ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ haunted ! (henry creel) ꩜
pairing ; henry creel x fem!reader words ; 3.7k synopsis ; henry gets the impression that you want to leave his house, so he has to convince you otherwise. warning(s) ; smut, oral (fem receiving), manipulation?, darker themes, slight dubious consent. not edited and i definitely talk too much. a/n ; later than i thought but! hope you enjoy. requests for stranger things are open.
"you've been quiet recently."
henry's voice says it like an observation, not accusation. as if he was noting the weather. in reality, he had been counting the pauses that occur between your replies, watching your eyes linger too long on doorways. you've even stopped filling the silence for him.
you look up from where you're sitting on the plush couch, hands holding the two sides of an open book. something old and worn, a story stuck in place. the living room is dim, curtains half-drawn in order to combat the last remaining glows of sunlight before it dipped below the horizon.
"i'm fine," you answer, your voice measured and careful. he hums softly, setting his briefcase down by the door. it drops with a tiny thump, a sound you have grown to associate with him coming home from work. was it that time already?
"you say that," he replies gently, his footsteps echoing on the spruce floor as he came towards you. "but you haven't been sleeping. you don't ask me how my day was anymore." a pause. "and you keep staring at the windows."
your fingers curl tighter on the edges of the book.
"i just like the light," you say. a half-truth. henry taught you that those were dangerous.
henry stops in front of you, a bit too close. he always knows exactly how close he needs to be to make you aware of his presence and nothing else. it presses in, familiar and overwhelming. it was the weight you've learned to carry.
"do you?" he asks. his head tilts. "or do you like thinking about what's beyond them?"
your stomach drops into the cushions.
"i don't think about that," you say too quickly, hearing the error the second it leaves your mouth. henry's smile flickers, adjusted and fine-tuned.
he dropped to one knee in front of you, hands coming to reach for the book that sat idly in your hands, the pages long and forgotten in your rush to try and console him. "good," he said. as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "because i would hate to lose you to silly ideas like that." his fingers linger on the edge of the page instead of taking the book from you completely.
his gaze never left your own, trying to gauge if you were still thinking of those silly things. a minute went by. and then two. after the third you opened up your mouth to say something but he beat you to action, his hands finally taking the book from your lap and setting it down on the side table.
those same hands came to your knees, slipping underneath your dress. they were cold against your skin, startling enough to pull a quiet breath from your lungs. the touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle either. it was deliberate and anchoring. a reminder of where you were supposed to be. they kept going forward up your soft thighs until reaching the waistband of your panties, eyes boring into your own, as if he was looking for some type of reluctance in your gaze.
"do you want me to stop?" he asked, fingers tracing idly along the bands of your underwear, stopping just short of your inner thigh. you opened your mouth to reply to him, your eyes matching his intense gaze, but he was already leaning forward, standing up from his kneeling position in a way that almost felt clinical.
almost.
except for the slight falter in his fingers as one of his hands slid out from your nightdress and came to the expanse of your throat, holding you with a pressure that wasn't meant to hurt, just to keep you looking at him. he tilted his head, his nose nearly brushing yours, his mouth hovering over your own, not touching, as if offering you the chance to pull away. like he was daring you to.
you didn't.
his kiss was harshness covered under the sickly sweet taste of his mouth, still you opened your mouth wider to him. your hands, traitorous things, lifted on their own, curling into the soft fabric of his brown cotton vest. you thought for a moment that you would just indulge him, he would stop eventually and you could go make dinner for the two of you. but somewhere . . . somewhere in the slow brush of his mouth against yours, the control began to slip.
your fingers tangled in the soft curls of his hair, brushing them out of place and pulling on the edges of them. his breathing grew a little heavier, a tad bit harsher against your lips. and then his mouth slanted over yours, rougher, no longer measured. a clash between you filled with hunger and fury and need. you gasped against him and he swallowed the sound, like he had been starving for it. all at once, you were arching into him without permission or care and he was there to catch you, turning your body so that you were laying on the couch so he could hover over you.
the couch dipped under his weight and the heat of his body pressed up against yours, overwhelming and wanting. your dress slipped from your shoulder, the coolness of the air around you brushing against your skin, his gaze dropped, tracking the exposed line.
this kiss was nothing like the first.
it was teeth and desperation, unraveling held together by the two of you like a ceremony. his mouth crushed against yours, drinking the air from your lungs, your fingers digging into his arms, your fingernails making crescent marks biting into his skin. henry groaned low in his chest, you shuddered from his unbecoming. he lifted you and pulled you onto the couch fully, the fabric pressing against your skin. one of his hands slid along your thigh, pushing your dress higher and higher, baring you to the cool air of the room. you could feel the tremor running through him, so sharp it vibrated under his skin into yours. it felt as though he was holding himself in check with the thinnest, most fragile thread of discipline.
reverently, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your nightdress, and when you didn’t stop him, he dragged it up completely, pulling it over your head in one smooth deliberate motion. and then you were bare before him.
henry exhaled, his pupils blown wide through his thick rimmed glasses. his hands hovered just above your skin, as if he didn’t want to mar the sight of you with such rough trembling hands. “you’re,” he whispered, his head bobbing down to press his lips to the expanse of your throat. “you’re perfect.”
the words pierced right through you, raw and burning. your heart lurched painfully against your ribs, your eyes squeezing shut as he began to press open mouth kisses along your skin. your body molded into his with such a perfect degree that it almost didn’t feel real. tentatively, your hand reached for the buttons of his shirt, trying your best to fervently unbutton them to expose his chest to you. in between his kisses, he helped, shrugging off the garment and lazily throwing it to the floor. his mouth moved across your skin like a man desperate to memorize every inch.
you gasped when he found the soft swell of your breast, his mouth lingering, like he had all the time in the world to undo you piece by agonizing piece. each brush of his tongue sent a shiver rippling down your spine. “henry,” you whispered without thinking, like a prayer. he groaned against your skin and lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze. The sight of him, eyes dark with hunger, nearly undid you completely.
“say it again,” he rasped. “say my name.”
your fingers skimmed down his bare chest, as if you were testing the waters. you traced the defined lines of muscle, faint scars you hadn’t known were there. you marveled at the strength of him, so solid and real and yours in a way you never dared to dream. you tilted your chin up and whispered again, “henry.”
his mouth crashed back onto yours, raw and helpless need.
when he finally moved lower, one large hand sliding down your stomach, parting your thighs with care, your body answered him instinctively. arching, trembling, reaching for him. his fingers pressed against the heat between your thighs and moved, creating a feeling you didn’t even know was possible. you lifted your hips in a silent, desperate invitation. henry cursed under his breath and one finger entered you slowly, your mouth opening wide which he countered with his mouth slotting above yours.
he moved carefully, his finger curling inside you, coaxing another desperate sound from your chest. you clung to him, nails scraping lightly over his shoulders. your body bowed into his touch without shame and hesitation. “that’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “good girl.” The words sent a shudder rippling through you and henry felt it. his mouth curved against yours, a smile so small that it made your heart ache. another finger joined the first and he worked you open with slow, deliberate care. praising you with every breath, every touch. you were barely aware of the way your hips moved against him, chasing the tension that coiled hotter and tighter inside you with every careful thrust of his fingers.
right as you were about to whimper that you needed more, he pulled his fingers out, like he heard your thoughts. just as you thought that maybe he would leave you there hanging, henry shifted his gaze lower and followed it with his own body. the tiny couch creaked under the weight of his large frame, which stopped just short of his face being in between your thighs. his hands splayed against them, pushing them slightly open before he locked eyes with you. there was already slick pooling between your legs, coating your thighs enough that you knew he could see it.
henry brought his hand back to where it had been, his fingers brushing against your folds before he pulled it away again, the glistening from your arousal present. he popped a finger into his mouth and hummed sinfully at the taste. you opened your legs to him, the farthest you could go in your shared space, hoping it would make him finally kiss you there.
it seemed to be enough of an invitation, as his mouth was on you before you could even think. a gasp tore from your lips, reacting to his tongue parting your folds, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on savage. there was no gentleness. he devoured you like a man starved, hands pinning your thighs open against the furniture. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and clawing.
“henry —” you choked out, hips jerking against his mouth.
he answered by pressing his tongue harder against you, flicking, stroking, pulling every gasp and moan from your throat like he was collecting them like trophies. his tongue had you reeling for more, heart beating practically out of your chest when he moved to suck on your clit.
you pulled on his hair, soft sounds spewing from your lips like it was the only thing that you could really do. all the while he kept his eyes on you, knowing that the would be playing this over and over in his mind for days to come. the way that your eyes were sewn shut, chest arching and heaving. it was almost pornographic.
that pit in your stomach that had been steadily building was growing in size, muscles spasming while you grew towards a peak, a peak so large that only he could bring. he knew just the right things to do to you to make you gasping for more, more, more. his tongue prodded a bit inside you, only stopping to lick and suck on your clit.
“henry, i'm so close,” you moaned out, legs clenching together. his tongue guided you towards that peak, it felt like white hot heat the second you hit your high, hips rolling against his face. he helped you come down, giving you a few more licks and rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.
the room felt smaller after, like the walls had edged in while you weren't looking in the throws of pleasure. the light outside the curtains had finally vanished, leaving the living room swallowed in dusk. henry pulled himself up so his face was eye level with yours again, looking down at the ruin that he had created with you. he rested his forehead briefly against your shoulder, breath warm.
your body hummed in strange, lingering echoes that didn't quite feel like they belonged to you. you stared past him, looking at the clock on the other side of the room, and the window next to it. your thoughts drifted again to somewhere you weren't supposed to go.
he noticed, like always.
"stay with me," he murmured.
you swallowed and nodded, even as something quiet and restless shifted behind your ribs. the clock kept ticking. the window kept watching.
