#jim hopper fic

[luveline]

jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you. 

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic. 

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out." 

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close. 

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly. 

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks. 

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand. 

"You look sick," you say tearily. 

"Nice. You look worse."  

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?" 

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?" 

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus. 

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much." 

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry." 

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again. 

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly. 

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died." 

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back." 

You breathe out. 

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over. 

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb. 

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes." 

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?" 

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment. 

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently. 

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something." 

"Me?" 

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you." 

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly. 

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets." 

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened." 

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes." 

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want." 

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

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

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

PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #hopper smut #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x you #david harbour #stranger things smut #stranger things #perv!hopper #perv!jim hopper #jim hopper x fem!reader #hopper x fem reader #hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper x y/n #hopper angst #Jim hopper angst #stranger things angst #dark!hopper #dark!jim hopper #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #Jim hopper fanfiction #hopper x reader smut #hopper x you smut #Jim hopper x reader smut #hopper x y/n smut #Jim hopper x y/n smut #chief jim hopper

[ddejavvu]

Cockwarming hopper while he works at his desk at the precinct 💀

this post is 18+, minors dni.

but but but but but consider: he works in a semi-public setting so people are gonna notice someone sitting on his lap all the time, so you sit under the desk and cockwarm him with your mouth

--

Drool has long since begun to drip from your mouth, seeping out between your lips and staining the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes grow heavy as your tongue bobs against the underside of Jim's cock, suckling steadily on his sex.

You have to keep quiet only because there's someone on the other side of the desk, otherwise you'd be licking and sucking and choking on Jim's cock. He's not technically supposed to have you there, but you'd begged with shiny eyes to come in with him today, and as hard as he tries, he can't say no to you.

"You'll have to take territory disputes to court," Jim drawls, exasperation leaking into his tone. He's trying his hardest to stay polite, but the person he's talking to is just not getting it.

"But it's my fence, too. That's not something that a court has to decide, it's already decided 'cause it's in my fuckin' backyard!"

"Don't swear at me," Jim's voice turns sharp, and more drool pools under your tongue. There's something so arousing about his authority, even when it's not directed at you.

"I'm telling you that there's nothing the police can do. What, do you want us to repaint it for you? Arrest him for choosing the color blue?"

"I want you to do your job!" The man insists, and Jim's hips shift. HIs cock slips further into your mouth, nearly curving down your throat, and you can feel how tense the muscles in his thighs are. You know he's angry, you know he'll blow if you don't stop him, so you reach up, slipping your hand through the zipper of his uniform pants and cupping his balls.

You pull back to lick gently over the head of his cock, then suckle gently around it. With your hand you massage his balls, kneading and stroking the flesh amidst the patch of wiry brown hair there.

You feel him freeze up, gears turning in his brain with whether or not he wants to shout. Then he eases back into his seat, throwing a hand into his lap that doesn't look suspicious to the man he's speaking with.

"My job is to uphold the law." Jim speaks with a low, patient tone now, and he takes the hand in his lap and uses it to stroke his thumb over your cheekbone appreciatively. "Painting a fence is not illegal. If you'd like to take action against your neighbor, you need to convince a court that action is deserved. That is not my job."

"Useless." The man scoffs, and you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor, "You're a real community hero, Chief!"

You worry that Jim will get angry again. That his patience is already wearing thin, that it will snap in two. But he maintains those soothing motions against your cheek while the man stomps away, and as soon as the door to his office shuts, he's pushing his chair back to peer down at you.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He murmurs, a fond twinkle in his eye as your stomach flips at his praise, "Don't know what I'd do without you, y'know?"

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper scenario #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper one-shot #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper headcanon #jim hopper headcanons #jim hopper hc #jim hopper hcs #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper dialogue #jim hopper x reader fanfiction #jim hopper smut

[huntingingoodwill]

noise complaint

masterlist

pairing: hopper x reader

desc: hopper finding you drunk at a party, throwing you over his shoulder, driving you home and helping you sober up by holding your head up and holding the glass to your lips while you drink water and ramble about the ginormous crush you have on him is simply something so special to me

a/n: first hopper fic!! i do hope you enjoy. there’s hints of crybaby reader and an implied age gap. p.s. while searching for a gif for this fic i saw a fic description that had some similar elements to this one. i haven’t read the fic itself but i wanted to just apologise if my fic seems too similar! that was completely not my intention and i hope i don’t come across as offensive as i hadn’t known about the fic before writing this one.

A warm, happy buzz thrummed through your body as you smiled up at the ceiling blissfully. You had been drinking, the edges of the world becoming soft and blurry, a sweet warmth blooming in your chest. The music blaring through the speakers and the chatter of the party around you sent gentle vibrations through the plush couch you were lying on. Your smile grew wider. You felt good.

“Oh, shiiit!” You giggled, watching as a couple of party-goers raced past you, laughing at the way they tripped over themselves as they ran. 

“Oh, shit.” Your voice lost all its tipsy amusement, becoming deadly serious as Hopper’s face appeared above yours.

There was no use in running now. He had caught you red-handed, a little drunk and spacing out on the couch at a house party that was probably a little too loud for the host’s neighbours’ liking. Still, you turned over, sliding off the couch in defeat, shielding yourself from his condescending expression. Maybe if you tried, you’d be able to roll under the couch and hide from him forever. 

You heard him click his tongue above you in annoyance. 

“What’re you doing here, kid?” His gravelly voice held a flat tone, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. 

“I’d ask you the same question, but I assume you aren’t here to party-arty-arty.” You mumbled into the rug. 

You rolled over onto your back, now looking up at him. Of all the house parties, in all of Hawkins, in all the world, he had to walk into the one you were at. 

It was bad enough that the chief of police caught you less than sober, rolling around on the rug at a house party, but it was even worse that he lived right next door to you. You’d get the mail in shame for the rest of your life.

“I’m not here to party-arty-arty.” He grumbled, words sardonic as he rolled his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at his distaste for your phrase. “We got a noise complaint.”

“Bummer.” You mumbled. Your hand crept up to his heavy boot, tugging on one of his laces absent-mindedly. He scowled, pulling his foot away. You dissolved into giggles, abruptly stopping as you saw the glare he gave you. “Lighten up, Hop.”

“I’ll lighten up once you get the hell outta here.”

You smiled up at him sheepishly. “I… don’t have a ride home.” 

He blinked at you incredulously before letting out a low groan, digging his palms into his tired eyes. “Shit.”

“That’s one for the swear jar!” You sang, holding out your hand as if expecting him to drop a dollar in it. He lightly smacked it away and you pouted defensively. “Government wage that bad, huh?”

He shushed you irritatedly, prompting you to let out another laugh. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if deep in thought. 

He couldn’t just leave you there. You were his neighbour’s daughter, for God’s sake. 

“You’re cute when you’re thinking.” You whispered.

He opened his eyes, ignoring your comment and the heat creeping up his neck. 

He exhaled sharply, crouching down next to you as he slid his jacket off, wrapping it around your waist. Then, in one movement, he hauled you up onto his shoulder. 

You exploded with laughter, your dizziness worsening as you hung upside down, thrown over his shoulder. 

He paused, taking care to pull his jacket down over your butt as your skirt rode up. He locked his arm around your thighs and made his way out of the house, boots clomping on hardwood and then gravel as he approached his truck. 

He took a second to breathe in the night air. His free hand snaked into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it nonchalantly, as if you weren’t slumped over his shoulder, ribcage shaking as you struggled to stifle your laughter.

You raised your arm behind you, toward his face, index and middle finger extended, asking for a drag. He pushed your arm away. 

“Nice try.” He scoffed, opening the door and helping you into the passenger seat. 

“Worth a shot!” You grinned. He shook his head, letting out a low chuckle. 

He leaned over you, pulling your seatbelt over your chest and buckling you in with a satisfying “click”. His eyes flickered to your face as you smiled dreamily up at him.

He felt his lips turn up in response, unable to control himself. 

“What’s got you smiling, huh?” He asked, curious. 

“You look rather handsome tonight, Chief.” You whispered, your voice lilting, sing-songy in your inebriation. You tugged his hat off his head, twirling it between your fingers. 

He looked at you, your shy gaze avoiding his as you clumsily handled his hat. 

His heart thumped. He turned away, clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered expression. 

“You look rather drunk.” He replied, giving your reddened cheeks a tap. 

He rounded the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat, watching as you kicked your legs up on the dash with a loud thump, placing his hat over your face as you settled into your seat. 

His eyes travelled over your leg propped up so close to him, bent upward onto the dash. He grabbed your knee and shoved it back down, and he could tell you were giving him that mischievous smile, even through the hat that obscured it. His lips quirked upward. 

As he drove you back to your house, the bump and sway of the truck on the poorly paved roads lulled you to sleep. Slowly, the hat slid off your face as your temple dropped against the window. You held the hat in your arms, keeping it close to your lap as you dozed, the drinks you had earlier sending you to sleep quick enough. 

He turned to look at you, taking a drag of his cigarette as the other hand gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the roads. He slowed down, attempting to steer past the potholes so you could sleep in peace. Still, your head would knock against the glass every once in a while, causing you to frown in your sleep. He chuckled, watching your sleepy pout lit up by the streetlights that flashed by overhead. It was cute. 

He faltered for a moment, hesitating, before reaching over to hold your shoulders, trying to push you back onto your seat. 

Gonna give herself a damn concussion. 

Instead, you slumped toward him, your head, heavy with sleep, falling upon his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, glancing at you. You nuzzled into his side, lips parted gently. 

He swallowed thickly, trying to stay as still as possible, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel though. Slowly, he relaxed, getting used to the weight of your body pressing into his shoulder.

Eventually, he pulled into his driveway. He hated having to wake you up, pausing to gaze at your peaceful, sleeping face before gently shaking you awake. He held back the urge to smile as you rubbed your bleary eyes, glancing around you as you realised where you were. 

“Alright, run on home, now.” He said, nodding toward your door. 

Your eyes widened, and you swivelled back toward your seat, yanking down the passenger side mirror. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” You mumbled, panic tinging your voice.

You smoothed down your dishevelled hair inelegantly, pressing the backs of your hands to your still inflamed cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down. 

You huffed hopelessly, setting your forehead against the dash, letting out a little whine of despair.

“Okay, cut the dramatics…” His heart softened as you let out another pitiful whine, but he pressed on. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door-” 

“Hop, please don’t make me go home yet.” You pleaded with him, holding onto his arm. “I’m still buzzed, my parents are gonna be able to tell-” 

He opened his mouth to refuse once more, but began to panic when he spotted the glimmer of tears welling up in your eyes, your lip wobbling. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cr-” 

You gave one last convincing sniffle. 

He sighed, caving in. “Okay, okay-”

You gave him a toothy grin before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a grateful hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squealed. 

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, patting your back awkwardly, feeling reluctant when it was time to break away from you. “Just until you sober up.”

He opened the door for you, letting you hold onto his shoulder for balance as you hopped down from his truck, making sure you were walking steady as he led you to his porch. You plopped down ungracefully, and he draped his jacket over your shoulders. 

The wood of the porch was cold and uneven beneath your thighs as you sat on the ledge, fiddling with Hopper’s hat in your hands. He returned from inside with a glass of water, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he sat down next to you. 

You looked at your feet as you sat in silence, the night breeze ghosting your face gently, crickets chirping in the distance. You heard the click of his lighter and turned to watch as Hopper’s face was illuminated by the fire as he lit another cigarette, his features bathed in the golden light.

You put on his hat, adjusting it so you wore it just like he did. He peered over and chuckled, flicking the brim. 

“Cute.” He muttered, before clearing his throat and turning away, awkwardly drumming his fingers on his thighs. 

“You think I’m cute?” You asked, looking up at him through your wide eyes. 

A blush crept up his cheeks. 

“Drink.” He said gruffly, holding out the glass to you. 

You ignored his gesture. You felt your cheeks warm even further, the effects of the liquid courage you’d had earlier taking hold now, stronger than ever. Your lips became loose, and you could tell you were about to be a little too truthful and that you’d regret all the words that were about to leave your mouth. Still, you spoke. 

“Because, I think you're cute.” You blurted out. 

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before regaining his feigned unfazed expression. 

“You’re drunk. Drink.” He spoke. 

“Like, really cute.” You swayed toward him. “Like, really, really-”

His hand splayed on the back of your head as he held your head up towards him, holding the glass to your lips, making you pause and take a sip. 

“Cute.” You finished. 

“I think I like you.” He made you take another drink of the water, the smooth, refreshing liquid sliding down your throat, a little slipping down your chin as he held the glass to your mouth. He used his thumb to wick the droplets away. “Like, really like you.” Another drink. “Whenever I see you-” Another sip. “I get all these butterflies in my stomach and I-” Sip. “Just can’t describe it. Like, I-” Sip. “I think-” Sip. “I think I like everything about you.” 

You went on like this for ages, Hopper holding the glass to your lips and interrupting you with sips of the water, as you rambled on and on about the huge crush on him that you’d been nursing for ages now, completely oblivious to the smug smile that was now gracing his face as he held you. 

After a good while of pouring your heart out, you seemed to run out of steam, panting a little at the rapid speed you had been talking at. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, you nodding in response. You were sobering up, but the burn in your cheeks still hadn’t subsided. You were blushing for an entirely different reason, now.

He nudged the small of your back, urging you to stand up. 

“Walk in a straight line.” He called out, prompting you to laugh as you did what you were told. 

“You gonna ask me to recite the alphabet backwards now?” You turned to him, smiling cheekily as he approached you. 

He hummed, as if in deep contemplation. “I think that won’t be necessary.” 

He threw his arm around you as he walked you to your door, pulling his jacket tighter around you. 

You stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath of anticipation as you both stared at it. 

“Hop?”

“Yeah?” 

“You’ll wave at me from your window if I end up getting grounded, right?” 

“Of course, kid.”

#hopper #hopper x reader #hopper imagine #hopper imagines #hopper fic #hopper fanfic #hopper x you #hopper x y/n #jim hopper #chief hopper #david harbour #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper imagine #st #Jim hopper imagines #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper fic

[velvetcloxds]

A MAN IN UNIFORM | J.H.

pairing: brother's best friend!jim hopper x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (reader in her late 20s)

summary: your brother's best friend has always been hot, but him stepping in when you got an unfair ticket strutting around in his sheriff uniform has you feeling some type of way

Now, had Hopper walked out of his office to find anyone else making a scene in the middle of the police station, shouting at the top of their lungs, catching every eye in the room, throwing things at one of his best officers- he’d have thrown them right out the door. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you, his best friend’s little sister and heaven knows he at least had to give you a chance before doing exactly that. He folded his arms and leaned against the open door of his office as he shook his head to stop his deputy from getting your attention.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately, picked up the phone and slammed it down again, dialed your number, and then shoved the phone away, imagining your voice on the other end- would you be excited to hear from him, surprised maybe? He saw you properly at Christmas and Thanksgiving every year and sometimes easter, ran into you around town, and flirted a little in the movie store but not nearly as often as when you were teenagers hopping between diners and bars in high school.

“Listen here, bucko,” you pointed a bright red-nailed finger at the officer who was smirking far too smugly in your opinion, all things considered. “Do you have any idea how close I am to kicking you right off that chair?” he didn’t think you were serious, Hopper knew you were, so when you took a step forward, he did too.

“Lady, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s just a ticket.”

“Just a ticket,” you shrieked, it was a familiar sound, one much like the one you’d give him when he’d thrown you in the pool on summer break or cut you off from the jello shots back in university, it didn’t mean anything good was to come. “If my brother finds out I was given a ticket in his car by some dipshit who just got his badge, he’ll have my head- no matter the reason for said ticket being that the asshat in question had his little ego bruised when I didn’t want to go out with him and decided to get back at me,” Hopper moved at that, a gentle hand on the small of your back, a dangerous look aimed at the officer in front of you as he mumbled your last name just loud enough to let you know it’s him.

“Hopper,” the officer tutted, seemingly under the impression that he was about to be backed and not the other way around, smugness only growing as he stood up to hand over the ticket that you’d thrown at him earlier. “I tried to talk her down,” he scoffed, you fumed, the audacity. “You know how these girls are, can’t take no for an answer.”

“You little shit.”

“Language,” Hopper reminded you, but he was smiling in a way that meant he didn’t mind nearly as much as he should, lightly pulling you behind him and pointing towards his office, it was a clear command and you’d not take it so seriously were he not looking down at you, were he not so close to you, had you not realized in a split second how long it’s been since you’d seen him in uniform doing all of the above somehow making it all seem absurdly attractive. “I’ll take care of it, yeah, meet me in my office. “

Jim Hopper was the only man who could give you an order like that and have it obeyed, even with a big huff and stomped steps and a whole ordeal of uttered musings and threats, you did go to his office, and you busied yourself with the little figurines on his desk while you waited. He was talking to or rather at the officer you’d lost your cool with and you weren’t nearly as curious about what he was saying as you should’ve been. He’s always been attractive, always been too kind to be that hot and you remember countless years being wasted on having a crush on your lame brother’s very cool best friend who picked you up from school and carried your books and turned down nights with girls far out of his league in favor of keeping an eye on you and put out his cigarette when you were near- and now that very cool, very hot, very kind man was walking right towards looking far too damn good in a uniform you’d have to stop yourself from imagining him without.

“Is it safe in there?” he hummed as he stilled in the doorway, one hand holding a crumbled-up ticket, the other reaching to the coat rack to take his hat and you watched him with narrowed eyes as he set it on his head. “Stop frowning at me like that, trouble,” he wasn’t serious, really, he found it adorable even though he knew he shouldn’t, then again, he also shouldn’t have disciplined an officer for being an ass to his friend, but that ship has also sailed.

“Did you put him in his place?” you dared, taking his keys from his paper stack before sliding off his desk to meet him at the door, that same finger that you used to point at the officer now sliding over his tie to straighten it. “Because I’ll walk right back to him if you didn’t.”

“Course I did,” he was the smug one this time and it had the exact opposite effect on you, especially when the officer came walking past the office with a box full of goods and his tail between his legs on his way to the public complaint department of the station and you understood why Hopper seemed so pleased with himself. “Happy?” he dared but of course you were, so much so that you tugged his tie lightly to pull him closer and placed a red-lipped kiss right on his cheek, giggling from the feeling of the little hairs of his beard creeping up over tinted skin.

“Very happy, Jimmy,” you cooed, and he was glad for the door frame because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself standing were it not there. “Seems that uniform of yours is good for more than just making me nervous,” you admitted and gave him no time to push for more before slipping past him into the hallway, stealing his hat and gripping his keys tightly as you did. “Are you taking me out for lunch to celebrate, sheriff?” as if he’d ever say no, as if you’d ever let him.

“As long as you’re not driving,” he knew it would rile you up just enough to frown all perfectly at him, with big eyes and scrunched nose as you walked backward towards the exit.

“I’m ordering an extra piece of pie just for that.”

“I thought we were sharing,” he countered, quick to follow just in case you tripped and hurt yourself. You shook your head, tutting as he caught up with you just in time to grab your hand and pull you out of the way of some stranger.

“No way, got to keep those pants of yours looking nice and tight.”

“Naughty,” he breathed, and he paired the word with a little whistle and desperate glance away from your teasing, very longing gaze. You made quite the little show of licking your thumb and wiping carefully at the red lip stain on his face, for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to cover him with those all over, his neck, his chest, those big arms of his and in turn you found your cheeks spreading with warmth and wondered if you were too old to have a crush on your brother’s best friend or the town sheriff for that matter.

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x yn #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper fic #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

[lavendertales]

Rules—Jim Hopper x f!reader**

summary: you made a promise to not even look at chief Jim Hopper in order to keep your relationship a secret. but after a while, you can’t keep it together any longer.

word count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: fondling, teasing, dry humping, semi-public action.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: my apologies to Joyce. Jopper is still #1 in my heart, but this one’s for us, Hopper gals 😌

gif: @wheelernancy​ 

He’s only ever asked for one thing from you: discretion. It wasn’t about hiding or avoiding anyone, really, just keep a low profile when it comes to the two of you. That meant no visits to his office, no visits to your office, no side eyes to each other, and not a word that could be misinterpreted as anything more than polite.

It had gotten increasingly difficult over the past few weeks though. You’ve been patient and low-key thrilled about the secrecy, but dating Chief Jim Hopper was something to brag about in itself. It was difficult to see him and not kiss him, not even cuddle up to him or smile brightly and happily.

But you knew that his coworkers would make this a reason to gossip, tease Hopper in any way they could, and that wouldn’t reflect well on either of you. Hopper already had a sketchy reputation when it came to women in spite of his grim past, and you certainly didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.  You also would’ve liked to be there for him and share a normal connection, without fearing of what others have to say.

Needless to say, you were in a bit of a pickle.

You’ve been good so far. In the five months you had been secretly seeing Chief Hopper, you have behaved accordingly. A little too much, you might cheekily add. Though in the intimacy of his—or your—place, Hopper always rewarded you plenty for your good behavior, nothing would’ve compared to the thrill of being a little naughty, for once.

Truthfully, you didn’t plan this per se. It’s based merely on subconscious desire, guiding you almost blindly to the police station. The visit is no different than any other, except—well. You suppose this is a more conjugal visit after all. You’ve never visited the station and simply waltzed into his office or even demanded to see him. You always waited for him to come to you, outside, in the car, in the dark. So this is unknown territory all around. Yet, you carry yourself with confidence. You are well known among the officers for being a very sweet neighbor and a very hardworking lady. None of the police officers know you as Hopper does behind closed doors.

Much to your luck, the station is nearly deserted. The janitor already began his night shift, but the light in Hopper’s office is still on. Smiling politely as you walk by the janitor, you knock on the door, trembling with forbidden excitement upon hearing his raspy “Come in”.

You wear a bright smile as a greeting, as opposed to Hopper’s wide eyes and shocked face. He immediately stands up, cautiously sprinting to the door to close it behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks frantically.

“Filing a complaint.”

His face drops, suddenly a whole other concern on his mind. “What, really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t see you as often lately, and not as publicly as I should.”

Hopper exhales, rolling his eyes. This is certainly not the place for you to have such a dramatic reaction, but he also suspects you’re not there at that ungodly hour to tell him just that.

“This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?”

“No, Hop. I understand why it’s best to keep this under the radar, but… it would be nice to be able to sit next to you without you calling me ‘ma’am’ or asking me about my reason for being at the station.”

Hopper falls back into the chair, examining your face. There’s clear hurt smeared over it, but nothing short of mischievousness. He sees the flicker in your eyes, the way it dances in your irises, seemingly teasing him.

“I get what you want, baby, but it’d be so much harder that way.”

“You’ve been working too much. I barely see you,” you sulk.

“I know, I know, baby…”

“What am I supposed to do while I wait for you all alone at home? It’s just me in that big house, thinking of you… playing with myself…”

That draws him in without fail. His pupils are fully blown as he stares at you pretending to sulk and be upset. The uniform starts to strange him, and suddenly he feels like ripping it off entirely. He gulps, watching you sit on the edge of his desk, legs crossed enough to expose your thigh in that sinfully short skirt that turn him into a puddle.

“That what you do?” he asks in a thick, coarse voice, a wild smirk on his lips. “Sit around and touch yourself?”

“Sometimes, yes. I mean, what other choice do I have when you’re not there, you know?”

He scoffs, his large hands reaching to pull you across the desk and onto his lap. You gasp in surprise when you land on his thighs, biting your lower lip and taking off his hat.

“You could just wait for me,” he coos.

You shrug. “I could, but I just get sooo wet, it’s unbearable.”

Hopper’s hands boldly reach behind you to grab handfuls of your ass, squeezing it till you gasp and roll your hips as a response. The movement feels surprisingly good; even he’s astounded at the feeling of your almost bear pussy grinding on his leg.

“How unbearable is it now?” he asks.

“Very.”

Your voice is dark, filled a desire like none before. You repeat the movement from before, trying to establish a rhythm on his thigh while Hopper kisses you deeply, almost swallowing you entirely. You moan into his mouth, a cue for him to squeeze your ass again and subsequently move you on his thigh. You try to stifle your gasps as much as possible, even as Hopper shushes you.

“We don’t wanna alert the janitor that there’s an impending mess to be made, would we?” he cheekily asks.

You nod, Hopper’s hands moving in tandem with your hips as you finally figure out a rhythm. You only stop to pull your panties to the side, much to his surprise. He can barely contain himself, especially when he remarks the wet trail you’re leaving on his pants and how hard he’s gotten already. Risqué is not enough to describe the current situation, but it’s oddly enticing. You can’t stop rubbing your wetness against his thigh, and thinking you could get caught makes it ten times better.

And then Hopper leans in to kiss you again, sloppy and greedy, your hands never leaving your ass. He’s starting to think about all the ways he’ll get to use them when he gets you home, in the solitude needed for you both to release all of that tension.

“Hop—I think I’m—“

“Yeah?” he grunts in between kisses. “Go for it, baby. Gimme a good one.”

You can’t help but; next thing you know, you spasm and seize up right there on this thigh, convulsing around nothing and smearing your arousal all over his work pants. You know he’s gonna use this as an excuse to scold you and then fuck it out of you later, and that thought makes you smile through your climax.

“Atta girl,” he smiles as well, his head buried at your chest as your own is thrown backwards in sheer ecstasy.

When you slow down, still reeling from the force of the unexpected orgasm, you smile at him, cup his cheeks and kiss him sweetly, tenderly.

“You’re okay to walk to the car like this?” he teases you some more.

“I’ve been in worse shape.”

You giggle, hands pressed on his chest. In that moment, you know he’s also thinking of the times he’s fucked you so hard your legs were shaking, simply turning into boneless masses of flesh. And even then you tried to be bold about it, but he chuckled and pulled you back to bed, any sign of confidence vanished when he held you in his arms.

You get down from his lap, struggling to adjust your attire, and Hopper keeps his mouth shut. He makes no cocky comment, he simply admires you. Then, he follows into your footsteps and stands up, looking around for potential colleagues. Luckily, everyone’s gone. Mark the janitor might still be there, but he never pays any mind to any business that goes down around the station.

Trusting his gut, Hopper picks you up and puts you over his shoulder, making sure at the same time that nothing beneath your skirt is revealed.

“Hopper, what the hell are you doing?!”

“We’re going home, baby.”

“Yeah but what in God’s name—“

Hopper shuts the door behind him, nodding once towards Mark, who only side eyes him.

“Evening, Mark,” he salutes him. “Take it easy, man.”

“Evening, Chief.”

Not a single stare, nothing. Even you’re surprised as you dangle from Hopper’s shoulder, but you’re left feeling rather thankful as well. You didn’t want anyone asking questions about that particular sight.

He finally puts you down when you get to his car, and you throw him a shocked glare again.

“What the hell was that? Did privacy go out the window?” you nearly laugh.

“It kinda did when you came into my office with ill intentions.”

“I beg your pardon, Chief Hopper, I had nothing but kind intentions.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you and you both get into the car. You do a little gesture to arrange your outfit, and this time, he lets out a big sigh, followed by a chuckle.

“At least one of us has,” he replies. “Cause when we get home, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

tags:

@spitfire4life​ @trickstersp8​ 

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x f!reader #jim hopper x female reader #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fic #jim hopper smut #david harbour #david harbour fanfiction #david harbour fic #david harbour smut

[lady-z-writes]

Been a while and I just have the urge to write Jim Hopper, okay?

Hopper x reader...sexual tension galore.

"Drive."

Wordlessly, he presses his foot to the gaspedal. Hopper isn't interested in the story this time, is just thrilled you're getting out of there. Time and time again, he'd arrested your boyfriend for disorderly conduct. It's how you met. He was always curious about the pretty little thing that swung by to pick his ass up every time.

You'd called on him a few times, when he'd get physical with objects in the house - start throwing things. Hopper would offer you a smoke on the porch as Callahan took a statement from your boyfriend, sometimes it ended with another arrest. And you two would get to talking about how a nice girl was with such a deadbeat, about how much longer you'd put up with it. You knew it had to stop. But you knew it had to be you to finally make the choice to leave.

Tonight was that night. You'd called him at the station and said you needed a ride. Anywhere. You didn't care.

So, here he is at 2am - tired eyes and an ache that only another night on duty would give him.

When you slid into the passenger seat with two big bags, he knew there was a story there.

You're wearing a red dress and heels and - fuck - is he into your shape. Wants to run his hands down your curves. Wants to make you feel good for once.

Has he grown attached to you over these last few months? Absolutely. Is he going to put you in a position where you felt pressured? Absolutely not. You have enough shit to deal with.

"I need a drink," you say it suddenly but it seems like those words have been rolling around in your mouth for hours. Had you been thinking of him? "Buy me a drink."

One drink turns into two which turns into you spinning around that pool table, a smile on your face for once, feeling lighter without that baggage weighing you down. You suck at pool - your words, not his - but you sure look good bent over, determination on your face to use that stick.

"I've only ever played with my hands," you'd said which made him almost spit his beer. "Never learned for real- just goofed around in high school."

He'd teach you, but that's cliche. Instead he lets you cheat, use your hands if you wanted. It just looked good to see you laughing.

He wondered where you'd been in that dress before you loaded up all your shit and took off. A dress like that deserves to be hiked up as you're fucked good and hard until you squirt.

But these are thoughts for another time, for someone else probably. Yet you're giving him this coy smile before taking your next sip and if he's reading the room well enough, you're flirty.

You make it pretty obvious when you move in close, draw your arms over his shoulders, look up at him.

"You're not in the right place for this, not tonight, sweetheart." He says it though it pains him.

"You know," you don't let go, "he knows me pretty damn well. Accused me of having a little crush on you."

"Is that right?"

"That's right," you draw in closer to him.

"You're just jumping from one car crash to another."

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Jim." He focuses his gaze on you. "If you don't feel something between us, I'll go."

He huffs a laugh, sighs, looks at you. "What have you been thinkin' about?"

"Today?"

"Sure."

"Well, right now I'm thinking about you bending me over this pool table."

The look you're giving him is enough to make him sigh a heavy breath.

"Fuck..." He leans his head back, stares up at the ceiling, contemplates in what world this would be an okay thing to do.

"Chief?"

"Hm?"

"You can kiss me."

"I could," he agrees, letting his hands trail over your arms as he's trying to hold back the urge to pull you in enough to feel his hardening cock. "But I don't think I'll be able to stop there."

He levels his gaze on you.

"Good," is all you say.

He inspects you now, a groan just barely heard.

"I take you to my place...you sleep. You wake up and you're still interested, I'm off tomorrow. It's your lucky day."

"Deal." Without hesitation, not missing a beat, you pull him close to kiss him on the neck.

You linger there, the tension between you two igniting something in Hopper that's long burned out.

Tomorrow...He can hardly wait.

#jim hopper fic #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper x you

[empresskylo]

𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 [j.h. series]

「 completed 」 ・❥・jim hopper x afab!reader ・❥・series summary: you had always thought chief jim hopper was hot. and you knew he thought the same about you, he just tried to hide it because it was wrong--he knew your dad for fuck's sake... (oh, and you were still in high school.) however, after hopper crashes a house party, you ask him for a ride home. hopper briefly loses his self-control promising to never do it again... ・❥・18+ minors dni — smut, age gap, size kink (reader described as small), reader in hs but is 18, unprotected sex, uh power dynamic sorta not really? no use of y/n. every chap has smut. ・❥・wc: 15.9k

⇢ ˗ˏˋ chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 「moodboard 」

*•.¸♡main masterlist *•.¸♡nav*•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt

֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper smut #ride masterlist #smut #stranger things #st4 #stranger things fic #jim hopper fic #hopper #hopper smut #hopper fic

[inklore]

still of the night

premise: hopper was many things, but a man of resistance when it came to you was not one of them.

pairing: jim hopper x (f)reader

word count: 653

warnings: eighteen+ content, consensual somnophilia, unprotected p in v, unmentioned age gap, pet names, wrote this with season one hopper in mind but imagine whichever look you wish, establish relationship, smallest amount of dirty talk.

etc: this is my first time writing for daddy hop which is very shocking to me and my whore self, but i hope the hopper babes enjoy it!

kinktober 03 | kinktober masterlist

It’s quiet when he walks in. A calm settled inside the small trailer, a stark contrast to all the noise and chaos of his day. The quiet almost weird to him, doing the opposite of what one should feel when they come home to it. He should be basking in the calm after the storm, but his body is still compressed. Nerves still making his fingertips itch for a cigarette.

The calm doesn’t hit him until he’s bypassed the living room. Leaving his hat and belt to occupy the rest of the scattered items on the coffee table. His figure moving down the hall to the master bedroom, when he steps in the doorway that’s when the calm comes.

When he sees you laid out on your stomach, blankets kicked off, cotton underwear on display as the old t-shirt you’re sporting has ridden up your stomach in your sleep. The slow rise and fall of your chest; that’s when he feels at ease. When the troubles of the day have completely deflated his body into something more than autopilot and caffeine.

Jim Hopper was many things, but a man of resistance when it came to you was not one of them.

Your relationship had taken the both of you by storm with how easy and quick it had formed. The attraction coming simply and the love following in abundance. As did the desire, the want, a need he forget could feel better than just a quick fuck with someone random he met at the corner bar.

You had become that calm that settled not only in his home but inside of his bones—and his cock.

Hopper loved taking you anyway you’d let him. He loved putting you in new positions, pushing your knees to your chest so he could watch you squirm and try to take all of him without fight.

He loved fucking you in his car, or on his desk when you’d bring him lunch.

He was a lucky man. A man whose cup never ran empty when it came to that throb in his cock.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like you most like this.

Ass in the air as if you knew he’d come home and find you like this. Like you knew his cock would grow hard and the strain from a hard day would not allow him to hesitate. To stop himself from taking what you’ve given him permission to have when he needed it, wanted it.

It’s why he doesn’t think twice in stripping from his clothes. From pulling your legs straight so he can climb on top of you, pull your panties off and easily slip inside of you.

A “fuck” whispered into your shoudler blade as he fills you. As he begins to move in the slowest of thrusts, pushing deeper and deeper as he does, letting your walls relinquish his tension of the day.

Give him what he so desperately needed from you right now.

When he finally fills you to the hilt, when you’re finally completely full of him and there’s a light smacking of his hips against your ass as he fucks you—that’s when you finally start to make noise.

Your noises of sleep turning into soft whimpers as he fucks you. As he softly grunts and breathes against your cheek, his weight at your back.

It takes a little longer than usual for you to come to. To finally open your eyes and your ass squirm up into him.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes. Pressing a line of kisses along your jaw. “I couldn’t help myself, you looked so pretty.”

Your pussy has already grown wet, is already taken him so well. It only takes a few seconds of comprehension for your body to alight with pleasure and join him in searching for that release.

“Had a long day,” he grunts. “I need to come, baby—need you.”

#hopper smut #jim hopper x you #jim hopper smut #hopper x reader #stranger things smut #jim hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper x y/n #jim hopper x fem!reader #hopper x f!reader #jim hopper x y/n #stranger things fic #hopper imagine #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper fic #hopper fic #jim hopper #kinktober #kinktober 2022

[boogiewrites]

Jim Hopper Masterlist

Jim Hopper

Don't Call Her Annie (Complete) : Annette Horowitz is Joyce's younger sister. She hasn't been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove she isn't a bad person. She hasn't been around much in the past 20 or so years, but when she comes back home she finds old friends, old habits and old feelings she'd thought she'd finally escaped. Can she really change or is she just kidding herself?  Chapters containing explicit sexual content are in bold.

Part 1 Intro, Part 2 Advice & Arrests, Part 3 Bars, blankets & Bonfires, Part 4 Drunk & Discussions, Part 5 Preferences & Propositions, Part 6 Birthdays & Anniversaries, Part 7 Memories & Monologues, Part 8: Dusk & Dawn. Part 9: Valentine & Variation , Part 10 Reflection & Reassurance Part 11 Dancing & Domesticity Part 12 Music & Misunderstanding Part 13 Nostalgia & Now 

Before & After : Dealing with the 1 year anniversary of her almost life-ending accident coming up soon, our main character not only has to deal with how this makes her feel, but also how it’s making Jim feel. Chapters containing explicit sexual content are in bold.

Chapter 1 Before, Chapter 2 The Day Before, Chapter 3 Preparation, Chapter 4 Pt. 1 The Anniversary, Chapter 4 Pt. 2 The Sleepover  Chapter 5 The Honeymoon Phase , Chapter 6 Control , Chapter 7 Losing It, Chapter 8 Finding It Chapter 9 Figuring It Out

Summer of Hopper : Hopper is in pieces after coming back to Hawkins after Vietnam. How long will you be able to be the strong one if you are also on the edge from taking care of him? If you both break…then what happens? 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Some Legs Are Meant To Be Broken (Complete): When Hopper breaks both of his legs, and you’re the newest employee at the station, it means you get recruited to be his babysitter. Would he be as frustratingly difficult to deal with as you imagine? (Originated from a request to write Hopper in a similar situation to Andy Dwyer from Parks and Rec when he had two broken legs. This was where that prompt took me.)  Chapters containing explicit sexual content are in bold.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 

One Shots - Jim Hopper (SMUT)

An Act of Nature: You move back to Hawkins, luckily you hit it off with a friend of your stepbrothers. When Chief Hopper finally gets around to asking you out, what is it going to take for the two of you to find time alone? An act of nature?

Not the fun kind of Daddy issues: Jim Hopper is your ex-husband. The fire burned bright but you just aren’t good for each other, you know it. You both try to deal with divorce and trying to raise Jane together despite your differences. Will she end up bringing you back together, or tearing you apart? Or maybe a little of both?

Long Day, Longer Night: A long day turns into an even longer night after you find yourself alone with the Chief…yet again. (My Valentine's fic. Tried to make something romantic and wax poetic a bit.) <3

Don’t Mess With Jim: It’s been a long week without being able to see your favorite man, and you intend to make sure he remembers what he’s been missing. You’re reminded of just how powerful of an affect Jim’s words can have on you (and others).

**IF YOU ARE HAVING TROUBLE WITH ANY LINKS LET ME KNOW! AND IF YOU FIND YOURSELF STUCK, TRY SWITCHING MY OLD SCREENNAME “JIMJAMS83″ IN THE URL WITH “BOOGIEWRITES” AND IT SHOULD REDIRECT YOU TO THE PROPER PAGE!**

#Jim Hopper #jim hopper x oc #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper au #Chief Hopper #Chief Hopper x reader #chief hopper x y/n #chief hopper x oc #chief hopper x ofc #chief hopper x f!oc #chief hopper x f!reader #chief hopper x f!y/n #jim hopper x f!reader #jim hopper x f!oc #chief hopper au #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper fic #jim hopper ff #jim hopper fan fiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fan fic #stranger things

[luveline]

need need NEED more hop x reader w el they are the CUTEST

“So she’s coming?” El asks. 

Hopper pushes a glass of orange juice in her direction. “Mm-hm.” 

“And she wants to see me.” 

“Yeah, kid, she wants to see you.” 

Eleven’s hair curls just under her ears. Hopper hadn’t suspected her hair would be curly once it began to grow, but it waves gently, and tighter the longer it becomes. He doesn’t know how to take care of it. He only just taught her how to use shampoo and conditioner without leaving all the suds in. 

She scratches it. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” He ruffles her hair. “Eat your breakfast. You can get changed when you’re done. You need me to help you find something?” 

“No. I like choosing.” 

Hopper knows. She isn’t good at matching yet, but she’ll get there. 

She eats her breakfast too quickly, doesn’t drink her juice, and doesn’t put her plate in the sink before she goes, but Hopper doesn’t bother getting mad. He’s trying to be less moody. He’s also trying to be understanding; she’s learning to be a normal kid. Most normal kids are slobs. 

“Can we have dessert?” El shouts from her room. 

“You can have a snack later.” 

“Please?” 

“You can have some chips once you get dressed. Are you still hungry, or–?” 

“Snacks,” she says, turning on her radio. 

Hopper nods, laughing to himself when there’s a knock at the door. He’s been waiting to see you all weekend, and he walks to the door with a terrible smugness about him to let you in. 

“Hello,” he says, wedging the creaky frame open with his shoe. 

“Hi, handsome.” You look up into his eyes, fresh-faced like you’ve had a good scrub and dressed for a day in the house in cuffless sweatpants and a hoodie he thinks might be his. “Wow, nice shirt, hotshot. What is that? The Hawkins Police Department fun run of eighty two? That’s vintage.” 

He leans down to kiss you hello. 

“Oh, hi,” you flirt. 

You’re confident when you know you’re loved, he’s found. Still the homespun woman he knew you to be, but affectionate once you’re comfortable. He smiles into your mouth and pulls you tight to his chest, lifting you off of your feet for a millisecond before placing you back down. 

“Where’s my girl?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. 

“El?” you call. You slide around him to find her but turn back, “Did you ask her about the hugging?” 

“She says it’s fine.” 

“Like, she wants to?” 

It had been a strange conversation. Hopper is used to telling El things, or being told things by her. He didn’t ask her what she likes for breakfast, he just kept guessing until he found the right stuff. She never asked him if she could sit in his side during movies, she just inched closer until he put his arm around her. 

“She wants to,” Hopper says. She’d seemed perturbed by the question, sure, but it ended with her happy little smile through a handful of popcorn. 

“El?” you call again. 

“Kid! Your best friend is here!” Hopper shouts. 

Thunder from her bedroom, a door swung open and slapping the wall. “Y/N?” she asks, the skirt of her dress swinging as she pauses in the doorway. 

You smile and step forward. You’re tentative but excited all the same, laughing as you wrap your arms around her shoulders, and pat her back. “Hi, beautiful.” 

“Where have you been? It’s two weeks.” 

“Yeah? I didn’t mean to not see you for so long, I’m sorry.” 

“Hop says you have lots to do.” 

“There’s a leak in my bathroom,” you take her by the shoulders. “Aw, this is nice. When’d you get this? It’s light and summery.” 

“Hop… from a catalogue.” 

You raise your brows at him, grinning. “That’s nice. How many did you get?” 

“We got five.” 

“Five! From the catalogue!” You hold her hand. “Hop must really like you, huh? Who can blame him?” 

El looks down at your joined hands. Hopper feels his skeptic heart softening. “He likes you, too.” 

“But do we like him?” you joke, letting go of her hand to put your arm behind her back instead. You give Hopper a look. 

“What?” he asks. 

“I was thinking we’d go out for milkshakes?” 

Hopper bites his tongue. El has a birth certificate now, she’s his daughter, she can’t be taken, but going out with her into the world draws stares and derision alike. People can tell she’s abnormal, and he can’t stand that. She doesn’t deserve to be gawked at for talking a little slowly, or messing with stuff she doesn’t understand. 

But he doesn’t want her feeling punished for those things either. 

“Get your jacket, El.” She beams, rushing for her room. “She’s gonna love the jukebox,” Hopper says. 

You meander back into his arms, kissing his stubbly cheek. He pretends to nudge you away.

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

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x reader • Hopper has been your dad’s best friend for years. He always thought you were a nice, if not slightly awkward, kid. But when you return home to Hawkins during a break from college, Hopper is immediately smitten with the young woman you’ve become. He indulges his infatuation with you in the only way he can. Hopper lets his mind run wild with a fantasy that’s become familiar to him, even though his feelings for you leave him racked with guilt. And maybe that’s where the story would end for Hopper, alone and burning up in a desire he would never be set free from… But when you came home to Hawkins, you brought with you a knowledge, a craft, that a practical man like Hopper would never give credence to, until it captures him wholly, body-mind-and spirit…

Quiet moments like this were the most difficult for Hopper. When he wasn’t physically kept busy with his job, he was mentally kept busy by his conscience. Guilt tended to creep up on him most acutely in the moments he should have been able to rest, especially the early hours of morning. While Hopper believed mornings should be spent with warm coffee and personal introspection, he found it impossible to practice what he preached.

In fact, Hopper’s hypocrisy extended to more than one area in his life. While the town of Hawkins assumed their Chief of Police was, for the most part, an upstanding and honorable man, he harbored an uncomfortable secret that burned in the back of his heart: Jim Hopper was in love with his best friend’s daughter…

If only you’d never come back to Hawkins, Hopper told himself, he wouldn’t be caught in this moral storm. If you’d stayed away at college, Hopper never would have given you a second thought, except for when your dad mentioned you. His only memory of you would have remained the one Hopper had always had, of you as a skinny, polite-but-awkward kid.

The current image of you in Hopper’s mind was vastly different. You were all grown up now, the clumsiness of your youth replaced with a woman’s elegance. A gentle, refined softness had replaced all your rough edges, the gangly limbs of your teen years now shaped into the graceful form of a young woman. A beautiful woman, Hopper realized, who had him completely wrapped around your finger…

The day began as a regular Monday morning for Hopper, complete with the weight of guilt on his conscience. He stared up at the ceiling from bed and had a cigarette, his free hand moving beneath the blanket covering him, lazily massaging his cock. Hopper had always taken care of his morning wood, usually as his first activity of every day. But what now darkened his behavior and made it feel wrong, was the fact that Hopper couldn’t touch himself without thinking of you…

He tried to imagine someone else…anyone else. Hopper’s usual mental reference for masturbation was Bo Derek, an actress he’d had a crush on for years. The recurring fantasy Hopper had entertained for so long now felt stale in comparison to his thoughts of you…You, with your pretty, bright eyes flashing wide up at Hopper, a blush blooming on your cheeks as you realize he’s standing in the doorway of your room…as you realize he’s been standing there, watching you undress, for minutes now. And you’re covering yourself with the first item of clothing you could grab, a thin t-shirt, clutching it over your breasts in an attempt to hide your nakedness...

…But the shirt’s fabric is too sheer to provide any true coverage, any real protection from Hopper’s penetrating, wolfish stare. He steps inside your room, closing the door behind him, and presses in the lock with his thumb…

In the privacy of his bed, Hopper’s hand moved with more direction beneath the sheet, his grip around his cock tensing. As usual, he’d give in to the temptation that plagued him daily: he was going to come to the fantasy of you.

In Hopper’s mind, there were no moral obstacles in his way, no societal expectations from anyone preventing him from having you. He could fuck your face, your tits, your cunt, your ass, and come anywhere on and in you that he pleased. No one was there to stop him in the safe enclosure of his fantasy. And Hopper allowed himself to indulge.

“…Chief?” your wide eyes darted over his face. “W-what are you doing here?”

Hopper’s hand left the doorknob, moving to his shirt collar. “I think you and I already know the answer to that question, (y/n),” he said, his voice low, husky. You took a step back as you watched Hopper loosen the first few buttons of his shirt, your grip on the fabric covering you faltering slightly.

“How long were you standing there?” you asked tentatively. “Watching me?”

Hopper smirked as he undid the last button on his shirt. “Long enough to know that everything I’ve imagined about your body is right,” he replied, moving closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, (y/n)…Has anyone ever told you that?”

Your eyes drifted over Hopper’s exposed chest and down his stomach, watching as he unbuckled his belt. You nodded confidently, feeling less embarrassed. “Plenty of guys have told me I’m beautiful,” you replied, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You allowed the t-shirt over your chest to slip a little further down, revealing your nipples. “I’m twenty-one years old, Chief Hopper. Of course I date.” You smirked back at him now. “Lots of guys have fucked me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hopper chuckled to himself, pulling his belt from his jeans. “I’m sure they have. And all these guys-,” He emphasized the word. “-any of them actually make you come?”

Your cheeks heated again, going pink. “I…uh-,” you stammered, as Hopper tossed his belt to your bedroom floor. “Any of these boys...” His hand moved to his cock, palming the bulge tenting his jeans. “…Make you feel like a man could make you feel…?”

Your chest dipped, your breath quickening as Hopper closed the space between your bodies. “…Like I could make you feel?” he continued, his dark blue eyes probing yours. Hopper was standing right in front of you now, mere inches separating your bodies. His hands moved to cover yours, gently removing them (and the t-shirt) from your breasts.

Your lips parted in an expression of both surprise and desire. Hopper cupped your cheek warmly in his palm, gliding his fingertips lightly along your chin. Your eyes fell closed in blissful surrender as Hopper touched you, the last of your defenses evaporating…

Hopper groaned as he fisted his cock, the muscles in his stomach tense. He knew he needed to hurry his fantasy along, or risk arriving even later at the station than he usually did Monday mornings. Hopper had already overslept and still had to shower, shave, and grab something quick to eat before heading into the station. So in his mind, Hopper fast-forwarded a bit to the part of his fantasy he liked best…the part where you begged…

…Hopper’s cock punched deep, sloppy thrusts inside you, rocking your bed frame, knocking off several plushies as he split you in half. One of his hands was wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back, your lips parted in a moan of ecstasy as he fucked places inside you no other man had reached.

“Come on, honey,” Hopper murmured down at you, his voice thick with exertion. “Go ahead and let go; I’ve got you sweetheart, just let it go…”

You whimpered beneath him, bucking under the weight of Hopper’s body. “Chief-,” you started, but Hopper cut you off, his words punctuated by each thrust of his hips. “That’s not my name, honey,” he gently insisted. “Go on-say my name-I know you know it-.”

“-Jim,” you panted against his shoulder. “Jim please, please Jim, please come inside me-.”

Hopper’s cock twitched at your request, at hearing you whimper his name. His balls were tight, aching for relief. Hopper’s eyebrows met, his forehead creased as he strained to withhold his climax just a little longer…

“Say it again,” he growled beside your ear, but your reply was lost in a groan. “Hey!” Hopper said forcefully, taking hold of your chin and holding it firmly. Your lips parted, and he spat between them. “Say my name if you want my cum,” Hopper ordered. “Say-,” *thrust* “My-,” *thrust* “Name...”

You came undone beneath Hopper, his name spilling out from between your lips like a prayer as he spilled his release inside you…

Hopper’s cock pulsed in his fist, his stomach clenching as a thick, creamy load of cum gushed from his tip. He cursed as his semen made a mess all over the bed; Hopper would have to wash the sheets later, or else sleep in his own cum that night. He reached for a fresh cigarette and stared up at the ceiling while exhaling thin clouds of smoke in its direction.

Hopper wondered how much longer he could go on like this? His ability to resist fantasizing about you was virtually non existent. Eventually, he’d have to either figure out a way to let go of his lust for you, or tell you how he felt. And Hopper knew the second option really wasn’t an option at all. There’s no way in hell you’d actually be attracted to him, Hopper thought. He was the same age as your dad, and that alone had to be a major turn-off for you. The likelihood of you ever viewing him as anything besides a contemporary of your dad’s was slim to none. And the last thing Hopper wanted to be, for you, was a father figure…

He swung his legs over the bed, and forced himself to the shower. Hopper knew that revealing his sick secret would destroy his friendship with your dad. He didn’t want that. And maybe more than anything, Hopper didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He chuckled darkly to himself as he stood in the shower, letting the water run over him. A sweet, pretty young woman like you would never guess she was the subject of a perverted cop’s fantasies. Not with all the men who probably pursued you at college, men twenty years younger than Hopper. At best, you likely viewed him as a nice older man, someone you could trust just like you could trust your dad.

Hopper shook his head, gazing down at the shower drain. How wrong you were, he thought to himself. Because there was nothing about Hopper that was trustworthy, when it came to his true feelings for you. He was a hypocrite, a liar, and a convincing one. For now, he would go on spending time with your dad, at your home, pretending like everything was okay. And one day, when you returned to college, maybe Hopper would be free of your spell…

✨ one week earlier ✨

It was a peaceful Monday morning for you. Home from college on Summer break, waking up in your childhood bedroom filled you with a rush of nostalgia you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sunlight feathered through your curtains and across your bed. You stretched your legs and arms, and let your thoughts drift to the evening before.

Jim Hopper had stopped by to visit your dad last night and watch a football game together. You hadn’t seen Hopper in over two years. To be honest, you’d forgotten about your old crush on the town’s chief of police, letting it fade to the back of your mind as college life became your main focus. Traveling away from home to the big city of Indianapolis, Indiana, was a life-changing experience. You’d never been that far from Hawkins before, and while a few familiar faces from home were there as well, it still felt like the small town you loved was a whole world away.

Over time, you’d forgotten about Chief Hopper and the silly little crush you’d had on him when you were younger. But when he showed up at your house last night, your feelings for him were…brand new. Now, you were an adult, and nothing about your previous crush was present in the feelings you had watching your dad’s friend enter your home. Viewing Hopper through the eyes of a woman, your perception of him was completely different.

You’d been with a man before, a man your age. It had only happened once, and it was terrible. You regretted losing your virginity to someone who obviously had no idea what he was doing, let alone what he was supposed to be doing to you. Part of you wondered what a man like Jim Hopper, a man with decades of experience fucking women, could do to you? The Chief’s love life had always been a popular topic of gossip around town. Rumor had it that Hopper was quite promiscuous, and had developed a reputation as a womanizer in his younger days. A man like that, who you just so happened to be insanely attracted to, could probably show you what sex was supposed to be like. What a real, rough fuck was like, the kind of fucking you fantasized about, the kind of thoughts you touched yourself to…

You sifted through the pages of a well-worn notebook. In its contents were various notes on divination, the phases of the moon, a record and analysis of your dreams, the magickal correspondences of crystals, colors, and more. But by far, the most important content in your notebook were the spells you’d written. Some had worked, some had failed, and there were some you had written but not yet used. One of these un-cast spells was the love spell you’d written. Admittedly, it was less of a love spell and more of a lust spell, but…regardless, you hadn’t yet found the right person to use as inspiration when the spell was cast. You’d never desired anyone enough to make an attempt at bending the Universe’s will to influence your love life, but…seeing Jim Hopper again had stirred something powerful inside you.

Gathering your supplies, you prepared yourself mentally and physically to carry out the spell. You opened your bedroom window and let the sun sink its fingers beneath your skin, absorbing its masculine energy. Performing the spell by moonlight would have been useful in securing a lover whose energy was feminine. But the object of your desire was absolutely dripping with a masculinity so potent, you didn’t think you’d ever been near a man who exuded such powerful masculine energy.

After completing the spell, you trusted that the only thing left to do was wait. You climbed back into the familiar warmth of your bed, feeling a bit sleepy, but with a thrumming ache between your thighs that just couldn’t be ignored. Slipping a hand beneath your panties, you imagined it was Jim Hopper’s hand instead. Believing in your personal power, you trusted that the Universe was working with you. It may take a week, or ten days, or fourteen; but you would have Jim Hopper. If he didn’t want you already, he would, and badly. He would soon be craving you, not just desiring you, but burning alive inside with the need to possess you. Closing your eyes, you began to rub soft circles over your clit, building the pressure until it broke in waves, and Jim Hopper’s name was spilling from your lips in panted, grateful whispers… ✨

PART TWO

#stranger things #stranger things smut #jim hopper #david harbour #dbf!hopper #dbf!jim hopper #hopper smut #jim hopper smut #hopper x reader #jim hopper x reader #hopper x fem reader #jim hopper x fem!reader #hopper x y/n #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x you #hopper x you #Spotify #jim hopper x you smut #Jim hopper x reader smut #hopper fanfic #jim hopper stranger things #hopper stranger things #jim hopper fanfic #hopper x fem smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #hopper fic #Jim hopper fic #chief jim hopper

[ddejavvu]

no matter how much fingering, you can't take all of stepdad hoppers cock inside you, he's just so biggg and thick it makes your head hurt.. and he loves it

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters) and dark, minors dni.

"No- no! I can't," You cry, gripping at Jim's shoulders, broad and smattered with hair, "It's too big! I can't."

"Okay, okay," He hums gruffly, slowing his movements so that his cock isn't ramming into your cunt anymore, "We'll go slow, sweetheart. Real slow."

"Not even slow," You choke, shaking your head while tears bead at your eyes, "I can't do it! It's- there's too much."

"Alright," He glances down, seeing himself only half-buried between your legs, "This, then? That's enough?"

"No," You whimper, shaking your head, "I need more."

"You can't take it," He chuckles, "This is it, honey."

"No, I need-! Your fingers! Your fingers," You reach for his hand when it comes to stroke at your flushed cheek. You press the pads of his fingers to your lips, kissing them desperately, "Please, please just stretch me more."

"It won't work," He croons, voice scratchy as he slowly rolls his hips against yours again, "It's okay, honey. If y'really want the rest of it you can suck it later."

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper scenario #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper one-shot #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper headcanon #jim hopper headcanons #jim hopper hc #jim hopper hcs #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper dialogue #jim hopper x reader fanfiction #jim hopper smut #jim hopper au #stepdad!hopper #multiverse mondays #ddejavvu's multiverse mondays

[dearviper]

Guilty As Charged

Jim Hopper x Female!Reader One-Shot

When Hopper rebuffs your drunken advances at a bar, you start flirting with another man in front of him. Jealous and concerned about your level of inebriation, Jim stops you from going home with the man and drives you home himself.

WARNINGS: suggestive language; alcohol consumption/drunkenness; jealousy/somewhat possessive behavior

AO3 Link

Jim knew he shouldn’t get involved. Just stay out of it. He repeated the phrase over and over again in his head with the hope that it would stick. That for once, he would mind his own business.

It was an admirable effort, even if he was fooling himself.

He knew there would be trouble as soon as Flo suggested you all go out for drinks to celebrate your one-year anniversary of working at the station.

He’d only seen you drunk a handful of times and every time, you were an incorrigible flirt. Even when sober, you practically thrived on teasing him.

After each innuendo, you’d bat your eyes innocently as if unaware of what you were doing. But you both knew it was purposeful, and it drove him insane.

So an hour ago, when you sidled up next to him in your tight skirt with liquor on your breath, he knew he was in for it. Given both your inebriation and his general policy never to get involved with a coworker, he tried to fend you off delicately.

Unfortunately, he had little experience with being delicate, which led to him rebuffing your advances a bit too harshly.

Trying (and failing) to appear unbothered, you retreated with misty eyes to the barstools where a twenty-something offered to buy you a drink.

Hopper kept a jealous watchful eye as the man slipped a hand around your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. Though he couldn’t hear it over the din of drunks and the clattering of glasses, Jim watched you giggle in response.

A bitterness he refused to recognize overwhelmed him, and he turned back to his beer and to the others sitting at the table.

“All I’m sayin’,” Callahan slurred like the lightweight he was, “is that given the choice between a shark and bear, I’d rather fight the latter.”

“Buuuuuuullshit,” Powell responded, not as drunk but still clearly tipsy. “Y’ever seen what a grizzly can do to a human being?”

“I’m not saying a grizzly, but I could probably handle a black bear! In the water, the shark’s got the advantage.”

As the two went back and forth, Flo gave Jim a knowing look and he smirked back at her. The conversation was amusing, if a bit juvenile, and it distracted him briefly.

Eventually, his masochistic curiosity got the best of him, and Hopper looked back over to where you were sitting at the bar.

Scratch that. Where you had been sitting.

A shot of panic ran through Jim as he realized you weren’t in the bar — and neither was the man you were with. The door to the single bathroom in the joint was open, displaying its emptiness and almost mocking Jim with the fact that you were gone.

“I’ll be right back,” he said gruffly, taking off out the front door.

He spotted you immediately, arm slung around the man from earlier as you stumbled through the parking lot.

The man guided you to lean against the side of his car as he unlocked the passenger door with the fob, and with a sick feeling in his stomach Jim watched you sway unsteadily.

At that moment, you locked eyes with him and a sardonic smile crossed your face.

“Howdy, sheriff!” you greeted as he approached.

Jim was too tense to correct your mistitling of him, and he stepped quickly between you and your companion.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim bit out at the man, who blinked in surprise at the sudden appearance of the cop.

With a look of uncertainty, he glanced down to his keys and then back up to Hopper.

“Unlocking my car?”

“With her,” he seethed, overcome by a sudden wave of vitriol. “Can’t you see how drunk she is?”

The man guffawed, and the smell of alcohol on his breath nauseated Jim.

“Well, shit, so am I!”

Enraged and unthinking, Jim slammed the man against the car. You shrieked out his name, but he ignored you.

“You think this is funny, asshole? If you drove out of here as shitfaced as you are, you probably would’ve killed the both of you.”

Hopper heard two sets of footsteps on the gravel, and he glanced up to see Powell and Callahan rushing over.

“Everything okay, Chief?” Powell asked, observant eyes taking in the messy scene before him.

“Take this one to the drunk tank and let him sleep it off there,” he ordered with disgust, shoving the man toward his coworkers before jerking his head toward you. “I’m taking her home.”

At first he was surprised that you didn’t protest, but when he glanced over he could see how rough of a state you were truly in.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” Jim murmured as his coworkers took the man back to their squad car.

He held out an elbow, and you graciously clung to it for support as he guided you into the passenger seat of his truck.

“Am I under arrest, Chief?” you slurred teasingly, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, for drunk and disorderly conduct,” he quipped back, pulling the seat belt over your torso and buckling you in.

Before he could pull away, you hooked a finger through one of his belt loops where his handcuffs hung.

“You gonna cuff me?” you purred with a small smile.

“No,” he replied tersely, extricating himself from your grasp.

“You can if you want.”

Hopper froze at your words, but said nothing and closed the passenger door. You pouted at him through the window and mouthed please?

Huffing, he crossed around the front of the truck and slid into the cab. Without warning, you flung your arms around his neck and smashed your lips against his.

You were sure his lips began to move in reciprocation, but it was a fleeting feeling as he shoved you off of him.

Groaning in frustration, you tried to reach for him again, but he grasped your wrists together with one large hand.

“You need to stop,” he commanded, pointing a firm finger in your face.

You shrank back a bit, confused.

“You don’t… want me?” you asked in a small voice, unconsciously crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “I thought you…” You trailed off, heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

To your mortification, he let out a barking laugh. You thought he was making fun of you until he spoke almost accusingly.

“You know damn well I want you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” you whined, trying to wrest your wrists from his grasp so you could touch him.

He clamped down harder, but used his free hand to lift your chin so he could look you in the eyes.

“The problem is that you’re drunk, honey.”

The pet name and his tender tone made you pause, and you glanced up at him with determination in your eyes.

“I’m that not drunk.”

Amused, he simply raised a silent brow until you realized you’d gotten the word order incorrect.

“I’m not that drunk,” you corrected yourself, trying to sound convincing.

“Sure, you’re a regular teetotaler.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you switched tactics.

“Okay so I’m drunk. So what?”

Though you couldn’t move much with both his hand and the seatbelt restraining you, you leaned in and breathed into his ear, “I want you when I’m sober too. So badly.”

You saw a slight shudder go down his spine at your words; but ever the gentleman, he lightly pushed you back into your seat with a free hand.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and starting the car. “You’re a menace.”

“Guilty as charged,” you beamed back at him in response.

Still shaking his head, Hopper pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive you home.

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #hopper x reader #hopper x you #stranger things #jim hopper fic

[velvetcloxds]

hey could I request a blurb for dbf! hopper where he calls reader whenever he needs help with eleven? love your blurbs!

OUR GIRL | J.H.

word count: 1k

warnings: I made this nanny!reader x dbf!hopper, hope that's okay, age gap obviously, reader is in their twenties. giggles terribly because I love him so much- also the gif??? ignore the blood though

summary: hopper asking you to come over after eleven and mike broke up

You were sitting with your back against the wall, Eleven gripping her pillow tightly though her head was settled in your lap, your fingers digging through her hair in an attempt to calm her down. When Hopper called claiming he was having trouble with her attitude you'd expected to come over to settle a little pre-teen-encouraged spat, what you found, however, was a girl trying to cope with her first breakup.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you hummed, the girl moving further into your lap, looking up at you with the saddest brown eyes and absolutely breaking your own heart in the process. "Boys suck," was your simple reply, and though Hopper was stuck in the hall, not allowed in but obviously peaking through the half-closed window, he offered a little nod in agreement.

You'd been the designated nanny for all the kids in town, getting first-hand information about all the latest couples and crushes and you'd sworn to give Mike Wheeler a hiding at his full pre-teen age if he so much as caused a frown on the little Hopper's lips. She was special to you, always the best company if you had to finish an assignment when watching her, helping you with dinner when Jim was working late and it didn't help at all when you and Jim ended up in your complicated little love affair, you'd rearrange the whole town for her before, you'd wipe out the whole world for her now.

"Dad said so too," she sighed and you couldn't stop yourself from pulling her up into a hug, knowing she'd long outgrown being sat up in your lap to be coddled when sad but it was awful hearing her cry like this and she clearly didn't mind, nuzzling her head into your chest with a few sniffles. "Said he'd beat Mike up if I wanted, I didn't," you had to smile, looking up to the door knowing Jim was there, knowing he'd catch your eyes and shrug.

"You can still change your mind," the man noted, and when he pushed his head through the open space both you and Eleven shook your head, sharing a knowing look before reaching a hand out to beckon him over.

"Come on in, old man," you breathed.

"Dad," she groaned and peaked up from where she'd been engulfed in your, Jim's, sweater, letting him take her hand despite her pride, managing a little smile when you squeezed her one more time. "Not cool."

"Listen, Ellie," you stepped in, guiding her to look at you, smoothing some hair from her face and dotting away the wetness under her eyes. "Not all boys are trouble, you know, despite what your dad says, but do you maybe want to wait a little longer before trying the whole dating thing again?" she nodded quickly, if this is how bad Mike, her friend, could make her feel then she had zero interest in any other boys.

"No more boys, ever," she concluded and Hopper was very pleased with that, a wide smile dipping into his lips and earning him a warning raised brow from you. "Except for Dad," she added and made both you and Jim laugh lightly. "He's a good one, that's why he's your boyfriend," she explained and wiped her cheek dry, shrugging as if it was all very self-explanatory.

"He is a good one," you agreed, happy that she was no longer crying, clearly still sad but no longer needing the extra cuddles you had planned for later.

"Do all boys break your heart?" the purest little question, Hopper looked to you to answer, this entire conversation was not for him because he could swear she was just his little El yesterday and now she's talking about boys.

"Not all of them, not the good ones," she moved to sit next to you, a little yawn slipping from her lips, tired from all the crying and the long day and the drama that was sure to come, so you brushed a hand up and down her back, an old habit from when she struggled to fall asleep. "Your dad would never," you were looking at him, smiling just as widely as he was, it was something to behold, such a silly little gesture but it was true, Jim Hopper would protect your heart for as long as he could and you knew that for sure.

"Okay, so I just need to find a good one then, like Dad," Eleven yawned again and you nodded for Hopper to meet you in the hallway, slipping out from your little corner and holding onto the girl's hand as she moved to lay down, sighing happily as you draped her with a blanket, tucking her in just as you usually do.

"You don't have to worry about that now though, you know, just stay our little Ellie for a little while longer, won't you?" you crouched down to be at her level, smiling at her sleepy state and she giggled lightly at your comment.

"I'll try," she mumbled and you kissed her forehead, booped her nose, and squeezed her hand three times just like you'd do when she fell back asleep after a bad nightmare. "I love you, blueberry," she breathed, eyes closing, heart already asleep but mind fighting it just for a few seconds.

"I love you too, pancake," and you did, she wasn't yours, not even slightly but you loved her like she was, like you'd been a part of her life forever, and in special moments like these it felt like you were. "We need to have a little word with Wheeler," you announced tiptoeing into the kitchen where Jim was already making you a cup of cocoa, silently bribing you to stay a little longer.

"We can meet him in the alley," he scoffed and you were drawn to him without any control, melting into his back as you snaked your arms around his waist. "Thank you for coming to talk to our girl," he sounded shy in the statement, busying himself by putting too much sugar in the mug Eleven got you for your birthday, she'd painted it herself and admittedly it looked awful but it was your favourite thing in the world.

"Our girl," you breathed and the words sounded so perfect to your ears, tasted like home on your lips. "We do make a good team though, don't we?"

"The best," he lifted one of your hands from his waist, squeezing it three times, kissing it softly, holding it tight. "You staying the night?"

"Will you help me study if I do?" he wouldn't, he'd distract you long enough for you to cave and cuddle but you had an extra day to study anyway so you'd risk it.

"Of course, I will," he reached a hand around and patted your butt gently, completely contradicting his words. "No distractions, no kisses until you're done," you giggled, kissing the space between his shoulder blades and you didn't need to see his smirk to know it was there, hand not showing any signs of moving.

"Liar."

#dbf!hopper #dbf!jim hopper #jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x yn #hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper x yn #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hipper one shot #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #nanny!reader #monique's writing events #right where queue left me

[elliewlums]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐧 — 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jim hopper x fem!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, oral (f receiving), p in v, a little bit of dirty talk, praise, ohhh i love this so much

jim hopper was the first man to ever make you cum. sure, you’ve had sex before, but no one has ever taken the time to prioritise your pleasure. that man would spend hours between your legs if you let him— and he knows you will.

that’s where he is right now; his face buried between your thighs, beard rubbing against your sensitive skin as he makes out with your pussy. he’s all tongue, slurping at your little hole until you’re screaming and locking your legs around his head. he only grunts and doubles down when you thread your fingers through his hair and sob, chanting daddy like his own personal mantra.

“daddy. oh, ‘m gonna cum.”

he grins into your cunt as your eyes cross and you tremble under his hands; he kneads the fat of your ass and pulls you up to his mouth and ruts your pudgy clit against his tongue. you squeal and gush, covering his face in your slick as your pussy throbs and spasms. he pries himself away, crawling up your body to kiss you messily, licking into your mouth and groping your bare tits.

“good girl,” he coos. “want daddy to take care of you? put my big cock in ya, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah,” you egg him on, pressing yourself closer to his chest in a desperate effort for contact. you need to touch him, need to crawl inside of his skin and become part of him. “please, need you. need you so bad.”

“okay, angel,” he laughs, discarding his boxers somewhere in your shared bedroom and tugging on his dick. you gasp as he prods at your entrance, the fat mushroom head of him alone stretching your little hole around him. his balls kiss your asshole as he bottoms out and crushes you under his weight; your eyes roll back and flutter closed at the feeling of him above you and you drool onto the pillow. he groans as your cunt clamps around him and sucks him in.

“daddy,” you murmur, blissed and dumb with pleasure. he smiles, flashing pointed canines like a predator.

“daddy’s gotcha, sweetheart. you hold still f’me.”

you’re in for a long night.

#kinktober #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x fem!reader #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim x reader #jim x you #hopper x you #hopper x reader #hopper x y/n #hopper x fem!reader