summary: Medieval AU where the monsters are 'employed' by the royal family, and finally tire of serving humans. You, the king’s daughter, are spared.
cw/tags: medieval au, princess reader, angst, smut, first time, dubious consent (reader is into it but also not in a good headspace), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, mentions of violence/death but nothing depicted, afab reader, she/her pronouns
The stone scratched against your bare elbows, unprotected by your nightgown, and you shivered at the cold breeze that drifted in from the window.
You imagined it was warm sand brushing against your flesh instead, and the thought calmed you. You wanted nothing more than to crawl out and huddle in your pile of furs, but it wouldn’t be long until they came looking for you.
Think of the beach, water brushing against your toes. Think about anything but that.
You moved farther under the bed, suddenly wishing it was against two walls instead of in the middle of the room. The moonlight cascaded onto the bed like a spotlight, a target.
Two walls wouldn’t save you, but maybe it wouldn’t feel like you were strung up in the open, awaiting trial. Awaiting an execution you knew you deserved.
The door swung open, the hinges creaking.
“My lady?”
Long black boots greeted you, familiar yellow laces running up the front. It seemed almost like a dream to be met with Pierrot now: one in which the world flipped on its head, and monsters could lie with princesses. He entered your room just as he had done a thousand times before, and yet never had he come without fear. Soldiers weren’t allowed in your room, especially not monsters. His voice was hesitant as it called for you, but not quiet. He wasn’t trying to hide anymore.
The world had flipped, but nothing was gained without also giving something up.
You closed your eyes, willing yourself to wake up. To dream of a house by the coast instead.
It wasn’t his fault.
The thought was easier to voice in your head than out loud, where the words would blend together with the shrill sounds of cries.
Was it your fault?
The bells on his costume jingled as he walked toward the bed. He wanted you to hear him.
When you finally opened your eyes, Pierrot’s face filled your vision, peeking into the space under the bed where you cowered. His eyes drowned in sadness when he saw your shaking hands and your gaze roaming his sullied skin. You saw him aching, just as you did, and you wanted nothing more than to pull him into your arms and hold him there forever.
But you could still hear the sounds of the gardener choking on his own blood just outside your window.
Was it the Doctor’s doing?
He always seemed to have a fascination with death, or the prolonging of it. Or maybe Harlequin, who loved to make a spectacle of things?
You’d always known what they were capable of, and yet seeing it in front of you…
Pierrot looked as though he might shatter with one harsh word from you, and he made himself small, as though his sagging shoulders would allow you to forget how he towered over you. “I’m sorry, my lady.”
You swallowed, mouth dry. The look he gave you made your heart break, but you were still afraid. “Pierrot…?”
He spoke frantically, extending his hand toward you but unable to reach without jostling the bed. “I never meant…Nothing will happen to you, I promise. Please, come out.”
He had never hurt you before, but things were quickly changing. Was he changing, too?
Pierrot backed up to allow you space to crawl out. Your knees scraped painfully on the floor as you did, but you could hardly feel it with the fear that numbed your racing heart.
He kept his distance as you stood, although his arms twitched toward you. The hands that had been trained to kill only longed to hold you now.
“Where are the others?” you asked, knees feeling weak as you stood for the first time in hours. Your back ached from how you had contorted yourself under the bed.
You eyed the open door behind Pierrot. It would only take a few steps to reach.
Pierrot looked at you, eyes wide. Desperate, like a cornered animal. You wondered if you looked the same.
“Away, for now,” he said. “Please don’t run, my lady. I might enjoy…”
He didn’t give you a choice, suddenly wrapping his arms around you and tucking you into his shoulder.
“It makes me want to hold you tighter,” he said, stroking your back. “Forgive me…I know you’re scared, but I can’t help myself.”
He smelled like iron. Nothing like the usual sweet scent his clothes held from the cooking he liked to do; the treats he would sneak you.
“It…It’s okay, Pierrot,” you said. Was it?
“I’ve wanted you for so long, and your warmth…I want to take you right now,” he murmured.
The wretched noises spilling in from the other parts of the castle compelled you to push him off of you, to fight even if your nails were dull compared to his claws.
But the truth was, you had always been soft on Pierrot.
He was stronger than Harlequin and faster than Jester, but they had never needed you as Pierrot did. It seemed a Herculean task to deny him, even while his face was still stained with blood. It was a small mercy that he had thought to wash away the red from his hands before he touched you.
Pierrot was in front of you, lips pressed to your own, just as you’d always wanted, but now you trembled in his hold.
Your room was adjacent to your father’s, after all.
Pierrot needed you the most. He always had, and now more than ever. This time, there were no humans to tell him he couldn’t have you. No humans would be left alive in the castle, except for you.
It should have been easy to tell him no, even if your body would reveal the truth, but you were weak. You still wanted him, even as you choked down sobs at the thought of your father lying face down a short walk away.
Pierrot undressed you gently, even while he was feverish with need, wishing to tear the clothes from your body. “Do you see what you do to me? My body burns for you…”
You could finally be together, but everything was wrong now, wasn’t it?
All you wanted was to feel something. Anything, even if it wasn’t sandy beaches.
“Show me,” you said.
He laid you down on your bed, your head falling onto your cold pillow, and crawled between your thighs, pushing them up to rest on his shoulders. Pierrot watched you from below, almost in disbelief. He smiled at you shyly, a blushing virgin despite everything.
It was disgusting, really, how easily you became wet at the slightest brush of his tongue across your folds. Neither you nor Pierrot knew what you were doing, but he seemed to act on instinct alone, touching and tasting you in all the ways that had been forbidden only hours ago. He held your hand when he did it, and that only made things worse.
“I love you, my lady. I always have, even when I wasn’t supposed to,” he said, eyes shining as he held you.
You squeezed his hand, and he returned to sampling your flesh.
His movements were desperate, his arms gripping your thighs, and his thick tongue exploring you as though there was a chance you would disappear before him at any moment. He must’ve still been stuck thinking that someone would be trying to pry you away from him, but he had made sure there wasn’t anyone left.
“Your fear…it tastes so sweet,” he said between kitten licks against your clit. “But you shouldn’t think of anything else, my love. You should forget everything else, except for me.”
Then, he placed his mouth firmly against you and sucked. You squirmed as the pleasure warmed your belly, hips bucking against his mouth, begging him to consume more of you. You’d never believed such pleasures would be possible for you; the future only held arranged marriages to humans who could never reach so deep into you.
The touch of another was different from how it had felt to play with yourself in the quiet of the night, and you could hardly contain your moans even as the shame poured over you in waves.
Did Pierrot plead with Jester to keep you alive?
Did your father plead the same thing to Pierrot?
You liked to think that the others were as fond of you as you were of them, but you knew Jester wasn’t quite so sentimental: you were still one of them, after all, and how far you had fallen already.
What would the king’s advisor, a man who had treated you as his own daughter, think of you now, allowing the monster who had killed him to feast on your cunt?
Was it as Jester said? That he deserved to fall? That they all did?
You didn’t want to blame the monsters.
A caged bird would always peck out the eyes of its master to fly free.
Your father had given Jester command and power and expected his fealty to remain even when the king raised his hand against his own. He was foolish. Weak. He deserved it for what happened to her, but he was still your father, and so you mourned the man that poked the bear.
It was nature’s law that the weak would fall to the strong.
But what did that mean for you when your weakness only allowed you to beg for more as Pierrot pushed another finger into you, mindful of his claws?
He bent down to lap at your clit when the stretch became too much, the pain and pleasure melding together sweetly.
Had those same claws been the ones to end your father’s life?
You would have thought Jester, or maybe Harlequin, would want the ‘honours,’ but it hadn’t been too long after you heard his last breath, hiding under your bed, that Pierrot had found you, with no sign of any of the other monsters following behind him.
Somewhere deep inside, you could admit that it didn’t matter. Nothing could keep Pierrot from you, and maybe you didn’t want anything to.
He was beautiful, even with his mouth messy from your juices and blood caked in his hair. He looked at you so sweetly, as though nothing mattered but you, and he smiled and blushed under your own gaze in turn.
Pierrot was mindful of your comfort, but there was only so much he could prepare you to take him. You had to be quick if you didn’t wish for someone to come looking for you two. The thought made you shiver; the others surely wouldn’t be as forgiving as Pierrot. Would Harlequin try to squeeze the air from your lungs? Would Jester enjoy bleeding you out?
Maybe they wanted you dead, and maybe they weren’t wrong to feel that way.
You hadn’t helped them when they needed you, when your father threatened to starve and beat them. You had tried before to save her, your beloved companion, and yet–
She didn’t deserve it.
You hadn’t helped your father when he cried out, remaining hidden under your bed as though you were a child.
Maybe he deserved it.
You were weak. So weak.
All you could manage was to pick up the pieces after they had already shattered all over the floor. If the wolf who weeped was still a killer, then what was the wolf who couldn’t stop her own father from leaving the ones she loved battered and bruised?
They deserved more than washcloths to clean their cuts and mere kisses to make them better.
Pierrot didn’t seem to mind your weakness.
He helped you forget, the tip of his cock teasing up and down your folds, nudging your clit before he finally pushed himself into you, slow and steady until you were filled to the brim with him. There was something comforting about the way you two were joined, as though you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.
Where you didn’t have to hate yourself, because that would mean hating Pierrot too, and you weren’t capable of such a thing.
He clung to you, head buried in your shoulder, as he fucked you. His thrusts began slowly and tenderly, but soon Pierrot lost himself to the feel of your body beneath him and began to shove himself into you without pretence. He humped your cunt desperately, not able to bear being separated from your heat for more than the second it took for him to pull out and thrust back into you again.
“Love you, my lady! L-love you so much it hurts,” he whined.
Your hips ached as he pressed them toward your chest, and the stretch of your hole around him was almost too much to bear, but somehow you longed for more. You guided his hand down between your bodies to play with your clit, and his thrusts fell out of rhythm when it caused you to squeeze around him, the pressure building up and threatening to spill over.
You closed your eyes and pretended that you weren’t here in your room, blood shrouding his love, and cries of lust and torment swirling together. You imagined the two of you on the coastline, far away from the kingdom. It might be messy to have your first time on the sand, but you didn’t care. All that would matter was finally being able to have Pierrot, to watch him push into you as the sun set behind him and feel that there was no one in the world except the two of you.
You came to the thought of him filling you in this distant world where you lived in a little house on the beach.
Maybe the others would be there, too. Harlequin would sing you his tales, without the audience of nobles ready to deride him. Jester would catch you fresh fish, instead of spearing the chests of his enemies. The Doctor would have endless hours to dedicate to his gardening, instead of spending all his time in the dungeon, practicing lacerations on prisoners. Ticket Taker would be able to relax more, only having to worry about budgeting for your little household instead of the whole castle. She would be there too, with sweet smiles and pink bows, and she would bathe in the sunlight. You would take care of them, for a change.
They would love you, even when you were weak.
They would live, even when you were weak.
But once the pleasure faded, reality bled back into focus, with Pierrot’s eager thrusts rocking the bed and a mantra of sweet nothings pouring into your ear. Your body twitched underneath him, still sensitive from your orgasm but forced to take more of his love.
Your father was dead, and so was his advisor. The gardener, for sure, and likely the maids who had dressed you since you were a little girl. The daughters of the other nobles, who had been your dearest companions.
It reminded you of before, of when she–
Everyone who had ever loved you was gone, except for Pierrot.
Was it his fault?
“My lady,” he moaned. “I want to fill you with me, m-make you mine.”
Pierrot’s hips bucked against your own as he sank himself into you one final time. You could feel his cum, hot as it flooded your walls.
They deserved to be free.
He deserved better than you.
Pierrot clung to you, his cock softened, but remained inside of you. He was sure not to crush you beneath him, but he huddled as close to you as he could, pressing every part of himself against you.
Just for this moment, his body felt like warm sand, and you could pretend the moonlight was the sunset shining down on you.
origamiaround
annaxmalina
vaporwave
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
janainaart
romaincrisis
