Sexy Pennywise x Reader

✧5✧

The figure looming before you, crouched on the bed in an almost animalistic position, was none other than the clown you had met in the basement. However, back then, you had only seen him from the shoulders up at best, and now you were confronted by him in his entirety as he observed you intently from his place less than a foot away. He was far larger than you might have expected him to be, well over six feet tall and taking up a decent amount of the space before you even when crouching. In the dim light of your bedroom, you were able to make out his features better now that they were so close to you, every aspect of his painted face displaying a sort of inhumanity that left you utterly speechless. It was just too difficult to comprehend your situation.

The clown cocked his head lightly, even such a subtle movement accompanied by the faint jingling of bells. "You're not scared of ol' Pennywise, are ya?" he questioned in his goofy tone, his blue eyes seemingly drifting in opposite directions. It was definitely a little unsettling, but even when presented with this, you couldn't describe what you felt as fear. Your book laid abandoned in your lap, your eyes wide and intense as you maintained eye contact with the creature that had somehow scrambled onto your bed without making so much as a sound; how he had managed to do so without triggering the now familiar jostle of bells, you had no idea.

"I don't think so," you finally replied, the words slipping out of your mouth with a strange amount of calm. You weren't entirely sure what you were feeling at this point—it was almost like some out-of-body experience, and you weren't entirely present. Even more oddly, Pennywise didn't seem especially surprised by your response despite how adamant he had been on receiving an answer, and his expression didn't shift from the eerie blankness it had been displaying this entire time.

The balloon that had been floating gently at your bedside suddenly popped, the sharp noise causing you to instinctively jolt with surprise. Your ears were ringing as you turned towards your nightstand where the balloon had been, and then you were peering over the edge of the bed to see if there was a trace of its former existence. There were no rubber scraps littered upon the floor as you would have expected, no indication that a balloon had ever been there to begin with, let alone popped so violently and abruptly. Much like the blood you had found spilling down the sides of the stone well, all the evidence had been erased. You took a moment to absorb this, startled and confused, before returning to your previous position in bed, turning your head to see a painted face hovering just inches from yours.

You were essentially pinned in place now, your faces so close you could detect the strange array of smells that clung to the clown; familiar scents, such as the popcorn and cotton candy that had been mentioned just last night, yet only barely masking what was underneath—something different, and far stronger. Something foul.

"No fear," he uttered then, his voice just above a whisper. His tone carried no emotion, no motive, making it difficult for you to determine if he was even speaking to you at all. There was a small string of drool clinging to his lower lip, dangling below his chin; it broke off mere seconds later, leaving a circular wet spot on your sheets just inches away from where one of your hands rested. Your gaze briefly followed it before shifting back up to Pennywise.

"I don't—I'm not sure I—" you began, unable to form a proper response due to your overall disorientation. You couldn't stop staring into the eyes of the clown, though it was admittedly difficult to make eye contact when his pupils appeared to be slowly migrating away from each other.

It happened too fast for you to comprehend, then. You and Pennywise had continued to stare at each other, unbroken and silent, and then you finally blinked, and he was gone. That was it. You blinked several more times thereafter, as if you needed further confirmation regarding the sudden absence of a clown on your bed, but he had once again pulled a successful vanishing act. Surprisingly, a sort of mild panic flooded you in response, and you began looking every which way, searching for a trace of your nighttime visitor. He couldn't just be gone—and hell, why did you care? You couldn't seem to stop yourself from nervously glancing over each side of the bed, even taking the time to check under your pillows. You were prepared to get up and further your search when you noticed the small dot of saliva that had soaked into your comforter, the rather gross result of Pennywise's drooling. Disgusting as it might've been, the sight of it caused you to halt.

He had been here. He might have been good at discarding evidence at the drop of a hat, but he hadn't managed to erase everything. He had definitely been here, and you were definitely sharing your home with a potentially inhuman clown.

And you wanted to see him again.