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It had been days. Days.
You weren’t letting up. Refusing, stuck in your stubborn haze.
A few nights ago, you had gotten yourself dolled up, put on makeup, curled your hair, bought a new dress even. Sprayed a certain scent that made your significant other go wild.
Jim had offered you a nice night out at a local restaurant, nothing too fancy, but something to get you out of the house. Insisting that you deserved it, carrying his child, keeping your shared cabin clean, and allowing him to come home to home-cooked meals every day.
Being 4 months pregnant had drained your light, and the prospect of a night out was enough to have you shining again.
You waited. Waited one hour, then two. You had called Flo at the station, who told you he was responding to a call. You called at hour 3 and received the same answer. At hour 4, you found yourself fed up.
Scrubbing at your face in the mirror before stripping your dress off so hard it tore. You cursed him, out loud and in your head. Your changing hormones causing tears to sting and stain your cheeks as you wrapped yourself in a nearby blanket, falling into the mattress you share.
You heard him. Mostly heard the hum of his engine outside, followed by his cautious footsteps up the entryway stairs.
The creak of the bedroom door opening had you burying your face in the pillows to prevent him from seeing your sullen features.
“Hey baby…” He whispers, familiarly, apologetically.
“The Andersons had a domestic dispute; it got ugly…” He grumbles, exhausted, you can tell without looking at him. Hearing it is enough, but it’s no excuse in your mind. He could've called. He should've called.
You don’t speak to him for days. Ignoring the way his arm slips around you in the morning. How he kisses your cheek before leaving for the day. Placing his dinner on the table before retiring to bed nightly, before he arrives home.
He shows up with flowers, attempts to make conversation, offers you another night out, but you refuse to respond to him. Finding comfort in your silence.
On day 4, he seems to have had enough.
You hum to yourself while finishing up some dishes, hands submerged in the soapy water, your brows crinkling at the sound of a nearby vehicle. It sounds like his, but it's far too early in the day to be expecting him.
Strangely enough, you hear his familiar footsteps as you keep your head low, remaining in your obstinate ways.
The front door slams open, hard, way too hard. He knows you hate it when he bangs the door. You refuse to give it a reaction, feeling his body stomp over to yours as his presence looms.
“Alright, this is fuckin’ juvenile,” He barks behind you, exasperated. Makes something in your belly swirl with interest.
“I know I screwed up, baby, I know that, but this has to stop.” He’s breathless. You imagine he discovered at work how fed up he was. You imagine him growling around the office, frustrated as he chooses that this ends today. Your heart thumps in your chest.
However, you only continue to scrub at a flake on a dish - finding it far more interesting than the conversation at hand.
The dish is soon removed from your hand and tossed against the wall with a crash.
“Jim Hopper-” You turn to him irritably, watching the pieces spill to the floor before meeting his gaze.
Truth be told, it's a sight to see. His flared nostrils breathe out heat down onto you, beads of sweat coat his forehead, he’s gnawing on his bottom lip, a tick he only does when mad.
He’s disheveled. His police shirt unbuttoned and untucked, his undershirt barely hiding the gray hair on his chest, as you can’t help but buckle your knees.
Desire is quick and burns from within you and you can’t help but face it. It twitches on your face suddenly before you’re able to hide it once more.
He notices… he notices it quickly. It’s fleeting, but he knows you- he knows your body. He knows how you react when you’re needy… needing something in particular. Something only he could provide.
Even though you cover your lust back with your anger like a fire blanket, he wears a stupid lopsided smirk on his face, his brow tipped upward. He knows.
“Oh, baby, that’s what it is? Been missing your old man?” He straightens up where he was curved over closer to you, clearly back in his power as you roll your eyes, irritably, shoving past him.
You’re caught, his warm, broad hand grabbing your forearm, tugging you into his chest with a thump.
“Uh-uh, not so fast doll, c’mere-” His calloused hands encompass your cheeks, face leaning down to connect to yours in a familiar way as you squirm.
“No fuck you, get off-” You shove at his chest, weakly. He’s big, he’s strong, you know it’s stupid, but you’re still frustrated with him.
“I hate you!” You murmur muffled into his chest as he brings you to him once more, a little more tenderly this time, as he chuckles, the vibrations of it hitting against your ear.
“I know, honey, I know it, let daddy make it better, hm…” His hand is quick as it moves over your protruding belly, slipping down under your skirt, a squeak exiting your mouth as his fingers push past your cotton underwear right to your sweet spot.
“No-uh, I said no!” You exclaim as his arm wraps around your waist, holding you tightly to him. One hand pressed to your stomach as his other maneuvers under you. Your hands press to his chest as your fingers curl at the material there while his own fingers work underneath you.
He brings out his thumb to coat in saliva with a swift spit before diving it back under you, connecting it to the nub there as you begin to coo & writhe, releasing a familiar wetness that slides down your inner thighs.
“That what you need? You need Daddy to take care of it? Go on n say it…” His thumb swirls faster in a vigorous motion that has you biting against his chest, breathing in his musk, your hips involuntarily moving with his rhythm as he slides one finger, then two inside you, helplessly gripping around the intrusion there as he pumps.
“Oh- Oh- Oh my god, Hopper!” You find it difficult to form words in this state. He knows you, he understands your body, he always has and he knows it. It’s why he knows he can get away with this.
“I don’t wanna hear that kid, you know what I want to hear.” His motions stop, his arm releasing its hold around you as his hand retreats, your core missing the pressure. “Say it.”
You want to say nothing; you want to ignore his request. You want to be able to walk away and continue your schtick.
You only allow your tear-filled eyes to look up into his glistening blue ones, hungry with desire, his lips parted as he pants in a crazed haze.
“I need you to take care of me, daddy.”
There's a second, a beat, and then you’re moving.
It’s quick; he picks you up in a cradle, crashing his wet and desperate mouth to yours, trading breaths as you kiss intensely, lips moving in sync in a push and pull motion. He takes one, then two, then three steps it seems until you're dropped to the mattress with a bounce.
He’s there, quickly. His body pressing over you as he tears his shirts from his body, tossing them elsewhere before focusing on you.
In a matter of seconds, you’re both stripped & bare.
His mouth goes to your chest, where you’re swollen and tender, taking a perked nipple into his mouth, swirling, as his other hand gropes your other available breast, kneading at the skin as you whine and mewl.
Truth be told, you could finish from this, your breasts having gotten extremely sensitive by month 2 of your pregnancy. But you didn’t want to, no, you needed him.
“Please daddy…” You can’t help but whine as it comes out, clenching your legs together for some pressure, desperate for him. You rub your belly in a familiar way, showing him what he’s done, what he’s capable of. His strength, his might, a particular tool that drove him crazy.
His eyes droop down to where your hand circles, a growl bubbling in his throat as you watch him take himself in his hands, squeezing around his angry cock so hard his knuckles whiten, pumping himself there a few times.
He knows what you need, he knows what to give you. He goes above you, your bellies nudging as he does, wishing you could feel him pressed against you again like before, chest to chest.
His tip finds your folds, swollen and bulbous. It makes you cry as it slides against your nub and down. “That’s alright, princess, there you go…”
He pushes in, with no warning, a quick thrust that puffs the air out from your lungs as he fills the small tight opening inside you, your mutual moans filling the space.
It’s difficult to get used to his size, thick, incredibly thick. His veins poke against your walls as you hug him tightly, your pathetic hole trying to make space for the invasion as you clench on him, your hands going up to his back.
He doesn’t give you time before he's rearing and coming down with a hard slap of his skin to yours, the lewd sounds filling the cabin as you cry out, head tipping back as he does it again and again, expanding you against your will with each precise thrust.
He nuzzles his face into your neck, the pricks of his beard rubbing there as he sucks at the skin, hungrily, animalistically, knowing you’ll see marks there in an hour or two.
He bites down, groaning at his own pleasure as he finds his desire in you. His hips are relentless as they move his manhood in and out of you, your gummy walls only clenching down as he hits a certain gooey and honeyed spot in you.
“Oh fuck, I’ve missed this feeling, if you didn’t already have my baby in you…” He grumbles breathlessly as his rhythm becomes less precise, your breasts bouncing with movement.
You’re gone, far from your mind, allowing him to use you as you see fit, feeling his balls coated in your juices press against your ass.
“I-uh,” you blabber like a baby, feeling him begin to tighten in you, humping rather than thrusting, staying buried deep inside.
His pelvis rubs against your clit there, as the pressure from his body crushes against yours. “I’m gonna fill you, doll, I’m gonna fill you.”
You cry out, the building of your release finally setting in as you’re taken back to the many times you’ve fucked him. He doesn’t finish anywhere, but inside you, it’s how you ended up pregnant the first time.
You imagine you’ll have a litter of his children in no time as he hits the same marking that drives you insane deep within you.
You finish. It’s inescapable as it comes over you in a tidal wave, completely consuming you as you pulse down onto his thickness, feeling as he loses himself in you completely, your body coated in his layer of sweat as he bites on your shoulder carnally.
He thrusts deep twice before beastly groaning out from the depths of his stomach.
You feel it, his seed as he pumps heat from within you, soiled once again by Jim Hopper.
You stay there for a moment, his body pressed to yours in a sticky glob before he rolls over onto his back, chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath.
“Dinner tonight then?” He breathes out, brow raised as he turns to face you.
“Dinner tonight.” You agree, turning, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.