdays," Laz speaks quietly.
"Ah. So rumors are true, then."
Laz tuts, "Now don't judge it till you try it. We keep it pretty tame, compared to some places, and we don't require every girl to work Saturdays if they're uncomfortable."
Hopper nods, glances over at you to read your expression.
You meet eyes, place your hand on his shoulder, "I'll be right back to check on you. Table 3 is getting ready to leave."
He watches you go, admires your ass in that getup.
"Hard worker, that one," Laz says. "Heard you gave her a ride today. Appreciate it so she didn't walk here like that."
Hopper nods. "Ya got security or anything for Saturdays? A bouncer?"
Laz smiles. "No, but we'd be open to your services."
Hopper watches as the guy at table 3 tries to hug you, which you seamlessly shift to a side hug.
His gut stirs.
"I'll make an appearance."
"I know the girls would appreciate it."
---
That first night, Hopper wants so badly to just indulge. He wants to drive you back to his place, let you tease him all night before he cums in your mouth or on your tits or - heaven help him - in you...
But he's sure you're beyond the creepy leering you get all night.
"I hear we'll be seeing you Saturday," you say as he drives you home. You'd dressed before you left, but Hop is haunted by the memory of your skimpy outfit.
"Was wondering if you work Saturdays."
You shrug in the dark. "Good pay. And - I will say - Laz is pretty considerate: he lets us lead depending on how comfortable we are with the crowd each night."
Hopper hums in the dark.
"Meaning...?"
"I get to decide how far I undress."
Hopper inhales sharply.
"Jesus."
You watch him as he drives, notice the shadows stretch as the trees blur by.
"Does this all make you uncomfortable?"
He looks at you before his gaze flicks down to your lips.
"I...no. Just, yanno, wondering about your safety," he answers honestly.
He stops at a light, runs a hand down his facial hair, glances over again.
"You're sweet," you smile genuinely.
Few more lights and you tell him to turn down your street.
He's being a little too open - a bit more conversational than normal, but if he were honest with himself...he was fucking lonely.
"Getting your car fixed or...?"
"What, are you handy?" you ask.
"Depends on what you need." Again, innuendo. You hum.
"It's getting taken care of, yeah."
"Need a ride, say...Saturday?"
"Jeez, I'll have to start tipping you for your service."
"Freelance," he chuckles at his own joke.
When you tell him which driveway, he pulls in, puts it in park, and awkwardly glances your way.
You thank him, break the silence.
"Are you serious about Saturday?" you ask quietly.
Hopper glances over at you. "I don't offer if I don't mean it."
Laz said Saturdays open late. Hopper knows what he signed up for - essentially pulling a double. He'll need to get you there by 9. He's going to be exhausted.
Worth it, he thinks. For the company alone - worth it.
"It's supposed to rain...I'd really appreciate it."
"No problem," he nods, tries to sound nonchalant.
You lean toward him and plant a kiss on his cheek, lips barely touching the corner of his mouth.
"I'll see you Saturday," you promise, a shy look on your face before you grasp the doorhandle and are gone before he can form a coherent sentence.
---
Saturday brings rain - a few car accidents, some drunk drivers - quite a busy day for him, unfortunately. Hopper is exhausted by the time his shift ends. However, it was good to keep his mind occupied, as it kept drifting to you.
He's in your driveway at 8:30, watches you dodge raindrops, then leans over to pop the door for you. He holds back a yawn as you climb in.
"Hey, Chief!" you greet, handing over a black travel coffee mug.
"What's this?"
"Brewed some coffee for you. Figured a warm mug might help keep you awake tonight."
Hopper holds your gaze. lets out a little breath.
"You...thank you."
You smile sweetly at him. "You ready for tonight? The girls put on quite the show..."
Hopper isn't sure he's ready. He's thought about it several times since you met - these last few days torturing him...
He wonders how much you'll take off tonight.
His cheeks feel heated as he drives.
When you walk in together again, some of the girls do a double-take. A few flirtatious comments are sent toward Hopper, but he's got his eyes fixed on you and you make your way to the stage to figure out the game plan for the night.
Hopper declines the clipboard Laz shares with him - insisting that Laz needs to be in charge of the guest list; claims it's because he needs to keep the peace with the citizens.
The night starts quickly, and Hopper is grateful for the coffee. He's nursing it, letting the warmth fuel him, imagining you getting ready for the night and being thoughtful enough to brew him some. Were you dressed at the time...?
You make your way over to him as the lights dim and music starts. You've changed - you're in a dress that ties under the bust - and he wonders just what you have planned for the evening.
"A few girls wondered if you want a private dance later; they just sent me to inquire since - apparently - we're friends."
Friends, Hopper repeats in his head. This could be a setup; could be you fishing to see if he'll bite.
"Flattered, for sure. Just...uh...focused on my job tonight," he manages.
You wink, nodding. "We'll see about that."
A few of the citizens are surprised to see Hop there as they flood the room. Good. Let them stay in line.
Their eyes immediately dart to you, though, and he feels protective instantly. He's too close. Already. Figures he needs to calm down. So you're flirty and sweet on him. Doesn't mean anything.
Though, each sip of that coffee reminds him how thoughtful you are, makes him think of you brewing him a pot after he spends the night.
Scanning around the room, Hopper takes note of the rowdy table, keeps a watch on them as your friend takes the stage.
He hasn't had to say anything yet, but a few times one of them almost got handsy and Hopper stood from his post, was about to use proximity to intimidate, but it wasn't needed.
You're right - Laz seems to let each girl take the lead; some preforming a sensual dance number, some working up the crowd and giving quick lap dances to those who hold bills out, some working the pole.
Hopper is no stranger to strip clubs. His buddies in New York frequented a few; some of them chose weekly hangouts there.
He wasn't opposed to glancing their way - pretty girls in sensual outfits, dancing to lewd music - he's down.
But he was down - bad - for you.
He watches you join the main room, lean against the bar, muttering to the bartender. You're wearing a tshirt dress and fishnets, high heels on your feet.
The song changes and you make your entrance to the stage.
Hopper bites his tongue, finishes the last of the coffee you made him. His sleepiness worn off, he's eager to see you.
You sway your body to the beat, pause and drop low a few times, bouncing your ass before slowly standing and dragging your hands across your body. The tshirt dress lifts up just enough to reveal a peek of black lace.
Hopper bites his tongue.
You walk the pole, wrap your pretty fingers around it, stroke a few times like it's a cock, before positioning your hands and mounting the thing. Precise movement and you spin simply before walking the pole again, draping a leg around it, hoisting yourself up. Your movements are practiced, smooth, and Hopper swallows hard when you hang upside down, one leg locked around the pole, supporting you while the other points to the ceiling. Your outfit slides down to reveal more of your black lace panties. Hopper bites the inside of his cheek as he stares at your ass.
Dismounting, you regain your bearings quickly, eye the crowd.
When your eyes lock on him, you dip a finger under the collar of your shirt, stretch the fabric.
The crowd whistles.
Pretty legs lead you off the stage - toward him - and Hopper is sure he's done for.
You raise your hands up to motion to him, present him to the crowd who claps - their catcalling increasing when you put your hands on him, grip his heavy blue Police jacket by the collar.
Hopper stares, dumbfounded, as you slowly remove the coat from him.
The girls cheer wildly.
With your back to the crowd, you peek over your shoulder with a cheeky look on your face, making a show of the whole thing. Slowly, you hoist his coat over your shoulders, blocking the crowd from view.
"Hold this up for me, would ya?" You speak to him, maneuvering his hands the way you want them. "A little lower..." you tease with innuendo. "Good boy."
You have Hopper hold the coat open behind you, as if it's a curtain shielding you from them.
Hopper follows your lead, keeps his eyes on you. He can't look away.
And then you strip.
And Hopper goes slack-jawed.
In seconds, your tshirt dress is pulled off, you waving it above his jacket for the crowd to see.
But your body is only for his eyes at the moment.
A pretty black lace bralette, matching panties...the lace so intricate and dainty, he can just barely see your areolas through the material.
Hopper can't stop staring.
Catching his gaze, you raise an eyebrow at him before you slap your tshirt dress over his shoulder, slide your arms in the sleeves of his jacket he's still holding up, and let the gap in the coat be all the temptation the crowd needs.
You trail a hand down his facial hair, grip his chin, and shake his head from side to side before walking back to the stage with his large coat on you.
You leave him aching, wanting you.
You parading around in his jacket is...something else.
He feels protective of you, and the hungry eyes taking you in stirs jealousy in his gut.
You finish the number with his jacket on, sliding it off your shoulders, flashing the open front and dropping it just enough to show the tops of your breasts, let your bra straps slip down your shoulder as you fall to your knees, gap the jacket open, let your hand trail down your torso before dipping just under the front of your panties.
The song ends. The stage lights go black.
Hopper groans as the crowd cheers.
What did he get himself into?
---
"You joining us again next Saturday?" Laz had been chatting with him when the night ended.
Hopper can't help but say 'sure', knowing he won't be able to stay away. He actually enjoyed tonight. Felt nice to have plans for once.
As you approach, Hopper notices your stare at his biceps. You've got his coat draped over your arm, are taking in his body as eagerly as he was yours, less than an hour ago.
"Thanks for playing along tonight, Chief," you tease, handing back his coat.
He smirks, shaking his head. "Bit of a surprise, but I always appreciate being included."
"I bet you do," Laz jokes. "Okay, you two, see you soon."
Hopper walks to the door with you, "Still pouring out there, ya might want this." He holds his jacket up for you, mind returning to the look of you, practically naked underneath it.
It smells sweet like you now, but you still catch the hint of cigarettes on it. Hop helps you into it, hears you hum softly at the warmth.
A few of the girls shoot you suggestive glances when they see you two leaving together.
You're grateful when he opens your car door for you, helps hoist you inside. The large coat on you, Hopper takes another look at you before closing the door.
"So...was that too much? I tried to keep it a little more tame tonight, so I didn't scare you off."
Tame.
Hopper starts the car, pulls down the street, glances your way, laughs.
"You must think very little of me," he teases. "Your job doesn't scare me off."
"Really?" you're surprised by this.
"Though, I did enjoy that the little show was for my eyes only tonight."
"Oh?" he notices you scoot closer to him on the seat.
A comfortable silence befalls you for part of the drive as he lets a yawn leave him. It's 2am.
"I can make the coffee a weekly thing, if you'd like?"
"I'd appreciate that. These are gonna make for some long days."
"Laz can always call the station, if something happens. You shouldn't have to observe every weekend if it's exhausting."
"I...uh...enjoyed myself tonight," he admits quietly. "Change of pace. The view was spectacular."
Your laugh fills the space as he pulls into your driveway.
"Been thinking about this all night, so..." you mutter as he puts it into park. "...can I kiss you?"
Hopper once again raises his eyebrows at you.
"Just full of surprises," he puts his hand on the back of your head, pulls you in to him, and plants a kiss on your lips.
Your hands instantly reach to touch him - one hand raking through his hair, the other gripping his bicep again.
When you urge him on, deepen the kiss, he finds himself growling in the back of his throat.
You moan against his mouth, hands all over him until they land on his belly.
"I'm so sorry...you just..." you shake your head, break the kiss, keep your hands on him. "I've had the biggest crush on you since I moved here and...I really need to stop before I scare you off. I promise I'm not normally this desperate."
Hopper gapes at you, notices you reach for the door handle.
"Don't run off. It's...I'm flattered, really."
"Would you like to come in?"
Hopper doesn't hesitate. "Fuck, could I?"
"I don't mean to rush things, Jim, but...God. I can't help myself around you. If I could have touched you all night..."
You kiss him again, needy for him.
He barely gets you in the house before he's touching you, pulling his coat off of you.
You're on your knees for him in an instant, hands undoing his belt. Hopper throws his head back against the wall at the feeling of your hand groping him, groans as he stares up at the ceiling, then looks down at you with a heavy gaze.
The sight of you on your knees for him, pulling his cock from his pants will probably be burned into his memory for months.
He lets you lick him - balls to tip - lets you get him good and worked up. Your tongue swirls his corona and you hear the sexiest moan from him.
"Fuck, you're too good...want to fuck you, sweet girl..."
You pop your mouth off him, rise to your feet before stripping wordlessly. It's slow, but nothing like what he's sure happens at work. Way more intimate - more human. Your sweats are dragged down your pretty thighs, fresh pair of panties covering your ass. You're braless when your remove your shirt and he goes slack-jawed, totally distracted by the sight of you.
Urgently, you pull at his shirt, help rip it over his head. Your eyes take him in eagerly, hands tracing over his belly, his chest, up to his arms where your fingers glide gingerly over his scars.
You don't ask, which he appreciates.
Your lips gently meet his skin, pressing sweet kisses as he removes his shoes and pants.
Hopper doesn't give you much time to look at him before he picks you up, asks a quick, "Bedroom?" and follows your directive.
Tossing you on the bed, he so enjoys kissing down your body - grateful for the sounds you make. They're only for him. Your body is only for him right now. As he's kissing between your thighs, he tries to ignore the thoughts plaguing his mind. How many had seen you naked since this booby bar opened?
You're so sensitive when his mouth kisses your pretty pussy.
"Mmm perfect. Need a quick taste before we get started."
"Please," you beg.
Hoppers fingers slip against your sensitive clit before he spreads you open.
His cock twitches when you arch against him. He wants to give you the time you deserve, but he's so damn desperate to fuck you.
He can't help but pump his fist around his cock while he works you.
Based on his gasping and the sweet sounds he makes while he eats you out, you pull his hair, urge him up, stare him in the eyes before lifting your hips to meet his cock head.
"Fuck me now, Jim," you speak plainly.
He almost whines.
"Yes, ma'am."
Hopper wishes he had some sweet tricks in the bedroom anymore, but if he's honest this is the first time since...well, everything, and it's such a release for his brain, he's burying his face in the crook of your neck and trying not to let you see his misty eyes.
Idiot. He feels like such a fucking idiot.
You mistake his gasp for him being close, when really he wants to weep.
"No, doll, you first. Come for me, honey. I need to feel you...it...please. Please."
His voice breaks and you're holding him so softly, ghosting your nails down his back,
"Oh, Chief...please don't stop. Harder."
He holds on as you come, kisses your hair, gasps at the moment your movements slow.
He tries to pull back, but your heels dig into his back and you urge him, "in me. It's okay."
He cries out, unable to hold on any longer. Pumping his cock deep in you, he spills with a boisterous moan.
The big man collapsing on top of you, totally spent, you huff a breath, rub his back.
"It's okay, Hopper. I've got you. It's okay."
Your words bring emotion to his throat. He refuses to look at you, but slightly raises his weight off of you, peppers kisses across your neck and jawline.
Wordlessly, he eventually rolls off of you, lays beside you, glances over at you.
"You're beautiful," he compliments. "That...thank you."
You smile sweetly at him, trace your hand down his face, before snuggling into him.
"Get some rest, big man."
"Stay with me?"
"Of course."
○○○
(Bonus: part 2 preview? Should I continue...?)
"How does this all work?" he motions at the stage, trying to distract himself so he doesn't stare at you, have to hide an erection.
"Well, guests put their name and some cash in a girl's glass and we do a few drawings tonight so they get a lap dance."
Hopper sighs, blinks slowly as he pictures you in his lap last weekend, bouncing on his cock...
He takes a sip of your coffee.
"You gonna be able to handle this, big guy?" you ask quietly.
"No promises..." he grunts.
You squeeze his huge arm before trapsing away to bring customers their drink orders, accepting tips before the end of the song brings the next round of dancers to the stage...including you.
Laz picks names from each beer glass. When he says your name, Hopper finds himself holding his breath, glancing around the room to judge which lucky jackass gets to have his girl grinding up on him.
"Chief Hopper," Laz announces, a sly smirk on his face.
The crowd cheers, girls urge him up from his post, looking like they were in on some rigging considering he didn't put his name in.
...
Your hands trail up his thighs as you slowly stand, teasingly about to mount him, but you strut a slow walk behind him instead. His eyes follow you as you lift his hat off his head, place it on yours. He bites back a moan when you grip him by his hair, forcing his head forward to look at the crowd.
When you turn back to him, you place your foot on the chair in between his legs, notice his hard cock in his pants, trace your fingers up your thigh to trail between your legs, up your torso.
Hopper watches with hungry eyes. knows better than to touch you - he'd prefer to stay on Laz's good side.
When you move your leg, you press his knees together, slowly mount him.
His cock twitches in his pants. You take your time grinding against him, making a show for him but ensuring the audience gets to see some movement too.
"God damn it..." Hopper whispers when you lean close to him.
You smirk at him, trail your fingers to the ribbon of your shirt, undo it, and let it fall off your body, onto the stage.
Tits in his face, Hopper holds back so he doesn't instinctively grind his hips up into you.
You pull the hat off your head, use it as cover as you lean forward and plant a deep kiss on his lips, out of the sight of the audience.
I love your writing <3 Can I please request Jim Hopper smut with breeding kink. And I would love a scene where due to the size difference with reader, he can see a tummy bulge and and puts his hand on it
Hopper x reader with breeding kink, all day in his cabin over various surfaces 🤭
&
I love your writing <3 Can I please request Jim Hopper smut with breeding kink. And I would love a scene where due to the size difference with reader, he can see a tummy bulge and and puts his hand on it
Cw: 18+ mdni, breeding kink, breastfeeding kink, unprotected pinv sex, trying to conceive, masturbation, dirty talk, he calls you his slut, size difference, scene with tummy bulge, daddy kink, he calls you mama, fucking you while you're on the phone with your mother, he bends you over the God damn crib, positive pregnancy test, Hopper is obsessed with your tits, helping relieve engorgement becomes a favorite of his, (he drinks the milk), you've been warned and I love you. 💕
Drops of breast milk trickle down your heavy tits, Hopper's right hand massaging the swelling as his mouth envelops around your left. He's lapping at your nipple, grunting and groaning like some filthy movie. You can't help but join him too, as the relief hits you from another let down that he swallows.
Baby's sleeping through the night more often then she's not. And your breasts have yet to adjust. Between wake ups every 3 hours, and now nothing, you need a little assistance once in awhile.
Your breasts engorged with milk, you're at an in-between stage: worried your supply will fade, yet enjoying the sleep.
Some nights it's too long to go without feeding, and you hate pumping...
When Hopper wakes up to a wet spot on the bed next to his arm, he cusses a deep "Jesus Christ..." You startle awake, afraid that something happened with the baby.
Instead, you realize your breasts are leaking, another night she's slept through a feed.
Sighing, you stip your soaked shirt over your head, move to grab a new one, but Jim stops you.
"No, no, stay. Hey..." he steadies you, hoists you with ease to set you right down on his hard cock.
His voice laced with sleep, you practically moan. You love him like this.
"Jim, quiet...we might wake her," you hush.
"Shhh, mmmhm, god, yeah, scoot down a little...fuck, right there. God, honey, you're leaking all over me."
You can feel the cold air hitting the breast milk slipping down your belly.
Not only do you leak during missed feeds...you also leak when Jim acts like this. Arousal starts that tingling in your nipples, and you can feel the milk dripping out of you.
Hopper's fingers easily find your pussy in the dark. His thick digit swipes at your clit before dipping inside you.
"God..." he chokes, "have a wet dream? Hm? S'that it? Dreaming about Daddy fucking you nice and hard? Can't help but let these pretty tits leak? God, you're so fucking hot, baby."
He bends a little, kisses your belly and you inhale sharply at the feel of his tongue trailing up your torso, licking the trail of milk, and ending right below the heft of your left boob.
His hands reach up to feel the weight of them, full and ready to feed your baby...
You hiss a sigh at the sensation it brings when he holds them up for you. Relief makes you buck your hips.
Hopper hums a laugh, easily shifts his hips so his cock tip is pressing right at your entrance. With ease, he fucks up into you, bites back a gasp at the feel of you enveloping just his tip in your wet warmth.
You shimmy a little, begging for more, slinking down to fit more of his fat cock inside.
Milk leaks from your breasts again and Hopper feels the warm liquid in his cupped hands.
He plays with a nipple, tests your reaction, chuckles when he gets squirted in the face with the milk.
"Now you know better..." you tease, swatting his wrist gently.
Hopper glances at the clock, squints. 3:19. The last three nights, she's slept through and you woke up in pain from engorgement.
"Need a little help, mama?" His deep voice speaks low in your ear as he lowers you down on his dick. "Want daddy to take over? Suck and lick on those pretty tits of yours? Get your skin all raw from beard burn?" You cover your mouth so your moan doesn't wake the baby. "Ohhh, you'd like that, huh, honey? Like it when daddy takes care of you. I can feel how hard these tits are, so damn full for her. Good. Good girl, so fucking good for our baby...wanna swell this belly up, too. Be so full of my cum again. Fuck another baby into you. God..."
You're close. Already. You're so into him talking like this. "Let me, baby. Say it and I'll fix you right up."
"Please."
"Please, what?"
"Please, daddy! I need help."
"Sure, baby. Sure..."
His mouth gets to work, lapping at your heavy, full breasts.
You hiss at the burn of his facial hair on your sensitive skin, but you love it.
Fucking down onto him, you rock your hips, grind your pubic bone against him as his tongue triggers a letdown.
The pleasure overwhelming, you come undone, grinding on his cock until you're spent from your first orgasm. You know he'll insist on more.
Sleeping through the night feels like a new you. And if you're honest this is how you've heard babies trick you into wanting another. You're only 12 months into parenting together but Hopper has wanted you so bad these last few months. Even with nursing, your period still showed up and ovulation has returned. You feel eager for him, desiring him every minute he walks in the door. It's a distraction, but one that you missed through the trials of parenthood.
You hadn't been eating the best lately and Jim's waistline is larger than it had been when he got you pregnant initially, but you love the look of the weight on him. Love the belly. Love groping those muscular arms while he shoves his fat cock into you.
The other morning over coffee, he almost spilled it all down the counter as he shoved your leg up and took you from behind. You'd cleaned every surface lately. Baby sleeping in his crib for a nap? Hopper bends you over the edge of the couch. Baby occupied with tummy time, Hopper begs you to ride him in his recliner. The few times that you had alone while your mother watches the baby? Hopper is filling you so full of his cum that you're leaking for hours.
He's leaving work to fuck you in the Blazer. Is fucking you in the shower right before bed and waking you up in the middle of the night to do it again.
The moments like these are your favorite. Quiet, not rushed, Hopper taking care of you the way that you need without you even having to ask. He knows your body so well, is eager to please you whenever you need. He will never forget the afternoon you were nap trapped after nursing the baby to sleep and Hopper quietly approaches, gets on his knees, pulls your pants down, trails your panties down your legs, kisses up your soft skin, and eats you out without waking the baby.
Sometimes it feels filthy, if you shared any of this at your mommy and me groups you're sure you get stared at, judged. Hopper hadn't gone into this having a breeding kink. Or a breastfeeding kink, for that matter. But when you'd gotten what the doctors called a clogged duct from your milk changing as your baby needed less, Hopper was eager to help. He'd massage you in the shower. Kneading your breasts, holding them as he fucked you from behind. He loves watching them leak as you're aroused. It was an easy step for him to want to try a taste. Curiosity, simple curiosity. It was not about the taste for him, just the mothering that you're able to do. And you're damn good at it. So when you were in pain from the swelling and one of your nurses suggested him and his mouth as an intervention, the levee broke and Hopper gratefully assisted you every single time.
It's hilarious now, thinking back to when you first got pregnant and figured you maybe only wanted one kid. Now you know Hopper is desperate to fill you up with another baby. He loved pregnancy sex. Loved watching your belly get bigger with his baby, loved trying different positions to keep you comfortable as the trimester went on.
He flips you over, pins your wrists to the mattress, angles his hips and your body just right.
He loves watching his thick cock shove into you. Loves pressing his hand against the slight bulge he can see when you suck in for him, he's so big it's a miracle you can take him, you joke.
His hand ghosts over your stomach, tickles you a little, makes you suck in more.
"Gonna fill you so fucking good, darlin'," he coos beside your ear. "And then all day today...we get all day."
You know, it's partially why you couldn't sleep tonight.
It's been way too long since you let someone take the baby, had an empty house.
You'd love to clean, organize, but Jim has other plans...
Sure enough, your car pulls back in the driveway later that morning after dropping the baby off with your mom, Jim is on you as soon as you walk through the door.
He fucks you against the wall - hard, desperate, doesn't even let you cum before he's filling you up; shoving his cock so deep, you want to scream.
He's eating and hydrating while you clean up the place, clearly trying to work on his refractory period.
You lose track of time going through baby clothes she has grown out of.
You're storing things to use again for the next baby.
When Hopper comes in, you shoot him a jokingly annoyed look, as if to say 'im working'
Hopper guides you toward the crib, bends you at the hips, helps extend your leg up so he has better access to your pussy, and takes no time sliding his cock back into you.
He lets you cum this time, urges you on with, "I need it, honey. Need to feel you come on my cock. I'm close. So damn close. Just...mmm...wanna get you pregnant again."
You tip over the edge easily at that point, gasping his name as he fucks you through your orgasm.
Hopper follows quickly after, presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, bites gently as his thrusts increase speed.
You're given an hour then. Another uninterrupted hour before you feel like you should pump so your daughter has some milk for when she's brought home.
Hopper is finishing the dishes when he notices you in the living room, attached to the pump, your shirt around your neck with your arms out of the sleeves.
"Oh, fuuuuuck..." he tosses the dish towel, storms over to you, and removes your shirt.
Slamming himself down in his recliner, big Jim undoes his pants, pulls his cock out, and starts stroking himself to the sight of you.
"Oh, my God," you laugh, cover your face in embarrassment.
"Don't fucking shame me, you tease. Coming out here to do this? You knew. God, look at you...so good to her. Milking yourself. Such a good mommy. God..."
He's hard already and, if you're honest, you're totally aroused by the way he's talking to you.
You finish pumping before he does, and laugh at your own joke.
As you're storing the milk, the phone rings. It's your mother, who's watching the baby.
Hopper groans, waltzes over to pull your pants down again, hoists you on the counter as you're answering the phone, and fucks into you easily.
You're so distracted by his shirtless form and the ease in which his cock slips into you, you almost forget to speak into the phone
"Yeah, thanks. Afterwards is just fine," you shift the receiver, bite into his shirtless bicep to stop from moaning into the phone.
"Ohh, you dirty little thing. You like this..." he taunts quietly. "Better keep quiet, my little slut."
"No, that's fine. We appreciate it," you manage to speak. "Mhm, yeah, getting so much done!"
Hopper chuckles at that.
When you hand him the phone to hang up, he glances at you for information.
"She's napping now. Mom wanted to know if she could keep her until after dinner."
Hopper groans, closes his eyes.
"Gotta get that woman some flowers for the favor she's doing us today."
"I know."
"Wanted a day to just fuck you...been so long, honey. Missed you. Missed taking you everywhere, anywhere."
"God, I know."
"I'm close, honey, shockingly so. You, uh..."
"Go on ahead, baby," you kiss him deeply. "Next one," you joke.
Hopper takes a few more thrusts before he's panting your name, kissing you, singing your praises.
You know he's getting tired when he brings you into the shower and doesn't fuck you.
It's nice to be this close to him again.
While you dry your hair, Hopper brings a beer out onto the front porch.
You finish storing the baby clothes and panic when you can't find the next size up. When you open the drawer, you see everything folded nice. Jim must have done it for you. And restocked the diapers. You smile, thankful.
You find him, almost asleep, on the front porch.
He startles when you straddle his lap.
You're in his big shirt.
"Fuck, baby, we owe ourselves a nap after this."
"Sure," you agree. "One more? Please?"
Hopper bites his bottom lip, squints at you, nods.
"Right here?"
"Right here," you agree, pulling him out of his pants and swiping his soft cock against your uncovered pussy.
Hopper sharply inhales, throws his head back.
"God, you're so fucking sexy. Jesus Christ..."
You get to kissing, touching, enjoying each other. Hopper manages to pick you up, steady you on the porch rail, and eat your pussy like he's starved.
It gets him hard pretty quick, considering how frequently you've been fucking.
"You cum on my tongue right fucking now, or you don't get my dick. Do you understand me?" He growls against your cunt.
You nod, eyes closed, feeling so close.
"What the fuck do you do to me, baby? Got me leaking precum right now, like I haven't fucked you in days. Christ..."
His mouth gets back to work, his perfect tongue talented as he puts pressure on your clit, swiping harshly, suckling, then fucking into your opening.
You come undone, grabbing his hair and moving him against you as you yelp his name.
Being alone at the cabin has its perks.
"Fuck, ride my god damn cock right now. Honey, please. Please. Need to feel you."
You love the desperation in his voice, know it well. Hopper is so fucked out and tired, you know he needs a break. Some sleep would help.
But you love to make him suffer.
"Oh, big daddy, I dont know...I was gonna go throw in some dinner, and change our sheets. I got what I needed."
You're convincing.
The look on his face is a mix of horror and understanding.
"I..." you watch the gears turning in his head, see him fall into the patio seat again, cock out and glistening with precum.
"My mom could show up any minute and drop her off, honey. I'm sorry."
His mouth hung open, he nods, licks his lips, shakes off his fog of arousal.
"Right, yeah, okay, I understand."
You break when he starts putting himself away, erection getting in the way of his zip.
Your hand covers his clothed cock and he jolts, gasping, cock twitching in your palm.
You rub him, watch him squirm, watch the expression change.
"God damn, you got me," he laughs.
"Now. Daddy. Would you like me to fuck you here or on the couch?"
"Here. Now. Don't make me beg."
"Ooooh, I like when you beg."
Hopper laughs, shakes his head, leans closer to your ear.
"Please, baby?" He speaks, his voice giving you chills. "Please ride my cock until I fill up your perfect cunt."
You slide down on his cock, eagerly playing around with different angles of your hips, enjoying when you hear him moan.
He loves when you bounce just on his tip a few times before slamming down onto him fully.
Each time, he chokes on a moan, lifts your hips to have you do it again.
"Wait. Wait. Right there, big guy. Right fucking there..."
You moan his name, he feels you fluttering around him, and it takes all his self-control to not erupt right then.
You're perfect. You feel so fucking perfect wrapped around his dick, it's amazing you two get anything done normally.
"Gah, mmmm, shit, baby...harder...there, slam this cunt against me. Fuck...your ass just...damn..." he gropes the fat of your ass, helps you on at the speed he wants, and you feel his cum shoot deep in you.
The moment he's done, he lets out a deep breath, wilts against you, head on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair. You kiss his temple, hum at the breeze blowing.
"My muscles hurt," you admit with a little giggle. "Damn, big guy...you still got it."
"-for an old man," he kisses you deeply. "You were gonna finish that with, 'for an old man', weren't you?" He teases.
"Never."
"Well," he stands up while holding you. Adjusts with his hand to put himself away. "This old man needs a nap."
He brings you into the house before your mom shows up with your daughter.
You put on a pair of pants, grab a blanket, and snuggle with your old man on the couch until you're woken up by a car door.
Kissing his chest, you groggily tell him to put on a shirt around your mother, then greet them at the door.
---
Two weeks later, you're nauseous and tired, your boobs aching...
You take a test while he's at work, the positive line showing up before the control.
When Hopper unknowingly shows up at home with a pizza and a bottle of wine, you let out a laugh, direct him to the test on the counter.
You can't help but tear up when you see the tears in his eyes, the joy on his face.
"Another one to love," you coo as he kisses you gently, runs his hand through your daughter's hair, cups her cheek.
Working at Enzo's the night Jim got stood up by Joyce.
Cw: 18+ mdni, explicit language, kissing, suggestive themes, heavy flirtation and innuendo, brief mention of oral (reader receiving), mention of pinv sex, nothing too explicit in this one.
You weren't a troublemaker by any stretch of the imagination.
Typical dysfunctional family, typical response of trying to be the fixer all your life.
Which is why you'd only heard of Jim Hopper. Seen him at an event or two in the community, but your hesitation around cops made it easy to stay away.
That didn't mean you didn't have eyes for him. He was your type.
And maybe the thought of the hero complex, of a savior, made some of your fantasies now and again.
You started working young. Any excuse to get out of the house. Wanted to make your own path, answer to no one, have a home of your own where you could feel safe; no slamming doors, no screaming matches, no gaslighting and broken promises and guilt trips.
You started saving, starting gathering information about buying a house, rubbed elbows with the right people.
And then an opportunity came up to be a server at Enzo's. You'd been several years beyond graduation, had just started house hunting, and accepted the job immediately.
That was four years ago. Now well settled into your 20s, you felt free. Stable income, good tips, regular customers, and a home to escape to every night.
Sometimes it felt expected and boring, the dull ache of loneliness drew you to bars with friends, but no one ever fit for you.
Nights typically went pretty smooth.
Until you were the senior server one shift and were called to the floor to deal with a disgruntled customer.
Rare. This was rare. Most people who could afford Enzo's came for a nice meal, tipped well, and left.
You pressed open the door of the back room, straightening your black dress, putting on a professional face.
Only to stutter-stop when you saw one Jim Hopper seated at the table.
Eavesdropping, you listened to the conversation his server was having with him. Other than the edge to his voice, he hadn't been too inappropriate with Hopper.
When the Chief began raising his voice and making a scene, you chose to step in.
Tagging out your colleague, you ignored your nervousness at confronting the Chief of Police.
"Is something wrong?" Your question was more to Hopper.
"Yeah, something's wrong," your colleague's professionalism breaks as you approach.
Annoyance flashes across your face for only a moment as Hopper takes another puff of his cigarette.
He raises a brow at you, shamelessly gives you a once-over and you feel so self-conscious in this black dress.
Smiling politely, you hold your index finger up, turn your attention on his server.
"Table 3 could use your attention," you nod in the direction.
He protests, shouting your name.
"Table. Three." You speak pointedly.
Hopper blinks slowly at you as you approach.
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Can I change waiters?" He speaks around the cigarette. "And make a formal complaint?" He sips from his wine glass.
You're not surprised, based on his server, but also assessing the situation you have no idea what's occurred. What did your boss always call these situations? Damage control.
"Of course. Lots of paperwork," you tease.
"S'that right?" Is he...flirting with you?
You take in the sight of the table; had seen it only a handful of times- small, intimate table for two. Romantic. Expensive. Most people dont stand people up when Enzo's is on the menu.
And who would stand up the Chief of Police?
Hopper catches your gaze.
"Please, sit," he extends his hand, all formal civility.
Your colleagues had been whispering that he was a brute.
You see none of it now.
He's pouring you a glass of wine and you're so shellshocked, you haven't figured out your next move.
"Yanno, usually when the Chief of Police gives you a directive, you follow it, sweetheart."
Fire blooms in your chest. Annoyance and arousal course through you.
"Kind offer, but I'm afraid I'm working."
"When do you get off?" His tone makes you think it's a double entendre.
"Half hour."
"Okay then," he nods, settles back in his chair. "Been waitin' all night for a no-show, so...I'll wait."
Your jaw almost drops, but you struggle to maintain professionalism. He catches the surprise behind your eyes, seems humored, looks you over again.
"Do you need anything?" You ask.
He blinks a look at you that reads, 'a lot of things', but shakes his head slowly, blinks and smirks.
"S'long as you keep that punk away from here, we're good."
You nod. "Can do." You're about to turn to leave, but you can't help yourself. "Dessert?" He quirks a brow at your suggestion, looks aroused and tipsy and wild. Your gut stirs. "It's on the house."
"I'll take anything you're offering," is his sultry reply.
You smile genuinely, ignoring the heat that's blooming in your chest once again.
"I'll be right back with that."
"Looking forward to it."
You force yourself to walk away, put in for some dessert, maintain composure.
"Oh. My. God!!! He was flirting with you. He was totally flirting," when you're in Back of House, your friend hypes you up.
"Stop. He's probably just drunk."
"Well, yeah! Did you see him?"
"No...actually."
"Oh, well, he was giving us shit about rushing him. Must've been stood up, by the looks of things. Got to drinking and he started to get belligerent. Until you walked out in that dress."
"Oh, stop," you wave her off.
"I'm so serious. His eyes were glued the minute you walked out. Like some movie or something. He invited you to drink? Come on. We both know you didn't take your break. Shift's over. Clock out."
You give her a look.
"When have you ever prioritized your own needs over what you 'should' do? Little rule follower. You know the boss owes you like a million favors. I will call her right now if you don't go back out there."
You shoot her a look.
"I'm clocking you out," she passes the dessert your way.
You know she's right, know you've skipped break a few times before and have been given permission to leave early, but the expected is safe. Walking out there to drink with a drunken Chief is unlike you.
You're so heated, feeling like you're on fire, but temptation wins and you're letting the whole place go up in flames.
You take the dessert plate.
...
"Back so soon? Such service." He quips as you set down the plate.
"Got off a little earlier than expected," your tone is dripping with innuendo. "Care for some company?"
"Got a seat for you right here," his words are laced with innuendo too.
Such a flirt for someone who was potentially stood up tonight.
You don't even care that your colleagues are giving you sidelong glances any time they pass the table.
Jim has his full attention on you, and it feels so fucking good. You feel a little daring tonight, a little out of control.
He asks about you. Wants to get to know you, listens with this calm expression on his face. You like being looked at by him. You like being noticed for once.
A few drinks shared, you actually eat the food instead of just serving it, and you've had just about enough of spending time at your place of employment.
"Of course I'm grateful for the treat, but would love a different backdrop. Any suggestions?"
Hopper nods, "could use some air."
He's paid - enjoyed your employee discount when he looks at the bill - and follows you out the door with his hand on your lower back.
The night air is perfect on your warm skin, feeling more heated with Hopper's touch on you.
"So I don't see you around 'cause you're a good girl, hm?" He's leading you down the sidewalk toward the park.
You glance up at him. He must know what he's doing. With that large build and the deep rumble of his voice, him saying 'good girl'...
He pauses, raises a brow.
"Oooh, what's that look for?"
"You can't be serious," you deadpan.
"What?"
"You. All of this..." you motion toward him, let your hand touch his arm as he doesn't drop his touch from your lower back.
"Yeah," he goes a little sheepish for a moment. "Was told this frock was a little too loud. Thought it was cutting edge..."
You see a side of him you've never before. The cockiness fades for a moment, his insecurities bleeding through.
You wonder who stood him up tonight.
It...angers you, surprisingly. Makes you feel bold and unhinged. You enjoy the freedom: feels like you're out of your head for once.
"I don't know who didn't choose you tonight, Jim, but..." you bite your lip, shake your head, look away, the boldness slipping from your fingers.
You think you'll shut up now. Before you say something you'll regret.
"No, what? Go on."
You blink up at him. "You're a good man, Jim Hopper. I believe that to my core. And whoever didn't choose you tonight made the biggest fucking mistake. I'm sorry."
Swearing in front of the Chief of Police. Talking down about whoever he'd asked on a date. Smooth. Real fucking smooth, you think.
Hopper takes a minute to look at you, his hand still placed on your lower back.
"Damn shame..." he starts, swipes a piece of hair behind your ear as the wind blows. You step closer, breeze giving you a chill now. "Nice time, but you're too good for me."
"Oh, shut up."
Maybe it's the drinks or the way he's looking down at you, but you end up gripping his collar and pulling his lips down to meet yours.
Hopper's surprised by you, but his large hands pull your body into his, surround you with warmth as he returns your kisses with a hunger of his own.
Hopper feels the chill bumps on your arms as he runs his hands down your skin.
He shifts out of his jacket, breaks the kiss only for you to meet him - needy - again.
He drapes the jacket over you, helps you into it, chuckles at your awkwardness.
You shy away, cover your swollen lips for a moment.
"I'm so sorry. You...probably have a lot on your mind from tonight and I shouldn't be adding to it."
"God, don't. Just don't. Only thing on my mind right now is getting you warm."
You eye him hungrily and he reads your expression instantly.
"Oh, Jesus...maybe not so innocent after all."
"Jim Hopper, I have had the biggest damn crush on you. Don't go leading me on if you don't intend to make good on your flirting."
"Oh, I intend to. Damn. You're hard to get a grasp on. So damn shy some moments, then super fucking demanding. Got a mouth on ya too, huh?"
"You have no idea."
"Do I get to find out?"
Your hands travel down his torso, enjoying the glazed over, aroused look in his eyes. You linger just above the button of his jeans.
"My car's right over there. I can drive my ass home, have a nice shower, remember the sweet moments about our wholesome Chief of Police."
"Or..." he chuckles, watches you shove your arms in his coat. Apparently you're taking it. "I could follow you home, join you in that shower, and fuck you good and proper so you forget that whole wholesome part."
Your stomach flips.
"I like that option way more."
Hopper pulls you in once again, kisses eager.
"It's a date. Lead the way."
---
The Chief of Police following you home, on his knees for you when he hoists you on your kitchen counter, eats you out before fucking you against the shower wall while water cascades down his strong shoulders...
It's a sight you will return to night after night.
That is, the nights he doesn't show up demanding more - which is few and far between.
Someone else's loss became your gain, and you intend to keep him for as long as he desires.
Reader comforts Hopper after he wakes up from a nightmare.
Ok you guys, this started off super fluffy, but got a little steamy for a moment there, then back to the fluff. I'm sorry if this isnt what you requested exactly, anon. I am feral for this man...
This was fun, thank you for the request! Send me some more, I'd love it!
Cw: 18+ mdni, snuggling, kissing, fluff, nudity, explicit language, nothing too steamy for this one, just some sexual thoughts.
Something is off.
You'd noticed Hopper had been distracting you from sleep for the last few nights.
"Let's stay up and watch a movie."
It seemed innocent enough, until it was night three and you'd seen the dark circles under his eyes.
"Are you sleeping?"
His, "yeah, m'fine," came way too quick for you.
It had gotten so bad, you'd started worrying about him at work. It wasn't the safest job to be sleep-deprived at. He needed to be sharp.
When you'd called his desk phone the other day, you could hear the grogginess in his voice.
"Did I wake you?"
"Honey, I'm fine."
Several times through the nights, you'd wake to an empty bed and find Hopper sitting at the kitchen table or lounging in his recliner.
"What is going on with you?"
"Can't sleep," he'd admitted one night.
Drastic measures.
Hopper slept through his alarm one morning and you had it - called Flo to tell her Hopper would be out sick today.
As you made the man some tea, you peeked back in the bedroom to find him stirring in his sleep.
Sweat clung to his forehead and for a moment you really did worry that he caught a cold or something.
When he shot straight up in bed, saw the empty space beside him, you could read the fearful expression on his face.
"Jim..." you rush to his side, set his tea down, embrace him without hesitation.
He clings to you, breaths coming out shaken.
He's crying.
You catch it in his gasps before feeling his tears on your shoulder.
"I'm tired. Fuck, I'm so damn tired..."
"Have nightmares been keeping you up?"
He nods, hums at your embrace.
"Oh shit...Work..." he breaks away to stand, stumbles lightheaded.
You pull at him, fail to stop him due to the size difference.
He ends up pulling you up instead.
"Jim, I called you off. You need rest."
He stops, takes you in, really looks at you. When was the last time someone treated him with such care?
He breathes.
"Sit. Drink your tea. I'm running you a bath."
He isn't a tea guy and is way too big for the bath, but you're very aware of both of these things.
To your surprise, he follows instructions.
When you return to him, you run a hand down his arm, massage for a second which makes the large man groan.
You can't help but kiss him then.
He holds a hand against your hip to steady you so you don't spill his tea.
You get a little carried away, a little heated, super handsy which he appreciates.
But then you remember the tub is running.
You lead him to the bathroom, help him strip from his clothes, kiss his exposed skin as you undress him. Groping him and fondling and kissing, Hopper feels such bliss - so different from the nightmare he'd just woken up from.
You can tell he wants more, which you promise a, "later" and he seems content enough with that.
Once you've convinced him to climb in the tub, you remind yourself not to laugh at the size of him in the water.
He feels so exposed, laying bare for you, cock still hard from your kissing.
"What are your dreams about?"
Whatever you put in the water smells delightful; makes him calm and sleepy. The heat and steam and dim light mixes into a dreamlike ambiance. It's alluring.
"Losing you," he answers simply, voice gruff from sleep.
You want to reassure him, but you know it's no use. The man had been through Hell.
So you grab a washcloth and start to gently bathe him.
You attempt to massage his shoulders as best as you can reach, rub gently at his skin.
"Get in here," he urges, lifting at the hem of your shirt.
Soaked from his wet hands, you playfully glare at him before stripping.
He watches your every move with hungry eyes and bated breath.
Climbing into his big lap, you moan at the warm water.
Hopper pulls you against his broad chest, moans at the feel of your body pressed this close.
You pretend to ignore his hard cock against you. That's not your main focus right now, though it's surely distracting.
Laying here with him, knees on either side of him, you feel content.
You lazily kiss his neck, nip lightly, love hearing his breaths of pleasure.
You know he isn't super comfortable in the tub, with his large build, so you don't spend too long in this position.
You sit yourself up in his lap, once again lathering soap on the washcloth, and taking your time massaging soap onto his body.
He watches you through half-lidded eyes, and if he didnt know better this was all a dream.
Gratitude hits him hard in this moment. He's gripping your thighs and massaging them as if it's you he's trying to take care of.
When you rinse the soap off him, you watch his eyes close in a mix of exhaustion and ecstasy.
"You ready for some rest?"
He lets out a deep grumble, nodding, tracing his hands up your body.
"We can worry about that later, sweetie. Come on out. Let's get you dry."
Later sounds like torture to him, but he realizes it's probably for the best considering he hadn't gone more than about 2 hours straight of rest for the last several nights.
He's lightheaded when you dry him with your fluffiest bath towel; leans against the sink, feels silly to be having you take such good care of him. It's a first for him, he realizes. Being taken care of has never been in his history - no one stayed long enough to learn him like you. Diane had been so focused on raising Sara, but their marriage fell by the wayside long before her diagnosis.
You leave him to get dressed, suggest he makes his way to the bedroom when he's done - which is way more suggestive than you intended it to be, but he soon meets you in there to see you finishing changing bedsheets.
"Clean sheets, clean body, clear head hopefully," you place your hands on his shoulders, laugh, "should've told you to keep this off."
He loves when you strip his shirt off, loves how you stare at him, admire every inch of body he used to hate.
"Gettin' mixed signals here," he teases with a kiss.
"As much as it pains me to say this: lay on your stomach," you wiggle a bottle of lotion his way.
It's torture letting you climb on him like this - straddling his thighs the wrong way - but when you start massaging his shoulders and back, he lets out a deep groan.
The comfort overtakes him. You admire him like this: big arms angled under his pillow, his warm skin while you rub tension out of his strong back.
You watch as he slips his left hand out from under the pillow, muscles tensing in his gorgeous arms as he angles back to rub at your thigh.
You two stay like this for several minutes. You massaging his back, shoulders, and arms, and him absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on your leg.
When his movements stop, you notice his soft snore.
Gingerly, you remove yourself from atop him- though it pains you again.
This is the most peaceful you've seen him in days.
You know he'll thank you - likely with pleasure - but hopefully he'll actually stay asleep for a while.
You stay beside him, worried he'll wake too quickly if you dont. You end up pulling out a book.
A cozy day in was just what you needed; your big man sleeping beside you, and eventually a warm drink in your future.
When Hopper wakes a few hours later, it's because you've curled into him, pulled the covers over you.
He smiles sleepily, gives you some languid kisses, and pulls you into his chest.
Content isn't a strong enough word to describe the moment.
AU where Jim gets to be happy with two kids and reader, but you have no time for sex anymore. 🙃
Cw: edging, breeding kink, mentions of trying to conceive, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of lactation kink-ish if you squint, big daddy Hopper just wants to fuck another baby in you.
It has been so nonstop lately.
Two kids. 25 month age gap was no joke.
You'd tried forever to conceive the first time - took over a year before you'd gotten that positive. Jim felt like he had two jobs; Chief of Police and your constant fuck toy.
If he were being honest, he kind of missed it.
18 month olds trick you, it's what you'd keep telling people. They're slightly more independent, still super cuddly, learning the world...and you forget about the birth trauma - consider trying again.
Jim was on board immediately for your second kid. Rushing through bedtime routines with your son just so he could get you alone, fuck you good and proper.
Your favorite was when he'd cum in you - praise you for taking him so good - and then demand you lay back and get off again. Cumming with his cum inside of you was another level of pleasure - it was the thing you'd done differently the month that got you pregnant.
And Hopper loved watching you get off again; thought you looked so pretty choking back your moans so you didn't wake the baby.
The positive came quicker this time, to your joy, and pregnancy sex was pleasurable until the third trimester for you. It was on.
That'd been another two years ago. Now the cabin was feeling full with joy and laughter and too many toys.
Hopper loved coming home to it.
"Daddy's home!!" He'd hear you tell the kids as he stepped on the porch.
Some days they'd almost hit him with the door, running out to him.
And you'd be there, doing dishes, it always seemed like you were buried in dishes and laundry anymore - but he'd still pull you into him with a deep kiss and an ass grab.
The kids would call out with an "eww!" which would get you to break away.
It was always such a wake up - the amount of laughter the four of you had anymore. He never thought he'd end up happy.
Kids now 2 and 4, you sometimes wondered if a third was really in your future.
Didn't stop you from trying, though.
Your drive was intense - especially with the weight Jim gained. You. Loved. It.
More often than not, you'd gotten interrupted lately.
A deep kiss in the kitchen one Sunday morning led to wandering hands. He'd watched you nurse your youngest again this morning - the weaning process not going as easily as it did with your first - and he'd seen that flannel of his go unbuttoned once more, your tit pulled out, a glance of nipple before she latched for you. You were an amazing mom. And for almost 4 years total now, he'd gotten to see you whip out a tit constantly to feed them between your two breastfeeding journeys.
It was torture seeing you topless and not being able to do anything about it most of the time.
Today, over coffee, you in his oversized shirt and him in his sweatpants, he pressed you to the counter and kissed you hard.
You'd almost spilled your coffee from the surprise.
The kids were still asleep - early morning wakings hard to break the habit of when they started sleeping through the night.
Hopper hoisted you on the counter.
Wrapping your arms around him, you deepened the kiss, trailing your hands over his large build, and quietly moaning at the feeling of him against you again.
"Fuck, I missed you, baby."
He was hard before you expected.
"Touch it, you know you want to."
As soon as you start stroking his cock, you freeze. One of the kids spoke in their room. Jim wanted to groan. Sleep talking, no surprise.
Your hand kept pumping him. If you kept this up, he'd embarrassingly cum in his pants.
His large hands trailed up your thigh, thankful you hated wearing pants to bed. Easy access to your panties.
You almost slide off the counter when he angles a finger inside of you.
"God damn it, so wet..."
"Think I'm ovulating, Jim."
A quiet moan leaves him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathes you in, kisses you there.
Your grip on his cock intensifies and he swears he's going to cum. It's been too long.
When the youngest cries, "Mama!!"Jim practically sobs.
"To be continued," your promise as you slip off the counter, body against him.
He presses you to the thing, spins you, bends you over, rubs himself against you.
Torture. This is torture.
You both break apart when your 4 year old runs out of his room and to the bathroom.
Mornings start early here.
Throughout the day, you're teasing each other. Any moment alone, or walking by there's a quick grope or kiss or whispered sexual comment.
It's. Torturing. Him.
When the kids' favorite show is on, you both claim to fold clothes in the bedroom, a second alone.
When you request his help, he's instantly there, closing the door and trying to be inconspicuous.
You've shoved him in the corner, kept the lights off, curtains drawn, so they won't see if they come intruding.
He's hooked on you. You're such a fucking dream.
When you take his cock out and fall to your knees, Hopper has to bite his cheek so he doesn't moan aloud.
"Good girl. Fuck. Been waiting all day for this." He cant help but thrust into your mouth, demanding his own speed.
You keep up easily, in tune with his pleasure and habits after all these years together.
"Fuck, are you touching yourself?" He swears he hears your wetness on your fingers.
A quiet, "mhm" vibrates against his cock head and now it's all the can think about.
Swiftly, he's hoisting you up, pulling your panties to the side, and bending you over the dresser.
He slides into you with ease, wraps your hair around his hand and pulls while he thrusts into you.
"Shhh...quiet, honey. Good God if I don't cum inside of this wet cunt right now, I'll have to punish you tonight."
It doesn't take you long. He feels you swelling around his cock and the way you're around him is making it hard to hold back.
"There. Right there, big guy. Please. Play with your tip. Like that, yeah. Fuuuuck..." you're whispering out as you thrust back against him. "I'm there. I'm there, Jim."
As soon as he feels you pulsing around his cock, he chokes on a moan.
His hips stutter as he tries to force his body to thrust through your orgasm before he lets himself go. He loves pushing himself deep into you when he cums, but he knows you need stimulation so he's giving these half-hearted tiny thrusts to save himself from overstimulation.
He can't help the soft growl that punctuated every exhale.
His hands linger on your body before he reaches for a washcloth from the laundry basket on the bed.
Slowly easing out of you, he holds the washcloth beneath you so you don't dot the carpet with his cum.
As he wipes you up, you spin to face him, kiss him deeply.
You're groping and fondling - always touching him - he loves the attention.
When you hear the kids fighting, you throw your head back in frustration.
"Tag, you're it," you groan, indicating it's his turn to break it up.
"Babygirl, that wasn't enough..." he's pulling his pants back up, the way he looks in the dim light is so alluring.
"I agree. I need you naked in that bed so I can worship that dad bod of yours."
He heaves a deep breath. "Maybe we can get a sitter this Friday."
"My mom wants them soon. I'll ask."
The yelling has stopped after the commercial break, you're assuming, and Hopper comes over to kiss you again.
"If we can convince them to nap today..." he speaks between kisses.
You hum a moan.
"You. Bed. Naked. Wanna play with those tits," he hums against your mouth. "Then I need you to sit on my face."
You choke a gasp.
Little feet running around the living space distracts you.
Reader is a counselor, and the cops at the station often call you when cases involve kids. However, when you get a call about Hopper, you're on high alert.
Post-season 5. Spoilers.
Fluff, comfort, angst
Cw: child loss, cancer, alcohol consumption
Tonight when you get a call at home, 9pm, you're sure it's Callahan again. No one else calls this late.
Only when you hear the soft sigh of Flo on the line, you're suddenly on alert.
Was it a dead kid? You're always anxious for that call; are haunted by memories of wild happenings in Hawkins.
"It's Hop," she breathes into the receiver. "I need you to check on him."
Flo said this happens every year around this time, said to bring him a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey.
It feels weird pulling up to the cabin, feels like you're intruding.
And you are, honestly.
You're sure you'll be met with some animosity. Rightfully so.
Three knocks. Several heartbeats before you hear heavy footsteps.
The Hopper who opens looks like a more sleep-deprived version of himself; redness under his bloodshot eyes as if he'd been crying.
"Can I come in?" You break the silence, hold up the whiskey, offer him the pack of smokes.
A beat passes.
Then another.
Begrudgingly, he steps aside to let you in.
"Flo put you up to this," it's not a question, more a statement. He sees right through.
"She's just worried about you, Jim."
He just grunts, opens the bottle.
"M'fine."
"You're not."
Dishes line the counter, laundry thrown on the couch, his hair looks a bit unwashed compared to normal.
You sit yourself at the kitchen table, take the first sip straight from the bottle.
Not cleaning up, as Hopper expects, no. You sit in the mess with him, push the bottle toward him, stare with that neutral expression on your face, wait him out.
Two cigarettes.
Several mouthfuls of booze.
The silence is killing him.
"You don't have to stay," he breaks.
"I know."
"Do you want to?"
"Do you want me to?"
His eyes meet yours.
His, "yes," comes out sooner than he expected.
"Then I'll stay."
Second cigarette finished, he runs his hands down his facial hair, blinks away whatever was on his mind. Fails.
"Callahan had a call the other night. Involved the Rodney kids again. Dunno if he-"
You set down the bottle again after taking a sip.
"We talked, yes."
"I just..."
You place your hand on top of his, fingers barely dancing across the blue hair tie he wears.
"We can talk about work, if you'd like. Or you could be real for once."
His expression shifts to one of anger, but he doesn't push you away.
The anger doesn't fade, but his face contorts into something miserable - tears brimming in his eyes.
He keeps his hand cupped near his mouth as a weary sigh leaves him.
Moments pass, the two of you sharing more of the whiskey. This pace keeps up, you probably won't be able to drive home.
"This is the day I lost my daughter." He speaks what you'd only heard as whispers around town.
"I can't imagine that pain, Jim."
The way his thumb drifts across your knuckles, how focused he is on your reaction, your expression, your words; his tears begin.
And they don't stop, not completely, as he tells you the whole story. How sick Sara got, how hard it was to hold on as your child looks to you for strength during this, a marriage ripped apart, emptying the house and boxes being the punctuation of years of his life, limping back to Hawkins for some sense of semblance, his ex wife moving on to have another baby with someone else, his turn to the bottle and pills to get by.
And you wonder about Jane.
His adoptive daughter, you'd learned.
Her sudden disappearance; how Hopper has refused to address it with anyone.
Rumor had it that her biological parents came and wanted custody back, and Hopper agreed because it's what Jane wanted.
Youre unsure you believe the rumor, though. A lot of strange things happened in Hawkins.
"I imagine for a few years, this day was a little bit easier to manage," you speak softly.
His fingers tense around yours.
His expression hardens.
Nostrils flare, chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
And Hopper crumples, forehead against the table, sobs wracking his body.
"Oh, Jim..." you coo, stand, fingers still clasped in his as you draw closer to rub his shoulder in comfort.
You dont know how many minutes you're like that. But you stay until his breathing has calmed, his hiccuped gasps lessen, the tears have dried up for the moment, and he finally lifts his head to stare silently at your clasped fingers.
You stay steady for him, still beside him, still touching him, rubbing a thumb across his shoulder every few seconds.
"Didn't know it then, didn't always feel like it, but those were a few good years."
Your heart aches for this man.
You smile sadly for him.
"Yeah? Tell me about them."
This gives Hopper pause.
"You really don't have to..."
"You said that already," you tease, sit back in your chair, remove your hand from his shoulder, still feel his fingers gripping your hand.
Jumping on here to tell you that I'm currently working on a Hopper x fem!reader fic where reader is a college girl and Hop is brought in as a speaker in her class. A steamy hookup ensues 🫦
Summary: Your professor brings in speakers for a 2-part series on the criminal justice system; q&a at the end. One Jim Hopper catches your attention. You hook up the first night you meet, let him finger you in the lecture hall, blow him in a study room...your spring break is about to be a very physical one...
"Words, sweetheart. I need words."
CW: 18+ mdni, age gap, pda, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, lots of teasing, unprotected p in v sex, public sex, alcohol consumption, dirty talk.
Sorry if I missed any warnings. This one is really explicit. Will proof more thoroughly later...
"So glad you chose to join us."
Shaking your head at once again being antagonized by your Professor, you set your bag down in the front row - you'd made it with minutes to spare. Naturally, everyone piled in the back so you were stuck up front for this lecture. Clearly, they hadn't started yet as the chatter was loud behind you.
"What can I say? Coffee line was nuts this morning. Half this hall was there, knowing we were about to fall asleep for ya," you quip, taking a sip of your coffee.
"Har har," Professor Morgan shakes his head. "Before you sit, come up here and get the prompt for your final paper."
Now you look to the front of the room, are surprised to see Professor Morgan is joined by a large man.
Holy handsome...
You're glad you didn't dress like a wreck this morning; your off the shoulder shirt showing some skin and jeans fitting your figure nicely.
You watch this guest watching you as you walk up to the front.
That's right, you'd almost forgotten - the promised two-part speaker series Professor Morgan promised.
"Hop, this is my star student. My only senior this semester. The only one who actually takes this class seriously," Professor Morgan nods at you, passes the paper over.
"Don't want it to impact my GPA," you shrug. "Hi, Hop," you glance over at your professor curiously at the name you'd heard him use, "nice to meet you," you shake his hand, try to ignore how large he is...
"Jim Hopper," he nods, "You bring enough coffee for us?" he jokes.
"Oh, I'll gladly go get you some. Get me out of this class," you tease.
He smirks at you.
"Oh, I dunno...this speaker series might convince you to change your major; pick criminal justice instead," Professor Morgan says.
You roll your eyes. "Unlikely, but I do appreciate you giving us an easy class, days before spring break."
"I'll try to be engaging," Jim jokes. "Would be way more engaging with a coffee, though."
You laugh.
"If I remember correctly, this is a two-parter, right? Maybe if you're engaging enough, I'll treat ya to a coffee tomorrow."
Flirting. No ring on his hand. You're shameless.
He catches on immediately, pinkness rising to his cheeks as he gives a silent nod, smirks again. "Fair."
You feel his eyes on you as you make your way back to your seat.
"Alright, let's begin. Part one of our two-part series. Today, we're blessed with an old war buddy of mine, Chief Jim Hopper. He comes to us from Hawkins, Indiana. Historically, he's worked as a homicide detective in New York City. He's got a lot of experiences to share with us. If you could give your undivided attention to Hop, this is a big part of the information you'll need to complete your final paper. If I need to spell it out to you freshman: take notes."
---
You'll give it to him, the presentation is wildly interesting. Professor Morgan spends time jotting stuff down on the board that ties into some of your class lecture while Jim talks. Clearly, he's not used to being in a position to present to this large of a crowd, but he gets the hang of it quickly. It's more conversational than anything, no big note packet, no diagrams - just stories of how he got to be where he is, what being a homicide detective was like, the wild stories of New York City.
You're. Hooked.
It helps that he's pure eye-candy. You can't help but size him up as he speaks, letting your eyes scan over him, linger on his arms and fingers, his lips, facial hair...
He catches you staring several times, and you feel instantly heated.
As your professor interrupts, Jim steps closer to the desk at the front of the stage, takes a sip of water, glances over at you, lets his eyes trail over you, wants you to notice.
You bite your lip, raise a brow.
He lifts his hand as if to silently ask, "well, what do you think?"
You purse your lips, point to your coffee, nod.
He finds you after the lecture is over.
"Convinced ya, huh? Homicide in your future?"
You almost spit your last mouthful of coffee out. "I'm sure there are way better ways to ask that question."
"Alright, let me ask another one," he laughs. You nod. "You free tonight?"
"Wow..." you laugh. "Smooth, Chief." His gaze darkens at the title. "I was just planning on getting drinks tonight, but a solo outing did sound a little sad."
---
You barely make it to the bar. Pregaming was always a bad idea, but you'd poured yourself a glass of wine as you got ready and when he knocked on your door, you were mid-sip and slightly flustered.
The hungry look that crosses his face makes you want to wrap your arms around him and kiss him until you're satisfied and his lips are swollen. But you hum, attempt to compose yourself, and offer him a drink.
You almost don't make it to the bar. You almost offer to just strip from this cute outfit you chose, lay bare for him, and let him do whatever he wanted to you.
"Good thing the bar's right down the road. Would hate to get behind the wheel and get cuffed for drinking and driving," you tease as you grab your stuff to leave.
Hopper hums around the glass, finishing his last gulp before putting it in the sink.
"You'd hate to be cuffed, huh?" the flirtation has been constant.
You shoot him a coy glance. "I didn't say it that way, did I?"
He's so close, you could kiss him. You know if you do, you won't be able to stop.
You've gotta hand it to him - he's letting you lead, stepping toe-to-toe to that line but never crossing it. You're inches from each other, both silently daring one another to make a move, yet neither one of you break. Not yet.
"We should be careful tonight." you say. "I heard there's a police chief hanging around here, but I'm not sure if we're out of his jurisdiction."
As you lock your door, he brushes his knuckles against your hand - a ghost of a touch that you almost wonder if you imagined. The heat blooming in your chest assures you that it was, indeed, real.
---
"What made ya take that course, if you're not going into the field?" he asks an actual question, seems to be trying to get to know you as you await your drinks.
The place is packed; you should've known better. Everyone getting their last fling in before spring break starts.
You explain that you're the only senior in this intro class because you're only a few elective credits away from graduation and you chose to give yourself an easy one, unrelated to your major so you could coast into graduation. Now it was a few weeks away and you were so mentally checked out.
Tonight was a great distraction.
"What're your plans after graduation?"
You smile genuinely at him. "I'm not really sure yet. A little overwhelming to say the least." you shrug. "Take my mind off it tonight?"
He pauses, thanks the bartender for your drinks, pays.
Clinking your glass with his, he nods at you, steps closer to speak into your ear. "Sweetheart, I'd love to let that mind of yours wander to other, more pressing things..." his free hand travels down to your waist, squeezes you gently, and pulls you closer.
You almost spill your drink as your hand instinctively goes to his big, broad chest. Instead, you remember yourself, try to straighten, ignore the looks of the others around you, and stare up at Hopper expectantly.
"You, sir, are trouble."
"Trouble was when you walked in that damn lecture hall."
---
You find a free table, listen to the live music, and enjoy each other's company. A few glances, some soft touching from Jim, but you keep control.
"Next one's on me," you demand, pushing your way through the crowd and leaving him to guard the table.
You feel his eyes all over you, turn to glance and watch him stare at your ass.
It thrills you to be this wanted, this chased.
You make a scene of leaning over the bar to shout your drink order, know he's watching every move.
When a guy from your class approaches, you tense up, body language closed off. He asks about the lecture from today, mentions that he saw you walk in with Hopper, asks if you're with him tonight.
"None of your business, but thanks for being so bold to break from your frat pack to ask."
You see the dark look on Jim's face, wave him off when he goes to ditch the table. You can handle it. Your order comes. You pay, grab both drinks, and return to Jim.
"I'm not keeping you from anything tonight, am I?" he questions when you pass over the drink.
"What? Some frat boy? Come on, you can't be jealous already, Jim, we just met."
He shakes his head, sips his beer.
The music crescendos and you find yourself moving to Hopper's side of the table, continuing your conversation, but letting yourself get swept away in the music.
At some point, his hand finds your waist, his fingers tracing against your hip, and you let yourself back up against him as the room gets more crowded with the night dragging on.
He's hard against you. Swaying to the beat of the music, you purposefully move back against him, swear your hear a quiet groan escape him when you do.
Glancing over your shoulder, you see the humored yet hungry look on his face.
You turn to face him, grip the collar of his jacket, pull him down, and ask, "Had enough yet?"
"You have no idea."
The kiss happens without you thinking much on it - all urge, all quiet desperation building up in you all night until you couldn't take the way he was looking at you anymore.
His kisses are addicting.
This is a problem.
Your hands travel down his torso, feeling his thick build.
Here, in the dark bar, crowd focused on the live band, you break the kiss and grip his hard cock over his jeans, staring up at his reaction.
The look of pure lust on his face is enough for you to grip his hand, leave the almost-finished drinks, and drag his ass out of the bar.
The no touching thing long forgotten, Hopper is all hands as he follows you down the street. The walk isn't long, but you can feel his groping getting more intense as you near your building.
He presses you against the doorframe as you're fumbling for your keys. His mouth lingers against your neck, travels up your jawline before he captures your lips with his.
It's not long before you're rushing to unlock the door, let him in.
Wordlessly, you're pulling at his jacket as he shuts the door behind you.
"Awful handsy now, aren't ya?"
"Strip," you demand, yanking at his clothes.
"Hmm, I don't know...bold of you to make demands. I'm the Chief of Police."
"Yeah. Hawkins, right? Not here."
He likes your fire. You can practically taste the lust as he captures your lips again.
Playfully, you pull away, wave a hand at him as if to say, "well?"
Slowly - so agonizingly slowly - he pulls off his jacket, then his shirt.
Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him. He's gorgeous.
"May I?" you ask, stepping forward to touch him.
"Oh, now you're gonna be all kind," he teases. "Touch me, sweetheart. Now."
You let him undress you as you're fondling him. Peppering kisses on his torso as he strips you completely naked proves difficult, but you manage.
He whistles lowly, ogles at you as he's shifting to his knees before you. You're staring, watching eagerly as he smoothly lifts you with ease, using the wall as a support as he drapes your legs over his shoulders.
"May I?" he uses your words against you, kisses your inner thighs.
Your, "please" comes out breathy before you feel his lips press to your cunt.
Fingers spread you gently as he licks you with a flat tongue. You hit your head against the wall as you throw your head back, gasping, gripping his hair.
He knows what he's doing, it's clear, and you're so aroused after all this. Suckling at your clit, he moans against you and you whimper at the sensation the vibration causes. Rutting against his mouth, you chase that high.
"Fuck, baby, I'm so close...wanna cum on your cock..."
He chuckles at that, pauses his movements which makes you cry out.
"Got all night for that..."
And he devours you.
You've never been touched with this much interest - never been worshipped in this way by any lovers - especially not someone you just met.
You're obsessed.
He gets you to cum on his tongue, savors every moan before letting you lower your legs, steadying you, then lifting you and encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.
You feel how hard he is and a thrill shoots through you.
You're peppering kisses on his neck, blissed out, breathless as he opens your bedroom door.
Tossing you on the bed, he kisses up your body, hovers over you, undoes his pants, and undresses.
When he glances back up at you, you nod in approval before he shifts his hips and eases into your wet pussy.
"Oh, fuck..." he presses his forehead to the top of your head as he bottoms out.
He's so big - you love touching him all over as he's thrusting into you, adore the stretch you feel - full like you've never been before.
"Gonna be really disappointed if you don't fill me up, Chief..." you whisper.
The whine he lets out surprises you.
"You on the pill?" he manages, voice tight as he thrusts smoothly in and out.
"Mhm," you nod. "Look at you being responsible."
Your fingers dance across his biceps. He shifts, pulls your leg at the bend of your knee, pounds deeper as you hear his breathing hitch.
At the new angle, you moan out. "Right there, fuck, don't stop. Tease the tip, please. God, please..."
Shockingly, he follows directions, hums another whine.
"God, cum for me...fuck, please, m'so close..." he groans. "Please..."
Him begging you, the desperation in his voice, his big body completely covering you...you're seeing stars as your orgasm explodes through you.
Hopper follows quickly, cock deep as you feel his warmth filling you.
He kisses your forehead, catches your lips again, before collapsing beside you and attempting to catch his breath.
"Night's too early," you glance at the clock. "Another round soon?"
He chuckles, running a hand down his facial hair where he can still taste you. "Little bit 'a time, sweetheart. Then I promise..."
"I top this time," you suggest, kissing his naked chest and lingering there, satisfied but so not.
"S'that right?" he laughs. "We'll have to see what you've got."
---
The next morning is slow and beautiful; kisses and breakfast and another quick fuck in the shower.
You're almost late for part 2 of the lecture.
You urge him to go on without you, meet up with your professor, pretend everything is as it should be.
You owed him coffee, you'd promised.
When you walk into the hall with his order in your hands, his eyes lock on you. He's seated in the front row, where you were yesterday, as today's speaker prepares up front. A q&a is promised at the end, you'd almost forgotten. Taking your seat beside him, you ignore the flipping feeling in your chest.
It's freezing in here. You hadn't put on a bra this morning and your nipples poking through your shirt get his attention.
You feel like the most important person in the room when he offers his coat to you.
Large coat over your body, you hum when the lights lower for a presentation. Flipping the desk down across your seat, you pretend to take notes.
And then you feel his fingers creeping up your leg.
Hiding yourself in his coat as inconspicuously as possible, you let his fingers travel up your skirt.
Hopper fingers you in the crowd.
"God, so fuckin' wet for me," he whispers into your ear.
Thankful for the dim light, you stare at the desk in front of you, pretend to be taking notes, fail miserably at being inconspicuous.
"Good girl...quiet..." he speaks so lowly.
Thick fingers angling just right, you inhale sharply when he pumps them against your g-spot - the angle deadly...
So aroused by all of this, you feel yourself getting close quickly.
When you cum on his fingers, Hopper exhales heavily beside you.
You're heated, sure someone noticed, but as you glance around no one meets eyes with you.
You catch him adjusting in his seat, gripping his coffee again before pretending he spilled some on his hand. When he licks his middle finger, you gape at him.
A quiet, "aw...shit..." greets your ears as they call the speakers up to the stage for the q&a.
"What do we say we take a 15 minute break and regroup and start our q&a?" Professor Morgan suggests.
The room applauds.
"You got a problem?"
"A bit..." as the lights come on, he guides your hand to his rock hard erection.
"Fuck..." you hum, totally aroused.
"Yeah..." he glances around as people get up to take a break, his posture shifts so he's leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, covering his erection.
"You want your coat back?" You shift to get out of it.
He shakes his head, smoothly reaches down to untuck his flannel from his jeans.
Wrinkled. Disheveled. He gazes over at you.
"...god damn. This isnt gonna work."
"What?"
He looks around, grabs your hand, hoists you up.
"Know this building well? Anywhere we can go?"
You mouth drops open, but your mind wanders.
"There are study rooms..."
"Lead the way."
Your eyes glance at the clock. Ten minutes.
The study rooms have sign in sheets on clipboards. Anxiety churns your gut. They're usually pretty open this early in the day, and so many students are in the lecture hall right now...
The first two are taken, the third is available. Quickly, you grab the pen, scribble "occupied", and follow Jim in the space.
It's small - a table and two chairs - and Jim's build takes up a lot of room. He presses you to the wall, kisses you deeply.
"Gonna need you to kneel for me now, sweetheart," he drones when you get swept away with kissing him.
"Right. Sorry!"
Hopper watches you get on your knees for him. His large police jacket looks so oversized on you.
With steady hands, you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He inhales deeply when your hand closes around his shaft, pulls him out.
He's painfully hard - has been since he got you to cum on his fingers in that damn lecture hall.
Your soft hand jerks him once, twice, before your soft lips spread, slipping him inside your mouth. You take him to the back of your throat immediately; he doesn't need to press in. His knees buckle slightly at the immediate sensation, but he leans heavier against the wall, throws his head back when you deepthroat twice more.
A flat tongue laps at the underside of his cock before swirling around his corona. When you lap at his tip, tensing your tongue then circling his hole, he gasps out.
Your hand grips the base of his cock, pumping him every few sucks.
The wet sounds it's making, how eager you are to please him, Hopper feels his fingertips tingling with lust.
This won't be enough either, he knows.
A pointed tongue trails up the vein at the underside of his cock, laps at his frenulum. Your free hand trails up his thigh, grips his hip before ghosting across his belly.
Another moan leaves you, further proving his theory that you were a chubby chaser. Noted.
Pulling back to gasp for air, you gaze up at him with those big eyes. Lusty and disheveled and lacking sleep last night, you're stunning he thinks.
When he grips the back of your hair, he guides your mouth back on him. You moan with his cock deep down your throat. He gasps out at the sensation.
"Oh, fuck, you like this huh? You like choking on my big cock. So eager to fucking please me." He's increasing speed as he pounds into your mouth. "You do this with all authority? Is it the fucking badge that gets ya? Huh? Cried out 'Chief' so many times last night."
You're trying to regain control, to use your tongue to make him overly sensitive as you attempt to swirl it around his corona again.
He presses you harshly into him, forces you to take him all the way back, feels chills when you gag. The sight of you choking on his cock will probably resurface the next several times he masturbates.
Your hand slips from his belly, cups at his balls.
Hissing an inhale, Hopper pulls your hair again, allowing you a moment to breathe.
A string of saliva plops down to your thigh, spit dripping off your swollen lower lip.
Eagerly, you pump his cock, coating your hand in the wetness from your mouth and adding more as you put your lips around him again.
Bobbing on him without his demanding grip, Hopper chokes on air, the sudden shift in speed making him lightheaded.
His knees give momentarily, but he presses harder into the wall.
Encouraged, you continue this pace. The wet sounds, your soft moans, the urgency...Hopper closes his fist against the wall, leans his forehead on it while he holds his breath for a second.
Gasping, he can't help but fuck your mouth as he feels his orgasm peaking.
"Gah, fuck, fuck...swallow. That's is, baby girl, take it. Fuck, swallow me down, honey. God..."
You have to swallow around his cock twice before licking his tip, then popping him out of your mouth once he's done.
A heavy breath and Hopper helps you up, isn't afraid to kiss you, to taste himself on your mouth.
Lips swollen, hair a mess, eyes glassy, you're a sight. Anyone takes one look at you, they'll know exactly what you were up to.
He runs a hand down your hair in a poor attempt to fix it.
"Tonight, I'm gonna fuck you until I'm good and satisfied. And you're going to fucking take it. Do you understand me?"
You nod, tears lingering at the corners of your eyes from the mouth fucking you just took.
"Words, sweetheart. I need words."
"Yes, Chief."
"Ohhhh, there she is..." he kisses you sweetly, nips at your lower lip before looking up at the clock. "Aw. Fuck. We're late."
Jeans zipped and buttoned, flannel shirt even more wrinkled, Hopper doesn't even attempt to make himself look more presentable.
He throws open the door, scratches out the "occupied" note you'd written, and begins the walk back to the lecture hall.
The two of you walking in together probably wont look the best, so you lingered in the hallway for a moment, run your fingers through your hair, hide your hands in the sleeves of his jacket, and eventually make your way back to your seat.
Hopper's eyes follow your every move.
The look of you in that coat...
He tries to focus on the question being asked from the crowd, but his mind keeps wandering.
Anyone who saw you in that jacket would know it was his. 'Hopper' in a name tag on the pocket.
The thought thrills him. What a sick fuck he is.
Thankfully the other presenter was a little more interesting than him, a lot more talkative, and Jim just mostly sat and waited until it was over.
He finds you exiting the room first - so flustered and excited about the day's events - but you don't want to make more of a scene.
"What a way to end my classes before spring break," you joke when you leave the building.
He chuckles. "So...spring break...?"
You eye him, "I don't have plans, if that's what you're asking."
"Got a nice little cabin in Hawkins," he shrugs. "Would love if you'd come."
Jumping on here to tell you that I'm currently working on a Hopper x fem!reader fic where reader is a college girl and Hop is brought in as a speaker in her class. A steamy hookup ensues 🫦
