I remember I read a fic a long ass time ago where reader tried her best to look past EJ’s cannibalism and couldn’t.
Slowly their relationship decayed and he would break down in front of her after returning from a hunt (guilt complex), but she had become numb to it and would deadass just walk around him to clean up the blood on the floor.
Jack had to make the decision to stop coming home to her, and just vanished one day because he loved her too much to scare her.
I think about it a lot like ME PERSONALLY. Maybe I’m crazy or maybe I’m just correct. But ME. IN MY HUMBLE OPINION. PERSONALLY.
That’s my baby daddy these civilians mean nothing to me. FUCK these hoes and FUCK their mamas.
You’d have to pull me off his body with a crane. Surgically removed even. Skin to skin balls to the wall they’d have to use telekinesis I’m so seriously. Latched on like a famished leech. 18th century plague doctor typa attachment. Readers fumble in that fic shaped me into who I am. Generational debt was burdened upon her blood line I can feel it.
Like does Gordon Ramsey fear the heat of a stove? Did Socrates tremble before the pen? Did Alexander Hamilton fail to write the 51 papers?
IF YOU CANT DRIBBLE GET THE FUCKKKKK OFF COURT AND PASS THE BALL SO A REAL SHOOTER CAN SHOOT.
fluff of pennywise seeing fem!reader after she was gone for a week to see family / was out of town, and so he's all clingy and yearning, and...then it gets a little smutty where he's eager to show her how much her missed her and wants to prove it to her ...in the bedroom 😏🎀 ...almost convince her not to leave again... (maybe some body worship)? ♡♡♡
ALSO I LOVE ALL OF YOUR WORK, youre so talented- thank you for keeping the fandom alive :3
Story: Homecoming
[Pennywise x Female Reader]
Summary: You’d only been gone seven days. Seven. To Pennywise, it might as well have been seven centuries.
Tags: Fluff /Smut, Clingy Pennywise, Yearning, Body Worship, Possessive Behavior, Oral, Biting, Breeding Kink (mild), Size Kink (implied), Soft-to-Rough, Aftercare
Notes: Just a sweet little reunion that gets filthy. All characters are adults. Read with caution if you’re not into possessive clowns who missed their favorite human terribly.
{Sorry this took so long I somehow missed it and then I was sick and recovering from surgery I hope you like it though}
The moment your car rolls to a stop outside the crumbling Neibolt house, the air changes. Thickens. Smells like cotton candy and sewage and something ancient that wants you. The front door is already hanging open, and before you can even grab your overnight bag from the backseat, he’s there.
Not walking. Materializing.
One second the porch is empty, the next, Pennywise is leaning against the frame in his usual clown suit, bells chiming softly though there’s no wind. His eyes, wild, glowing yellow, are trained on you like you’re the only real thing left in the universe. His bottom lip is pushed out in the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen on his face.
“You left me,” he says, voice small and cracked, almost childlike. Then it drops two octaves, becoming rough and dangerous. “For a whole week, little one.”
You barely get “I missed you too” out before he’s on you.
Long arms wrap around your waist, lifting you clear off the ground like you weigh nothing. Your bag thuds to the gravel. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales, deep, shuddering, making greedy purring growls against your skin. His whole body trembling. The bells on his suit jingle with every tiny movement as he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.
“Never again,” he mumbles into your hair, voice muffled and raw. “Never leaving me again. Smelled wrong without you. Everything tasted like ash.”
You laugh softly, fingers threading through the orange fluff at the nape of his neck.
“I had to see my family, Penny. It was just a week.”
He makes a wounded sound and squeezes tighter, like he’s trying to fuse you to him.
“A week is forever when you’re mine.”
Inside, he doesn’t put you down. Carries you straight through the house, up the stairs that creak like they’re alive, into the bedroom that somehow always smells like him. Sweet rot and and something darkly intoxicating. The bed is a nest of mismatched blankets and pillows he stole from who-knows-where just because they smelled faintly of you.
He lays you down like you’re made of glass, but his eyes are starving.
For a long moment he just stares, kneeling between your legs, gloved hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. His pupils are blown wide, yellow swallowed by black.
“I dreamed about you every night,” he whispers. “Dreamed about your taste. Your little sounds. The way you squeeze around me when you cum.” His voice cracks again.
“Thought I’d go mad.”
You reach for him, but he catches your wrists gently, pressing them above your head with one huge hand. The other traces your body like he’s memorizing it, collarbone, breasts, ribs, belly, the curve of your hip. He leans down and presses his lips to every inch he can reach, leaving trails of warm saliva along the way.
“My perfect girl,” he breathes against your stomach. “My soft, warm, breakable girl. Missed how you smell right here—” His nose drags along the crease of your thigh, inhaling deep. “—and here—” A slow, deliberate lick over the fabric of your panties makes you gasp. “—and here.”
He peels your clothes off like he’s unwrapping something sacred. Every new inch of skin gets kissed, licked, nipped. He spends what feels like hours on your breasts alone, sucking bruises into the soft skin, teasing your nipples with his tongue until you’re writhing, begging.
When he finally spreads your legs wide and settles between them, his hands are shaking.
“Look at you,” he groans, voice thick. “Soaked already. All for me. Because you missed your Pennywise just as bad, didn’t you?”
You nod frantically, and he rewards you by dragging his tongue up the folds of your cunt in one slow stripe. The sound he makes, half growl, half sob, vibrates straight through your clit.
He then devours you like only a demonic creature could. No teasing, no games tonight, just pure, desperate worship. Long, flat licks, lips sucking gently, then hard, then gentle again. When he pushes two thick fingers inside you and curls them, you nearly sob his name. He moans in reaturn.
“That’s it,” he pants against your folds, drool shining on his chin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me. Show me you’re never leaving again.”
You shatter with a cry, thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t stop, his tongue laps you through it, gentler now, cleaning every drop like it’s holy.
When he finally crawls back up your body, his suit is half-unbuttoned, cock straining against the silk. His eyes are wet.
“Need to be inside you,” he whispers, almost pleading. “Need to feel you around me. Need to fill you up so full you’ll never forget who you belong to.”
You pull him down into a kiss, taste yourself on his tongue, taste the salt of tears he’ll never admit to, and wrap your legs around his waist.
He slides in with one slow, perfect thrust that has you both gasping.
He fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. Deep, grinding strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you, hips rolling in that inhuman way only he can manage. His mouth never leaves yours—kissing, biting, licking, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he stops touching you for even a second.
“Mine,” he growls against your throat, teeth scraping. “Say it.”
“Yours,” you gasp, nails raking down his back. “Always yours, Penny, please—”
He snarls, pace turning brutal. One hand slips between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit, the other tangled in your hair, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“Gonna breed you,” he rasps, voice breaking. “Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel me for days. Never letting you leave this bed again. Never letting you forget—”
You cum again, harder this time, clenching around him so tight he follows with a feral cry, pumping into you in hot, endless bursts. He doesn’t pull out. Just collapses on top of you, face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like iron bands.
Minutes (or hours) later, he’s still inside you, softening but unwilling to leave. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.
“Don’t go again,” he mumbles, voice small and raw. “Please, little one. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Just… stay.”
You kiss his temple, smiling against orange curls. “I’m not going anywhere, Penny.”
He makes a soft, happy sound, half purr, half whimper, and nuzzles closer.
Outside, the moon rises over Derry. Inside, the ancient thing wearing a clown’s face clings to his human like she’s the only real thing in every world he’s ever haunted.
gasping and leaning out of my casket mid funeral to tell you more
toby having no clue what squirting is until you're gushing on his face and he genuinely thinks he broke you and he starts panicking thinking he hurt you because you have a few tears rolling down the sides of your face and you have to pull yourself from your haze of your best orgasm of your life to calm him down and after such experience he is constantly striving to make you squirt again
Toby who doesn't realize how much he loves being your puppy until he sees you interacting with Smile dog and you're cooing at him and calling him a pretty boy and toby really starts thinking about it you spend too much time with Smile and then one night you're out on a mission in da forest w Toby and he's straying from the path a little he's too focused on the mushrooms sprouting from trees and he's falling behind you get about three paces in front of him before you make the kissy noise and tell him to come on and toby is completely stunned into silence because you're tell him to come on like a dog and he's completely enamored he catches up to you but every now and then he'll pretend to get distracted with sometime just to hear you call him to your side like he's a dog
toby who loves that you go to bed shirtless/relaxes in tanks tops he loves laying down on top of your back and digging his hands under your sides he loves pressing his fingers into your stomach and pressing kisses to your shoulder before sinking his teeth into it, gently dragging his teeth over your skin or laying his head down on your stomach and pulling your thighs over his shoulders for a nap he falls asleep with your thigh his mouth he licks at any bite that's too hard as an apology bc he's just such a sweet boy
there was smth else I thought of but I can't remember so I'll just lay back down
I remembered what it was
you're sleeping in the same bed for Abt the third time it's very early in the romantic relationship and toby slowly wakes up but it's not your face in front of him it's his sisters with her jaw hanging onto the pillow and glass breaking the skin of her forehead and it scares toby so bad he swings his hand forward and smacks her, pushing her face further away from him but it's not her shout that follows it's yours and toby blinks harder and his sister's face disappears and instead it's your hands cradling your face and toby flips out bc he really didn't mean to hit you and now he thinks he's totally fucked the whole thing up and he's panicking and trying to explain himself and you bring him back to earth and pet his hair down pushing him back to bed
summary: After having wet dreams of a peculiar alien entity in the form of a clown, you wander into the sewers and Pennywise fucks the daylights out of you. That's literally it. There's no plot here, none to be found.
word count: 1.9 K
w a r n i n g s: shameless, plotless SMUT, female reader, mentions of dead children, it pronouns for Pennywise/It, clussy mention baybeeee, no use of y/n, monster fucking, teratophilia, p in v (although it's a prehensile tentacle cock sooooo), tentacle fucking, come eating, brief mentions of wet dreams.
a/n: uhhhhh listen, this is my first pennywise fic despite being a registered clown fucker since 2017 (technically longer, but shhh). i'm not even going to explain myself here. you're either here for it and get it, or you don't. there's no mention of time periods so this can take place whenever you'd like. also ignore my abrupt ending i'm sick and can't be bothered. banners by @/veejiez @/dollywons and @/adornedwithlight!!
↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
Wind rustles through the leaves. A bird titters somewhere behind you.
The heady, buttery smell of popcorn drifts towards you.
Strange.
Very strange considering it's coming from the gaping, circular mouth of a sewer.
At first, it had started with dreams of floating. Dreams where every other thought dissipated and was replaced with the undulating, throbbing sensation of it. Then, those dreams turned… peculiar. A clown. Bells jingling. Distant, melodic calliope music that grew dissonant the longer you listened. Children singing a nursery rhyme that didn't make sense.
The really unsettling thing was that every time you woke up, you were soaked. You'd rub your legs together for relief, determined to restrain yourself from sliding your fingers between your cunt. But god, you wanted to.
So many Derry children had gone missing. Others made claims of a clown in a sewer. Surely, not your clown.
They were always playing near them — the sewers.
Probably the same sewers where you now stand, in a knee-length dress that flutters with the soft breeze. You take a deep breath of the familiar scent and take one step into the tunnel. Wet pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you step further inside. Amidst the popcorn, there's a distinct damp odor. It's colder without the sunlight.
Afraid of getting lost, you continue straight, avoiding any of the turns and glancing behind you every so often at the bright opening from whence you came.
The tunnel opens up into an expansive area. In the middle of it, a pile of… toys? Junk? Forgotten belongings that wash away into the sewers during the many rains — you pick out bicycle wheels and teddy bears with your eyes. It's impossibly tall, looming up above you.
This must be another dream.
And if it is…
Your footsteps echo as you curve around the mountain of discarded belongings. Something out of place.
A circus wagon with its side panel door open. From the prickling darkness, a tall, slender figure emerges. It smiles, revealing two buck teeth amidst other normal teeth. His eyes are bright blue, but seem to glow in the dim, blue lighting of the sewer. So, the children hadn't been lying. This wasn't some unfounded urban legend.
"Oh my god," you breathe. "It is you."
The thudding of boots thunders across the wooden floor of the caravan, echoing against the walls of the sewer as the clown takes a running leap, effortlessly landing a few inches from you. You lift your head, gazing into the abruptly warm, amber eyes that gaze back. Red lips part, revealing now sharp teeth, more teeth than any human should have. You blink, swallow. Tighten your fingers into a fist.
In any other situation, maybe you'd scream. Run away. But you don't. The clown sees this. After a few seconds, his mouth closes around the pointed, layered teeth. He shivers, and a jingling rings in your ears.
"Ouuh. Ooouh, you're not afraid… but…" The clown suddenly snuffles close to you, his red-tipped nose running along the length of your neck. "Something else."
Yes, you think. Something else.
You hinge slightly at the waist and gather the hem of your dress into your palm. You straighten, bringing the dress to your hip, and with your other hand, you reach into your cotton underwear and collect some of your warm, slick arousal on your fingertips.
You hold them out in front of you, like offering a feral dog some meat.
You can feel the clown bristle above you, elongating. Orange eyes flicker down to your fingers, to your legs. Back to your face. The expression on its face reads one thing — hungry. Big, long arms wrap around your torso, and you feel the jostling steps of the clown as it runs back towards the wagon, taking you with it. For a moment, it almost scares you, but as it always does in your feverish dreams, the arousal takes over when the creature in front of you presses your back against the wood panel of the wagon.
"What do you taste like…." Without warning, lithe, gloved fingers wrap around your wrist. Its crimson lips close around your fingers, the ones that are coated in your wetness. You can feel its mouth pulsing, tongue scrubbing at the pads to remove all traces. With a wet pop, it pulls your fingers from its mouth.
It smells you again. Every inch of you. Open-mouthed inhaling of the scents you give off while gloved hands trail behind its face. When it passes by your mouth, its hands on your neck, you catch its lips in a kiss.
The inside of the clown's mouth tastes unlike anything you've ever experienced. There's no remnants or hints of food, no personal notes, or anything normal. No, instead it's euphoric and dangerous and bright, like licking a battery. You dive back in for more, running your tongue along the other waiting muscle. A tongue that feels too long for its mouth. You moan into the cavern of the clown's throat, and a feral-sounding growl swallows yours.
Your groin presses up against Pennywise's. There's something there, but it's not what you're used to — not what you expected. Your hand drifts down between your bodies, almost apprehensively, to feel more. It takes a moment, digging underneath and between the silk confines of its costume, but eventually, you find it. What it is, you aren't sure. At first, it feels like you do, but larger, a longer slit that's wetter than you could ever get. The soft flesh is covered in a thick, viscous fluid that leaks from between the folds. Your finger trails along the slick edge curiously.
Then, without warning, something slimy and strong slithers from deep within, slithers out to meet your fingers. The tip of it curls around your finger like a serpent, writhing its way up the soft inner flesh of your palm, then your wrist. It's warm and has a strength that could pull your entire hand inside of it, if it wanted. You yank your hand away from between its legs, swallowing hard as you hear a retreating squelch. You don't dare look down.
"What… what are you?"
The once playful voice drops an octave, no longer high-pitched and melodic. The answer is serious and simple: "Everything."
The dull ache of fear presses a single sharp fingernail into your arousal. "No, what does that mean? What did I just touch?"
"Me," it insists plainly. "You want something else?" The question is eager, riddled with capability. You know what it means — a question of forms, of what it can do. It can take any form to frighten you, naturally. In this moment, however, it can take any form to fuck you, to please you.
You watch its eyes, glowing bright amber in the dim lighting, as they watch you. Finally, it speaks again. "You want to say yes… but you don't smell like you want something else... small human is hungry... curious…"
Your cunt aches. Beats hard. Whatever it is, it can smell your arousal as it leaks from you.
"I don't want to run… but even if I did, I can't run fast enough to get away from you."
The clown shakes its head quickly, excitedly.
"You want to play pretend?" you ask.
Another head shake. "Nnnooo… wasting time."
"Fine, then." You lower yourself to your knees, the grain of the old wood digging into the flesh. While maintaining eye contact with the creature, you lean back and drop your legs apart to reveal a pair of soaked underwear, your dress gathering at your waist. Its nostrils flare. The hungry gaze returns, and you notice a specific change in its stature. Pennywise mimics your previous position, on its knees, and shuffles close to you. Not close enough that your hips touch, however.
For a fleeting moment, you're confused.
Pennywise straightens up, almost proudly. From the slit, a glistening tendril slithers out with a wet sound, and you can't help but stare, watching intently as it grows, thickens. The tip of the deep red appendage snakes forward until it bumps into the cotton of your panties and glides upwards like a tongue, leaving a slick trail on the fabric. Then, suddenly, long fingers reach towards the fabric and rip it apart, tearing the shreds away from your legs before you have any time to protest. Not that you would, anyway.
As Pennywise towers over you, crawling its way up your body, the tentacle moves of its own free will, writhing and slithering between your legs. The slick sensation pulls a whimpering, pitiable moan from your lips, your eyes fluttering helplessly at the feeling. You throw your head back and flatten against the floor.
"Please," you beg.
"Pleaasse?" It echoes.
You nod, determined.
When it slips inside, driving its wriggly tendril forward, your jaw drops in a silent scream, pupils dilating. The feeling is all-consuming — it continues to penetrate your insides, writhing and stretching instinctively towards your deepest spots. Longer and thicker than any man you'd been with, it fills you in a way that leaves you breathless and sweating — scooting back to get away from it as the pressure intensifies.
Pennywise's arms are fast on your hips; however, it pulls you back sharply to its groin. The arms feel too long, too strong for its body, and sharp, black talons that have ripped forward from the tips of the white gloves dig into the soft flesh. It finds purchase, and tightens its grip. "Nooooo," It coos, almost mockingly. "You stay right here. You're not going anywheeeere!"
You mewl and clench your inner muscles hard. The creature above you snarls, and you feel the tendril twitch within you. It finds a rhythm with its thrusts. They're hard and meaningful, jolting your body backwards with each one. Internally, you can feel the tentacle as it moves, searches for your innermost spots, or curls back against the spongy flesh that makes you see stars.
Its thrusts are shallow, pulling you back and forth on the girthiest part of the tentacle while the rest of it curls and twitches inside you. You lift your head weakly, watching as it writhes. Above you, the clown is breathing heavily, snarling, and exhaling long breaths. Heavy-lidded, your eyes dart from between the two visuals repeatedly, fueling your release. It comes like a wave, crashing over you. Your toes curl, fingers tighten into fists. A single drop of sweat descends from your hairline, trailing down your neck.
"Fuck, oh my god…!" you cry.
With a sudden buck of its hips, the inhuman cock buries all the way inside you, pelvis pressed tightly against yours. You feel an alien, indescribable pulsing inside you, throbbing hard against your walls as it, too, orgasms. You feel full. And yet, the throbbing continues. The filling continues until it begins to leak out the sides with deep, wet squelches. Its release lasts longer than you think possible, and your body eventually goes limp in his grip, rocking helplessly back and forth with its erratic, slowing motions.
When the creature finally pulls itself away from you, drawing the tentacle back up into its body, a staggering amount of sticky, post-coital liquid seeps from between your legs — you can feel it dripping from your used cunt, which still throbs. It pools beneath you, slimy and warm.
"I can't believe you…"
You lift your head before continuing.
The clown is gone. Sucked back into the darkness from whence it came.
With a quivering breath, you find the torn scraps of your underwear and attempt to clean yourself up. The fabric absorbs little of the mess. You get to your knees first, then gingerly push yourself up onto your feet. Your legs are shaky and feel like they're made of rubber.
hugging pennywise probably feels so fucking good. getting to bury your face into the soft ruffles of his collar, to feel long arms and gloved hands wrap around you and pull you in closer closer closer, chest to chest without an inch of space between you as if you were one body, all while he’s drooling over your shoulder at how good you smell and pretending all is normal so you don't pull away. he’d have to hunch over for you to reach, either that or he’s locking his arms around your middle and hoisting you up into the air. sigh. big clown murder papa
areudirty
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
