After Will Byers’ rescue, when Jim Hopper accompanies the boy to his consultations to oversee his recovery, he develops an unexpected attraction to Dr. Rebecca Moore, Dr. Owens' assistant. To avoid compromising both of their positions, their relationship must remain private, with only a select few knowing about their affair. As their bond deepens, they form a makeshift family with Eleven — until the secrets surface, tearing apart everything they’ve tried to build. When Hopper uncovers the truth, he learns that Rebecca’s past is more tangled to Hawkins Lab and its dark experiments than it first meets the eye.
keywords: lovers to enemies, secrets, found family, fluff and angst, things start soft but end up in the deep end, intense topics, controversial decisions, Jim Hopper x OC
summary: You've been dating Chief Hopper for a few months, but this morning you really don't wanna leave for work just yet.
author's note: I'm so sorry for going MIA the past few months - I've had some health issues and some work stuff, but I hope to be back with Chapter 4 soon. In the meantime, I figured to post a little smut; consider this a Xmas present. 🤭 This is my first time posting full on nsfw content, so please be nice!
warnings/key words: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, morning quickie, established relationship
It was a late September morning, Monday, to be exact, and you were busying yourself with the dishes in the kitchen while Hopper was taking a quick shower before heading out. The lake lapped the shore with the first cool wind of the season. The water's surface reflected the low sunrays, blinding you slightly as you were washing away the plates from the hurried breakfast: a pair of coffee mugs and plates, one with a few bites of toast still on it. If it were up to Hop, he'd skip breakfast and "make up for it" with two jam-filled doughnuts at the station.
But then you came into the picture.
It all started when you moved to Hawkins a couple of months back. It was your second round of groceries at Melvald’s, after you'd realised that you definitely had failed to get everything for your new place and specifically had no dinner.
You were reaching for a canned soup - the only option at the store that seemed at least a bit appealing -, cursing under your breath whoever had thought to put it on the top shelf. Who these shelves were even installed for?
You were vaguely aware of the tall, big presence behind you, then a waft of cigarette smoke as a hand grabbed with ease the can you've been stretching for.
'Here y'go,' the can was handed to you, and you looked up to the man beside you.
You barely registered the beige uniform; your eyes were pulled to his face, the brooding blue eyes and the stubbled cheeks. He was rummaging around things on the middle shelf next to you. He was not your usual type, but man, oh, man, did that height and wide shoulders make your body feel unholy things. He looked solid, and, combined with his rugged appearance, it gave the impression of a man who could get things done.
'Thanks,' you managed after a long pause. 'You from around here?'
'Yeah, chief of police,' he tapped his badge with a finger.
This is how you got to know Jim Hopper.
When he learnt you were new in town, he asked you out for a coffee. Later, a dinner. Much later, he admitted that the first time he helped you was because he thought your butt looked good in your jean shorts.
Things evolved between you quite naturally.
You two would either spend the night at his lakeside trailer, or at your apartment near Main Street - that was, until the neighbours became rather distressed at how loud you two were at nights. There was no need for word to go around town how the sheriff was fucking his girlfriend, so it rather became the habit that you'd stay over his place - just like you did that weekend.
And you really, really didn't want to leave just yet.
Not after how tight he held you all night. Not after he undressed you before that, only to make you cum with his mouth until you lost count of how many times you moaned his name. Not that you were complaining. But you wanted him. Inside you.
Just then, Hop wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were drying your hands off. You leaned back into him, and he kissed your exposed neck, his stubble rubbing against your skin.
'Just when are you plannin' to give me my shirt back?' he teased, one of his hands slipping lower from your waist.
It was true: you were still in his shirt, the one he wore the day before and you picked it up this morning to have something on.
'What if I have nothing else under?' you twirled around to face him.
'Do you, now?' he smirked.
'You have to find it out for yourself.'
Oh, yes, he took the bait. There was a glint in his eyes. It was playful, first: he pulled on the collar of the shirt just enough to peek at your bare chest. Hopper raised his eyes back at yours, as if he was conducting an investigation and he was checking your reaction.
He captured your lips (a sweet, unassuming kiss) while his hand ran up the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside of it slowly but carelessly - like he was expecting to bump into some fabric any second, calling your bluff, but taking his time, teasing you.
Only instead, his fingers found your warm, slick core, and he paused. You ground your hips against his fingers, chasing the closeness.
'Shit, baby,' he growled. 'I'm already in my uniform.'
'Like that doesn't turn me on even more,' you laced your arms around his neck, giving him another kiss. One of your hands stroked through his hair, damp from styling, then your fingers travelled down his neck, smoothing down his shoulder, then his chest, as if you were tracing out his broad frame. Your hand slid lower, down his side and past his belt, until you were palming him, half-hard under the layers of clothing.
You felt a rush at feeling him, imagining how he'd feel inside you as your hand caressed him up and down through the fabric. Hopper suddenly broke the kiss, turning you around and pushing you to the counter. You didn't even gasp; if anything, that was the reaction you'd been fishing for.
He pushed up his shirt over your ass, taking a long look at your dripping folds.
'Fuck,' he groaned with exasperation. 'I'll be late.'
Then you heard the familiar clink of his belt buckle, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement into your stomach. The next moment, he gripped your hip, and you could feel his tip gliding between your folds, making you sigh out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding in.
He slid into you with ease, a deep moan rising from his chest. You were wet and soft for him - something that always made his head spin. He put one of his palms against a cabinet overhead to steady himself while he moved in and out of you. Your chest and cheek were pressed against the counter, and you rewarded his movements with the most sinful, satisfied sounds.
'Jesus,' he groaned, eyes falling shut. He was not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, not five minutes before he was supposed to be out the door.
'I'm gonna be late because of you,' he accused, his voice laced with lust.
'I wanted you so bad.'
He cursed under his breath and slammed into you, hitting your spot and making your eyes roll into your head. He always found it - you never told him, because he could be so smug, but he always did.
You reached back with one hand, trying to grab his hip, but with his movements, it always slipped from your fingers. It was too far back for you to hold it. Instead, your hand landed on his, the one gripping your waist to anchor himself.
His length sliding in and out of you was so rewarding. Just as you imagined. Better. Your own voice failed you as he gripped your waist stronger and he was picking up his pace - but his moans? They might've turned you on more than anything else.
Then, there it was again. And again. That painfully good sensation every time he pounded into you. It was now faster, deeper. The knot that has been steadily building in your abdomen found a sudden release, and you whimpered with your knees clenching together. Seconds after he groaned and you could feel him filling you, then it dripping down on your thigh.
Hopper folded on you, letting his weight settle against your shoulder blades as he was trying to catch his breath with his face pressed against your neck. You were in no better shape, still seeing stars, your hand jerking to tighten your hold around his when your muscles started to relax.
He lifted himself, just slightly, to brush your hair from your face and place a kiss there.
'I'mma blame this on you,' he rasped. 'Flo's gon’ kill me I'm late again.'
summary: You've been dating Chief Hopper for a few months, but this morning you really don't wanna leave for work just yet.
author's note: I'm so sorry for going MIA the past few months - I've had some health issues and some work stuff, but I hope to be back with Chapter 4 soon. In the meantime, I figured to post a little smut; consider this a Xmas present. 🤭 This is my first time posting full on nsfw content, so please be nice!
warnings/key words: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, morning quickie, established relationship
It was a late September morning, Monday, to be exact, and you were busying yourself with the dishes in the kitchen while Hopper was taking a quick shower before heading out. The lake lapped the shore with the first cool wind of the season. The water's surface reflected the low sunrays, blinding you slightly as you were washing away the plates from the hurried breakfast: a pair of coffee mugs and plates, one with a few bites of toast still on it. If it were up to Hop, he'd skip breakfast and "make up for it" with two jam-filled doughnuts at the station.
But then you came into the picture.
It all started when you moved to Hawkins a couple of months back. It was your second round of groceries at Melvald’s, after you'd realised that you definitely had failed to get everything for your new place and specifically had no dinner.
You were reaching for a canned soup - the only option at the store that seemed at least a bit appealing -, cursing under your breath whoever had thought to put it on the top shelf. Who these shelves were even installed for?
You were vaguely aware of the tall, big presence behind you, then a waft of cigarette smoke as a hand grabbed with ease the can you've been stretching for.
'Here y'go,' the can was handed to you, and you looked up to the man beside you.
You barely registered the beige uniform; your eyes were pulled to his face, the brooding blue eyes and the stubbled cheeks. He was rummaging around things on the middle shelf next to you. He was not your usual type, but man, oh, man, did that height and wide shoulders make your body feel unholy things. He looked solid, and, combined with his rugged appearance, it gave the impression of a man who could get things done.
'Thanks,' you managed after a long pause. 'You from around here?'
'Yeah, chief of police,' he tapped his badge with a finger.
This is how you got to know Jim Hopper.
When he learnt you were new in town, he asked you out for a coffee. Later, a dinner. Much later, he admitted that the first time he helped you was because he thought your butt looked good in your jean shorts.
Things evolved between you quite naturally.
You two would either spend the night at his lakeside trailer, or at your apartment near Main Street - that was, until the neighbours became rather distressed at how loud you two were at nights. There was no need for word to go around town how the sheriff was fucking his girlfriend, so it rather became the habit that you'd stay over his place - just like you did that weekend.
And you really, really didn't want to leave just yet.
Not after how tight he held you all night. Not after he undressed you before that, only to make you cum with his mouth until you lost count of how many times you moaned his name. Not that you were complaining. But you wanted him. Inside you.
Just then, Hop wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were drying your hands off. You leaned back into him, and he kissed your exposed neck, his stubble rubbing against your skin.
'Just when are you plannin' to give me my shirt back?' he teased, one of his hands slipping lower from your waist.
It was true: you were still in his shirt, the one he wore the day before and you picked it up this morning to have something on.
'What if I have nothing else under?' you twirled around to face him.
'Do you, now?' he smirked.
'You have to find it out for yourself.'
Oh, yes, he took the bait. There was a glint in his eyes. It was playful, first: he pulled on the collar of the shirt just enough to peek at your bare chest. Hopper raised his eyes back at yours, as if he was conducting an investigation and he was checking your reaction.
He captured your lips (a sweet, unassuming kiss) while his hand ran up the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside of it slowly but carelessly - like he was expecting to bump into some fabric any second, calling your bluff, but taking his time, teasing you.
Only instead, his fingers found your warm, slick core, and he paused. You ground your hips against his fingers, chasing the closeness.
'Shit, baby,' he growled. 'I'm already in my uniform.'
'Like that doesn't turn me on even more,' you laced your arms around his neck, giving him another kiss. One of your hands stroked through his hair, damp from styling, then your fingers travelled down his neck, smoothing down his shoulder, then his chest, as if you were tracing out his broad frame. Your hand slid lower, down his side and past his belt, until you were palming him, half-hard under the layers of clothing.
You felt a rush at feeling him, imagining how he'd feel inside you as your hand caressed him up and down through the fabric. Hopper suddenly broke the kiss, turning you around and pushing you to the counter. You didn't even gasp; if anything, that was the reaction you'd been fishing for.
He pushed up his shirt over your ass, taking a long look at your dripping folds.
'Fuck,' he groaned with exasperation. 'I'll be late.'
Then you heard the familiar clink of his belt buckle, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement into your stomach. The next moment, he gripped your hip, and you could feel his tip gliding between your folds, making you sigh out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding in.
He slid into you with ease, a deep moan rising from his chest. You were wet and soft for him - something that always made his head spin. He put one of his palms against a cabinet overhead to steady himself while he moved in and out of you. Your chest and cheek were pressed against the counter, and you rewarded his movements with the most sinful, satisfied sounds.
'Jesus,' he groaned, eyes falling shut. He was not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, not five minutes before he was supposed to be out the door.
'I'm gonna be late because of you,' he accused, his voice laced with lust.
'I wanted you so bad.'
He cursed under his breath and slammed into you, hitting your spot and making your eyes roll into your head. He always found it - you never told him, because he could be so smug, but he always did.
You reached back with one hand, trying to grab his hip, but with his movements, it always slipped from your fingers. It was too far back for you to hold it. Instead, your hand landed on his, the one gripping your waist to anchor himself.
His length sliding in and out of you was so rewarding. Just as you imagined. Better. Your own voice failed you as he gripped your waist stronger and he was picking up his pace - but his moans? They might've turned you on more than anything else.
Then, there it was again. And again. That painfully good sensation every time he pounded into you. It was now faster, deeper. The knot that has been steadily building in your abdomen found a sudden release, and you whimpered with your knees clenching together. Seconds after he groaned and you could feel him filling you, then it dripping down on your thigh.
Hopper folded on you, letting his weight settle against your shoulder blades as he was trying to catch his breath with his face pressed against your neck. You were in no better shape, still seeing stars, your hand jerking to tighten your hold around his when your muscles started to relax.
He lifted himself, just slightly, to brush your hair from your face and place a kiss there.
'I'mma blame this on you,' he rasped. 'Flo's gon’ kill me I'm late again.'
summary: You've been dating Chief Hopper for a few months, but this morning you really don't wanna leave for work just yet.
author's note: I'm so sorry for going MIA the past few months - I've had some health issues and some work stuff, but I hope to be back with Chapter 4 soon. In the meantime, I figured to post a little smut; consider this a Xmas present. 🤭 This is my first time posting full on nsfw content, so please be nice!
warnings/key words: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, morning quickie, established relationship
It was a late September morning, Monday, to be exact, and you were busying yourself with the dishes in the kitchen while Hopper was taking a quick shower before heading out. The lake lapped the shore with the first cool wind of the season. The water's surface reflected the low sunrays, blinding you slightly as you were washing away the plates from the hurried breakfast: a pair of coffee mugs and plates, one with a few bites of toast still on it. If it were up to Hop, he'd skip breakfast and "make up for it" with two jam-filled doughnuts at the station.
But then you came into the picture.
It all started when you moved to Hawkins a couple of months back. It was your second round of groceries at Melvald’s, after you'd realised that you definitely had failed to get everything for your new place and specifically had no dinner.
You were reaching for a canned soup - the only option at the store that seemed at least a bit appealing -, cursing under your breath whoever had thought to put it on the top shelf. Who these shelves were even installed for?
You were vaguely aware of the tall, big presence behind you, then a waft of cigarette smoke as a hand grabbed with ease the can you've been stretching for.
'Here y'go,' the can was handed to you, and you looked up to the man beside you.
You barely registered the beige uniform; your eyes were pulled to his face, the brooding blue eyes and the stubbled cheeks. He was rummaging around things on the middle shelf next to you. He was not your usual type, but man, oh, man, did that height and wide shoulders make your body feel unholy things. He looked solid, and, combined with his rugged appearance, it gave the impression of a man who could get things done.
'Thanks,' you managed after a long pause. 'You from around here?'
'Yeah, chief of police,' he tapped his badge with a finger.
This is how you got to know Jim Hopper.
When he learnt you were new in town, he asked you out for a coffee. Later, a dinner. Much later, he admitted that the first time he helped you was because he thought your butt looked good in your jean shorts.
Things evolved between you quite naturally.
You two would either spend the night at his lakeside trailer, or at your apartment near Main Street - that was, until the neighbours became rather distressed at how loud you two were at nights. There was no need for word to go around town how the sheriff was fucking his girlfriend, so it rather became the habit that you'd stay over his place - just like you did that weekend.
And you really, really didn't want to leave just yet.
Not after how tight he held you all night. Not after he undressed you before that, only to make you cum with his mouth until you lost count of how many times you moaned his name. Not that you were complaining. But you wanted him. Inside you.
Just then, Hop wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were drying your hands off. You leaned back into him, and he kissed your exposed neck, his stubble rubbing against your skin.
'Just when are you plannin' to give me my shirt back?' he teased, one of his hands slipping lower from your waist.
It was true: you were still in his shirt, the one he wore the day before and you picked it up this morning to have something on.
'What if I have nothing else under?' you twirled around to face him.
'Do you, now?' he smirked.
'You have to find it out for yourself.'
Oh, yes, he took the bait. There was a glint in his eyes. It was playful, first: he pulled on the collar of the shirt just enough to peek at your bare chest. Hopper raised his eyes back at yours, as if he was conducting an investigation and he was checking your reaction.
He captured your lips (a sweet, unassuming kiss) while his hand ran up the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside of it slowly but carelessly - like he was expecting to bump into some fabric any second, calling your bluff, but taking his time, teasing you.
Only instead, his fingers found your warm, slick core, and he paused. You ground your hips against his fingers, chasing the closeness.
'Shit, baby,' he growled. 'I'm already in my uniform.'
'Like that doesn't turn me on even more,' you laced your arms around his neck, giving him another kiss. One of your hands stroked through his hair, damp from styling, then your fingers travelled down his neck, smoothing down his shoulder, then his chest, as if you were tracing out his broad frame. Your hand slid lower, down his side and past his belt, until you were palming him, half-hard under the layers of clothing.
You felt a rush at feeling him, imagining how he'd feel inside you as your hand caressed him up and down through the fabric. Hopper suddenly broke the kiss, turning you around and pushing you to the counter. You didn't even gasp; if anything, that was the reaction you'd been fishing for.
He pushed up his shirt over your ass, taking a long look at your dripping folds.
'Fuck,' he groaned with exasperation. 'I'll be late.'
Then you heard the familiar clink of his belt buckle, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement into your stomach. The next moment, he gripped your hip, and you could feel his tip gliding between your folds, making you sigh out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding in.
He slid into you with ease, a deep moan rising from his chest. You were wet and soft for him - something that always made his head spin. He put one of his palms against a cabinet overhead to steady himself while he moved in and out of you. Your chest and cheek were pressed against the counter, and you rewarded his movements with the most sinful, satisfied sounds.
'Jesus,' he groaned, eyes falling shut. He was not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, not five minutes before he was supposed to be out the door.
'I'm gonna be late because of you,' he accused, his voice laced with lust.
'I wanted you so bad.'
He cursed under his breath and slammed into you, hitting your spot and making your eyes roll into your head. He always found it - you never told him, because he could be so smug, but he always did.
You reached back with one hand, trying to grab his hip, but with his movements, it always slipped from your fingers. It was too far back for you to hold it. Instead, your hand landed on his, the one gripping your waist to anchor himself.
His length sliding in and out of you was so rewarding. Just as you imagined. Better. Your own voice failed you as he gripped your waist stronger and he was picking up his pace - but his moans? They might've turned you on more than anything else.
Then, there it was again. And again. That painfully good sensation every time he pounded into you. It was now faster, deeper. The knot that has been steadily building in your abdomen found a sudden release, and you whimpered with your knees clenching together. Seconds after he groaned and you could feel him filling you, then it dripping down on your thigh.
Hopper folded on you, letting his weight settle against your shoulder blades as he was trying to catch his breath with his face pressed against your neck. You were in no better shape, still seeing stars, your hand jerking to tighten your hold around his when your muscles started to relax.
He lifted himself, just slightly, to brush your hair from your face and place a kiss there.
'I'mma blame this on you,' he rasped. 'Flo's gon’ kill me I'm late again.'
summary: You've been dating Chief Hopper for a few months, but this morning you really don't wanna leave for work just yet.
author's note: I'm so sorry for going MIA the past few months - I've had some health issues and some work stuff, but I hope to be back with Chapter 4 soon. In the meantime, I figured to post a little smut; consider this a Xmas present. 🤭 This is my first time posting full on nsfw content, so please be nice!
word count: 1,353
warnings/key words: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, morning quickie, established relationship
It was a late September morning, Monday, to be exact, and you were busying yourself with the dishes in the kitchen while Hopper was taking a quick shower before heading out. The lake lapped the shore with the first cool wind of the season. The water's surface reflected the low sunrays, blinding you slightly as you were washing away the plates from the hurried breakfast: a pair of coffee mugs and plates, one with a few bites of toast still on it. If it were up to Hop, he'd skip breakfast and "make up for it" with two jam-filled doughnuts at the station.
But then you came into the picture.
It all started when you moved to Hawkins a couple of months back. It was your second round of groceries at Melvald’s, after you'd realised that you definitely had failed to get everything for your new place and specifically had no dinner.
You were reaching for a canned soup - the only option at the store that seemed at least a bit appealing -, cursing under your breath whoever had thought to put it on the top shelf. Who these shelves were even installed for?
You were vaguely aware of the tall, big presence behind you, then a waft of cigarette smoke as a hand grabbed with ease the can you've been stretching for.
'Here y'go,' the can was handed to you, and you looked up to the man beside you.
You barely registered the beige uniform; your eyes were pulled to his face, the brooding blue eyes and the stubbled cheeks. He was rummaging around things on the middle shelf next to you. He was not your usual type, but man, oh, man, did that height and wide shoulders make your body feel unholy things. He looked solid, and, combined with his rugged appearance, it gave the impression of a man who could get things done.
'Thanks,' you managed after a long pause. 'You from around here?'
'Yeah, chief of police,' he tapped his badge with a finger.
This is how you got to know Jim Hopper.
When he learnt you were new in town, he asked you out for a coffee. Later, a dinner. Much later, he admitted that the first time he helped you was because he thought your butt looked good in your jean shorts.
Things evolved between you quite naturally.
You two would either spend the night at his lakeside trailer, or at your apartment near Main Street - that was, until the neighbours became rather distressed at how loud you two were at nights. There was no need for word to go around town how the sheriff was fucking his girlfriend, so it rather became the habit that you'd stay over his place - just like you did that weekend.
And you really, really didn't want to leave just yet.
Not after how tight he held you all night. Not after he undressed you before that, only to make you cum with his mouth until you lost count of how many times you moaned his name. Not that you were complaining. But you wanted him. Inside you.
Just then, Hop wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were drying your hands off. You leaned back into him, and he kissed your exposed neck, his stubble rubbing against your skin.
'Just when are you plannin' to give me my shirt back?' he teased, one of his hands slipping lower from your waist.
It was true: you were still in his shirt, the one he wore the day before and you picked it up this morning to have something on.
'What if I have nothing else under?' you twirled around to face him.
'Do you, now?' he smirked.
'You have to find it out for yourself.'
Oh, yes, he took the bait. There was a glint in his eyes. It was playful, first: he pulled on the collar of the shirt just enough to peek at your bare chest. Hopper raised his eyes back at yours, as if he was conducting an investigation and he was checking your reaction.
He captured your lips (a sweet, unassuming kiss) while his hand ran up the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside of it slowly but carelessly - like he was expecting to bump into some fabric any second, calling your bluff, but taking his time, teasing you.
Only instead, his fingers found your warm, slick core, and he paused. You ground your hips against his fingers, chasing the closeness.
'Shit, baby,' he growled. 'I'm already in my uniform.'
'Like that doesn't turn me on even more,' you laced your arms around his neck, giving him another kiss. One of your hands stroked through his hair, damp from styling, then your fingers travelled down his neck, smoothing down his shoulder, then his chest, as if you were tracing out his broad frame. Your hand slid lower, down his side and past his belt, until you were palming him, half-hard under the layers of clothing.
You felt a rush at feeling him, imagining how he'd feel inside you as your hand caressed him up and down through the fabric. Hopper suddenly broke the kiss, turning you around and pushing you to the counter. You didn't even gasp; if anything, that was the reaction you'd been fishing for.
He pushed up his shirt over your ass, taking a long look at your dripping folds.
'Fuck,' he groaned with exasperation. 'I'll be late.'
Then you heard the familiar clink of his belt buckle, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement into your stomach. The next moment, he gripped your hip, and you could feel his tip gliding between your folds, making you sigh out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding in.
He slid into you with ease, a deep moan rising from his chest. You were wet and soft for him - something that always made his head spin. He put one of his palms against a cabinet overhead to steady himself while he moved in and out of you. Your chest and cheek were pressed against the counter, and you rewarded his movements with the most sinful, satisfied sounds.
'Jesus,' he groaned, eyes falling shut. He was not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, not five minutes before he was supposed to be out the door.
'I'm gonna be late because of you,' he accused, his voice laced with lust.
'I wanted you so bad.'
He cursed under his breath and slammed into you, hitting your spot and making your eyes roll into your head. He always found it - you never told him, because he could be so smug, but he always did.
You reached back with one hand, trying to grab his hip, but with his movements, it always slipped from your fingers. It was too far back for you to hold it. Instead, your hand landed on his, the one gripping your waist to anchor himself.
His length sliding in and out of you was so rewarding. Just as you imagined. Better. Your own voice failed you as he gripped your waist stronger and he was picking up his pace - but his moans? They might've turned you on more than anything else.
Then, there it was again. And again. That painfully good sensation every time he pounded into you. It was now faster, deeper. The knot that has been steadily building in your abdomen found a sudden release, and you whimpered with your knees clenching together. Seconds after he groaned and you could feel him filling you, then it dripping down on your thigh.
Hopper folded on you, letting his weight settle against your shoulder blades as he was trying to catch his breath with his face pressed against your neck. You were in no better shape, still seeing stars, your hand jerking to tighten your hold around his when your muscles started to relax.
He lifted himself, just slightly, to brush your hair from your face and place a kiss there.
'I'mma blame this on you,' he rasped. 'Flo's gon’ kill me I'm late again.'
