linnie0119

After your breakdown, you manage a few things. You take your medication correctly, and you wash a few dishes sitting down because standing hurts. You find a way to do things that don’t make things seem so difficult despite the hole in your heart. You talked to whoever supervised the social workers and asked them to stop coming after you told them you don’t want her around because of her attitude, and they thankfully agreed. The chief hasn’t been back yet, probably busy working the case. You hope it isn’t another dead end and that they find a clue to your mother's whereabouts or to any of the missing persons. You call your work and explain what's been going on, and they're understanding, allowing you the month off, thankfully.

A Saturday afternoon rolls around. You’re watching some stupid comedy show your mother watched every Saturday, and find yourself smiling a little at certain parts. You still have the chief's jacket laid over you; you haven’t brought it back yet. You grimace and look at it. He probably needs it. You get up carefully, take some pain medication, the station isn’t too far from your house, and maybe you could ask a free police officer just to drive you home. You clean up somewhat, you managed to condition your hair and get it slightly unknotted till your arms hurt again, but it doesn’t look like a bird's nest in a hurricane. You grab the spare key and lock the house up. You stare at the car in the driveway, swallowing a bit before you shake your head and walk. It’s about a five-minute walk to the station, you survive, thankfully with little ankle pain and swollen knees, but that’s what pants are for, hiding said swollen knees. You go to the front desk, awkwardly holding Jim’s jacket, and realise how ridiculous it looks.

“How can I help you love?” The older woman smiles, and you return your gaze to her.

“Hi, uh, is Chief Jim Hopper around?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t sound too weird.

“Let me check”, she smiles and picks up a phone, asking for him.

“He’s in his office, follow me”, she says politely, and you thank her and follow. You see him hunched over his desk, hat to the side, dark circles under his eyes as he reads over a case file.

“Hopper?” The older lady knocks, and he looks annoyed, lifting his eyes before he spots you.

“This young lady asked for you,” she says, tensing slightly as if she was prepared for his annoyance.

“Yeah”, he sighs, runs a hand down his face and waves. The older lady nods and leaves, and you walk inside his office as he leans back and stretches. You freeze watching the action, his arms tensing, showing off muscle.

“What can I help you with?” He asks, and you snap out of your daze.

“Jacket”, you blurt, cursing your short-circuiting brain.

“I brought your jacket, you left it, at my place, last time” You clear your throat and hold it out. He stands up and thanks you, going to take it before you realise you haven’t washed it.

“Shit- wait!” You snatch it back, and he raises an eyebrow, hand hovering.

“Sorry- I haven’t washed it.” You go, embarrassed, and curse yourself some more.

“It’s fine”, he shrugs while you grimace and hand it back to him, nodding.

“Right”, you nod and lower your hand awkwardly after he takes it.

“That’s all, just your jacket”, you nod, avoiding looking at him at all costs.

“Alright”, he says, voice a little lower, and it sends a tingle up your spine and straight between your legs.

“Cool”, you say, getting ready to go.

“Wait”, he calls, and you freeze, oh god, he can’t smell you, can he? No course not, who gets aroused that quickly by a voice? Hah, that’s stupid….isn’t it?

“You walk here?” He asks, and you turn back to face him, and he’s frowning, looking at your legs as if he knows you’re in pain or something else.

“It’s only five minutes”, you gesture awkwardly outside.

“Alone?” He adds, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah?” You add confused, unless your mum magically reappeared or you actually had some friends. He makes a frustrated noise, or disappointed, you can’t tell.

“You can’t walk around by yourself, especially not now, there are rules in place”, he says, and you feel small. You haven’t watched the news or read the paper, you haven’t heard of the rules.

“I haven’t seen or read the news”, you say quietly, and he sighs.

“Alright, look, there’s a curfew now, no one out past 7, always travel with someone and report anything suspicious, alright?” You nod, looking at the ground.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home”, he sighs, slipping his jacket, the one you returned, and his hat. He grabs his keys and moves by you, expecting you to follow. You do, quietly and awkwardly, climb into his truck and put your seatbelt on while looking anywhere but him.

“I ain’t upset with you”, he says, and you frown, looking to him. He sighs, eyes softening.

“I know you’re having a hard time and obviously avoid the news, just keep yourself updated, call a friend”, he says and starts the car and pulls out.

“Ok,” you mutter, looking out the window. How are you supposed to call a friend when you barely talk to anyone? Sure, you’ve met a few girls, gone to school with some, but they all grew up, had families, did adult things, while you got the shit end of the stick and got slowed down from going to independence to dependency in a couple of years, it feels like. You’ve always had the pain, but as a teen, it’s just ‘growing pains’ and as a woman, well, you’re not taken seriously when you complain about your pain to a doctor. It took years for someone to go This isn’t right and finally offer some medication. The drive back is quick. Hop pulls into your driveway and parks, turning off the car.

“You got someone to call?” He asks, and you tense.

“Yeah, sure”, you nod, grabbing the door handle. The lock clicks, though, and you frown, glancing back to the alpha.

“You’re not a good liar” You frown harder. Excuse him? Well, you are lying, but to call you out? Not cool.

“Here”, he sighs, grabs a pen, pulls out a small business card from his pocket, and scribbles something down before handing it to him.

“In case you need someone”, he says, and you stare at the number and his name, Jim, on the card.

“Thanks”, you say, and he nods, unlocking the door. You slide out and sigh, heading inside as Jim pulls out of the driveway. You lock your door and sit on the couch staring at the number. You order pizza for dinner. Honestly, your food is pretty shit at the moment, but now you can’t go to the shops, it’s too far to walk for you. You look at Hopper's business card on the fridge, then in your purse. You have a bit of money saved in the bank from work but it wasn’t enough. If you could access your mum's account, you might be able to get more food. You eye Jim’s number again before saying fuck it and grabbing it.

The line rings for a bit, and you feel the anxiety crawling into you till someone picks up.

“Chief hopper speaking”, he sounds so professional.

“Hi uh, Jim”, you blurt out before you say it’s you.

“Hey, what did you need?” He asks.

“Are you free? At the moment, I need help” You hate those words.

“I’m free, be down in a five”, he hangs up, and you blink in surprise that went easier and better than expected. You curse, though you’re in your pyjamas. You quickly get dressed, take some pain meds, brush your hair half-heartedly, and throw it up before grabbing your purse and your mum's purse and heading outside. Jim’s waiting in the driveway, and you wave awkwardly as he jumps out.

“Need a lift somewhere?” He nods to your purses.

“I need food, proper food”, you say, and he nods.

“But I need to access my mum's account, can I do that? I know all her details, but I know banks are funny,” you say.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pull the chief card. Just this once, though,” he says and hops back into his truck. You smile and join him. The drive to the bank is a little weird; you look out the window, watching a little bit of Hawkins go by, before you make it to the bank.

The teller looks at you, chewing gum, her glasses halfway down her nose.

“First and last name?” She says like she doesn’t want to be there. You glance at Jim, who nods a bit, and you tell your mum's first and last name. She chews louder and types it into the computer.

“Date of birth?” She eyes you again, and you say her date of birth. She frowns, looks you up and down, then shrugs.

“Alright, says here you’ve got $211.43, darling”, she says, continuing to chew. You nod, wanting to slam her mouth shut.

“Could I withdraw that, please?” She nods and hands you a form to fill out. You take it and fill it out before she opens the money drawer with a ding.

“Alright, 211.43 all for you”, she hands you the cash as she counts it.

“Thank you”, you put it into your purse.

“Have a nice day”, she chews, and you nod, leaving. You’re walking back to Jim’s truck when you slow down. Bills, you need to pay for bills, electricity, water, whatever the hell your mum pays for.

“Bills”, you mutter, and the alpha beside you stops when you do.

“What?” He asks, frowning.

“Bills the house bills, how am I supposed to pay for the house bills when I can’t work?! No money income besides mum's!” You say panicked.

“Hey, alright, easy,” you say, shaking your head, worried.

“Hey”, the alpha says a little more sternly, and you look at him.

“We’ll head by the real estate and have a chat with them, alright?” You nod shakily.

Jim drives you to the real estate office. You’re thankful he took time off to drive you around like a taxi, and you like being near him very much, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Chief of police, what can I do for you?” You enter the office and see an older gentleman in a fancy suit at a desk.

“Got something I need to speak with you about”, Hopper says, all professional and alpha mode.

“Come on through,” the man smiles, making you a little uneasy. A few other men and women sit at desks, typing or writing. You’re led into a fancy office, and the door shuts behind you.

“Sit down, folks”, the man smiles, and you sit. The leather seat that definitely costs more than your couch.

“What is our dilemma today?” He grins and leans back, hands lacing together.

“Here about a house on Copper Street number 23.” You nod when Jim glances at you for confirmation.

“Alright, let’s see here”, he types away on a computer.

“Ah, yes, owned by a Miss-“ he says your mother’s name and smiles, looking back to you and Jim.

“She’s gone missing”, Jim says bluntly.

“Oh, what a shame”, the man says, and you clench your jaw at how unbothered he sounds about it.

“I assume it’s the disappearance one’s, she isn’t coming back?” You bristle at his tone.

“Suppose I’ll have to put it back on the market soon,” he sighs, as if it’s an inconvenience.

“The hell you will, her daughter still lives there”, Jim gestured to with narrowed eyes.

“Ah! I see apologies,” the man chuckled, fake like.

“Well, shall we transfer all bills into her name then? She looks old enough,” he laughs at his own joke, and you see the alpha beside you tense and lean forward.

“What she needs is a break, a couple of months from rent max”, Jim says, and the man frowns.

“A couple of months? That’s hundreds of dollars!” He says he is offended.

“You can live without her; however, she cannot live without a house for the time being, till some form of income gets accepted by her”, Jim explains, and the man's jaw tightens.

“Unfortunately, that is not my problem. If she cannot pay, she cannot live there”, he says as he sets his hands down on the desk and leans forward.

“She just lost her mother, and you’re a hard enough bastard not to allow her to find her feet?” Jim leans forward, too, and you tense, feeling uncomfortable seeing the alpha and beta go eye to eye.

“Unfortunately, I cannot control company policy or… unfortunate events”, he sneers. You glare and stand up.

“You’re a heartless piece of shit and won’t get a damn cent out of me because all you care about is money while people are missing their families and don’t understand their circumstances!” You snap and storm out of his office, tears in your eyes. You lean against Jim’s truck, arms crossed, tears rolling down your face. Jim emerges even more pissed off than you, his jaw set, muscles bunched, and alpha ready to punch someone unconscious.

“I’m sorry”, he says, and you shake your head, wiping your eyes.

“I’ll find you somewhere, alright? Don’t panic,” he steps closer, and you nod. You feel yourself trembling and step closer to the alpha without thinking. He sighs softly before putting an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer. You sigh and rest your forehead on his chest while he gives your shoulder a gentle pat before the moments are gone.

You don't take any chances when you drink, and Jim knows it. That's why he's not surprised when you're dumped on his doorstep by one of your friends, the designated driver of the night who'd drawn the short straw and had to stay sober while the rest of your girlfriends got boozed.

"She's fine!" Your friend calls out the window, and she's right- apparently you can stand well enough to get to the door on your own, but he meets you there anyways, his hand reaching for your waist and slotting into place with practiced precision. It's warm and large against your side and you lean into him instantly, pressing your weight into him like you're trying to dock there.

Jim knows by the way you lean your head on his shoulder that you're tipsy, but you call out a coherent goodbye to your friends, and turn without stumbling to enter the cabin, so he prepares himself for a night of skin-on-skin and light giggles uttered right into his ears.

"Hi baby," He hums, hand still around your waist, tucked into the natural curve of your hip where your ribs taper, "Girls' night was good?" He presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, because that's what you two do now. Now that you're together, officially dating, going steady, moved in, whatever you call it, you're an item and Jim gets to kiss you softly instead of only in the throes of passion. He can hold your hand now, he can sleep beside you, and he can tickle you with his mustache as he pulls away with a brush of his lips against yours.

You grin warmly at the prickle of his facial hair, raising one of your hands to smear against it as you push his face away from your own.

"It was great," You gush, your brain moving a half-second slower than you are, your thoughts hazy but racing as you stare dreamily at Jim's sleepy smile, "I didn't have that many drinks but they were so yummy, one was peachy and the other was pineapple-coconut."

Your eyes are bright and you take great pleasure in hooking your hand around his chin and tugging him right back in again, dewy laughter slipping from your lips as you slot them against Jim's own.

"Mm, yeah?" He asks, savoring the remnants on your lips which you must have licked a thousand times over throughout the night to get the sugar off of them, "I can taste 'em.

You laugh again, pure bliss in the sound as you tease him, pushing and pulling, pressing yourself up against him. He has trouble fighting the urge to scoop you up right then and there and toss you onto the bed, but your ankle rolls beneath you, your heel difficult to balance on while your knees are going weak.

"Mmf- ow!" You gasp, stumbling backwards as you try regaining your balance. You bump into the wall behind you, and Jim winces, tucking his hand behind your skull a second too late to stop it from hitting the wall.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" He asks, dropping into a crouch to pry at the thin straps of your heels with his long, thick fingers. It's almost comical how mismatched they are, and he struggles to fight off the straps from swallowing your ankle up entirely.

"Yeah," You sniff after a moment, regaining your balance now that you're reclining against the wall, "I don't think I twisted it or anything."

"Good." He nods, finally managing to undo the integral buckle and begin peeling the straps away from your skin. You lift your foot to help him out and he raises your foot to slide your shoe off, kissing just above the bone jutting out at the side of your ankle. You send him down a smile that crinkles your eyes at the corners, and Jim has to duck his head not to send you one back.

"You don't have to take my shoes off for me," You reach down to thread your fingers through his hair, slightly greasy from the long day he'd had. But you don't care, and you scrub your nails across his scalp anyways, "I'm not about to black out."

"No, but your balance probably isn't the greatest," Jim faux-sighs, puffing air out through his lips, "Wouldn't want you to bend over and face-plant, we haven't swept in a while."

"Thanks, honey." You practically sing, your voice thick with love and liquor, and he drags his hands off of your now-bare foot to let it stabilize you on the ground.

He uses what he'd learned from the first shoe on the second, and he slips it off much easier than he had before. He hadn't kneeled intending to get carried away, but as he drops your foot back to the cabin floor and your barely-covered, supple thighs peek out from beneath the hem of your party dress, he knows his plans for the night have changed. He can stroke his fingers down the column of your spine later, tucked beside you beneath the bedsheets, but for now he needs to plant his face between those thighs he's staring at.

The next kiss he presses to your skin is much higher, nowhere near your ankle but closer to the spot between your legs. It's mid-thigh, and he takes his time planting them higher and higher, dragging his lips up your legs and letting his mustache grate against your skin and raw it. It'll be a quickly-fading sting for now, but he intends to leave patches of sensitive skin between your thighs that you'll feel tomorrow morning.

"Jim," You breathe, and it's not a no, but it's not a yes either, so he waits. He keeps his nose pressed between your thighs, his mouth closed but leaning into your skin like he wants it to kiss him. It's warm and soft and pliant beneath his face, but he fights the urge to bite it until you run your fingers through his hair again, nails sending a shiver down his spine that he muffles into your legs with a groan.

"Go," You urge him, using your grip on his hair to tug his face further between your legs, "Go- do something, Jim, please."

"S'all I was waiting for," He grunts, the words barely intelligible muffled against your skin, drilling his face between your thighs with no further ado. The scruff dotting his chin and cheeks razes against your inner thighs, leaving them instantly sensitive, and you jerk them apart. It makes space for his head between your legs but it throws off your balance, and you nearly drop straight to the floor before his strong hands push your knees into place again.

"Don't fall," He warns you, speaking against the strip of fabric covering your warm, eager sex. Every brush of his lips against your panties makes your blood thrum with excitement, and you breathe out a shaky, open-mouthed sigh as he presses kisses against your core.

"You're gonna make me," You whine, giggling involuntarily as his mustache prickles against the sensitive seam between thigh and cunt. He ghosts his fingers there next, and your smile spreads so wide it nearly splits your face in two.

"Jim stop, that's- aah-" You gasp, stomach flipping as he uses his ticklish fingers to drag the waistband of your underwear down from your hips. He hums low in his throat, appreciative, and leans in to pucker his lips against the slit of your cunt, nose already hitting your clit.

You grind against his face.

It's involuntary, but your hips buck and his nose gets caught against your sex. You feel it briefly breach your slit and moan at the feeling, but Jim's arm comes up to press against your stomach above his head, pinning you to the wall so that he can properly taste you.

"Easy, cowgirl," He chuckles, kiss after kiss dotted against your sex until his tongue comes out to blot against your cunt. Then it swipes, stroking over your slit and flicking at your clit before he starts again, this time with more pressure. His hot tongue slips between your lips, breaching your slit and tasting the slick wetness gathered there for him. He licks it from your pussy with one broad, curved swipe of his tongue, and he lets the taste fill his mouth as saliva pools over his teeth. He uses the extra spit, gathering it on his tongue and pushing it into your cunt to replace the wetness he'd licked from it. It keeps you nice and slick, though your stomach is fluttering so much you're sure your cunt is steadily pumping out gushes after gushes of wetness.

"Mmf, you taste so good," He grunts, his scruff scraping your thighs as his hands part them further. He only needs access- once he's smushed into your sex he lets them close again, hooking his elbows around them to encourage you to trap him there. It presses every inch of him closer to every inch of you, and you can feel his entire face pressed flush into your aching sex.

His tongue, once slow and languid, begins picking up the pace, twisting and curling and veering from side to side as he takes up nipping and sucking at the creases of your thighs. It keeps you waiting, but never too long, and he works up such a steady rhythm that you're arching into every stroke of his hot, thick tongue, constantly pushing itself into your slick sex.

What pushes you the farthest are the animalistic sounds he makes. He begins grunting and groaning, each mouthful of tacky wetness that he sucks from your cunt producing a guttural sound from his throat that thrums against your core. Your knees are shaking, and you were less-than-steady to begin with, so you're not sure if you'll be able to stand pressed up against the wall like this if he doesn't push you over the edge soon. But it's coming whether he wants it to be over this soon or not, and you press your hips outwards and upwards to ensure that his nose repeatedly bumps into your poor neglected clit that's stinging with anticipation.

It only takes a few nudges at it for your climax to hit you. The way that Jim is licking you open like he owns you, like he wants to taste you, like he wants to drink you down is enough. But the sounds coming from his throat, brash and raw and gruff make your stomach twist with need, and you let the rhythm of it coast you to the beginning of your climax steadily and blissfully. It's not something that makes your eyes white out, it doesn't require a scream or the scraping of your nails against the cabin walls. All you do is moan, long and drawn-out, as your thighs begin trembling, your core spasming around his tongue that's still ravaging you.

"Atta girl," He hums, and the added vibration makes your moan pitch upwards. It's insanely stimulating, thrumming against every fired up nerve ending between your thighs, and you choke on the sound flowing freely from your mouth as he lets you ride him through your orgasm.

Once your breathing is even, and Jim has retreaded only far enough to press sticky, slick kisses against your thighs, do you part from the wall. You push off of it, nearly tipping forwards until he rises from his knees to steady you. You brace your weight on him, his heft and breadth meaning he can guide you towards your bed without suffering at all beneath your weight. He leads you into the bathroom, but takes it upon himself to wet a washcloth for your cunt, and you brace yourself against the sting of overstimulation that comes from the swipe of the washcloth on your core.

Alcohol always makes your eyes droop, but the orgasm had nearly flattened them, and you're glad for the ability to flop down over the blankets and shut them. Jim pats a large, calloused hand over the back of your thighs, still exposed by the high hemline of your dress, and asks, "Want me to get this off of you?"

"Only if you can control yourself," You grin lazily, already half-asleep with your face smushed into the pillow, "I can't stay awake for anything else tonight."

This makes you laugh. It shouldn’t make you laugh at all because it’s dumb but you still laugh. He smiles, feeling proud of himself for making you laugh.

“We can put it on my tab,”

You shake your head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Of course you can, and you will.”

You sit next to him. He smells of cigarettes and a musky cologne. He gives you another smile, this one is a bit more genuine, you can tell. He tells you his name, but he tells you to call him Hopper. You introduce yourself, and he seems already quite interested in you.

The two of you talk about all kinds of things. The way music seems to be going these days, the movies you’ve seen recently, and he asks about the city you’re from. Both of you feel really attached to one another already. You can’t believe you’d find such a connection in a small bar in some backwoods town.

“You’re fun, sweetheart. Thanks for sitting with me.”

He takes your hand and guides you over to the pool table. A smirk spreads on your face. Oh this was going to be more fun than you thought. 

“I’ll warn you, I’m pretty good. I won’t go easy on you.”

You grab your cue and rub the tip with blue chalk. “I don’t expect you to. You’ll see who’s pretty good at pool soon.”

He smirks when he hears you. But soon his smirk disappears as you begin to pull out all these trick shots. You pocket nearly all your balls within minutes, leaving Hopper very stunned. You were something else, that was for sure.

You cheer as you pocket the final ball. Hopper is in disbelief, but he is incredibly impressed. And he’s actually aroused that you were able to beat him at pool. Or maybe it’s the drinks he’s been having that have caused him to get hard for a stranger he’s only met tonight.

“Alright, you win. What would you like as your prize?”

You look very smug. “How about a dance, hm?”

Hopper laughs. “I can do that.”

The two of you get onto the dance floor and begin swaying to the hip music that’s playing. You’re both a bit more than buzzed, so it’s fun to just let loose and have fun. It’s not long before it turns into a slow song, and the two of you gravitate towards each other like magnets. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck, and then you rest your head on his chest. It’s sweet and slow, and just romantic enough to have you swooning.

Soon, you look up at him. He looks down at you. It’s like something has clicked inside the two of you. Something that was meant to bring you together. Some might call it fate, some might just say some crazy coincidence. But you didn’t care what you called it when Hopper leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

He tastes like beer, but it’s not unwelcome. His mustache tickles ever so slightly, and your brain is already wondering what that might feel like between your legs. When his tongue slides into your mouth, you eagerly part your lips and allow him inside. This was going much better than you had anticipated, and you were eager to see where the rest of the night goes.

When the song ends, you let him lead you out of the bar and into some fresh air. It’s midsummer and the humidity is still somehow high even if the sun has gone down by this point. He lights up a cigarette then he takes your hand.

“I don’t want to sound like some sleazebag,” he begins and then takes a deep drag of his smoke. “Do you maybe wanna come back with me?”

You laugh softly before taking the cigarette from between his lips. “I had already decided that I’d be going with you, Hopper.”

A bigger smile spreads on his face as he guides you to the police car. You get in, realizing this is the first time you’ve actually ever been in one. Thankfully, you weren’t much of a trouble maker. Hopper gets in the driver's side, and the two of you drive towards his place.

It’s secluded as he parks the car. For some reason, you aren’t surprised to see that this man lives in a cabin in the woods. Part of your brain tells you to make a joke about him taking you out here to kill you, but the other part gets you to stop before you even start.

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but I—”

You stop him midsentence, pressing a kiss to his lips. “It’s fine. This is really nice. It’s private.”

The two of you get out of the car and he shows you around a little. Then you head inside, and you get an idea of what this place looks like for yourself. It’s cozy, if not a little cramped and disorganized. You don’t mind at all. In fact, this is quite an interesting hookup.

Hopper, on his end, doesn’t want the magic of the evening to end. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you close to him, and then his lips are on yours. His hands wander down to your waist, pulling you even closer. You allow your own hands to move up his back, and then you reach up to play with his hair. Jim lets out a little purr of pleasure.

“Oh you must know all my sweet spots, sweetheart.” He whispers softly against your lips.

“Maybe I do.” You say confidently.

He gently guides you towards the couch, and the two of you crash down onto it. You’re not complaining one bit. Instead, the two of you go right back to making out. He presses his hips against yours, and you can feel just how hard he is right now. His kisses grow sloppier as he continues to grind against you.

“We could take this into the bedroom,” he mutters between kisses.

“I’m fine right here, Jim.”

He decides right then and there that he loves the sound of his own name coming from your lips. He kisses you once more before he tugs on the hem of your shirt. You raise your arms to help him take it off of you. Then he begins to kiss down your neck, to your collarbone. He gently sucks and nips on the tender flesh as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

“Easy there, tiger.” You tease him, but you’re rubbing yourself up against his bulge.

He kisses you once more. “Can’t help it. You’ve got me so excited, baby.”

He pins you down, kissing down to your breasts. You watch through hooded eyes as his lips wrap around one of your nipples. Your back arches off the sofa, and he hums against your skin. One of his hands soothes down your tummy, then plays with the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “I could eat you up.”

He doesn’t even really give you a chance to respond before pulling off your shorts and your panties all in one go. His hands part your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. And when you feel his warm breath on your cunt, you’re already done for. His tongue slides through your puffy folds; he’s tasting you thoroughly before he kisses your clit.

“I want to taste you, all of you.”

Then he pushes you over until you’re basically bent in half and he can feast on you the way he wants to. He leans in to begin slurping and sucking on your folds before he leans even closer, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue slides into your wet hole. The scent of you is overwhelming him in the best way possible, and the way you keep trying to get closer lets him know you’re enjoying this as much as him.

“H-Hop, I…”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my face?”

You whine when he suckles on your clit. “Fuck, Jim I’m so goddamn close!”

He doesn’t stop now. He’s not going to tease you. As your orgasm begins to wash over you, Jim continues to suck and lick your clit. With his mouth on your nub, your pleasure is prolonged. You can barely catch your breath when he pushes you over the arm of the couch, flipping you over.

“Are you ready for me?” He grunts as he unbuckles his belt.

You look behind you to see him jerking himself off. His cock is thick, and you wonder how it’s going to fit into you. He grunts as he gets on top of you, his hands guiding your hips. You feel the head of his cock prodding your wet hole, and the tip slides in.

“Fuck,” he growls. “How are you this fucking tight?”

He presses forward, moaning as your tight walls begin to swallow him. He’s had sex before, and he’s had his fair share of drunk hook ups, but you were certainly the best he’s had in years. You were making all the sadness disappear, and only could he feel pure bliss.

“That’s it. Such a good girl takin’ all of my cock like this,” he grunts as he picks up his pace.

You can barely think straight. The way his cock keeps bullying its way deep inside of you has your mind swimming. All you can think about is how good it feels to be this full. One of your hands reaches down to feel him through your tummy, and you whine as he slams into you even harder.

“Can you feel me?” He growls in your ear. “Feelin’ me fill you up completely? Have you ever been this full?”

You shake your head. “N-no, never.”

He smirks as he hears your response. Soon he’s ramming into you so hard that the couch begins to move across the floor. Neither of you really seem to mind or to even really notice all that much. He reaches down, finding your clit with ease. The movements of his fingers make you whine his name.

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me.”

Your vision cuts to white as euphoria hits you. Your walls begin to pulse and contract around Hopper, and he has moments before he pulls out and spills all over your plump ass. Each jerk of his hand brings more of his thick seed to paint your skin. And then you’re both just panting, trying to catch your breath.

He admires the mess he’s made. His fingers drag through the cum before he brings it to your lips, and you surprise him by eagerly licking it off his fingers. When he flips you over, you pull him in for an eager kiss.

“You sure know how to treat a lady,” you say with a smile.

“Keep up the good attitude,” he replies with a kiss. “And maybe tomorrow, I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

Hopper stomps around the kitchen trying to feed himself.

The icebox door slams shut, sending the cardboard box of cereal to the floor. Dozens of little Honey Smacksu scatter across the hardwood.

“Jesus!” Jim huffs.

Bare feet kick around some of the cereal, attempting to corral it into a neat pile. A weak right arm rests in a fabric sling. It’s the only garment on his torso, as he has decided that putting on a shirt is too uncomfortable to attempt today. The zipper of his jeans was hard enough to handle.

He opens the icebox again, this time settling for the milk carton alone. Grimacing, he picks up the milk with his good arm, which still triggers pain in his chest and shoulders. He winces as he chugs back the liquid and hurries to throw it back on the shelf. A broken collarbone is a pain in the…well, a lot of places.

Hopper struggles to put socks on his feet.

You arrive home somewhat late from work, burgers and fries in tow. Hopper recounts how he took a shower all by himself, albeit it took longer than he hoped.

“Is that why the floor is wet like that?” you question.

“Hey. I’m trying my best here. You have left me to my own devices. It’s like I’m on house arrest.” Hopper grumbled.

The bruise on his collarbone was looking less gruesome.

“Did you take your ibuprofen?”

Hopper declined the stronger pain medication from his doctor. He didn’t want to risk feeling too good and falling back into old habits.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” He mumbles, focused on rummaging in the fast food bag like a feral raccoon.

So snippy. He must be starving. Normally he’d ask you about your work day and give you sloppy kisses at the doorway.

“I was so hungry. Oh my god.” Hopper groans as he bites into the greasy burger.

A glob of mustard falls onto the wood of the table. He consumes it so fast you are somewhat concerned. You get up to pour him a glass of water when you notice he is only wearing one sock.

“Just one sock, hun?”

“I’m trying my best!” He speaks through a mouth full of food.

After supper, you help the man out of his pants and into bed for the night. You kiss his cheek and go to take a warm shower. When you emerge, only wearing a towel, you see restless Jim struggling to fall asleep on his back.

Hopper whines in frustration trying to lay comfortably.

You place your towel back in the bathroom. Nude, you gather your pajamas from the dresser. Hopper’s eyes lock onto your figure. His boxers feel a bit tighter. One foot remains sockless. There is some wetness between your thighs. You haven’t been taken care of since Hopper injured himself.

“Please. It feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.”

“I don’t want to break your other collarbone.” you tease.

“It would make me feel better. A lot better.”

He then throws the most pathetic looking puppy eyes at you. Glancing between his gaze and his enticing boner, you cave.

“Okay, but gentle.”

Straddled atop his large thighs, you grind yourself against his stiff length. His left hand reaches for you, but you gently place it back, concerned he will strain himself. Hopper isn’t sure how long he’s going to last. He feels so sensitive already. You smell like flowers and sugar.

“There’s my pretty girl.” he breathes.

Once you feel thoroughly wet and ready to take him, you guide his dick into you and slowly lower down. Your slit is split and stretched open by his cock. He feels so good. Hopper seems to be alright, so you carefully begin to ride him and…

“Ah! Ow, fuck, fuck—“ Hopper cries.

Hard breaths are forced out of his gritted teeth.

“Baby!” you gasp.

You slip yourself off of him. Hopper groans in disappointment.

“Don’t stop. I’m alright, really.” Hopper pleads, still horny despite the pain in his chest and shoulders.

“No you’re not. It’s okay, we can try another time. You are still healing.”

“I haven’t, you know, since I hurt myself. Too much shoulder movement.” He weakly imitates a stroking gesture with his left hand.

You decide the best alternative is to service him with your mouth. You grip the base of his shaft with your right hand, and place your left hand on his balls. Precum is already glistening on his pink tip. Licking at his swollen head, you twist your hand as you stroke him up and down. Tip to base. You form your lips into a firm “O” as you go down on his manhood. His dick pushed through your lips, earning a sexy sound of approval. The warmth and tight fit makes him feel as though he is pushing into another one of your little holes. Thoughts of him properly fucking you makes you soaking. You eagerly pick up the pace.

Sweet, wet sucking noises. Panting and occasional groans.

His left hand pushes your head further down his length. Your tongue zigzags on his shaft as you move your eager mouth on it.

“That’s it, sugar. Oh, what a good girl.”

He can’t help but grasp at your hair with his uninjured arm. Hopper pushes your head down onto him.

The pace was now in his control as he starts fucking your little mouth. It is causing him some pain, but the pleasure is worth it. He loves how it feels to fuck the back of your throat. How it feels when you gag and drool all over him. He knows how wet your pussy gets from blowing him. Even in his incapacitated state he can make you feel so small and submissive. All you want to do is please him.

“Uh huh, just like that.” he moans.

All you can muster are the sloppy sounds of eager sucking and gagging.

“Fuck, here it comes.”

His cock tenses in your mouth as he blows his load down your throat. Surges of hot semen tingle as you take it all down.

“Good girl.” He repeats in an orgasmic daze.

You cuddle up to him for a bit before rolling away to get dressed. Hopper reaches for you with his left hand.

“Don’t get up yet. My mouth isn’t broken. Come sit.”

-> Tap here for the Jim Hopper master list.

Hopper slams the door of his Blazer shut, following you to the front door. He opens it for you while you’re still giving him the cold shoulder.

“Again, sweetheart, I said I’m sorry.”

Callahan’s retelling of yesterday’s holiday potluck rings through your mind again. The Chief was caught under the mistletoe with the new little assistant at the station. At the urging of the others, he kissed her cheek and blushed like a…

“Strawberry pie! Callahan said you blushed pink as a strawberry pie.” you grumble, cheeks and ears hot like cinnamon.

Hopper palms his thick brows as he plops onto the worn couch. Gears turn in his head as he strategizes how to smooth things over.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s a Christmas thing. It’s not like I stole a kiss on purpose. Beside, I’m pretty sure she has a lazy eye. Hard to tell with her glasses.” He bemoans.

The joys of having a pretty boyfriend. Internally you are confident that nothing is to worry about. Hopper was a ladies man, but he has been nothing but loyal to you. This doesn’t stop your jealous side from slipping the leash now and then. Sometimes the big flirt needs a little humbling.

A pat on his thigh invites you to take a seat on him. Lips meet each other and he traces his thumb on your cheekbone.

“Forgive me. Please?” He whispers.

“Fine. Only because it’s Christmas.” You crack a smile.

Hopper seems to interpret this as a green light, moving his big hands to touch your body sensually.

“Oh, you think you’re getting some tonight that easy?” You jest.

His sapphire blue eyes are heavy with smug swagger. He looks up and down your body.

“Well…yeah?” His eyebrows raise.

“You aren’t going to make it up to me first?” You play with his collar. His neck looks like it’s asking to be bitten.

Hopper makes that silly little squinty face at you.

“Tell me how to fix it and it’s yours.” He offers.

Famous last words of a mustached himbo.

—

Hopper is not accustomed to letting you dominate him in bed. He prefers to toss you around and pound you into the mattress until you are a blubbering mess.

Tonight that thick skull of his is thrown back as you ruthlessly use him. The swollen tip of his cock matches the pinkish mauve of the lips on his smart mouth. Pre-cum has been dribbling out of him for a while. His long and girthy shaft is sticky with your saliva and other juices from being used as your own pleasure toy.

Each time his eyes start to clench themselves shut and his hands grasp for sheets or flesh to white knuckle, you stop. His chest heaves and his pelvis bucks to hump the air or your hand, begging for more stimulation.

“Poor thing. You want to cum so badly don’t you?”

Hopper elicits a strained whimper as you grind your sloppy wetness against him. Pupils dilate as you watch him cross his arms over his head, waiting for you to push him back to the edge. For Hopper it’s agonizing to not be in control, but he can’t help but fall more in love with you. The curves of your body are illuminated by the warm bedroom light. Nipples delightfully swaying above him. A sheen of sweat covers his skin like dew.

Finally you sink yourself back into his swollen cock. Gentle rocking feels tortuous to him.

“Please let me cum.” Hopper is at his limits.

“Again.” you order.

“Pretty please, baby girl.” he begs louder.

“You going to be a good boy?”

“Mhm hmm.” He nods, his big puppy dog eyes doing most of the work.

“Promise me.” Your hand caresses the stubble on his jawline. Your thumb traces on his bottom lip.

“Fuck— I promise, I promise.”

You slip your finger into his wet mouth. He sucks it carefully as you start to ride him with fervor. His eyes clench shut, trying to stave away the urge to unload himself immediately. You remove your thumb from his mouth.

“Please— please, baby. I’m going to bust. Please…”

The idea of having this larger man, a man of authority, quivering and begging for mercy beneath you is intoxicating. You slip off of his cock and grind him again, only this time you decide to let him have release.

“Cum now. Let me see you make a mess.”

It is as if a switch flipped. His face becomes a contorted portrait of ecstasy. Hopper spilled his seed all over the soft hair of his belly. His used cock throbbed as he began to soften, still dripping onto the curls of his bush. Some of it rolls down his abdomen and onto the sheets.

“Good boy! Oh what a good boy. Cumming so much.”

You scoop up some of his salty cum with your fingers and lick it clean, amused and giddy. Meanwhile, all Hopper can manage is grumbling and groaning, still trying to recover from his orgasm. He is so sensitive and overwhelmed it nearly hurts. You grab a clean towel and let him catch his breath. A clouded daze remains upon him as you cuddle up next to him. You brush back some of his sweaty hair and plant a kiss on his head.

“Apology accepted.” you beam.

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The Hawkins Police Department smelled like stale coffee and old paperwork when you pushed through the front door, the November chill still clinging to your coat. Flo's desk sat empty since it too early even for her, and the fluorescent lights hummed their lonely song above the scuffed flooring. You knew you'd find him exactly where you'd left him twelve hours ago.

Hopper's office door stood half-open, a slice of warm lamplight cutting across the darkened bullpen. You could see him hunched over his desk, one hand buried in his hair, the other scrawling something across a file folder with the kind of intensity that meant he'd forgotten the rest of the world existed. The ashtray beside his elbow overflowed with cigarette butts, and his uniform shirt was wrinkled in that specific way that meant he'd been wearing it far too long.

You knocked softly on the doorframe, and his head snapped up. The exhaustion carved into his face softened the moment he registered it was you, those blue eyes warming despite the redness around the edges.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." His voice came out rough, gravelly from too many cigarettes and not enough rest.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you." You crossed to his desk and set down the paper bag from the diner, the grease already starting to darken the bottom. Then you set down the travel mug of coffee.. black, two sugars, the way he'd never admit he liked it. "When's the last time you ate something that wasn't from a vending machine?"

Hopper leaned back in his chair, and it creaked under his weight. He rubbed both hands over his face, and you could see the way his shoulders sagged now that someone was here to witness it. The chief of police could carry the weight of Hawkins' secrets all night long, but Jim Hopper, your Jim, didn't have to pretend he wasn't tired when it was just the two of you.

"Don't remember." He reached for the coffee first, wrapping both hands around it like he was trying to absorb its warmth through the cardboard. The first sip pulled a sound from deep in his chest, something between a groan and a sigh. "You're too good to me."

"Someone has to be." You moved around the desk, and he shifted automatically, making space for you to perch on the edge beside him. This close, you could see the shadow of stubble darkening his jaw, the way his eyes tracked over your face like he was memorizing it. "What's got you here all night? I thought you said all the big cases were wrapped up."

His jaw tightened, and his gaze slid back to the files spread across his desk. You recognized that look, it was the one that meant he was carrying something he couldn't share, something that sat heavy in his gut and kept him awake when he should be sleeping. There were things in Hawkins that didn't make it into official reports, things that left shadows in his eyes and made him hold you a little tighter when he finally made it home.

"Just tying up loose ends." He set the coffee down and pulled the paper bag closer, extracting the foil-wrapped sandwich. "Making sure everything's documented right."

You reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, gently working out the tangles he'd created. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, and for a moment he looked almost peaceful. The weight lifted, just slightly, just enough.

"You can't save everyone by yourself, you know." Your voice came out softer than you'd intended. "Even chiefs of police need backup sometimes."

"Yeah, well." He opened his eyes and caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it that sent warmth flooding through your chest. "That's what I've got you for, right?"

"I'm serious, Jim." You cupped his face with your free hand, your thumb tracing the dark circle under his eye. "You're running yourself into the ground. Whatever this is, whatever you're dealing with-..."

"I know." He cut in, turning his head to kiss your palm, then pulled you closer, guiding you off the desk and into his lap. You went willingly, settling against his chest as his arms came around you, solid and sure. His chin rested on top of your head, and you felt him breathe out, long and slow. "I know, sweetheart. I just... I need to make sure it's done right. That everyone's safe."

You didn't push. You'd learned that about him early on — Jim Hopper would tell you what he could when he could, and the rest he'd carry alone because he thought that's what protecting people meant. So instead, you just held him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm while he ate his sandwich one handed, unwilling to let you go.

The sky outside his window was starting to lighten, purple giving way to pink at the edges. Hawkins would wake up soon, and Flo would arrive with her knowing looks and her motherly tsking about his sleeping habits. The phone would start ringing, and Powell and Callahan would stumble in smelling like aftershave and bad coffee, and Jim would have to be Chief Hopper again.

But right now, in this quiet pocket of morning, he was just yours. Just the man who held you like you were something precious, who let himself be soft in the spaces between the hard things, who carried the weight of this strange town on his shoulders and still made room for you.

"Come home tonight," you murmured against his neck. "Please. Even if it's late."

His arms tightened around you. "Promise."

And when Jim Hopper made a promise, he kept it.

← MLIST. ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

The late shift at Melvald's General Store was brutal, mostly because of the walk home. As you stepped out into the crisp, Indiana night air, the clock in your head already ticking toward midnight, a familiar sight pulled up to the curb. The beat up, official looking Chevy K5 Blazer with the magnetic 'Sheriff' sign on the door.

The window rolled down, and there was Jim Hopper, looking tired but reliably solid.

"You again," he grunted, but the slight curve of his lips betrayed him. "Get in. It's too late for a lady to be walking alone."

You smiled, pulling open the squeaky passenger door. "Hi, Hopper. Are you sure you don't mind? I know you've been on duty all day."

"I mind being awake," he said, shifting the vehicle into drive. "I don't mind making sure you get home safe. Now hurry up, it's freezing."

You huddled into the worn passenger seat. Hopper had been doing this for a couple of months now, ever since he'd seen you walking past the station one particularly dark night. It had started with a simple, 'Hop in,' and now it was a silent ritual.

Tonight, however, the temperature had plummeted, and you were shivering visibly. You rubbed your arms, trying to generate some warmth.

Hopper glanced over, his eyes narrowing slightly as he saw the goosebumps on your skin. He sighed, reaching behind his seat. He pulled out his official Hawkins Police Department uniform jacket,, the big, bulky one with the star patch, and tossed it over the console.

"Put this on," he ordered gruffly.

"Oh, Hopper, I couldn't, you'll be cold," you protested, but your teeth were chattering slightly.

"I've got a thick sweater underneath," he waved you off. "The last thing I need is you coming down with pneumonia and blaming me for it. Go on."

You didn't need any more convincing. You slipped your arms into the jacket. It was warm, heavy, and smelled faintly of woodsmoke, coffee, and something undeniably Hopper.

It was also enormous.

The sleeves completely swallowed your hands, forcing you to push them up past your elbows. The hem of the jacket reached nearly to your knees. The wide shoulders of the coat drooped down your frame, making you look like a child trying on their dad's clothes.

You settled back into the seat, the shearling lining a welcome blast of warmth. You glanced at Hopper, who was focused on the road, his jaw set.

Then, you saw it.

He was trying to hide a smile. A soft, genuine, melting smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"What?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.

He cleared his throat, pushing the smile away, but his eyes were still warm. "Nothin'," he mumbled, shifting his big hands on the steering wheel. "Just... that thing's a little big on ya, huh?"

"A little?" you giggled, waving your tiny, swallowed hands. "I think it could fit three of me. It's wonderful, though. Thank you."

He just grunted a noncommittal response, but the silence that settled was cozy, thick with unspoken care.

When he pulled up to your house, you started to take the jacket off. "Here you go," you said.

"Keep it," he said quickly, cutting you off. "It's gonna be even colder tomorrow. Just bring it back next time you're working."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, meeting your gaze. "Now get inside. And lock the door."

"Okay. Goodnight, Hop."

"Goodnight."

You climbed out of the Blazer, pulling the oversized jacket tight around you like a shield. You waved once, and he gave a quick, curt nod.

Inside your warm, cozy house, you turned on the porch light and headed straight to the kitchen for a mug of hot tea. As you waited for the water to boil, you instinctively peered through the front window,, a habit you'd developed since he started giving you rides.

Hopper's Blazer was still parked across the street.

He wasn't idling the engine the car was dark. He was just sitting there, a big silhouette behind the wheel. You knew he wouldn't leave. Not until he saw your bedroom light flip on, or maybe even waited another five minutes after that. Just to be absolutely sure the door was locked, the coast was clear, and you were safe.

You sipped your tea, a wave of warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the hot liquid and everything to do with the heavy, safe feeling of the sheriff's jacket draped over your shoulders.

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.”

Jim Hopper is already a large man standing at six feet three inches on a bad day. The mix of plush flesh and steel muscles makes anyone second guess disobedience. If that's not enough deterrent his badge will set them straight.

Humans with good instincts can tell when someone isn't completely normal. Jim Hopper is anything but normal and hasn't been for awhile. It took awhile for him to come to terms with turning. His instincts call for him to take and to hunt. Senses are sharper in human form or as his larger counterpart. Most importantly Jim's new cravings.

He couldn't stop himself from hiding you away in his cabin in the woods. He couldn't control himself when you tried to run away. You couldn't stop him when he finally had you on the forest floor.

No one could stop Jim when he shredded the clothes off your trembling body. Or when he forced a thick leg between your tired thighs. It was inevitable that he would kiss you and pry your bite swollen lips apart. Tangling his tongue to yours and flicking it into submission.

Your hands push at his strong chest while one of his own slides down. Making a home between your spread legs. A calloused finger slips over your clit to apply pressure, it hurts. And the pain mixes into pleasure that has you calling out. Your hands no longer fight him.

But you beg so prettily for him to stop, "Please! Jim! Please stop! I don't want this! I- I wanna go home!" Tears drench your hot cheeks and pool on your neck.

"You can deny it all you want, but your body is telling a different story.” Jim's lips ghost yours before trailing down to your neck. He lays a gentle kiss on your pulse point to bring your attention to his mouth. His plump lips split wide to reveal elongated canines. As he bites into your throat his finger penetrates your twitching hole.

You scream because the pain from his love bite is too much, it hurts! It hurts! God does it hurt! The pain is so severe that you think it might bleed. A normal human bite takes force a lot of force to break skin.

You had always loved the town of Hawkins. That was until your husband had died. After you lost him you could no longer stand the place. So when the Byers moved to Lenora Hills, you and your adoptive daughter El moved with them.

You had only been in Lenora Hills a few months when a strange package arrived. Inside was a Russian doll, with a hidden message that suggested your husband was still alive.

You didn’t believe it at first. Thinking it had to be some sort of hoax. There was no way your husband had survived.

It was your best friend Joyce who was convinced it was real. She asked Murray for help and they found out he was still alive . Together the two of them went to Russia to save your husband. You decided to stay behind knowing it was most likely a hoax. But Joyce had faith.

You had been with El, the Byers boys, Mike and Argyle travelling back to Hawkins to save the town from Vecna.

Not long after you finally arrive back in Hawkins the one place you really didn’t want to be. Joyce, Murray and Hopper arrive.

At first you can’t believe the sight thinking you’re hallucinating. El runs over and hugs her father. That’s when you realise he is alive.

You and Hopper stare at each other. You want to run over to him. Hug him. Kiss him. But you’re in such a shock that you can’t even seem to move.

It takes your best friend Joyce who is stood next to you to say “go to him” for you to finally be able to move.

You run towards Hopper straight into his already waiting arms. He holds you tight. Not wanting to let you go.

The tears finally fall from your eyes. You honestly can’t believe he’s alive.

“You’re really here?” You asked, thinking maybe this was just a dream.

“I’m really here darling.” Hopper said as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

That’s when you really sobbed your heart out,

“Darling don’t cry. It’s ok I’m here.” Hopper said stroking your back trying to soothe you.

“I can’t lose you again.” You said wiping the tears from your eyes.

Hopper pulled away from the hug and lifted your head so he could look in your eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere I promise. I missed you darling.” He said smiling at you.

“I missed you too.” You said finally smiling back at him.

Thats when you finally kissed him.