Blue Moon Motel, Part Two
Second part of Blue Moon Motel, as requested by @claddypenboi. Sorry for the long delay with this, sweet thing, I’ve been hella busy and uninspired lately, but I think I’m out of the slump now and I hope you enjoy this one!
Junior/f!Reader, Papawise/f!Reader, dirty talk, pet names, monster cocks, edging, orgasm denial, dubious consent, sub/dom dynamics, cunnilingus, very mild food play, dildo, drool as lube, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, kissing, humiliation, voyeurism, biting, spanking, aftercare cuddles…
@sewerwitchlove @nkkbee @floatingwithpennywise @pleurteryx @lydiamorganriddle @theuglyboyblog @biggersteinkins @themightyblim @deadlight-izzo @lizzy-chan24 @deliriousartist @smileysam13579 @ihaveaseriousclownproblem @ravishmeclownboi @honk-honk-bitches @trig-loves-clowning-around @floating-with-penny @gleamed @ephemeralukiyo @princess-spine-crusher @bruhmyaesthetic @pandapuffblr @dust-of-starsandlittle-hopes @legsrasin @skeletons-in-the-sky27 @myhusbandjared @red-balloons-and-popcorn @penny-little-hell @pimmelwise
You’re stretched out on the bed, with the skirt of your negligee hiked up around your hips and Junior kneeling between your thighs, his amber eyes fixed upon your cunt. Biting your lip, trying to repress the needy moans building in your throat, you wriggle back and forth, tilting your pelvis to display yourself for the clown, inviting him to taste you.
It’s been hours since you arrived at the motel, hours of teasing and edging, and you’re desperate to cum, but Papa seems determined to hold back your climax for as long as possible. You know that it’s a favourite game of his, drawing out your pleasure and refusing your release until you’re almost at breaking point, especially when he’s decided that you deserve to be disciplined, but you can’t think of any reason you might have given to warrant such a cruel punishment. But Junior is here now, it’s his turn to play, and you feel a spark of fragile hope flaring within your loins when the tall clown slides his abnormally long hands over your inner thighs, spreading you open for his hungry gaze. He is more excitable than his older counterpart, greedy and unrestrained, and he’s never had the patience to string your punishments out for very long. He craves your scent, your heat, the taste of your arousal, and he wants it now.
Junior plants his hands upon your thighs, his claws extending and sinking into your tender skin as he leans forward to smell you, and he favours you with a toothy grin, thick ropes of saliva dripping from his plump lower lip to pool over your midriff. He opens his mouth a little wider, extending his prehensile tongue across your ribcage and your stomach, dipping the tip of it into your navel with a distorted giggle. You crane your neck, pushing yourself up on your elbows to meet his misaligned gaze, your breath catching at the sight of him. It’s vaguely ridiculous and disgustingly sexy; the clown’s white face framed between your thighs, his gloved fingers holding you open, that hideous red tongue lathering your body, coating you with drool…
…and the slice of take-out pizza adorning your mound, a thin sliver of cheese and pepperoni cooling upon your skin, covering the delicate triangle of flesh between your hipbones…
“Tasty, tasty…” Junior purrs, skimming his long thumbs over the curve of your hips, “Oh yesss, such a tasty little treat for Pennywise. You’re so wet, pretty girl, so wet and ready for me. I can smell you, I can smell your ripe little cunt…”
Keeping his eyes on your face, the clown rolls his tongue back into his gaping maw and settles between your legs, burying his face into the soft cradle of your thighs with a happy murmur. He nips at the pizza, taking small bites, slowly revealing your cunt, and his tongue trails over every inch of exposed flesh, bathing your sensitive skin with gentle kittenish licks until all you can smell is his saliva. It floods the room, overwhelming the odours of cum and sweat, damp and mould, hanging in the air like a heavy perfume; it smells like popcorn and cotton candy, tooth-achingly sweet, but there is something else beneath the sugary notes, a hot stench of rotting flesh and dried blood. Still, you can’t help but writhe under Junior’s ministrations, bucking your hips as his tongue slides between your folds, pushing into your cunt until you let out a shuddering wail and arch your back from the mattress.
Papa moves to sit behind you, planting his back against the wall. He takes your head on his lap and carefully cages his thighs around your torso, his hands stroking through your tousled hair as he watches Junior’s head bobbing up and down between your legs. You know that his soothing touch could turn nasty at any moment, without warning, and you bite down on your lip again, trying to keep from crying out. The younger clown is eating you out with undisguised relish, devouring your cunt like a starving wolf, grunting and growling as he forces his tongue into your core. The hot length of it within your walls is almost unbearable, the way it curls and twists, stretching you open and slithering deeper into you, until the tip is lapping against your cervix, tasting the neck of your womb, chasing the lingering flavours of cum and menstrual blood within your body. His face is pressed flush against your cunt, his red nose nestled between your slick folds, nudging up against your throbbing clit, his nostrils flaring as he savours the heady aroma of your womanhood.
You move your hips in time with the strokes of his tongue, closing your eyes and sighing blissfully, his name stuttering from your lips as you feel your climax shifting into focus again, rippling like bolts of white-hot lightning on the blurred edges of your consciousness. Sensing your building arousal, Papa curls his fingers around your shoulders, giving you a little squeeze to remind you that he’s here, that he’s in charge, and then he drops his hands to your breasts, slowly sliding his silken palms back and forth over the heavy flesh, massaging the peaks until your nipples are stiff and aching beneath his touch.
“You like that, babydoll?”
The older clown chuckles roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples just to hear you squeak, to make you moan and writhe in his arms. His warm tongue flickers out to taste the shell of your ear, and then drags down over your cheek and your jawline, peppering your tilted face with sloppy kisses. He kisses the lines of your throat, lower and lower, and then he bites down hard over the subtle dip where your shoulder meets your neck, leaving dark purple bruises and the faint impressions of his teeth in your skin, sucking hard over the marks until blood wells to the surface. You cry out in a shrill voice, bucking your hips and curling your legs around Junior’s shoulders, dangerously close to squirting your juices all over his tongue, all over his face, and Papa grasps a handful of your hair to force your head back, fixing you with a hard stare.
“Hold it, baby girl.” The clown smirks at your pained expression, his fingers twisting into your hair, his bright blue eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure as you whimper and tremble in his grip, “Hold it, or I’ll smack that cute little ass until you can’t sit for the rest of the week, and that’s a fucking promise. You don’t get to cum until Papa says so, remember?”
Hearing this, Junior flicks his amber eyes up to your face, taking in the sheen of sweat on your brow and the desperate twist of your features, and he reaches up to curl one hand over your mound, rubbing the pad of his gloved thumb in tight circles across your clit. He doesn’t often challenge Papa’s authority, but he’s so hungry for your juices, eager to taste your sweet release, and he allows himself a secret little smirk as he feels your inner muscles squeezing around his tongue in response to his touch. He slides the hood away from your clit, rolling the throbbing bead beneath his thumb and pressing down until you see stars, fucking your cunt open with his tongue, Your loins are melting, burning with the bittersweet agony of your imminent climax, and he can taste it, he can taste the beginnings of your orgasm upon his palette, so delicate and mild at first, pink and pale, like the first rosy tips of dawn over the horizon.
Junior’s eyes roll back into his head, his mouth opening wide to engulf your quivering sex, his fangs extending and closing around you, the needle-sharp points rasping against your tender flesh. He looks like a great white shark, a terror from the deepest ocean trench, and a guttural snarl rises from his throat as he worries at your cunt, eating you out, his claws sinking into the meat of your thighs, dragging you across the mattress in his desperation to make you cum. Papa growls out a warning, feeling you wriggle and jerk in anticipation of your long-denied orgasm, “Ah, none of that, kiddo. She’s not allowed to cum, not yet.” He reaches down to swat Junior across the back of the head. The tall clown glares up at him from between your trembling thighs, his eyes baleful and rebellious, but he eventually bows to Papa’s will, slinking away from your limp frame with a hissing whine.
As the promise of release fades away into a hollow nothingness in your core, you echo the sound of Junior’s frustration with genuine sympathy, whimpering like a scolded bitch as Papa pulls you up on to his lap. Junior perches upon the edge of the mattress, glowering at Papa, his red lips gleaming with your slickness and his own saliva. You let out a shuddering moan, your hips still moving, chasing the ghostly memory of his fingers playing over your clit, until Papa grasps your waist with both hands and presses his mouth against the bloody wound on your shoulder. He manhandles you until you’re facing him, straddling his lap, and he grasps your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes moving slowly over your lust-slackened features, “You’ve been a bad girl, isn’t that right, {y/n}? Oh yes, you’ve been such a naughty girl, playing with your little twat when you thought you were alone last night, even though Papa told you to keep your fingers out of there.”
You gawk at the clown, dimly aware that you must look so stupid right now, with your eyes glazed over in the aftermath of Junior’s tongue-lashing, and your mouth hanging open, dazed by Papa’s accusations. He smirks at you, running his hands over the small of your back, his deceptively gentle caresses lulling you into a uneasy embrace, your breasts pressed flush against his chest, “Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out, babydoll? You’re never really alone in this town, little girl, because it’s my town. Derry is mine, and you are mine, and I see everything. I hear everything.” He reaches up to pull on your hair, his harsh grip bringing a sharp wince out of you, and he laughs with spiteful delight at your tearful expression, “Yeah, I heard you moaning my name, baby. I saw you fucking yourself on your fingers…oho, you really needed Papa’s cock, didn’t ya? You can’t even go one fucking day without it, can ya? Poor little thing…”
Behind you, Junior lets out a nasty giggle, the sound shuddering through you like nails down a chalkboard, setting your teeth on edge, “She’s a dirty little slut, isn’t she?” He bounces on his heels, chattering excitedly in that strange distorted voice, “Such a dirty nasty little slut-pet, she doesn’t get to cum, oh no, not until she’s begging for it, not until she’s crying for it…”
“She’s already cum once tonight, without askin’ for permission.” Papa swats a hand against your backside and you cry out at the sting of it, remembering how he had spanked you earlier, how you had reached orgasm as he laid into you, punishing you for acting the brat when you were sucking his cock. He quirks an eyebrow at you, settling both hands on your hips, moving you back and forth over his cock, “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that one, baby. You like it when Papa beats your ass, don’t ya?” You let out a keening moan, clutching at his shoulders, fighting his grasp on your hips in your desperation to sink down on to his cock. He gives your ass another slap, dragging his sharp claws over the up-turned swell of your buttocks, his eyes gleaming with sly knowledge, “But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? No, it didn’t quite scratch that filthy little itch…”
You shake your head, whimpering out apologies, twining your arms around his neck, but the clown only snorts at your attempts to placate him. He pushes you out of his lap, smirking at your wide eyes and the sullen pout of your lips, “Tough shit, babydoll. If you really wanna cum so bad, you can just take care of it yourself, like you did last night.” He turns away, rifling through the drawers of the bedside table, and then he hoists himself up from the mattress and moves across the room, holding something in his hands. Still sprawled out on the bed, you can’t see what it is, but Junior suddenly hoots with maniac laughter and claps his hands at the sight of it, grinning at you like a demented demon-child.
“Gimme some spit, kid.” The older clown holds out his hand to Junior, shifting so that your view is obscured by his bulk, blocking you from seeing what they’re doing. Junior hawks deep in his throat, a nauseating sound that makes you feel slightly queasy, and then he spits, hissing when Papa lets out an irritated grunt, “C’mon now, don’t be stingy. You’ve got plenty more where that came from, you big drooly creep.”
Papa kneels on the floor, stooping over a particularly threadbare stretch of carpet, worn to the bone by the passage of time and the friction of a thousand shoes. When he finally moves away, standing aside with a mocking flourish, you see that he’s fixed a dildo to the small patch of concrete that is visible between the last shreds of the carpet; it’s transparent silicone, girthy and curved around the shaft, with a fat head and a round suction cup at the base to keep it stuck to the floor. That’s what the drool was for, you suppose, to fix the suction cup to the concrete…and to lubricate its thick length for your cunt.
“Are you just gonna sit there and stare at it all night, {y/n}?” Papa rolls his eyes, settling himself into one of the two tired-looking chairs beneath the window and lighting a cigar, ready for the show to begin. He inhales deeply and lets out a contented sigh, billowing smoke from the corners of his red mouth, smirking at you through the pungent fog, “C’mon, baby girl, get over here and fuck yourself on that thing, and be quick about it, before I send Junior to fetch you. And you don’t want that, doll, believe me. The big goon might just forget which hole is which and skewer your tight little ass on it, by mistake.”
Junior snorts indignantly, shifting to perch on the other chair, beside Papa, his long legs crossed at the ankle and his chin resting in his hands as he watches you move tentatively across the room, approaching the dildo with apprehensive steps. You stand over it, looking down at the gleaming head, the fluorescent lights of the room casting a harsh glare upon the clear silicone. You can’t see the clowns, they’re sitting behind you, both angled just out of view, but you can see yourself, because Papa has thoughtfully positioned the toy right in front of the full length pier-glass mirror mounted on the wall. The glass is misted over, grimy with dust and fingerprints and cracked in several places, but you can see your reflection well enough, and you can’t help but shy away from the sight of yourself, embarrassed and upset by your disheveled appearance. The black negligee is pulled down to show your breasts and rucked up over your hips, revealing the glistening slit of your cunt, and the sticky trail of your juices and Junior’s drool on your thighs. Your hair is a mess, your face is a ruin, smeared with sweat and tears and make-up, and the word SLUT is still daubed across your brow in red lipstick, announcing your shame to the room. You let out a shuddering breath and glance down at the dildo again, eyeing it nervously.
Papa clicks his fingers, the sound cutting through the silence and making you jump on the spot, “Go on, babydoll. Sit on it.” Junior giggles again, repeating the command in a mocking hiss until Papa shushes him, the older clown’s voice coming out in a rasping hum, low and dangerous, “Sit down, {y/n}. Now. I won’t ask you again.”
You close your eyes, steeling yourself, and sink down, bending your knees, inching your feet apart and spreading your thighs open. Planting one hand on the ground to steady yourself, you wrap the other hand around the base of the dildo, your fingers curling around the wet rubber, and then you lower your cunt to meet the bulging head, wincing as it breaches your opening. The silicone is well-lubricated and your cunt is still slick enough for the head to slide into your body with relative ease, but the fear and humiliation of the last ten minutes has dulled the sharp edge of your arousal all the same. It’s a tight fit, and you struggle to take it all, to adjust to it, your inner muscles burning and stinging around the thick shaft. You can feel the clowns watching you, the weight of their gaze heavy and unrelenting, searing into you from behind.
Finally, when the dildo is hilted within your body, your thighs aching with the strain of holding such an ungainly position, you open your eyes and force yourself to look into the mirror, your mouth trembling when you see your reflection. Your legs are wide open, revealing the obscene spread of your folds around the clear rubber shaft, the transparency of the dildo standing out in a stark contrast to the lurid pink wetness of your gaping hole. Your face is almost crimson, a hot blush rising over your cheekbones, and your skin is beaded with fresh sweat.
“C’mon, babydoll, move those hips. We ain’t got all night, y’know.” Papa chuckles, the chair creaking as he leans forward to get a better look at your expression in the mirror. You still can’t see him, but he can see you, and he apparently likes what he sees, because he lets out a delighted laugh, slapping one hand against his thigh, “Tell ya what, princess, if you put on a good show for us, I’ll make sure you get a treat later. How does that sound? Yeah?” You nod, managing a tearful smile for his benefit, and he laughs again, the sound ringing hollow in your ears, “Atta girl. Now c’mon, let’s see you fuck your pretty little cunt open…”
Moving to plant both hands on the ground behind you, bracing your weight through your shoulders and arms, you begin to move your hips, sliding up and down on the dildo, trying to ease its passage and find a rhythm that works for you. It takes a while, and you’re sweating and grunting the whole time, your arms straining to maintain the position, your cunt aching for release as the pleasure builds within your pelvis again, a slow burn, stoked by the heat of those eldritch eyes upon your body.
“Faster.” Junior hisses at Papa, his claws tapping impatiently against the arms of the chair, “Make her go faster, I want to see her tits move…” Papa gives the word and you let out a loud huffing breath, blowing stray tendrils of sweaty hair out of your eyes, using the press of your hands and feet against the floor to lever yourself up and down on the dildo, faster and harder, until your breasts are jiggling and swaying, jolted by your frantic motions. Junior purrs out his approval, his misaligned eyes fixed on your reflection, but the older clown’s voice suddenly cuts through the noise of your moans and the rhythmic slap of your flesh, the command clear in his tone, “Scoot forward, baby. Papa needs to see that sweet little ass bouncin’ up and down…”
You obey, shifting on to your hands and knees, and then wriggling back until you’re sinking down on to the dildo again. It’s much easier to move in this new position, and the curve of the shaft feels heavenly from this angle, rubbing against all the right spots, bringing a breathy little sigh to your parted lips. Curling your fingers into the frayed carpet, you begin to rock yourself back and forth, gliding effortlessly over the dildo, rolling your hips and riding it, your ass bobbing up and down as you chase your climax.
Again and again, over and over.
So close, so fucking close…
“That’s good, oh baby girl, that’s so fucking good.” Papa’s crooned praise only spurs you on, the sound of his voice bringing you closer to the edge, “Yeah, that’s it, work that pretty pussy open. Geez, you’re such a filthy bitch, aren’t ya? Such a dirty cunt. You love ridin’ that cock, don’t ya? Oho, you love flashing that creamy little fuck-hole for us, putting on a show for your daddies…you naughty little clown-slut…”
Junior snarls, sniffing at the air, picking up on the scent of your arousal as you near your release again, “Don’t let her cum, not yet…I want to fuck her…I want to feel her squirting on my cock…”
You’re only half-listening, too intent on finding your own release, your hips juddering wildly, your voice coming out in a broken whine, “Please, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore, I can’t…” And then Papa is standing beside you, grabbing at your hair to keep you from moving, fisting his cock with lazy strokes until he erupts, grunting out your name as he coats your face with his hot seed. You let out a strangled cry, trying to push down on the dildo, but he holds you there until he’s finished. He jerks the last jets over your flushed skin, slapping your cheek with the head of his cock, and then he releases you, petting your hair and murmuring softly, “Good girl. Go on, clean yourself up and then you can clean my cock. Make sure you get every last drop, sweetheart. C’mon, it tastes better when it’s fresh.”
You wipe your hands across your face, covering your fingers in his cum, and then you push your fingers into your mouth, moaning at the musky taste of him on your tongue. A gentle tug at your head brings your mouth to his cock and you take it without hesitation, sucking his length, your lips stinging around his thickness. Papa smiles down at you, patting your cheek, “Such a good little pet. I think you’ve earned that treat, {y/n}.” He turns to glance at Junior, something unspoken passing between them, and then the tall clown moves behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist and hoisting you up, giggling when the dildo slides out of your core and you let out a little squeak at the loss of it.
Junior carries you over to the bed and settles upon the edge, positioning you over his lap, with your back pressed flush against his chest, your thighs spread over his sharp knees. Pushing down on your shoulders, he spears you on his monstrous cock, his claws hooking into your skin as you writhe and wriggle in his arms, groaning at the unnatural stretch of your cunt around his immense girth, your walls struggling to contain him. The clown nuzzles your hair, licking broad strokes against the nape of your neck, chirping happily at the vice-grip of your pussy around him, “Oh yesss…so tight, precious…so hot and wet…”
He grasps your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock, fucking into your limp frame, scoring your flesh with his claws and fangs. He nips playfully at your shoulder, purring loudly, sliding his hands up to knead your breasts as he rocks you back and forth, using your tired body like a fuck-toy. And it hurts, it burns like fire, and your cunt is sore, your limbs are aching, but you want this, you need this, you need to cum before you lose your mind…
You cry out, catching your lip between your teeth as Junior sinks his fangs into your shoulder, covering the mark that the older clown had left there earlier with a fresh love-bite. Lounging back in his chair, smoking another cigar, Papa fixes Junior with a hard stare, frowning at his younger counterpart, “Hey, watch your fucking teeth, brat. I know she’s a tough little thing, but she’s still only human, and I don’t want you breakin’ her…”
Junior grunts, drawing away from the wound, his tongue lolling out and his eyes rolling back as he humps into you, his razor-sharp claws scrabbling against your heaving breasts. You ride out the violent thrusts of his hips, dangling in his arms, hanging off the end of his cock like a broken doll, and you call out for Papa as you feel your orgasm building again, your pupils blown wide, your lips wet and trembling.
“Papa, please let me cum…I need it…oh please…”
You think he’s going to refuse, for one horrible moment, and you’re sure that you’ll go mad…and then he smiles at you, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners, his voice lazy and indulgent, “Let go, {y/n}. Cum for me, beautiful girl…”
That’s all it takes, Papa’s permission and Junior’s gloved fingers gliding over your clit, his cock pounding into you. Just like that, you’re melting, falling over the edge with a ragged scream, your hips surging forward, your juices gushing out over Junior’s cock and fingers in a sticky flood, coating your thighs and the filthy mattress beneath you. Panting for air, blowing and whimpering, your body thrumming with pain-pleasure, you sag against Junior, letting him fuck into you with deep strokes until he fills you with his seed, roaring and bellowing like a feral beast behind you, his hands curling around your quaking thighs. He flops back on to the bed with a grunting sigh, pulling you down with him, dragging his claws through your curls as he rumbles your name, “Mmmm, my pretty little pet, such a lovely little toy…”
You doze for a while, drifting on a tidal wave of exhaustion, until Papa lifts you out of Junior’s arms and carries you to the shower, gently washing the sweat and the cum from your body, wiping the smears of lipstick away from your skin and peppering your face with kisses. You smile at him, too tired for words, and he ruffles your hair, chuckling fondly at your weary expression, “There’s my best girl. You hungry, babydoll?”
You’re never too tired for food, even if it’s stone-cold and slightly congealed, and you stretch out between the two clowns on the bed, devouring the leftover pizza with gusto, slice by slice, until there’s nothing left but a few crumbs and a greasy streak in the take-out box. Afterwards, you nestle against Papa, letting him stroke your hair and soothe you to sleep, and Junior curls around your back, reaching over to trace circles across your stomach with his fingers. The last thing you hear before you close your eyes is Junior’s voice whispering in your ear, almost purring with lazy contentment.
“Same time next week, {y/n}?”
