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𝜗ৎ henry creel x f! reader headcanons
𝜗ৎ warnings: slightly suggestive content/nsfw
𝜗ৎ authors note: hii!! this is my first ever headcanon fanfic writing post thing so it’s probably not that good but i hope you enjoy nonetheless haha. i’m probably gonna keep updating this because it’s kinda rushed and i just really wanted to make my first post. these are mostly just things i’d want him to do to me laugh out loud but yayyy i love mrwhatsit and his dumb tie teeheeehee
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𝜗ৎ after an especially long, difficult day of, well, whatever it is he does— your not quite sure where he goes when he’s outside of the house— henry will come back home with dried blood on his sleeve, his muscles tense and his eyes aflame. he doesn’t speak a word, even when you express your worries, and instead pulls on your wrist, dragging you to the bedroom you share. henry places you down and lays beside you, squeezing your waist and breathing into your hair— as if afraid something might come along and pull you away, even though you know if anything dared try, they’d come to regret it.
𝜗ৎ henry likes to keep up the facade that everything is okay. his life— atleast, the one he shows you— it’s all whimsical fun that he can bend. because you, of all people, cannot know the grim truth. but, even if you were to discover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. no, no matter how afraid you might be, he has his hooks too far in you to ever let you be anything other than his ever again.
𝜗ৎ he’s made it imminently clear that you are not to go out into the forest. there’s not many places you can go at all, other than the playground that sits across the road. to make up for this fact, henry shaped a garden to life in the backyard. you pretend not to notice the way he stares at you through the window when your tending to it.
𝜗ৎ henry knows alllll of your favorite things. and even what he hasn’t told you, he knows through searching your mind. even though he doesn’t need to eat or drink, he still makes your favorite foods, admiring the way you take and eat everything he creates you like they are precious gifts.
𝜗ৎ a default act of his is putting his hands around your neck. not just in bed— when he’s addressing you, or simply admiring you. its gentle (most of the time),
𝜗ৎ along with making your favorite foods, henry makes you a lot of other things, too. one of his favorites? lacey nightgowns. black, white, wine red. see through— formed of desire and pure devotion. all the dresses are made with the intention of hugging your body and yours alone. and he’s not shy to show you how much he likes them on you either. “so beautiful,” henry’ll coo into your neck. some nights, he’ll whisper a soft “off”, and you already know what that means— you strip, and you put a gown on.
𝜗ৎ he likes to be referred to as “sir.” he doesn’t give you a reason why, but then again, you don’t dare ask.
𝜗ৎ henry is very possessive. not that you have anyone to go to— your in his mindscape after all. but he struggles with the thought of you leaving the safe, fairytale walls of his home. even when you lay out in the meadow in the backyard, he watches from a window, not daring to move or take his eyes off of you.
𝜗ৎ he’s had to learn to be less brooding, more gentle. henry is big on degrading you— but not to a breaking point. it makes it all the more sweeter when he lifts you back up with delicate words wrapped in that honey-dew voice of his. you are his angel, his “delicate, sweet angel.”