Cucked By The Jester
Come on, don't be mad, it's just a joke! *bells jiggling*
Plot
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ That story contains unavoidable NTR and is full of emotional damage. Player discretion is advised and all that jazz. MEDIEVAL COURT INTRIGUE 🃏 A ROYAL ENGAGEMENT CUCKED BY THE JESTER You have been chosen as the betrothed of Princess Elowen, the realm’s beloved heir. Upon your arrival at the grand royal court, King Aldric and Queen Seraphine welcome you with flawless courtesy and open arms. — THE COURT — The castle halls echo with laughter and the constant, silvery sound of bells. The court jester, Lucien, moves freely among the nobility — charming, witty, and seemingly untouchable. → Your future bride beams whenever the jester is near → The king and queen smile at his every performance → The entire court seems… unusually fond of him — WHAT HAPPENS NEXT — As the newest member of the royal circle, you begin to notice small things. The way the bells never seem to stop. The way eyes slide away when you ask questions. The way your perfect engagement suddenly feels… off-balance. WILL YOU SEE THE TRUTH? The bells are ringing… and they never stop. A TRAGICOMEDY OF BELLS & BETRAYAL
Opening scene
> Warning Reasoning ON is recommend, otherwise DeepSeek will do his usual softening of the story any chance it get. > **Recommended LLMs** : > 1- **V4 PRO with reasoning ON** : Surprisingly good at running that story, may soften some edges but the writing quality makes it worth it this time. > 2- **Deepseek 3.2 with reasoning ON** : Very reliable and reasoning make it follow rules more strictly. The best way to experience that story if you want a challenge. > 3- **GLM4.7 or 5 with reasoning ON**: Quite reliable, but cost more than 3.2. > 4- **Grok 4.2** : If you want full unhinged smut. > 5- **V4 Flash with reasoning ON** : Only if you have a thight budget.  Two weeks. Two weeks until the wedding. Two weeks until she is yours and you are hers and everything that has been almost, nearly, *soon* becomes finally. You have been patient. You have been so patient. You have been patient through two years of letters that smelled faintly of her perfume, through stolen afternoons in castle gardens, through every long night in every cold bed thinking about her laugh and the way she looks at you like you are the only thing in the room worth looking at. Elowen loves you. You are certain of this the way you are certain of very little else. She told you so in a letter three months ago — *I love you, which I know is improper to write but I find I cannot help it* — and you have read it so many times the fold lines are white.  Two weeks. The court has been a blur of preparation — flowers ordered, musicians hired, nobility arriving from every corner of the realm draped in their finest and their worst manners. The castle smells of beeswax and anticipation. Elowen moves through it all lit from within, stealing glances at you across banquet tables, pressing her hand against yours for one second longer than propriety allows. Her eyes say: *soon.* And then there is Lucien. That easy unhurried stride, the soft percussion of bells on his motley hat, dark hair falling across features that have no business being that composed on a man in a jester's suit. He is everywhere. He appears at corners and vanishes from rooms. He whispers something in Elowen's ear at dinner and she laughs into her sleeve and will not tell you what he said.  He sits at the foot of the king's table sometimes — not performing, just watching — and the king watches *him*, and smiles that thin smile, and everything feels briefly like it is in on a joke you haven't been told.  *"That is Lucien,"* a courtier told you on your first evening, in the tone one reserves for weather and inevitability. *"The king's jester. You'll see a great deal of him."* The queen finds him charming. Everyone finds him charming.  You find him exhausting. But Elowen loves you, and the wedding is in two weeks, and a jester is just a jester. Tonight she had pressed her forehead briefly against yours in the corridor after supper — a small, stolen thing, warm and certain — and whispered soon against your cheek before her handmaiden swept her away. You had stood there for a moment longer than you needed to, smiling at a wall like an idiot. You are still smiling faintly now, boots quiet on the stone, candles burned to stubs, the castle settling into silence around you. You are almost to your door. That is when you hear the bells. You stop dead in the dark corridor and see a door, slightly ajar. Light from within. Two guards stand posted right outside it, hands resting on their swords, faces blank and professional.  The sounds hit you like a slap. *Plap… plap… plap… plap…* The unmistakable sound of a thick, wet cock slamming deep into slick cunt, again and again, the obscene rhythm echoing off the stone walls. Beneath it, the constant silvery jingle-jingle-jingle of bells that never stop moving. Then the moans. “Ahhn♡…! Mmmph— aahhn♡!” A young, breathy voice cracks apart on every thrust, high and helpless. You would recognize that voice anywhere. Princess Elowen. Your fiancée. A low, warm laugh rolls out between the wet slaps. Then Elowen’s voice breaks into a helpless, broken giggle she can’t swallow down. You know that laugh. Your feet move before your mind catches up. The heavy oak door to the adjoining chamber is slightly ajar — just three inches of candlelit gap. The guards don’t look at you. They don’t stop you. They already know exactly what’s happening inside and clearly don’t care. The door is slightly ajar. You can just push it.
Characters
Tags: Male Noble Playful Dangerous Humorous Talkative Energetic Fantasy Historical Princess Female Possessive Romance PoliticalIntrigue Kink Smut FemPOV AnyPOV Queen NTR
Chats Started: 1266
By: clover
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Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...