#chief hopper

Jim steps out into the garden, the warm sun filtering through the leaves as he admires the blooming flowers, a perfect sight to come home to after a long day at work. You're already there, bending over to tend to the roses, short skirt riding up just enough to tease the curve of your ass. The fabric clings to your thighs, barely covering your bare cunt, and Jim feels his cock twitch up in his slacks at the sight. You're doing this on purpose - he knows it from the way you glance back at him with that sly smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Watching you care for the roses along the fence that separated your garden from the neighbor's. It wasn't fully private - Mrs. Hargrove next door had a habit of peeking over the hedge, and the path to the street ran just beyond the gate. Just public enough to make your cunt throb with excitement, but secluded enough that you could get away with... well, whatever you had in mind.

"Hey, handsome," you called out, voice light and playful as you sauntered toward him, making sure to add a little extra umph as you stand, hips swaying in each step as you near your husband. Your skirt fluttered up with each step, threatening to reveal everything if a breeze hit just right. His eyes snapped down, widening as they traveled down your legs, lingering on the hem that rode so high.

You press against him, soft tits brushing his chest through your thin top. "Like what you see?" Your hand trailing down his arm, fingers lingering on his wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lip before you spin away, giving Jim another view of the back of your barely there skirt.

You watch Jim try to focus on the garden, but you won't let him. Kneeling to pull a weed, arching your back so the skirt hikes up higher, exposing the soft skin of your thighs and the edge of your ass cheeks. His pulse quickens, heat building in his groin as you look over your shoulder.

"It's so hot out here, honey. I might need some help cooling off." You hum, tugging at the hem of your skirt, pretending to adjust it, but only making it ride up further.

"Sweetheart? What are you wearing?" He straightened, a soft calmness radiating off of him but you could see straight through the facade, you saw the way his gaze darkened, the subtle shift in his stance as he took you in. You could see the visible tent in his pants, hell you could practically taste the precum spilling in his boxers.

You bite your lip, feigning innocence as he closes the distance between you.

"Jus' somethin' comfortable for the garden. Don't you like it?" Pushing forward on your knees slowly, letting the skirt lift just a bit, giving him a glimpse of the curve of your ass before facing him again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

" It's… distracting," he admitted, his voice rougher now. He goes to sit on one of your many, many garden chairs, settling in to watch your every move.

"Good. That's the point." Standing up to join him on the chair, underneath an old oak tree that partially shielded you from the street but left you exposed to anyone who might wander by.

Straddling his thighs, skirt bunching up at your waist, "been thinking 'bout you all day, honey. About how much I need you."

Pressing your body flush to his, grinding your cunt subtly against his rock hard cock. Your skirt bundled up between you, and you know he can feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin fabric of his slacks. "Touch me, Jim. I wore this for you."

He hesitates, but you don't.

"Please," you practically beg, voice husky and desperate. "I need you now. Fuck me in the garden, Jim." Your eyes lock on his, wide and pleading.

His eyes flicked to the fence, then back to you, a mix of caution and hunger in his expression. "Here? Now? The neighbors - "

"Exactly," you whisper. He could feel the heat of your sopping cunt through his pants, the bulge in his pants pushing against your wet pussy.

Hands slid up his chest, nails lightly scraping as you looked up at him with those damn eyes.

"That's what makes it so hot. Please, Jim. I can't wait anymore. My pussy is already so wet just from wearing this for you."

Taking his hand, guiding it under the skirt, letting his fingers brush against your soft slick folds. He groaned low in his throat, his resolve crumbling as he felt how ready you were. "Fuck, Sweets. Y're not wearing any panties?"

"No baby," you murmur, nipping at his earlobe as you hump his palm. "Take me right here. Bend me over the bench, fuck me hard against the tree - whatever you want. I need your cock inside me now. Please, Jim. Don't make me beg."

He didn't need more convincing. With a growl, he lifted you slightly off his lap - pulling his pants down just enough to release his cock with a plap against his stomach, pressing your front against the fabric of his shirt. Your skirt long forgotten as Jim stripped you of it, exposing your supple ass and crying cunt to the open air. He guides you back down, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. "You asked for it," he rasps, as he helps you sink down.

He's balls deep in you when a needy high pitched moan escapes your lips, the stretch and fullness sending sparks through your body. Jim can feel your cunt practically drowning his cock. You're so fucking warm - so soft around him. He never wants to leave you.

He grips your hips, fucking up into you relentlessly, each slap of his heavy balls hitting your ass echo through the garden.

The risk of being seen only heightened everything - the way your tits bounced with every thrust, nipples hardening against his chest; the slick sounds of your cunt sucking him in.

"Harder," you beg, cunt pulsing around him. "Fill me up, Jim. Make me cum right here where anyone could see."

He obliged, one hand tangling in your hair to pulling your head back, his other reaching around to rub your clit in firm circles.

The pleasure built fast, coiling tight until you shattered around him, walls clenching as you moan his name. His cock explodes seconds later, burying himself deep and pumping hot spurts of cum into you, marking you as his all over again.

Staying like that for a moment, panting, his body shielding yours as you caught your breath.

You smiled to myself, already plotting the next mini skirt seduction. This garden was going to see a lot more of you both.

dividers- @uzmacchiato & @saradika-graphics

“Will I see you later at that… thing, for Powell?”

Hopper’s snacking on your pretzels and peanut butter you’ve brought to your desk again because despite the comfortability between you two, he still manages to be a hard boss who doesn’t leave much room for a real lunch break.

Your nails give a hard flick to his fingers from your Tupperware knowing you’ll have to ration your meals today with the amount of buzz in the office. He pretends it hurt with a dramatic “hey!” before  sucking the peanut butter from the side of his thumb and you can’t help but smile his favorite knowing smile.

“That thing? You mean his Birthday Party?” you say, a little mockingly as a jab at how Hopper really struggles to find the right words sometimes. Whether it’s a lack of vocabulary logged in his memory or honest indifference, you’ll never know. 

“Sure,” Hopper kind of shrugs and leans more on your desk. Whatever you were crossing off on your notepad doesn’t matter anymore as you accept his determination to distract you from getting any work done. 

It’s hard to be annoyed when he’s this close, smirking at you now. His aftershave is so comforting to you, what smells of pine needles and tobacco. His scent fills your senses as he seems closer than before. 

“You gonna go?” His shoulder connects to yours for a brief moment as he nudges you to answer him. 

Autonomously, you can’t help but sigh as you contemplated the reality of going out for a couple hours after a workday like today.

Your familiarity with this town starts and ends with Hopper. He knew you as his favorite little bartender from the town over and after enough rapport, offered you a better gig at the station for at least a little extra cash when the nights at the bar weren’t tipping like they used to. It’s not like you’d be his assistant forever, but you recognized he was doing you a huge favor and you can only return the gesture by eliminating some of his workload. 

Your lips pursed as you mimicked his shrug.

“Do you want me to go?” 

Hopper’s eyes met yours as he spoke without missing a beat. 

“Any opportunity I can get to look’it you.” 

An almost devilish smirk forms on his lips as he notices the flush growing on your cheeks. Hopper takes advantage of your unexpected shyness as he sneaks another pretzel. Before you could even protest, he’s already headed out with another officer and shouts a “thanks, honey” over his shoulder towards your direction. Shortly you are left with only the sound of the slam of the station’s doors and a whirring fan. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter to yourself, embarrassed and irritated, crunching on a pretzel and pretending to write literally anything useful on your notepad but you have been successfully distracted. 

Maybe you would give yourself a real fifteen minute break, you’ve officially earned it. 

——————————

You had already talked yourself into doing this, you kept reminding yourself as you patted concealer to camouflage the darker shadows around your eyes. 

It’s extremely stupid to drive while exhausted, but you already committed to the reality of knowing you were going to drive more than 25 minutes home, unwind for as much time as you could before enjoying a microwave dinner and getting ready to drive another 25 minutes right back to Hawkins for the station’s party. 

Smearing the same lipstick from your lips to stain your cheeks, you give yourself a final glance before heading out the door. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you are suddenly confronted with three heavy knocks on your door. Your feet feel nailed to your floorboards. 

BANG BANG BANG!

Your body is completely frozen in fear. Though you can’t move, your eyes scan your surroundings as you make mental note of your locks and closest weapon options if necessary. 

BANG BANG BANG!

“Come on, baby, it’s me! Open up!”

Bile from the deepest part of your stomach burns like acid as it reaches your throat. 

Your ex’s taunting voice could be heard by you in a crowded room. It was unmistakably him. You thought for a moment if it was better to pretend like no one’s home, but the lighting from behind your curtains say otherwise. He already knows. 

He knew better than to show his face to you ever again after what he did. He must be drunk off his ass, slamming his fist against your front door like a gavel and expecting you to let him grovel and come home. 

BANG BANG BANG!

“Fuck off!” you find the courage to shout back from behind the other side of the door. 

“Open the fucking door!” His voice is more hoarse from the sudden scream he rips from his body as he speaks, throwing all of his energy into slamming himself against the wooden door and your heart is pounding against your chest in fear. 

In desperation, you press your back into the door to keep it on its hinges as he continues to collide his shoulder into the now cracking wood. 

You feel your hot tears streak down your cheeks, erasing the makeup you had just perfected only moments ago and it’s just another example of how your ex had the power to destroy your happiness in seconds. 

Anything you did for yourself, including getting another job to afford now both halves of the rent after kicking him out, made him sick to his stomach. The concept of you being independent, living without his control, had created a jealous rage in his spirit that destroyed your relationship and whatever remains of him. 

Your fight or flight kicks your adrenaline into overdrive the more you feel the door shake from underneath you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you continue to support your front door’s hinges as he screams for you to let him inside like a demon from Hell, your own cry escaping your throat as your hand strains to stretch to your side table, fingertips desperately prying at the drawer to open. 

It was inside the drawer that you would be reminded of Hopper’s first gift to you, a small handgun for your protection. 

You’ve never touched it apart from the day he presented it to you, as a welcome gift from the station. You swore to yourself you’d ask him for shooting lessons one of these days, but tonight left you without an option as you felt in danger for your life. 

A continuation of swears and acid were being spat on your door as your ex’s fists continued to hammer away, his strength weakening as he screamed himself into exhaustion like a toddler with a tantrum. 

Nonetheless, you gave one last warning before your hand managed to finally be able to grip the cold metal of the firearm.

With a final liberated scream to silence his own, you fire a shot into your floorboard the one time and hope it’s enough to scare the bastard off. 

You hear him call you a crazy bitch, nothing new, and can make out the sound of his soles scrambling from your front porch to down your gravel driveway, racing to get back to his car and act like he’s the victim running away from danger. 

It felt good to have him experience the fear he gave you every second of your relationship, but the high only lasts for a minute before you’re falling to your knees in shock of the events that happened. 

Your hands are still shaking and one partially still clutching the gun, the other wiping away your tears with the back of your sleeve and covering your mouth as you let out a heaving sob, a full release from the shock and the pure fear you felt triggered by again. 

After you’ve collected yourself the best you could, your intuition tells you it’s unsafe to stay at home. Knowing your ex, he could be spiteful enough to come back, maybe not alone, and your anxiety doesn’t want to test out your theory. 

In a hurry, you buzz around your bedroom and bathroom, collecting items and throwing them into a duffel bag. You couldn’t stay here tonight, or maybe even the next few nights, and needed to prepare your action plan. Maybe you could drive the two hours to your Mom’s, but she’s not going to be awake at the hour you arrive and driving for that long in your current state seemed like a worse idea than just driving to the bar for Powell’s birthd-

Holy shit, the party. 

After everything that happened, you completely blacked out the memory of what you were even doing before your ex showed up. The whole reason you got dressed again and now it’s already too late on a weekday that you’re assuming they’ve had their fun and gone home by now. 

Unless….

In a haste, you grab your keys and drive to the only person who you need right now. 

——————————-

You can’t help but wince at the sound of your brakes as you pull up to his trailer. You recognize the station’s car out front and feel an immediate sense of relief that he must be home, and hopefully, alone. 

However, you know Hopper, and you know him very well in a bar setting. Though you are usually just an observer to his infamous bachelor lifestyle, you’re occasionally his victim when his bourbon starts talking for him. There were more than a handful of times you watched him leave your tip on the bar top as he walked out arm-in-arm with another woman, sometimes two. 

You embrace the risk of humiliation with each gentle knock you try on his door, mindfully avoiding a similar pattern of banging from earlier that now plagued your memories. 

The quiet of the snow falling calms you from your anxious thoughts, the icy air blows against your skin and it almost feels peaceful before the abrupt speed of his door opening makes you gasp. 

“Hey,” he starts with an amused expression before his eyes take in the full vision of you. There you were on his doorstep, with snowflakes peppered in your hair, your nose pink from the cold, your eyes heavy from your cries that stained streaks through your blushed cheeks, and a heavy duffel bag over your shoulder. Hopper’s body stiffens from the scene and he’s already sobering up knowing you look anything but okay. 

“Hey.” Your voice cracks in your response, completely depleted from any energy. 

“Get in ‘ere,” he says much softer, his warm hand already on your back, guiding you inside. He pulls you into him as he closes the door behind you and your face is smothered by the thick material of his flannel. It smells so much like cigarettes and pine, you take a few centering calm breaths. Your eyes sting again knowing you can finally relax because you are safe. 

You both don’t say anything right away, just allowing the moment to hang in the air as he holds you in his small entryway. His own body heat is enough to warm you back to life, you began feeling your fingertips again as you clutch his shirt in your embrace and inhale his scent deeply to soothe yourself from crying all over again. 

Hopper presses a kiss against your hair and continues to rub gentle circles on your back as you fully relax against him. 

“You’re alright, honey,” he mumbles against your temple before another small kiss in the same spot, then setting his chin on top of your head. Hopper’s frame enveloping yours, letting you feel tucked in and safe. 

You knew telling him what happened would ruin the moment. He’d get fired up, insist on driving all the way back to your place, set up an insane amount of traps around your property that could electrocute your ex to light up like a Christmas tree or knowing Hopper, he would have him fall into a ditch hidden under a blanket of faux leaves so he could torture him himself. 

As much as you would revel in your ex’s misery, you didn’t have the energy in you tonight to get worked up and angry again. You just craved to feel the comfort and safety you know Hopper provides you. 

“I hope I didn’t intrude on you or something,” you finally speak up as you pull away from his hug to look up at him. 

His blue eyes are more pronounced after he’s been drinking, the glazed bloodshot half lidded stare that makes your knees a little wobbly if you look too long. 

Hopper shakes his head and never breaks his gaze from yours. 

“Not even a little bit,” the corner of his lip lifting slightly before he continued, “tonight wasn’t any fun without you as my bartender, anyways.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, an exhale of a laugh through your nose at his ability to flirt with you despite the circumstances. He really was charming. 

“You’re okay?” He presses, more serious. Not exactly shocking that the cop won’t give up on his hunch that you’re less than good by the spontaneous visit mixed with your overall appearance. 

“Am now,” you say simply, honestly. It was the truth as the more you embraced your new surroundings, the smell of his cigarettes and aftershave lingering around you, hearing only the calmness of leaves rustling outside from the snowy breeze mixed with the sound of his radiator was more comforting to you than he could realize. 

The lines between his eyebrows got deeper as he scowled down at you, clearly not buying it. 

You give him a soft assuring smile before gently using your thumb in attempt to smooth out the wrinkle of his worry lines.

“Just need… to not go home, for awhile…” you chose your words carefully, your tone trying to convey you’re not looking to answer any more questions. 

Hopper’s body pulls away from yours completely, taking his warmth with him. Without another word, he’s taking your duffel bag from the floor and headed towards his bedroom. You know your body has returned to its normal temperature as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of sleeping in his bed. 

“I’ll take the couch, don’t worry,” Hopper grumbles, seemingly reading your mind while placing your bag gently on a nearby chair. 

“I don’t want that,” you almost blurt out. 

The words left your lips before you realized you even felt that way, both of you unsure of how to immediately react. 

His frame stands taller again before you and his eyes find yours, searching for you to say more, but you can feel the lump in your throat growing as you struggle to gulp your nerves. 

“Okay,” his voice returns to a gentler tone, something that feels foreign when you are so used to teasing and mocking one another in a playful manner. Back at the station, he would be agitating you more on purpose once he knew you were on a short fuse, just to mess with you a little more, but tonight was different. It was unfamiliar to speak with him so seriously, with so much caution, but he was showing his softer side and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t making your knees a little weaker. 

“You should warm up, I got towels in the, uh-“

“Bathroom?” you assume, noticing he started to rub the back of his neck.

“Right,” he clears his throat, reaching for the half empty can of beer he had on his nightstand, presumably where he was before you knocked on his door. “M’gonna have a smoke, be out here if you need me.”

Just like that, he left you alone in his bedroom as his sliding door came to a close and the brief chill grazes your skin again. 

Your eyes scanning around the room, taking in all his mementos and knickknacks. You can see him through the frosted glass. His back faced you, taking in the sight of broad shoulders and narrow hips as clouds of grey fog hung around his silhouette before the wind would blow it away. Maybe you were projecting your own nervous feelings, but he did seem more fidgety than usual. 

The hot water and steam of the shower completely relaxed your aching muscles. What was once tense from stress has melted down the drain along with the scrubbed memories of tonight. All that mattered now was feeling safe, far away from that asshole, under the watchful eye of the strongest and most protective man you knew. 

As the shower knobs creaked again, Hopper overheard from the balcony and started to ash whatever remained of his cigarette on a wooden beam. Though he was used to the harsh winters in Hawkins, he didn’t expect to catch himself out of breath as he stepped back inside, he saw you standing there at the edge of his bed in your oversized pajama shirt, folding back the sheets before crawling inside. 

The sheets were softer than you expected a single man to have in his possession, a pleasant surprise. You felt more comfortable lying on your side, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you felt the mattress dip from his weight while he got in next to you. 

The smell of Hopper was everywhere. His sheets especially, but you couldn’t have been prepared for his heavy arm coming across your middle to rest perfectly in the crook of your waist. You could feel his exhale against the back of your shoulder and inhale every sigh of his until he inevitably fell into a bear-like snore. 

As much as you tried to join him, your mind was too active. The digital red numbers on his alarm clock told you it had already been nearly an hour since you both lied down. He made sleep look so easy but you have been tossing and turning relentlessly. You were feeling a lot all at once: paranoia, fear, anxiety, lust…? 

There’s a sharp inhale and deep rumble from his chest as he adjusts positions to lay on his back. 

“Can’t sleep?” His voice is so raspy and a twinge of guilt turns your stomach knowing you woke him up. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say and hope he’s just tired enough that he’ll pass back out and not resent you for disturbing his sleep the way your ex would have.

“C’mere,” he mumbles again, this time using more force than expected to bring you into his body so you were now fully up against his side. 

His arm that had now been thrown around your shoulder began to soothe your forearm with his heated calloused hands. Your head practically on his chest and leg half thrown over his own, you started to feel your eyes get heavier with each soft caress. 

As a habit, your knee hitched up to get more comfortable, but ended up pressing slightly on his crotch. The pace at which he was massaging your arm had slowed considerably, but your little accident woke up his body immediately. Both of you continuing to lay still, pretending you are both trying to return to sleep, but you are also both aware of his now pulsing cock from just the pressure of your knee. 

Your cheeks are burning as you avoid breathing too loud or making any sudden movements, not wanting to be the first to acknowledge the elephant trunk in the room. 

Seconds pass that feel like hours until he finally moves first. In the dark, you suddenly feel his other hand begin to massage your thigh. Your heartbeat started quickening each time you felt him press a little more tenderly over your knee before sliding up your thigh again as if to just apply more pressure on his cock for some relief. Your own core forming a deep ache the more he teased himself with your body like this. 

Hopper’s hands get more greedy as his massage routine starts to speed up slightly, his breathing getting deeper, he’s sliding his open palm up your thigh and towards your ass as a small test. You feel your body respond immediately, hiking up your knee again to allow him more access as if his arms weren’t already long enough to grab at your ass the way he’s started to now. 

The way he pulled at your flesh was rough, but he was always rubbing deep circles to soothe your skin. Even in his sleep state, he was pacing himself with how to touch you like this despite his incredible hunger to have more of you now that you’re in his bed, sprawled on top of him like this. 

His fingertips graze the underside of your thigh and he can actually feel your entrance throb for him. It activates him in an almost primal way, grabbing your hips with such speed that you don’t realize you’re straddling his middle until you recognize the feeling of both of his calloused palms that are sliding up your bare thighs, knees pressed into his mattress. 

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

Hopper’s rasp cuts through the air, thick with tension, seamlessly. His thumbs dug into the more sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he continued to look up at you. 

It wasn’t very often, or ever really, that you could see him from this perspective. There he was, smug as ever, mostly leaning against his pillows for support, just barely below your eye level. His chest hair peeking underneath his undershirt, watching the way his muscular chest was rising and falling with each breath. 

Your mouth had actually watered.

Even in the dark, your eyes searched for his, where he easily met you halfway as he leaned forward and one of his hands now pressed into the back of your neck, pulling you into an immediately deep kiss. 

His tongue expertly moved against yours, already making you stir on his lap which would only apply more pressure on his aching cock. His jaw would slack any time you rubbed yourself against him, even if just for a second as you continued to tease his tongue with your own. Your needy hands urgently lifting the undershirt over his head to throw it anywhere on the ground. 

As the one hand from the back of your neck slid to firmly grasp your jaw instead, his other left your thigh to press his thumb against your clit. Even through the thicker material of your pajama shorts, you could feel the almost punishing level of pressure as he began to rub you. 

“Hop-“ you struggle against his still passionate kiss, your nails digging into his broad shoulders, keeping you there as he rubbed quicker firmer circles that was going to make you light headed. He hums against your lips after you nearly whimper into his open mouth, your body slightly jerking as you feel yourself getting close.

His thumb pulls away too soon and you nearly collapse forward onto his chest before your hand catches your balance for you, now splayed across his exposed chest. Never breaking the kiss, your same hand comes between the both of you, palming over his dick while positioning your center to replace your hand. 

The sensation causes Hopper to fall back against the pillows once again, left with the vision of you grinding on top of him. 

“Jesus,” he whispers as he watches you in awe. 

His hands paw at your chest roughly from under your shirt as you rub yourself against him. Your first moan is more of a strained cry as he continues to throb underneath you and it’s just fabric in the way of what you really wanted. 

“Feel good, hmm?” His voice is so deep, coated in honey even when he’s trying to humiliate you. He knows you’d never admit you’ve wanted this too and it lights a fire in him. 

The grip he has on your hips makes you think he could break you if he wanted to but he was having more fun controlling how you rode him over his flannel pajamas. 

“Hmm? Do I make you feel good?”

Thankfully, his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he can see you nodding, nearly choking on a cry after he lifts his hips the slightest to press himself more into you. 

His fingers crook into your elastic waistband and rip down the cotton to your ankles with ease. All of the blood in your body reaches your face at the sudden exposure, but all shame is forgotten when you feel his long fingers gently collect your wetness before returning his thumb to your clit to force small pressured circles as his middle and ringer plunged in an out of you. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you tighten around his fingers and he rocks you through more orgasms than you have given yourself in the last two months. Your bottom lip is between his teeth when he mumbles something like “geddup” but he’s moving you himself before you even have the chance. 

Hopper positioned himself lower, bringing your thighs to be on either side of his head. You gasped when he bit into your inner thigh, sucking at the bruise before smoothing it over with his tongue.  He’d tease you like that some more if he wasn’t desperate to actually taste you the way he’s fantasized about. 

“I’ll make you feel good, honey,” he breathes into you before you feel his warm tongue push inside you, massaging against your walls and making you see stars. Your thighs shake as you try to control your balance but his arm wraps around your middle and forces you down, fully supporting your weight on his jaw. Your stomach pits as you gasp, cries leaving your lips each time his tongue lathers up and down to collect your increasing wetness.

You cannot stop swearing, shaking, and grabbing at any part of him you can to keep you on Earth. He had already made you cum more times than you could count, but his appetite was relentless.

Hopper’s hands are big enough to grab each of your asscheeks with ease, spreading you apart as he pulled your cunt in closer, his mustache scratching sensitive skin. Your thighs instinctively try to squeeze him beneath you. 

He turns his head to bite at your thigh again, finally giving you some relief from his tongue. You can’t help but nearly collapse off him which makes him chuckle darkly as he effortlessly slides from under you. 

You can hardly see the details but you can tell his expression is proud which makes you roll your eyes despite the exhaustion. You can smell yourself off his face and it should be embarrassing but you needed some kind of proof you’re not just now waking up from a crazy dream and that did happen. 

“Think you can sleep now?” Hopper smirks, throwing the sheets back over you. The fabric is wafted in your face and you can smell him surrounding you all over again. 

Your body completely defeated, you can barely nod in response as your eyes feel heavier with each passing second.