summary: You try running away from the house but Henry catches you before you enter the cave. Now he has to punish you.
word count: 3.0k+
pairing: henry creel x fem!reader
notes: i do have to give inspo credit to @wireddless and this drabble she did. because of that drabble i realized i needed more and this happened, lol. hope it's okay!
warnings/tags: no use of y/n, slight dub-con, smut, manipulation, guilt tripping, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, creampie, aftercare?
The screen door slapped hard against its frame as Henry’s hand yanked you backwards through it, your heels scraping desperately over the warped floorboards. His grip was absolute—each finger a vice around your wrist, indifferent to your pleas and squirming, nails digging crescent-moons into your skin when you twisted in one last, futile bid to wrench free.
He didn’t look at you. His eyes were set straight ahead, face carved with anger, jaw sharp and silent. You tried to plant your feet—he barely slowed, just lifted you off-balance and hauled you up the staircase, your shoulder slamming the wall as you tried, half-panicked, to find purchase on the banister. The house rang with the noise, an ugly, echoing thud. He still didn’t pause. “Henry—please—” It was a gasp, half-sob, breathless from the run and the terror.
He cut you off with a hard shake. “You almost made it to the cave,” he muttered, voice dark, almost impressed in its coldness. “Almost.” He shouldered open the bedroom door and flung you inside, letting you stumble and sprawl across the thick rug. As you scrambled to your knees, breath rattling in your chest, you didn’t look back at him—you didn’t dare.
The door boomed closed. Henry was on you before you could stand, grabbing your upper arm, forcing you around to face him. You tried to twist away, shoving at his chest. He didn’t budge. The movement only seemed to amuse him, the corners of his lips curling in something dangerously close to a smirk.
“Fighting me?” he asked, voice soft and curious as if he were observing a wild animal, not a person. His hand slid up to your jaw, thumb digging into your cheek until your eyes watered. “You think that’s going to save you?”
You couldn’t help the shake in your voice. “Let me go. Please, I wasn’t—I was just—”
“Just what?” He pushed you gently backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed and you collapsed onto it. His body loomed over you, all broad shoulders and cold, blue eyes. “You weren’t thinking. You don’t think. You react. You run.”
His hands were hot on your skin, one at your throat, not squeezing, just holding you down—reminding you how easy it would be if he decided to. The other traced your hairline, almost tender, fingers grabbing onto the back of your neck. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?” His voice dropped, suddenly rough. “You could have tripped in the dark, broken your neck. Or maybe someone else would have found you—someone who doesn’t care what happens to you at all. Not like I do.”
You closed your eyes, blinking back tears, trying to turn away. He tsked, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “No. Look at me. You need to understand this. I am the only reason you’re alive. The only reason you haven’t been hurt. I protect you—every day. And this is how you thank me?”
You squirmed again, pulling at his wrist, but he held you fast, his strength unyielding. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of crying, but your eyes burned, vision blurring.
He leaned closer, nose brushing yours, breath warm and steady, a sick intimacy in the way he hovered just above your lips. “You’re lucky I found you first,” he murmured, his voice suddenly honey-sweet, full of dangerous, false comfort. “You don’t realize how cruel the world can be. I do. I see what you’re too naïve to understand. You’d be dead without me.”
A tremor shook through you. You hated how your body reacted to his touch—how heat bloomed low in your belly even as your mind screamed to get away. Henry’s hand slid from your chin down to your throat, his thumb stroking over your pulse. “Do you want to be safe?” he whispered, tone coaxing, seductive. “Or do you want to risk everything, again and again, just to spite me?”
“I—I don’t—” Your voice failed you. The humiliation of being caught, the ache of his grip, the fear—it all twisted inside, making you dizzy.
Henry’s expression softened, but it wasn’t kind; it was predatory, almost pleased. “You can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushed his lips against your ear, voice barely more than a breath. “You need me. You don’t even know how much yet.”
Your body shivered beneath him, thighs pressed together, trying to make yourself smaller. He pressed you flat against the bed, his thigh between yours, forcing you open. “You’re so stubborn,” he said, almost fondly. “Always testing me. I have to teach you. Again and again. And you never learn.”
He paused, taking in the tears slipping down your cheeks, the defiance still burning in your gaze. His eyes flashed, something wicked behind the icy calm. “Maybe I haven’t been strict enough,” he murmured, thumb smearing a tear away with agonizing slowness. “Maybe you need to be reminded what happens when you forget who you belong to.”
You shook your head, words caught behind your teeth, but he only laughed, soft and cruel. “You want to run? Go ahead. See how far you get next time. But for now—” He shifted, pinning you harder, his weight a promise. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you properly.”
His voice was low, menacing, yet almost gentle. His grip never loosened, even as you writhed—just enough to show you still had some fire left. You tried to twist out from beneath him, but he used his weight, his presence, to force you down, breath coming fast and shallow against your ear.
He smiled, slow and cold. “Keep fighting, if you want. See how far it gets you. All you do is prove how much you need me.”
The mattress dipped under his knees, the world narrowed to his hands on your body, the sick pulse of arousal and dread mixing in your veins, his breath hot at your jaw, teeth grazing skin, voice a velvet threat:
“Let’s see if you learn this time.”
Henry’s hands moved with an infuriating slowness, heavy palms skating down your trembling body, mapping every inch as if memorizing the contours of your fear and stubbornness. His fingertips hooked under the elastic of your panties, dragging the thin fabric down your thighs. The backs of his knuckles grazed your skin, a touch both deliberate and dismissive—he wasn’t in a hurry, he wanted you to feel how casual this was for him, how completely in control.
The air was thick, hot with anticipation and the humiliation of being laid bare under his gaze. You tried to close your legs, but his knee wedged itself between them, forcing you open, exposing you to the cool air and his hungry, assessing stare. He sat back just enough to admire his handiwork, one hand braced by your hip, the other lazy and taunting, cupping the heat between your legs. He brushed his thumb idly over your clit, featherlight, barely there, making your whole body jerk involuntarily, a choked gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.
“Oh, look at you,” Henry murmured, voice syrupy with condescension. “Always so defiant until I’ve got you like this. You don’t even know what you want, do you?” He circled your clit again, almost a tease, watching the flush creep up your chest, the way your hips tried to arch up for more, desperate for any real friction.
Your hands fisted in the sheets, nails digging in, breath coming in tiny, ragged shivers. “Stop—please, Henry, just—”
He cut you off with a tut, bending over to press his mouth hot and close against your ear. “You want me to stop?” His fingers slid down, parting your folds, slicking themselves with your arousal as if to prove a point. “That’s not what your body says.” He rubbed slow, lazy circles over your clit, two fingers dipping down to tease your entrance, pressing in just enough to make your muscles clench around nothing. Every movement was calculated, designed to drive you mad with need while keeping you just out of reach.
He pressed a little harder, making you whimper, your hips rolling in spite of yourself, seeking more, begging for it. He grinned, voice low and pleased. “Look at you. I barely touch you and you’re already soaking. That’s what happens when you disobey—you make a mess and I have to clean it up.”
You tried to turn away, mortified, but he caught your chin, forcing you to face him, eyes sharp and demanding. “You want to come, don’t you?” His fingers stilled, just barely inside you, refusing to move until you answered.
You hesitated, shame warring with need, but your body answered for you—a needy buck of your hips, a strangled whine in your throat. Henry laughed, the sound dark and knowing. “I knew it. But you don’t get to come yet. Not until you mean it. Not until you’re sorry. Not until I believe you.”
He dragged his fingers back up, circling your clit with maddening patience, teasing but never giving enough. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure too much and not enough, a sharp ache building inside you, heat pooling deep and urgent in your belly.
“Say it,” he commanded, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Tell me you’re sorry. Like you mean it.”
You shook your head, biting your lip, the words stuck in your throat. He pressed a little harder, the pads of his fingers slipping over your clit in slow, lazy circles that made your thighs tremble. He leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, breath hot and ragged. “Don’t make me wait all night,” he warned, a mock patience in his voice that sent a cold thrill down your spine.
He pressed two fingers inside you without warning, knuckles deep, stretching you slow and deliberate, curling up to stroke that sensitive spot that made your whole body arch off the bed. Your mouth dropped open, a helpless moan pouring out, raw and desperate, your hips bucking up to meet his hand.
“Say it,” he repeated, thrusting his fingers slowly, almost carelessly, as if he could do this forever, as if your pleasure—or your torment—meant nothing to him except as a lesson. “Or I’ll stop. Right now. I’ll leave you like this, aching, desperate, until you learn to be good for me.”
Your pride fought back, stubborn, tears prickling at your eyes, but the pleasure was overwhelming, impossible to ignore. He shifted, pressing his thumb against your clit while his fingers fucked you slow and deep, pushing you closer and closer to the edge but never letting you fall.
“Please,” you gasped, voice breaking, body shaking with the effort to hold back, to not give him the satisfaction.
He tsked, shaking his head. “Not good enough. I want to hear you beg. I want to hear you mean it.”
You broke, the shame and need twisting together until you couldn’t tell them apart. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice raw, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Henry, please, I’m sorry—”
He smiled, wicked and triumphant, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “That’s my girl.” His fingers sped up, thumb circling your clit with perfect pressure, drawing desperate, needy sounds from your lips. “Now come for me. Show me how sorry you are.”
The orgasm crashed over you, violent and overwhelming, your whole body seizing beneath him, cries echoing in the room, every nerve ending aflame with relief and humiliation. He held you through it, fingers milking every last tremor from your body, watching with dark, satisfied eyes as you fell apart for him.
He didn’t stop until you were boneless and gasping, the lesson burned into your skin. His hand finally left you, sliding up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing away the tears, his voice low and almost gentle.
“Maybe now you’ll think twice before running,” he murmured, a threat and a promise tangled together, as he leaned in to claim your mouth with his.
Henry’s hands slid from your jaw down to your collarbone, rough and unhurried, fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin as he pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders. The fabric slipped down your arms, pooling at your waist, exposing trembling skin to the dim light. He caught your gaze, the ice in his blue eyes thawing into something heavier, more wounded than angry.
His palm flattened over your heart, thumb tracing a circle just above your breast. “You really wanted to leave me that badly?” he murmured, voice low, not harsh but laden with an ache that twisted in your gut. “You were going to run from me? After everything I do for you?”
You opened your mouth, but the words tangled with a shaky breath. Henry’s fingers found the clasp of your bra and undid it with a deft flick, letting the final scrap of modesty fall away. He nudged the dress the rest of the way off, his knuckles grazing your thighs, making your breath stutter.
He held you there, stripped bare and shivering, under the weight of his stare. “I’m not angry, darling. Not really.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips over the line of your jaw, warm breath feathering down your neck. “But it hurts. It hurts, knowing you’d rather risk yourself out there than stay with me. Am I really that awful?”
His question crawled beneath your skin. Tears welled up, blurring the world around his face, your throat tight. “No, Henry—no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I just—” Your voice cracked, and you buried your face in the hard muscle of his shoulder, shame burning your cheeks.
He shushed you softly, hands soothing over your ribs. His body pressed into yours, heat and need and ownership all wrapped up in the way he handled you—unyielding, but never hurried. He sat back just enough to undo his own pants, pushing them down over his hips, cock heavy and flushed, the sight of it making your insides twist with nervous anticipation. He didn’t bother to take his shirt off, just let it hang open as he guided your legs apart, body slotted perfectly between them.
He leaned over you, chest brushing your nipples, the scratch of fabric against your bare skin sending a shiver up your spine. His hands framed your face, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re mine,” he said, soft and final, a statement of fact that demanded no answer. “Say it.”
You swallowed hard, tears spilling over, voice small and raw. “I’m yours, Henry. I’m sorry. I’m yours.”
He kissed you, slow and punishing, teeth scraping your bottom lip as his hips pressed forward. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, slick and aching, your body already yielding from the rough tease he’d given you before. He slid into you in one long, deliberate thrust, filling you completely, stretching you open until your mouth dropped open on a shuddering gasp.
Henry’s breath was hot against your ear as he bottomed out, holding himself deep inside. “You feel that?” he whispered, moving his hips just enough to make you clench helplessly around him. “No one else will ever have you like this. No one else gets to see you fall apart. You’re mine, and you’ll never run from me again.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks, shame and relief warring inside you, body clinging to him as he started to move—slow, possessive thrusts, each one claiming you again and again. His hands roamed everywhere: cupping your breasts, gripping your waist, pinning your wrists above your head only to let go and cradle your face while he fucked you.
He kissed along your jaw, and you pressed your lips to his skin in a desperate apology, peppering kisses along his neck, across his throat, up to his cheek, whispering broken pleas between every gasp. “I’m sorry, Henry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, please don’t let me go, please—” Your words were muffled against his throat, voice shaking with every thrust, every wet, needy moan.
He grunted softly, thrusts deepening, fucking you harder but never rough—just insistent, relentless, coaxing you toward the edge again. “That’s it,” he murmured, letting you sob into his neck, “say it again.”
Your lips brushed his jaw, his mouth, salty with your tears. “I’m sorry, Henry, I’m yours, I promise, I’m yours—” The words spilled out between kisses, each one more desperate as your body tightened around him, every muscle trembling, the pressure building again, impossibly sharp.
“Good girl,” he breathed, voice ragged. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes searching your face, needing to see every quiver, every tear. “Come for me. Show me you mean it.”
You shattered for him, your whole body arching up, walls clenching tight around him as you cried out his name, sobbing into his mouth, legs trembling as the orgasm tore through you. Henry groaned, hips snapping forward, thrusts growing frantic as he spilled inside you, holding you so tight you couldn’t have run even if you wanted to.
He stayed like that, locked together, letting your bodies ride out every aftershock, his lips gentle on your damp cheeks. His hands softened, stroking your sides and kissing away the tears.
Slowly, carefully, he eased out of you and gathered you up, pulling you onto his lap, your face pressed into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you secure and safe, rocking you gently while your breathing evened out. He pressed soft kisses onto your temple, voice a low rumble against your skin.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, thumb wiping the last tears from your cheeks. “I forgive you. You’re safe with me, always. I’m not letting you go. Never again.” He held you close, bodies tangled, the sharp edge of the lesson fading into a quiet, possessive warmth, his forgiveness settling over you as heavy and inescapable as his love.
extra notes: i am going to be making an actual fic with henry - technically i'm gonna make it a two parter, the first one being henry x reader and the second being a steve x reader. if you're interested/want to be tagged, let me know!
“Henry..” Your voice shook a little as you pulled your hand from your mouth, ignoring the jagged bitten nails. “I want to go home.” Blue eyes sought yours before he spoke.
“You know why you can’t do that.” He sighed as he turned his body more towards yours. The kitchen counter no longer resting on his back and now his upper hips. “It’s not safe. When I complete this plan, I can see you there safely.”
“And if your plan doesn’t work? I’d rather be at home, with my friends, in a familiar place.” You turned towards him as well, the counter resting more on your ribs than your hip.
“Have I not made this a home? You’ve become familiar with it, with me..”
“It’s not like that!” You quickly steadied your voice, trying not to seem too emotional. “You’re kind to me, Henry, but this isn’t my home.”
“I’m not going to allow that to happen, end of story.” Henry stood straight and walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to look back. You quickly followed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.
“I’m going whether you like it or not.” Henry’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. “I won’t stay.”
Henry spoke no words, but he pulled your hand from his, before pulling you towards him pressing his chest flat against you as his other hand slipped up the back of your neck to grip at your hair. If he could feel your heart nearly beating a hole in your chest, he didn’t show it.
“If you want to go and be torn apart by those monsters then be my guest. But, if you want to be good and appreciate all I’ve done for you, the warm home I’ve provided, food on the table whenever you so please, safety from being ripped limb from limb, you’ll understand why you have to stay.”
Henry didn’t let you respond, his lips capturing yours before they could form a smart response. His fingers tightened in your hair as he backed you up against the wall next to the stairwell. You sunk into the kiss, much to your better judgement. You knew you had to stand your ground, to fight for your freedom to leave and be at home, but how could you say no to him? He was right, he had provided so much for you, you didn’t need to work, you had endless entertainment, you had him when you had no one else to warm your bed.
His hand that held your wrist in a vice-grip released it, sliding over your hip and to your back instead. Despite being someone you had clocked as some sort of psychopath, Henry was passionate, desperate in a way. The hand he had just released wrapped around to his back, gripping his shirt as his left leg slipped between yours.
His knee provided a wonderful pressure to your core, prompting you to open your mouth further to him. The warmth in the pit of your stomach was one you had gotten used to when he had you like this. He somehow knew everything you wanted, every urge, every desire. His fingers slipped to the front of the dress he had provided for you, fiddling with each metal disk as he unfastened them. Your fingers tugged his shirt from its neatly tucked place in his pants, quickly finding their way under, to his bare skin.
Before he tried slipping the dress off of you, he pulled you from the wall and dragged you towards the old couch, his lips barely leaving yours. The ‘oomph’ sound you made as you hit the plush sofa was all the invitation he needed to slip the buttoned from your body, bringing your torso up to pull it from your arms as he tugged it over your head. Henry didn’t go back to immediately kissing you, instead burying his nose in your neck as his fingers roamed your mostly bare body.
You could hear the deep inhale through his nose next to your ear as he took in the feeling of you half-naked beneath him. It wasn’t the first time you had been in a scenario like this, bare underneath him as he found some new way to admire your body, but this time felt more predatory, more like he was sizing up his next meal. You couldn’t care to complain, however, shamefully enjoying the feeling of his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra.
Henry’s nose dragged down your neck, over your collarbones, and finally, to the swell of your breasts. His mouth made quick work, suckling on as one hand grasped the other. Your head fell back in pleasure, enjoying the sensation as he made quick work bringing your nipple to a stiff peak, before switching to the other breast.
As he sucked, your mind wandered for just a second. Was it really so shameful to give in? It had been what you assumed to be a month since your last attempt to escape. He had ‘saved’ you then, dragging you back home before some creature came to tear you apart. He was protecting you wasn’t he? And why should you feel shame for at least enjoying your stay, no matter how long it may be?
His lips released your breast as he brought his face back to yours, one hand using its grip in your hair to force you to look at him. He searched you face before yanking your head to the side so he could lean in and kiss your neck. Being in his arms like this was a sensory heaven, feeling his soft lips go from kissing to biting, firing up all the right neurons in your brain. You exhaled as he sucked roughly at the delicate skin, leaving a blooming purple bruise in its place as he pulled away.
“Don’t you see how good you have it? How well I treat you?” His voice was soft. He was playing you like a fiddle and you both knew it. “The way I practically worship you?”
You could barely form a response past an elated sigh as he brought his hand forward over your stomach, fiddling with the waistband of your panties before slipping under, digging through the folds to find your clit. When the pads of his long fingers found the bundle of nerves, he worked quickly, moving them in circles as you writhed beneath him.
“You and I both know you can’t get this back home, that there’s no one else there that can relieve the stress you feel.” Henry reveled in your whimpers and hushed moans, the sound like gasoline on a fire. “I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”
Henry pushed his hand down further, letting one finger circle around your wet entrance, as you bucked your hips into his palm with need. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed. He waited until you were nearly begging before he slipped one finger inside, pulling it back and forth as he coaxed out those sweet sounds you made.
One soon became two as he added another finger, making you fight to keep yourself from getting any louder. Henry seemed to notice the restraint and smiled cheekily, picking up the pace as he whispered in your ear. “There’s no one else here but me to hear you, there’s no need to be silent here.”
As if on cue, Henry added a third finger as he kept up his fast pace, making you whine and squirm beneath him. You felt the pressure in your gut build, your heart race, and the sweat form on your brow, and you braced yourself for that familiar release, but it never came. He quickly pulled his hand from your panties before yanking them down. Understanding his plan, you brought your hands up to fumble with his belt, undoing the buckle as he looked down on you, his cold eyes never wavering. He took great pleasure in seeing you like this, beneath him, at his mercy.
When you managed to undo the buckle, he quickly unclasped the top of his slacks, sliding them over his hips as well as his boxer shorts. You had grown comfortable with his size, having been quite nervous to proceed further during previous encounters. His right hand quickly shot out to grasp your jaw as he pushed you back into the sofa, gripping as though he had every intention of crushing it. His other hand took his length as he spread the bead of precum over the tip, before slowly sinking into you.
Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, opening you up more so he could sink deeper. A wanton moan slipped from your mouth as he bottomed out, making him inhale sharply through parted lips. With bated breath, you held still around him until he finally began moving, setting a painfully sensual pace just to make you squirm. Henry loved how anxious your impatience made you, how it would make your brow furrow and your tone desperate. “Please, Henry- “
Most of all, he loved hearing you use his name when you begged, so sweetly. You weren’t innocent, nor were you naïve, but he let you pretend in these moments, because he knew what kind of animal you truly were. Henry knew of the animal you kept caged inside you, foaming at the mouth, desperate for love and acceptance and pleasure. As much as he delighted in using against you, he loved feeding it as well, nurturing the neglected beast.
Henry took pity and picked up the pace, moving his hips faster and sliding his hand from your jaw to your neck, pressing it into the cushion. You could feel him slowly cutting the circulation to your brain, making you lightheaded and maybe a little delirious. His lips found yours again as you were already struggling for air, feeling empowered as you squirmed beneath him. His pace went from fast to brutal as his free hand slid over your stomach and down to your wet folds, finding the bundle of nerves with ease.
Combined with the thrilling lack of air and being fully pinned down, the added stimulation was enough to bring you over the edge. The pitch of your moans raised as he turned his head from your mouth and to your ear, biting at the lobe. The pressure inside of you continued to build until the coil finally snapped, bringing your orgasm crashing over you in waves.
The feeling of your fluttering walls and you writhing beneath him soon sent him over the edge too, his seed spilling into you as it had many times before. The fingers around your neck tightened for a moment before loosening up and retreating all together. Henry looked you over as he brought over your face, sliding it up your cheek before pushing your hair from your sweaty brow. He slid his hand to the back of your head and brought it up to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to your temple, before slowly laying you back and removing himself from you entirely.
With a slight exhale, he pulled his pants back up and redid his belt, straightening himself out before he exited the living room to go retrieve a rag to clean you up. As his figure retreated through the door, you couldn’t help but stare at the empty space, wondering if now was the right opportunity to run again. The original feeling of shame returned, making your face heat up wit humiliation and anger. You couldn’t understand why he had this hold over you, why you couldn’t fully hate him despite knowing that he was lying.
Henry knew you didn’t believe or even trust him, but he had you right where he wanted you.
running from things that you didn’t understand—emotions you weren’t used to, concepts you couldn’t apply, situations you had no control over—and it worked.
you escaped brenner and his inhumane experiments, you conquered the demogorgons that followed you through thick and thin, you survived the rift that tore hawkins in half.
but running could only get you so far.
heavy pants ripped from your mouth, sweat beading on your brow. twigs and branches snapped beneath your feet, the crunches of leaves behind you eliciting a wave of fear. mud, tar, and blood caked to your clothes, uncomfortably forcing the fabrics to cling to your clammy skin. the black tendrils that seemingly stuck and winded around everything squished and churned, as if alerting him of your location.
you knew he was chasing you, he had been for years.
you were stuck confined to the onyx hellscape, your only comfort the crimson spikes of lightning in the skies. the loud screech of a demogorgon made you freeze, yanking the grapple you’d crafted from scrap metal from your belt and scaling a nearby tree. stopping, when you knew he was so close, was incredibly risky, but you’d prefer to not be tore open by a bloodthirsty demogorgon.
as if he’d ever let them touch you.
you were exhausted, cold, and so hungry. you couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper meal (yes, you could. it was with him, remember?) and you knew it wouldn’t be long before your body collapsed. the soft chitters of the fleshy being neared, and you saw it creeping through the trees. it lifted its petaled face, as if sniffing you out. the demogorgon approached the tree you’d chosen, massive claws digging into the bark.
it snarled, baring its countless rows of teeth dripping with saliva.
it lurched forward, and stopped. you stared, breathing heavy and limbs wracked with static. its inhuman ligaments trembled as it fell to the ground with a thud, and you tilted your head as it stalked away.
“barbaric creatures, yes?”
you flinched, the chill of the upside down seemingly warm compared to the ice flooding your veins. you launched from the tree without a second thought, but it was too late.
henry had you.
you hovered mid-air, that suffocating grip of his powers coating your body. your pack—stuffed with things you’ve made and lived on—was stripped from you and tossed aside. your eyes fell to the ground when his arms circled you. he was warm, his chest pressed against your back.
“you’re freezing, dear. have you been down here all this time?”
you didn’t answer.
your throat closed slowly, and you instantly dug your fingers into his hand. he kept it clasped around your neck, eyes narrowed in displeasure. “answer me.” you nodded as best you could, and he loosened his hold. he hummed, unreadable. henry rested his chin on your shoulder, tracing the imprint of his fingertips left in your skin.
“you were right in front of me for so long,” he whispered, “hiding, waiting—watching.”
he traced a finger down your arm, slipping his hand into yours. the inky abyss surrounding you bled into daylight, and you saw his home before you. it looked flawless, bright, and beautiful. henry gently ushered you forward, guiding you inside. “where…”
“my mind, darling. an oasis for you to rest in.”
tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away. he shushed you softly, coaxing you back into his embrace, “it’s alright, you’re safe here. i promise. nobody can reach you but me.”
that made you cry, trying to push him away.
your nose bled, mind straining from the effort of using your powers. “ah, that lovely gift of yours doesn’t work in here, i’m afraid,” he smiled serenely, cradling your face in one hand, “there’s no reason for you to need it.”
you’d realize that eventually, he thought. right now, you’re vulnerable. tired from years of surviving in a wasteland of sludge and bloodthirsty creatures, mind worn from escape plans and nightmares.
he had you right where he wanted you.
“let’s get you inside and warmed up, hm?”
you nodded, accepting defeat.
henry was possessive, obsessive of you in all the wrong ways—but he took care of you. he stalked you when you snuck out, unleashed demogorgons to scare you back into his arms, but then he’d prepare you a five star meal. he would get angry when you ignored his voice in your head, refusing to join him in the mindscape for those precious moments he wanted so badly.
you held his hand as he walked you inside, him smiling at your poorly-disguised relief of a warm home.
he already felt much better. you were where you belonged:
with him, in a sanctuary he controlled.
“i will begin dinner while you get cleaned up,” he muttered, glancing at your filthy clothes, “i’ll make your favorite. how does that sound?”
“sounds nice,” you resigned to your fate, a kind one despite the cruel nature of the world he was creating. henry kissed your temple, moving past you to the kitchen.
after your shower, you quietly went back downstairs. you peeked around the corner, spotting him at the stove. soft hums of your favorite song made a chill run down your spine, and henry simply smiled, “no need to hide, dear. i know you’re there.”
you moved to stand next to him, your senses flooded with aromatics and spices. “i’m glad you’re home,” he laid the wooden spoon to the side, turning to you, “i’ve missed you terribly.”
he held your face in his hands, eyes shifting briefly to your lips. you lifted your hands to rest atop his, and you barely nodded.
why did you ever leave? his voice echoed, this is where you belong.
your mind couldn’t conjure any reasonable explanation, no logical argument even though you’d had several planned points to make. it was like they were vanishing, erased and painted over with the happiest of memories with him.
only me, he thought spitefully, fingertips casting memories of your friends on the surface aside in favor of filling the void with his affections.
“i’m sorry,” you murmured against his lips, voice wavering and pitched with sadness. henry let out a content sigh, as if grateful you’d come to your senses. he was worried he would have to overload your pretty little head, but it didn’t take much for you to relax in his embrace. his eyes sparkled with insanity, love swirling around his pupils.
“i know you are, darling. i forgive you.”
any semblance of logic and denial left in your mind shattered, blurred by the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body.
Could you do a Henry creel x Fem reader smut? Basically User is Dr. brenners biological daughter , and also a nurse who works in the lab and Henry and her love to sneak around ?
(Only if you want to you don’t have to of course!)
ENGINE LOGGED: "KEEP LOVE A SECRET!" 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
REGISTERED DRIVER: lab orderly! henry creel!
INSPECTION REPORT: you’re brenner’s daughter and he’s the best orderly in hawkins lab— you weren’t supposed to have fun with him… but how could you resist? especially when he’s the needy one.
ⓘ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 SYSTEM OVERVIEW: 18+ CONTENT, fem! brenner daughter! nurse! reader, lab orderly! henry, handjobs, cum eating, thigh riding, dry humping, boob play, dirty talk, quickie, praise kink, hair pulling, maybe risky sex, soft! henry creel, henry a little bit ooc but it’s literally because he’s in love!
it always felt good to sneak around with him.
it was something risky about it that made your heart flip, it was fun to sneak around the lab with henry when the cameras weren’t beeping your way and have a little fun with him.
you two worked together; henry being an orderly to the the experimented-on kids inside the laboratory while you worked as a nurse in the infirmary and clinical wing, taking care of the kids when they got injured due to the challenges brenner made them participate in or got sick.
there was also the heightened risk to it of the fact that you were brenner’s only biological child, the one he didn’t want to experiment on and the only child he was willing to have.
to this day, you don’t know how it began with henry— with this whole relationship.
but with the space that confined you two, the chemistry between the both of you that neither of you could deny, and the fact that you two were the few employees at the laboratory that met with one another more often, it was eventually going to boil over.
you began sneaking around with him earlier in the year, taking it in closets and blind spots that the cameras couldn’t pick up. sometimes henry dragged you to the boiler room, other times to an empty observation room.
your heart pumped faster (and your pussy got wetter) every single time henry gave you that specific look, the look in the hallway that screamed ‘I need you really really badly!’
henry is always able to come up with a easy excuse to run away for a few minutes, bringing in a new orderly into the rainbow room to sneak off.
he took a few minutes before he excused himself from the rainbow room, swinging open the door and stepping into the corridor, holding his head in faux pain.
one of the other orderlies came up to him, arms behind his back. “you okay, one?” the voice calls out to him as his shoes squeaked against the tile of the corridor.
he turns around, walking backwards slowly as he nods, giving a thumbs up. “all good, just a little headache… going to get it checked out and get some medicine real fast! watch the experiments for me.”
the orderly on the other side of the hall nodded and stepped into the rainbow room, watching as the thirteen experimented-on kids did whatever they did in the room; play with the tools disposed to them, read the books that brenner approved of them to read, and talk amongst themselves. it was a break between the experiments.
henry doesn’t walk too fast— he doesn’t want to look too eager for a man with a “headache”, he doesn’t need anyone suspecting him of anything or to report his whereabouts to brenner and get him caught and punished with an intense round of psychic testing. he moves with that eerie calmness that he had, one hand on his forehead to remain the faux headache appearance and his other hand behind his back, posture straight and his expression blank.
But the moment he reaches the first hallway that the camera in the corner is dragged to the other side, he smirks to himself.
you were busy restocking supplies in their respective cabinets when you hear the infirmary door unlock and swing open, looking over your shoulder and seeing him very gently, and with that sly look on his face, step into the place.
“henry?” you blink, putting the bottles down on the counter. “what are you doing—”
he cuts out off, his voice mundane. “i have a headache.” he announces, a little too flatly even for him.
you stare at him like he’s stupid; he stares at you right back. its silence between the two of you before you raise an eyebrow, putting a hand on your hip. “a headache?” you question him.
he nods. “terrible.” he makes sure to say, emphasizing it dramatically. “it’s absolutely debilitating.”
you press your lips together, trying to fight the smile from appearing on your face, shaking your head. “uh-uh.” you fold your arms on your chest, right under your breasts. “and you need me to examine you?”
he steps closer— close enough to you that your breath catches. “who else would i want?” he asks, his shoes clicking against the tile floor of the infirmary. it was warmer than anywhere else, it was a lot… nicer, if that’s able to paint the picture.
you roll your eyes even if your pulse is jumping. “you are very impossible.” you tell him.
“and you’re stalling.” he murmurs, his eyes so shamelessly looking down at your lips then down at your breasts, mouth watering at the idea of unbuttoning that damn nurses’ shirt and getting a taste of those breasts of yours.
you try, you really try to remain professional with the man as you gesture towards the exam table. “sit down, big boy.” you tell him, being playful with him compared to the other experiments— maybe it’s because he’s the only experiment who’s been sticking his dick in you for the last year and a half.
he does what you tell him, sitting down on the table as you grab a clipboard and steps towards you.
you get a little close to him, near the manspreaded display of his legs as you speak. “so, what are your symptoms, henry?”
“it’s pounding… very persistent… too lingering.” he says, his voice low, looking at you as you don’t even try to write on the clipboard, instead dropping your arm down and the clipboard hitting your hips.
“oh really? where exactly?” you ask him.
he leans forward, taking the clipboard out of your hand and wrapping his fingers around your wrist. before you knew it, your hand was pressing against his crotch in his white jeans, right where you can feel something very prominent, thick and definitely not a headache. right when he places your hand on his bulge, the camera twitches and turns to the other side of the infirmary.
your face heats up, breath hitching at your hand placement. his hand is bigger than yours as you attempt to tug your hand away and he’s able to keep it there. you swallow in a breath albeit the next breath that leaves your mouth is a shaky exhale.
“h-henry…” you mutter, looking up at him with a little glassy look in your eyes as he rubs your hand up and down his crotch.
he tilts his head. “what?” he asks oh so innocently, as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, making sure the camera locks in the other side. “is this not how you diagnose something?” he asks you.
you groan, bringing your other hand up to his shoulder, letting his hand move your own hand. “someone might… someone might come by and catch you…” you warn him, your mouth slightly agape as you look down at him.
“not if we’re fast.” he tells you, leaning in and pressing a kiss on your jaw. “besides, the camera is on the other way… and i’ll delete the footage when i pass by that room.”
you groan as he kisses down your jawline. you want to keep up the demenor… but you fail to. his kisses just feel too good, quiet moans leaving your mouth as he lets go of his hand, taking upon yourself to begin to quickly undo the zipper, unbuckling his belt as well and grabbing his cock.
wrapping your fingers around his thick cock, you pull it through his white pant’s fly, revealing it to you. right as you do that, henry unbuttons the buttons of your nurse top, pressing chaste kisses down your chest.
he whimpers when your hand squeezes his cock as you get a good grip on him, beginning a slow speed as you drag your hand up and down him. “oh fuck… baby… you feel so good…” he mutters, ripping open your shirt and pulling down your bra.
you gasp softly when his right hand cups your breast, his other hand wraps behind your neck, bringing you down for a sloppy kiss, his tongue pressing against your tongue.
moaning against his lips, you mutter out his name. “henry… fuck..” you warn weakily, fingers shaking around his cock as you try to continue a pace, but god he feels so good.
and he smiles— dark, sweet, possessive, and the slightly brokenness that was always attached to him. “there’s no headache.” he admits softly, as if it was a shocker there was never a headache. “I just wanted to see you… see this pretty body of yours…”
your heart melts and your thighs clench. “well clearly you’re getting that— ahhhh.” you get cut off when his fingers pinch at your nipple, circling your nipple after pinching it.
before you knew it, he bent down, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground. he places you in his lap, backing up on the table to leave both of you more room as your knees dig into the table, straddling him.
“there you go… give me more access to these…” he mutters, rubbing both of your breasts before tilting his head down, kissing the top of your right breast. he holds the boob in his hand as he shifts it upwards, locking his mouth around your nipple as he swirls his tongue.
your left hand remains stroking his cock, your right hand’s fingers move into his blonde strands, tugging at them and forcing his mouth off your boob.
he looks up at you and feels your lips against his, sloppy and passionate, tongue sweeping against his bottom lip as your hips involuntarily rub against his left thigh.
henry groans at feeling you grind against his thigh, nodding as your lips capture his’ again, your fingers messaging the back of his head where his hair covers your hand. “keep doing that, hun.” he murmurs. “ride my thigh— god you’re so pretty for me.”
you follow his orders, kissing him harder as you jerk him faster and faster, hand becoming a little sloppier. your hips brush against his thigh, beginning a consistent speed.
“henry… oh- oh fuck! h-henry… s’so good.” you slur your words, feeling his lips against yours, muffling your sounds.
his right hand squeezes your right breast, his left hand wrapping around your waist and encouraging your hips to continue. he presses a kiss on your chin, his hand on your waist slipping onto your ass.
he can feel his cock twitch closer and closer to his orgasm, his groans vibrating off your skin as the room is filled with the sweat of both of you, the moans leaving your mouth and the groans leaving his.
“henry… henry… henry… oh fucking h-hell.” you moan, grinding harder as you yourself get closer to your orgasm, feeling his hand switch from your right breast to your left, squeezing and pinching at your nipple.
kissing down your neck, he nudged his thigh upwards in a way that made your back arch. “so desperate for my thigh are you? can’t get my dick so you get the second best thing…” he guesses, squeezing your ass cheek again.
“s-shut up.” you shoot back, leaning your head back as both of his hands squeeze different parts of your body. “y-you’re the desperate one…”
“two things can be true at once, darling.” he whispers. “you can be desperate for me and I can be desperate for you… at least the feeling is mutual.”
a blissful sigh escapes his throat as he feels your hand jerk up and down faster and faster, huffs leaving your throat as you bring him close to his orgasm. “c’mon baby.” he encourages, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear as he squeezes both of your breasts. “make me cum… make me cum all over your hand.”
hearing his words and feeling his tongue against your ear, you didn’t stop your hand movements— how could you as you rode his thigh harder as the examination table squeaked under you.
and in perfect unison, as you hit your orgasm against his thigh, he reaches his orgasm in the palm of your hand.
henry rolls his eyes back as well as leaning his head back as ropes and ropes of cum sprawl and shoot out of the tip of his dick, shooting upwards and around in different areas. it lands on your hand, his jeans, your wrist, also landing on the examination table and dripping to the ground as your own cum remains in your panties.
you bit his neck to stop yourself from moaning too loudly, bouncing on his thigh to extend your high, cumming directly in your panties as you feel it become a little stickier. “oh godddd, henry…” you moan against his shoulder, hands shaky and not being able to jerk him off anymore, hand feeling a little sticky from his semen.
henry grins as he watches you overstimulate yourself on his thigh, lifting the hand around his cock and bringing it up to your own mouth. “go on, sweetheart, let me see you lick it… lick my cum off your hand.”
looking down at your hand and looking back at him, you stick out your tongue and press it against your own hand, licking up his cum right off your hand. you swallow his tongue, the salty taste on your tongue and lingering on the back of your throat as you lick your hand clean as henry holds it to you.
he watches you, breathless as his right hand recollects your breasts into your bra, fixing it for you. “have I ever told you that you’re gorgeous?” he asks, leaning down and pressing a kiss down to your forehead.
getting your hand clean even if it’s still a little sticky, you look up at him and begin to fix the buttons on your shirt, watching him fix his pants and fly. “henry… you’ve told me that plenty of times.”
he shrugs, kissing your lips. “well it’s true.” he mutters against your lips. “you’re a very gorgeous girl.”
you roll your eyes and press against your clothing to fix it, to make it look less messy and less… fucked. you fix your hair, patting it down as henry gets off the examination table.
“don’t get so flirty with me, henry.” you tell him, smacking the back of his thigh— you heard him chuckle as he swats your hand away. “now go. don’t get in trouble.”
he nods, looking out the door to make sure no one else is around before he turns around, stepping out. “yes ma’am.” he says before he disappears down the hall.
after he leaves the infirmary, it confirms it to you— yeah. sneaking around with henry, being your fathers back was definitely too much fun to stop.
now how could you sneak him out the labs and into your bed is the better question!
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: god, he’s such a red flag but i need him so so badly. he’s the only red flag character in stranger things i actually like. i can’t describe but henry is a hotter red flag than billy (he was never that hot anyway)
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