Multch

Depending on your relationship with Pennywise, it will treat you differently. In one case, it's using you to feed. After-care is nonexistent. It would pump you full of its sticky load and leave, viewing you in your vulnerable state for its own amusement.

On the other hand, Pennywise may view you as a toy. It wouldn't want you to break. Pennywise would hold you close and groom you like a cat. Its slimy tongue dragging across your skin, tasting your sex soaked sweat as he'd try not to sample your flesh while doing so.

B=Body part

It loves your hands. The clown salivates at the thought of your fingers in his mouth. Dreaming about how you might feel and taste up against his teeth and tongue.

As for Pennywise, the deadlights chose this form for its face. It loves how it can contort and deceive, allowing it to realise any sick and twisted reality with such a disarming face.

C=Cum

Black, thick, and so damn much of it.

I like to think that (being a pregnant spider) reproduction of Pennywise's species requires a warm insulated space to cultivate its eggs. While normally, animals may use a nest to facilitate this, nothing stops Pennywise from using your human orifices instead.

Its cum is tar black, incredibly dense and impossibly sticky.

Additionally, it's laced with hundreds of undeveloped eggs which grow over the course of millennia. While it is impossible for one to come to term in your lifetime, Pennywise hardens at the thought of violating you like this– forcing you to carry thousands of its tiny spawn.

D=Dirty secret

Once while breeding you, Pennywise came deep inside of you and during its cool down, its cock became rock solid in an instant when it had this thought of you.

The mental picture of your gaping hole stretching over the expulsion of its own oozing cum, watching it drip out of you in single thick streams. Pennywise wished it could open you back up and fuck that it back inside of you just to see it happen again.

E=Experience

Over millennia, some have caught the creature's attention.

However with its new clownish form, you are the first. It has to rediscover how this new, sensitive form reacts and it uses you to test that.

With that said, Pennywise may have thousands of years experience of torturing and stimulating its captives in special ways, but it's knowledge in itself is surface level. Like a virgin.

F=Favourite position

Any position where it can see your face. It wants to watch you beg and ache with its size as you feel it reach deep inside you.

G=Goofy

Foreplay is when Pennywise ravishes in its role as a clown. It makes childish innuendos, blowing up balloons and sitting you on its lap like mall Santa. All it wants is to watch you react. Amidst your scepticism, Pennywise loves to see the glint in your eyes followed by the tension of your jaw.

Once you start to stifle back petty grins, that's when it destroys all you've ever known. Pennywise drops the act. It gets mean. Mocking.

With your mouth stuffed full of its pumping cock, Pennywise growled in response to your gagged moans.

“Are you close?” He let out a low giggle, “My little toy can't last much longer? Awe, you can't stop now I'm not done with you yet…”

H=Hair

Wild, curly and ginger

I=Intimacy

While it may seem like in fits of raging lust that Pennywise might only find value in your body, surprisingly, it finds time to be more level headed.

Particularly before it enters its deep sleep, it takes the time to spoon you. You rest under its chin as it wraps you up in its gangly arms. It's light purring soothing you to sleep.

It was in these moments that Pennywise stopped being a God of destruction, instead finding identity in your relationship. A place of safety. A different dominance. Rest.

J=Jack off

Never. By design, Pennywise intentionally keeps you with him to fulfil that need. It uses you, and plays with you because you're its toy. A pet.

K=kink

Humiliating his prey Oviposition Rape\ non-con\ dub-con Dom\Sub dynamics. Pet play Emotional manipulation Oral fixation

L=location

Anywhere, anytime, anyway.

It has taken you at midnight when it felt like you were the last two beings on earth.

It's taken you in your dreams– invaded your bedroom and defiled you in body and in mind.

Pennywise wouldn't even show mercy on you in public– sweeping you away to an uncharacteristically isolated section of the library to rail your brains out.

M=Motivation

After hibernation, Pennywise needs little to no motivation to get turned on. Thinks of you? Saliva pools in its mouth. Sees you in summer clothing; a tank top, shorts, or especially a bathing suit— It's palming the tent in its pantaloons.

N=No (turn offs)

Pretty much nothing. You want an alien embodiment of all evil, you get one.

Pennywise knows what's wrong and thrives in it. It simply refuses to care

Ironically because of this, it's so inclusive that canonically the only things Pennywise despises are police brutality and its own ego death. And children, of course.

O=Oral

Prefers giving over receiving however that could be because it hasn't experienced that in this current form as Pennywise yet.

It's oral fixation ruins his self control. If its pet gets a period, it smells it on them– ripping apart any and all boundaries between it and their blood.

Similarly, Pennywise would favour feeling the length of its pet's cock with its long slithering tongue.

P=Pace

There is no world where Pennywise fucks you soft and slow. It ruts into you fast and at a brutal intensity with little to no regard for you and your own pleasure.

That is unless Pennywise wants to watch you suffer and writhe beneath it.

It watches you intently, waiting for your unravelling– waiting for the right time to stop just as you get there. It goes agonisingly slow as it thrusts you full making sure you feel its size.

Q=Quickie

Pennywise is in no rush being something that can appear instantly. As a result, you find that during the start of his hunt, Pennywise is rushing and is frantic, however it is never one and done.

Instead, when it's most needy, it prioritises getting as many orgasms out of you in the shortest amount of time. Watching your eyes roll back. The dopamine it gets is enough to leave it satisfied forever. Atleast… until it fucks you again. And again.

R=Risk

There's no boundaries here. Between Pennywise and you, the only liability is your ability to perish. It salivates at the thought of your flesh, bloodied and bitten into, however, the clown is also conscious that a person as strong willed as you are is irreplaceable. A broken toy is no fun to play with afterall.

S=Stamina

After awakening from its hibernation, Pennywise fucks like a rutting dog. It's more ambitious; Stretching you out further, transforming into much more grotesque things, making you more scared.

The clown lasts longer too. You still shudder at the memory. That one time after he had woken up and you hadn't seen him all day– you could've sworn you had gotten pounded into for days straight. Just abusing your holes as it would stuff you to the brim and more. Overflowing with slimy, black, semen.

T=Toys

Times you've suggested toys were in simile. Pennywise would have you overwhelmed at the sight of itself as you'd stare wide eyed and ramble on and on. Comparisons like being inferior to any number of bad dragon dildos you had seen. It's fingers once moved at a speed that rivalled your own sex toys you'd ashamedly hide away in your bedside dresser.

U=Unfair

Your clown is gentile to you. Holding you close and whispering praise in your ear. This all changes when you disobey him, however.

Pennywise will pin you down for hours. Your skin scraping against the cold, hard ground as it denies you one orgasm after another.

It relishes in the excruciating agony. The tears that brim at your eyes.

And it does it all just to see you scamper away the next morning. Sugar coating words and basking in its touch. Just that faint scent of fear when it knew you wanted anything but last night to happen again— It's enough to start a round 2.

V=Volume

Pennywise is a talker. It whispers backhanded praise in your ear as it slams into your hole.

It will groan and growl– even giggle– under its breath in that dark tone that always managed to send shivers up your spine.

You never hear it moan however. Instead, Pennywise is a panter. You hear it huff and sniff when it's face is right up against your skin.

That clown is a loud breather.

W=Wild card

It watches you as you sleep (cue that one twilight scene)

A faint breeze dragging into the room from the slight cracks in your window, you laid in your bed peacefully unaware of your surroundings. There, at the foot of your bed was It. A looming presence. Pennywise stood still panting in slow unconscious breaths. A single dribble of saliva pouring over its lip.

X=X-Ray

A shapeshifting clown has a shapeshifting dick unsurprisingly. Sometimes you pull down the costume to find a shiny red balloon. Other times, it's a thick, pale shaft with a bright head. 6 inches at a minimum, the sky's the limit for its maximum (although maybe not the sky- that would hurt…)

The clussy exists. It lies below the testes and is incredibly sensitive. No further comment.

Y=Yearning

“For 27 years, I dreamt of you. I craved you... I've missed you!”

After 27 years in hibernation, Pennywise awakes with an insatiable hunger; fear and lust. Like a dog in heat, it finds you and steals you away to ruin you.

Z=Zzz

It was a beautiful day. The sun peeked through the sheer white curtains of the bridal salon, casting a golden glow across the many racks of gowns yet to be picked from. Anyone of them could be the one– the dress you would reminisce about making your perfect day even more magical. The dress that would say you were finally independent now. No more Mommy and Daddy's little girl. You would be a woman now. 

You were finally going to be Mrs Bridgers.

The thought hung heavy in your chest with each dragging step forward. 

While it was true that you loved Josh– Your fiance, Joseph Bridgers– these last 4 months had been rough.

Meeting him was a picture book come to life. You were a timid damsel who had spent her former years locked away, keeping chaste and to your own until suddenly you had finally met your Prince Charming. When the time came, Josh was there to sweep you up off of your feet and rush you away from the mundane challenges of adult life. There, you would live out the rest of your days, like royalty, standing besides one another.

You once admired him. He was everything you could have ever asked for; he was smart, good looking, got on well with your family, and at that point he was studying to become a surgeon. 

Together, you made a picture that all of Derry had envied.

That was at least…until he got laid off..

You looked at yourself in the giant floor to ceiling mirrors that encased the dressing room. Your face scrunched up at the sight. Gaudy. The high-low tulle skirt made you look like a massive pom pom. Not to mention the ruffled neckline was vile, Gosh- you looked more like a clown than a bride! In disbelief, you scoffed. Who even chose this? Then again, maybe this would be enough to scare Josh away at the altar... But no, you wouldn’t want that! He’d be your husband soon.

You called out. 

“Hey mom, can we pick another dress? I just don't… uh, see this as the one.”

*

When Josh got laid off from his apprenticeship at the hospital, you noticed him change. His once spotless house looked like a dump. Beer bottles were scattered across the floor and the stench was bad enough that you could smell it 3 doors down. He was a wreck, spending day and night in front of a screen. Once picking up instantly, Your phone held the record of one missed call after another. 

Despite this, he still had that spark of light in his eyes– that light that kept a silent promise to you saying we will get through this. Josh promised you he would get better. He begged you not to leave, swearing that he'd look for a job sooner or later. Then, finally you two would be the happy couple again. Lay with one another. Start a family. Grow old and happy in that charming house on the hill.

You heard the sound of oohs and aahs echo around the room as the sales associate pulled out the next dress.

“If I know anything, I think you'll like this next one!” A creeping smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

*

Tugging the sleeve further down your arm, you admired the antique craftsmanship. It must have been an heirloom... 

Drawing back, You shuddered a gasp! A hand leapt to cusp the swollen mark on your arm. The old, starchy lining had rode up inside the bag of your sleeve. The stinging sensation dulled and faded however the pain dragged your mind elsewhere.

Absentmindedly, you dragged your fingers around the delicate floral lace encasing your throat. The high neckline closed in the back by dainty pearl buttons which ran down the length of your spine. The woman wasn't wrong, but there was no way on earth this dress wasn't out of your budget– especially in your… current situation... 

A gentle smile spread across your face. The vintage gown was truly breathtaking. 

However, as you looked yourself up and down in the mirror, a sick feeling choked you. No- you were happy. Excited, even. The picture of grown elegance stared back at you and you were determined to just get this wedding over and done with- To just be married and have it all be over already!-

Drip

Turning, you noticed a single bead of… oil? The black substance was minimal, leaving a trail down the mirror as it slowly fell.

The train of your dress got nudged away. A precaution, it was nothing you assured yourself.

Drip.

Alright. You moved.

Then, again, another droplet of black sludge seeped from the ceiling…

Slowly, more seemed to drip down the mirror. One after another.

You watched them slowly slide down, leaving your bridal reflection behind streaks of grime.

The act formed a facade of prison bars ahead of you. That was silly though— you couldn’t believe in that. The happiest day of your life… you winced.

In all reality, you knew you should've paid more attention to this sudden leakage- this mysterious omen! But instead, your mind faltered. Wavering elsewhere, all you could think about was the wedding.

It was like a hollow pit laid deep at the bottom of your heart. Drenched in darkness, you could see the anguish- The pain. A once passionate love that made your head spin was now crumbling into dust and you were choosing to ignore it. He owed you that house in the suburbs. You knew that he knew that. After so many years and too many moons, the future was known. You promised him that you would rather sleep in a cold bed each night, than be the life boat that left him drowning. In sickness and in health. He was still the boy you were going to marry.

Even through that doubt in your heart, you saw the glimmering lights at the end of the tunnel; the face of a girl swept away before she even knew she could walk. The image of your happiest day ahead. And finally, you had seen the picture where you and Josh had beat the odds and grown old together.

It was a warm and fuzzy feeling. You felt it radiate up from your feet, blurring your conscience. It was almost like…

A look of pure horror stretched across your face. 

The floor was submerged. 

Black, thick liquid covered the ground like an endless sea that stretched beyond the reaches of reflection. It was vile and the smell made you recoil in disgust.

You were just about to call for help until…

Your heart beat faltered as the lights flickered out.

Then, the room was pitch black. 

With your vision impaired, the sensation was impending doom. The rising sludge crept up your legs. Such as a faint whisper, It caressed your skin as if a steady hand was tracing up the seam of your thigh.

In your panic, you turned to scream for your mother outside but in all directions, you saw the same image. You shrieked out a bloodied cry pleading for rescue. 

But you were met with no response.

All was still, yet growing beneath the surface.

Instead, all that was left was a lone bride. A mad woman,painstakingly sinking in the darkness that started right underneath her.

Rising inch by inch. Your heartbeat quaking in your chest. This formidable quicksand was rapidly rising to drag you down to the depths of hell. All before you even got to start living life. Here, you would die a has-been. A failure. A virgin. You would die so unfulfilled that the town would forget you had even died in such an obscure way.

Like the growing pool of darkness below, your chest heaved with such an intensity that you swore something would burst. You heard beating in your head, and the panting for air all around you. 

That was at least until It simply stopped. 

You couldn’t help but ground yourself. A sigh of relief escaping you amidst multiple gasping breaths. You could’ve sworn you were on the verge of a brain hemorrhage- or worse. You looked around, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. Huh?

To your surprise, the sludge had… stopped?

It. Had stopped. 

You scoffed.

It stopped! It actually stopped?!

You praised faith, anyone listening, that they had saved you. You owed them your endless gratuity. 

That was until unexpectedly, you felt a warmth hit the back of your neck, your eyes widened in preparation.

Was that… light over there? It shocked you. With no decipherable origin, three blinding lights shone before you. With no reflection, they were a mere figment.

A trembling hand reached out to grasp it but to no luck you were met with the cold solid touch of the mirror facing you.

“You're not real. There's no way,” you gasped, “What are you?”

Once again, you were met with no response, only a faint shiver spanning down the length of your spine.

The room fell into a deafening silence seldom pierced by your own winded breath.

As the fluorescent lights flickered back on, You were alone again.

*

What now? You questioned. There you stood in an ocean of sludge. Alone. Without an exit.

You tried to call out again but to no avail.

“I could really use some help here!” You yelled yet received no response… again, “For the love of– just… please!”

The silence was enough to hear a pin drop. Deafening even. 

Besides a faint rumbling sound. 

As you walked towards a wall, you placed your ear up to it and the rumbling sound grew.

Footsteps? 

People! You sprung up and dodged around each mirror. Your fist meeting itself again and again as you knock like your whole life was trapped outside- waiting for you.

“PLEASE, ANYONE. ANYTHING. JUST-”

Black ooze burst from all corners of the room.

You yelped, spitting out the foul substance.

Like a barrage from all sides, the blast shoved you over. You crashed on the floor, helplessly attempting to float but you kept being dragged down as if a thousand small hands were latching onto you. Scratching your skin with rotten hands, which the tar continued to rise until you were completely submerged.

Your mouth gasped open trying to suck up one last breath of air until suddenly, all went black.

*

Waking up, you held your head in your hand groaning, feeling for the bruise you felt had formed. The floor below you was hard and cold, making your heart stop for a second.

You weren't in the shop anymore.

On instinct, you shot up, eyes squinting open to reveal the colossal cave system you miraculously woke to. Sharp and Jagged stone poked out along the structure's walls. Ahead, a crater carved a deep slanting recession in the ground. The massive indentation disproportionately framed a tiny wooden cart. There, its roof was blanketed in a faint cold light- The only light that didn't radiate from itself- by a sewer grate in the ceiling

Where am I-

Before you could even finish that thought, a shadow sprinted past.

From its presence -Bouncing off of the cavern walls- an echo of impish laughter cruelly erupted

The tone alone was enough to make you stop in your tracks. Frozen in its wake.

As you dragged yourself up off of your forearms, you heaved the tar soaked train of your gown into your arms but yelped at the newfound ache of your leg. Fuck! You cursed. 

Searching your surroundings, that shadow was nowhere to be seen. In a silent celebration you dropped your shoulders you didn’t realise you had tensed. Regardless, you had an uncertainty well at the bottom of your stomach. Like that form had a way of getting under your skin. You hadn’t even seen the creature and couldn’t rule out the possibility of it being just a mere figment of your inflicted mind. It wasn’t safe to be alone here. Not around that at least, you deducted

Mustering any remaining strength, you were determined on taking shelter so you hastily limped over towards your only option left. The carriage.

With a large thud, you fell to the floor. Your back remained pressed to the door, holding it shut with all your might. You swore that in that moment, you could've passed out. An echoing rhythm played in your head of Thump.. Thump… Thump… Like your heart finally began to slow. Like your eyelids weighed more than ever. You felt yourself slump as the room gradually got darker until all was left was black. *

Brrrruuu!

You opened your eyes to see a spiralling coil decorated with worn valves and buttons. It was a tarnished brass with dirt caked deep in every crevice yet it sat there supported by the hold of a pristine grey glove.

blinking twice. Glove? 

You almost jolted back at the sight of a massive carnival clown towering over you, holding the neglected instrument.

A grand entrance was heard from nowhere and nearby all at once. The taunting echo of a stringy harpsichord played a sinister carnival tune. It was enough to have you cusp your face as It rattled through your head like cicadas digging through the soft tissues of your brain.

“Well that wasn't very nice of you to try lock me out of my own cart now was it? You know who I am? I'm Pennywise! Didn’t you see my name?.”

The clown moved, its mouth contorting into an exaggerated frown. There, Following the parameter of the room, It stalked you. It’s hands scratched at their own palms where nails picked at the linen fibre until it reached Pennywise had come to a halt where you laid beneath him blocking the door. 

It was a pathetic sight; You were weak and drowsy. The sweat of a restless sleep glazed your skin which was covered head to toe in the scraps of stringy black ooze. It was enough to make Pennywise pull a toothy grin. Then, a single concentrated stream of saliva dripped off of his lower lip.

“Ooh hoo..” Pennywise chuckled under his grueling breath.

You looked at him with disgust. It looked at you like a piece of meat. “You’re a performer too, aren’t you?” It patronised.

As a response, you huffed out a single breath, knuckles turning white as your fist tightened. 

“Awe…” Pennywise resumed its pacing as it circled you, “The doting house wife. The future mother- well..” It snickered 

Wife. The term stung you in the back of your throat. Unable to speak.

You shook your head.

“Awe stop- you’ll make me cry,” It mocked as it wiped away a fake tear.

There, the clown raised its palm.

Normally you knew you wouldn’t flinch anymore but this had been the first sign. Recounting it, you could have sworn you had seen his arm stretch inches longer.

“Why won't you talk to me?” Its hand came down with a bellowing smack just inches away from you, “we’re friends after all, and you make me so SAD” 

As the last few words fell with an inhuman quality- A raw anger- that paralysed your body in a way you hadn't seen before.

At the same time, you sat there in disbelief- all as the beast erupted in hysteric laughter.

“Oh- isn’t this how you like it? Or maybe you would rather I look a little bit more…”

The Clown’s face contorted and melted like it was being crushed by a silent wrecker. His red stripes oozed off his face in thick bloodied tears, and his crooked smile- with just one too many teeth- puckered and stretched in a cartoonish manor. The whole scene seemed to go on for years while you stood before him- shaking in terror.

Yet suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the character before you was gone. Instead, he was replaced with what could only be described by the hitched breath trapped in your throat.

“...Familliar,” He sneered, holding back another impulsive laugh as he watched you cower below him- haphazardly crawling back towards the door, “What? Don’t want to see your ol’ hubby-wubby?”

A shrill shriek escaped your lips at the mere sight. 

Looming above you stood the now rubbery caricature of your husband- a monster- who began to limp towards you. Legs slightly too long to one another. An oily sheen coating his distorted face and dark suit. A constant smile that was anything but endearing yet it continued to perform its own fucked up idea of earnesty without second guess. 

His shaking hand came to hold your cheek as his wobbling legs lowered itself on top of you. 

“Naughty-NAUGHTY ME! Seeing you in your dress before the big day~”

The taunt came out in a grotesque cry from a choir of agony filled voices . 

It was so estranged from reality. That wasn’t your fiance, but what was it then?

He toyed at the broken lace bordering your skirt’s hem. A boney hand pawing at your hip. You felt like you were suffocating. It was tortuous. Like darkness fogging your gaze, you saw yourself reliving the nightmares you’d sworn you had buried too long ago. The monster. Your husband. That clown.

That thing crouched down, perching its lips under your ear, and the words it mustered were enough to make your face pale.

“Or maybe we'll just jump right to the honeymoon, won't we?” it whispered.

As he grabbed your hips and flipped you, It pinned your body against the floorboards, “You like that huh?” your husband- or the clown- cackled as it thrusted its clothed groin against you.

Like a pounding drum, the sensation was unbearable. Your heart seized in your chest. The abuse was torturous,  akin to a brick repetitively bashing against your back- but you knew that would be your preference right about now. Hell. All while that sinister laugh replayed over and over. You felt like your lungs would collapse.

clawing at your neck in an attempt to unclasp the futile detailing that suffocated you, your shaking hands slipped, disoriented by its invasive pummeling into your legs

The air around you blurred and darkened. In a state of timelessness, you couldn't tell if anything was real anymore. Past or present. Both, you faced that wretched man. That evil, abusive, hopeless freak.

shuddering a breath, 

You raised your palm and…

As your flexed hand left his face, its head cartoonishly spun in a full circle, untwisting it from its monstrous form. Slowing on an axis, its chin dipped as it tried to balance a new mop of large, bright cherry red hair.

Pennywise groaned, seemingly ,retreating back into the shadows.

There wasn't a moment to waste. Clamouring up, you used the door knob as leverage to hoist your upper body upright to facilitate your escape. The stinging on your foot remained as well as the pain from countless bruises littering your skin. 

You winced but knowing the pain was only more reason to move, you turned the door knob.

You tugged the door knob,

Then you pushed the door.

Going as far as pummeling your body against it, the wooden veneer gave little-to-no budge as if it lined solid concrete.

“No…” you stuttered as you stepped back, “That door was flimsy- it could hardly close before.”

A shaking in your legs guided each step backwards as you looked for any sign of escape; a crack in the wall, a lifting floor board, even just a light in the dark.

Your sprained foot felt the smooth wood beneath it. Its cold touch burning against your hot skin. 

Spending minutes you didn’t have to look for any way out, Your brain was rapidly searching for any escape. Somewhere there had to be someplace to hide before the clown-

Pop! Red plastic flung in all directions. The flimsy string bowed to gravity as it hung limp over a gloved hand appearing out of a cloak of shadow.

“Someone likes me better like this,” he teased.

Your captor returned. His hair back to its old fashioned orange swoop. Like war paint, two lines cut down each eye again, meeting in the middle to frame the source of his vicious mockery.

“Little baby would rather play with the clown instead?” Pennywise coo’d

With your grasp squeezing the scratched pads of your palm, you could taste the hint of bile flooding your throat. It felt like your eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and your legs were threatening to give out

Enough.

You spat,

“SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP- I SAID SHUT-

Lunging hands came to cover your mouth.

“Oh my! that wasn’t kind, I think someone needs to be punished.” The clown hissed and launched towards you, knocking you back onto the ground. The impact shooting daggers through your jaw which ruptured up into your skull, the pressure given by its two clothed hands holding your lips shut.

Amidst your flailing limbs, you felt the monster's uneven weight press you into the floor boards. 

Its breath was hot and clinged to your petrified skin as it opened its jaws wide.

Was this the end? 

Behind thousands of razor sharp teeth, you couldn't comprehend what you were seeing. That Light. Those three blinding rays at the end of the tunnel. 

However this time instead of holding the beautiful dreams you could've had with your husband,– or anyone at this rate – The pictures were dark, constant reminders that you were on the verge of death itself. 

Atleast until they were gone..

You could've sworn you'd have the image burned into your brain forever going forward. 

There, Pennywise stood hunched over you. Its eyes wide and jaw slack.

It was the critical gaze of a clown experiencing its first technical error.

Pennywise haphazardly sniffed the air, moving his nose towards all around your body. Up against your neck to under your legs.

It searched in silence, its frantic sniffs hiding the noise of your pounding heartbeat.

“Ooh hoo hoo…” it mumbled. Its face shifted like his lips couldn't help but contort themselves into a grin on instinct.

Pennywise let out a huffed snarl before locking its gaze on you.

They say light is the fastest travelling matter in this universe. Little did you know, looking into your eyes, the clown could see the stars still trapped in yours. Like a mirror. Three faint glints around each shot pupil were enough to infatuate him

A single droplet of slobber caressed your cheek as it towered over you stunned. Frozen. Distracted.

You didn't know what had overcome you in that moment– Adrenaline? Mental illness?– But you leapt at it, placing your lips on his.

Your mouths interlocking was a force that kept you underneath the beast like a dead weight in the sea pushing you down. Pennywise sunk into you, snapped out of its delusion.

It dug its fingers into you- feeling like nails hammering deeper into your skin. If you weren't so battered and bruised already, you would have been concerned at its ability to pierce flesh with its claws; however in this moment you’d present yourself as a pure lamb at the altar of survival.

The kiss itself was wet and suffocating. A fantasy where you could feel the clown's makeup smudge and paint you in turn. In its own interest, Pennywise never needed to stop for air so the kiss seemed to go on for eternity— One which sucked the soul out of you, hollowing your cheeks and closing your esophagus.

Still, despite the foul nature of this creature, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

The kiss was raw. Hot. Shameful.

The kind of embrace that was forbidden. Something so wrong in this context. You were tarnished. Impure.

You ought to be ashamed.

Right?

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, something about the whole scene was exhilarating.

Pennywise growled, leaning closer into you with its right knee sliding up to rest between your thighs. A silent remark which communicated his dominance in second. You were his prey now.

The thrill in this single act made you breathless, having held more energy than the span of your entire life.

And it was bad. You felt sinful. Infadelic.

Moaning at the puncture of two sharp teeth at your bottom lip, a long slithering tongue invaded your mouth when single thought rattled in your head;

Gosh, If your fiance was highschool, then this kiss is a fucking strip club.

Unconsciously, your hands crept up to fist handfuls of fiery hair.

Meanwhile, its tongue traced your teeth. Each and every molar was caressed and touched like it craved attention. The idea was irresistible, reciprocating as your own tongue explored the bizarre anatomy of this thing.

A mouth that was not quite right. 

Your hands shoved you away from It. The long string of saliva once connecting you two snapped, dripping down your chin.

A stinging pain hung your tongue out from your lips where a dribble of blood hit the ground below you.

Against all instinct to lean back in and continue, your face repelled where a coughing fit choked out of you. With every attempt to catch your breath, you couldn't help but let out a pained wheeze.

Your hands threw up to cover your face as your chest violently convulsed. Blood pooled underneath you in an instant. Unexplainably. 

The mess stained your hands and skirt. A once spotless silk trane now acted as an exhibition for the foul, vile, and disgusting.

The dress you deserve, you felt a voice shriek in your head however this time, it wasn't your own.

When you peered up, you stooped at the sight of It. The clown retreating back into the darkness.

*

Dizzy, you rubbed your eyes. When had everything suddenly become so bright? You were on the hard dressing room floor entrapped by 4 mirrors which spanned every inch of vertical surface area around you.

You scoffed at yourself. struggling to find your footing, broken out in a cold sweat all while you laid in a pristine gown featuring white vintage lace and petite pearl buttons.

It must have been an heirloom you told yourself

There, your mom stood in the doorway.

Your weak hand quickly dodged up to touch your bruised lips.

The costume stays on. 

A fuzzy feeling rushed through your entire body. Like an explosion had gone off, all you could hear was a faint buzzing and the movement of air. And bells. Bells rang faster and faster as Pennywise rocked his hips more and more. Coming towards your climax, all you knew was the ringing sound and the piercing pressure blowing into you. Bells sang an intense song until suddenly, they stopped. They stopped and everything was so warm. Pennywise laid on your chest, his large arms wrapping you up and holding you tight against him as he'd purr.

He's a monster. ofc he'd purr and growl and snarl and hiss. I like to think Pennywise also shows some very possessive behavior with his victims like holding them close and/or scratching and nipping his captive when they're bad.

I don't see a reality where Pennywise would fall in love with a human. I do think he'd keep a person as a pet or love them as if they were a favorite toy. This means that Pennywise would tease them; possibly with their worst fears as a way of feeding off of a passive source. (Think like a cheat meal which he doesn't have to hunt down)

Moreover, Pennywise wouldn't be able to feed off of his captive's embarrassment, however he would definitely find it entertaining. Things like their private thoughts, their hidden secrets, or methods of physical humiliation would really humor him. Your discomfort brings his enjoyment. As a result, I think Pennywise would be incredibly degrading towards you. He'd also have a humiliation kink for his victims.

Pennywise wouldn't be overtly sexual since he's a clown. Doesn't even swear. However, he would possibly make inappropriate innuendos– things that aren't obvious but still suggestive enough to make himself laugh. He also seems like he would give any captive he is particularly fond of a fairly possessive nickname.

“And how is my little baby over here?” He'd mock, “Is my baby girl enjoying their new home?” 

“Hello, would you like a balloon? I've got red ones, or blue ones, and long ones, and thick ones. I'd offer my special balloon, but I think it's broken. It won't inflate. Could you help me blow my special balloon?”

During sex with Pennywise, he would sometimes alter himself just slightly the further and further you went with him. Being curious on the limitations of your mortal body, (maybe even intentionally trying to cause you a little pain) Pennywise would shapeshift his dick to grow slightly larger inside of you as you'd bounce on him– seeing how far he could stretch you out.

“Hehehe..,” Pennywise growled. You felt a tightness inside you, feeling a new sting as you dropped back down on his shaft. It was a maddening sensation. You felt like you were being stuffed full. Like every drop reached deeper. Like your walls were being pushed further apart. The sensation just kept growing and growing until…

“I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” You cried, “you're too big.” Tears started hastily falling down your cheeks as you looked into his dark eyes. That crooked smile only taunted you.

“Awe, no fun! I wanted to see you pop! Like a balloon.”

And when you'd get your period, there's no stopping him. He'll eat you out like he's starving for it. His hands grip both thighs- prying them apart- and he digs his face in there. And when he would be done, Pennywise would lift his head to reveal his mouth bloodied and smeared.

However, he isn't only interested in keeping you captive for his own enjoyment. Pennywise initially brought you down to the sewers of Darry to feed on your flesh. He was ravenous when he met you. As soon as he was just about to sink his teeth into your hand, you had surprised him. Your scent. He realized that you weren't terrified of him– in fact, the opposite– but he couldn't let you go. Something in his head stopped him.

During his hibernation, Pennywise would spend a long time sleeping in intervals. Between that, he’d slug out of his bloody pool, pushing past severed limbs and scattered entrails in order to reach you. You’d hear him from the drains in your household- from the gutters on your morning walk. He’d beckon to you to visit.

You'd sit in his carriage listening to him showcase his latest songs on the tuba. He would make you play games with him– some less innocent than others. Additionally, he'd even just sit there eagerly and listen to you talk.

“So I uh.. went on a run and saw this bird and-”

“Ooh hoo hoo! How fun.” He'd clap.

During his active periods, Pennywise would keep you captive underground where it would be cold and wet and bloody. Keeping you trapped in his domain watching you. Initially, you were scared. Terrified even. You were trapped in the caves beneath Derry, forced to watch this psychotic clown devour children whole. He'd torment you‐ scaring you mercilessly and chasing you back and forth. He knew wasn't going to kill you. He just wanted to be mean. I think this would've eventually formed into a Stockholm dynamic where you two would eventually grow closer as you desensitized yourself to his violence (maybe it was fast, or slow- idk how fucked up you already are)

Pennywise is the type of guy who wouldn't know how to act when you cry. He'd just stand there and scrunch up his face waiting for you to stop. He's quite emotionally unavailable and at points presently not there (a dissociative baddie).

Moreover, more often than not, Pennywise speaks in a childish or belittling tone because the deadlights find it their most comfortable tone because they've been a clown for so long.

“I know a secret,” he'd giggle, “You have been thinking naughty, NAUGHTY things!” Pennywise would say as he'd step closer towards you, trapping you between the sewer gate and his large, towering frame…