#prince john | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-witheredroses · 5 months

Text

Oscar Isaac Characters Finding You Dead

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Anselm Vogelweide, Llewyn Davis, Abel Morales x gn!reader

Sorry if anyone is ooc!

CW: death, murder, suicide, blood/gore, break-in, various wounds, torture, etc. + pet names, untranslated Spanish, so on.

Notice! Not all of these scenarios are romantically founded, the reader is just someone who knew the character/was close with them.

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best.

Not proof read or heavily edited

Miguel O’Hara - Villain Attack

There was never a doubt in Miguel’s mind, he knew that one day he’d have to save you. But not like this…

A Green Goblin anomaly had appeared and started bombing Nueva York.

You’d think with all the Spider People so close by, there’d be no casualties. But being so focused on protecting other universes, he almost neglected his own.

The moment Miguel was aware of the anomaly, he and many other Spiders rushed in to help protect the city.

The damage was already extreme, with two buildings nearly demolished.

Spiders spread across the scene, saving and moving the bystanders as Miguel focused on the alternate Goblin.

After capturing the terrorizer, Miguel started barking orders to everyone, wanting everything cleared up asap.

He was heading back to base as the spiders cleared the rubble.

“Oh god- MIGUEL!” One of the Spiders cried out as they tried to lift a large blanket of concrete up. The urgency in their voice quickly set Miguel off.

Miguel rushed over, his heart dropping seeing your dust covered body.

How long had you been under there? Why didn’t anyone sense you sooner? Miguel’s mind raced with panic.

With his sheer strength, he threw the debris away from your body and checked your vitals, his eyes focused on your face the entire time.

Open your eyes… please… mi amor…

When didn’t feel a heartbeat, he went to start cpr, but realized your ribs were broken. The broken bones had stabbed your vital organs, he couldn’t save you, it would’ve only caused more damage.

Miguel didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw his tears hit your face, muddling the dust covering your skin.

It wasn’t often he cried, hell, it took a good few minutes for him to start crying over Gabriella’s death. But after another loss, he couldn’t hold in the pain he was already barely containing.

His arms cradled your broken body with the most care possible. It didn’t matter that you were gone, you were his, the person he swore to protect.

I failed again…

Sobs ruptured through the bombing site. The boss who everyone saw as intimidating and cold, was now hunched over, sobbing over your limp body.

I failed.

I failed…

Moon Knight System - Steven / Marc / Jake - Break-in and Murder

Steven, once again, had a late night of work at the gift shop. He was exhausted when he came home, but was more than happy to be back home after stocking shelves for hours.

He was almost tempted to let Marc or Jake front instead, but Steven wanted to see you before Jake took off to do Konshu’s bidding later in the night.

“Love, I'm back!” He says, keeping up his cheerfulness. It had been a long day, he just wants to see you.

Looking around the house, Steven felt confused. You normally rushed to meet him, to welcome him back.

Where were you?

Walking into the bedroom, Steven saw your form under the blankets.

“Love? Are you not feeling well?” He asked quietly, worried he might wake you.

You looked at peace, your hair tousled as it lays on the pillow. Your skin was a bit pale, but Steven smiled softly, assuming you were just tired, he knew he sure was.

His hand fell on your covered stomach as he sat beside you. But a warmth quickly spread over where he had applied pressure to the blanket.

Looking over, Steven nearly had a heart attack. His hand was tacky from blood that now soaked the thick comforter that’s covering you.

With fear rushing through his veins, he ripped off the covers to reveal the stab wounds littered across your torso.

A scream ripped through his chest as he quickly tried to see if you were still alive. His heart dropped when he felt your cold skin and lack of a heart beat.

Despite Jake and Marc trying to desperately front, Steven wouldn’t let them or listen to their pleads.

Instead, he grabbed your body and sobbed. His hand clasped yours, wishing yours would squeeze his, that you’d wake up and kiss his worries away.

No, no, no— what happened— love… oh god…

It took a good while for Steven to let one of the others front, but Marc took over when he got the chance.

Both had been confined to the mirrors in the bedroom, wishing they could hold you like Steven had. Instead, for over an hour, they were stuck in the mirrors, cursed to grieve from a distance.

Steven faded back into the subconscious, too drained to watch Marc from the mirror.

Jake, on the other hand, took a step back into the subconscious because he had his own plans.

Marc didn’t sob as much as Steven did, but his pain was just as bad.

He had lost so much in life, he was almost confused on how to express his grief for you.

His fingers run along your face, tracing every detail he loves so much. Marc wished you would open your eyes, but your body was long since cold.

Marc wished he complimented you more. Sure, he praised you often, but did you know how much he loved you?

His heart ached with guilt. Marc wanted to make you blush once more from his compliments and soft kisses.

He didn’t know who did this. But he would. They’d find out who did this.

They all would get justice for you.

By Konshu’s word, he swore they would.

It was Marc who called the police and watched as you were dragged away to the hospital morgue.

It was Marc who watched the security footage that showed your killer breaking into the apartment and leaving an hour later.

It was Marc who found out the explicit details that came with your murder.

Marc was the one who told Steven and Jake the details.

This shouldn’t have ever happened… but now we know. What do we do next?

Jake was the protector, or so he’s supposed to be.

Standing over your body in the freezing morgue, Jake stared at your expressionless face.

He could remember the last time you two had a date night. The night was warm as he drove the two of you around town. He could remember the beautifully warm smile that broke across your face as the date came to a close.

Jake would do anything to see that smile again.

The others had already fronted to say their final goodbyes, Jake wanted to be the last one. He wanted to talk to you one last time.

“We found out who did this, amor.” He whispered, trying to contain his wavering voice.

“They won’t get away with this…” His lips brushed your forehead.

”I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” His tears finally fell down as he reluctantly pulled away.

As he left the hospital, Jake dawned the suit and slipped into the night, ready to enact revenge for you.

Your murderer will regret ever laying a finger on you…

Basil Stitt - Suicide

Basil hadn’t seen you in a while. Yes, part of it was because he had locked himself in his apartment, but he also just hadn’t seen you pass by his door.

He always had his eye to the peephole when you should be leaving or getting home from work.

Is that weird? Of course, but it made him feel less alone. He wanted to talk to you, but his scars contained him to his room.

Where were you? He wondered after spending an entire day looking out into the hallway.

Basil’s heart dropped when he saw movers taking garbage bags out of your apartment.

What are they doing to your things?

Despite his fear, Basil dawned his paper bag and poked his head out.

“What are you guys doing?” Basil questioned nervously.

“There was a suicide. The family wanted us to collect the person’s belongings.” The confused and hesitant workers answered.

Basil slammed his door and collapsed to the ground instantly. The paper bag tumbling to the floor as he clutched and pulled his hair.

His body trembled with grief and hatred as tears pooled on the floor.

He never was good at reacting to bad information, but this was worse.

Why did you leave him too? What did he do wrong?

First it was his face, then his job, then his family and girlfriend, but now you too?

His tears turned to screams and Basil went on a destructive rampage in his apartment, the agony overwhelming him.

He blamed himself for your death, despite barely knowing anything about it.

Maybe if he hadn’t gone into hiding, you would’ve lived. Maybe you two could’ve been lonely together.

But he was also angry.

How could you leave him after everything that happened to him? When he needed you the most?

You didn’t know though. How could you? Your neighbor, the only person you saw everyday, had disappeared for weeks without a word.

Basil knew that, but nothing could stop the emotions flooding and pouring out of him.

Why did you leave me? Why? Why?! Why?!?

Blue Jones - Murdered by a Client

Working for Blue always had its risks, and everyone knew that, including him.

But Blue didn’t expect this.

You had been bought out for the night by a rich newcomer. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.

Blue gave them permission to use you as you saw fit. As long as the merchandise didn’t get damaged, anything went.

Blue stood over your strangled body, his face neutral and flat.

Your glossed over eyes stared back at him, lips hung open loosely.

He didn’t expect his toy to be destroyed, let alone strangled to death.

Your costume was still on, but your makeup was out of place. Blue’s doll was a beautiful, broken mess.

Blue exhaled a puff of smoke as he turned to the killer, the man a sobbing mess.

“I didn’t mean to- they wouldn’t listen to me- please let me go, I’ll compensate you-“ He tried to ramble out, shutting up when the barrel of Blue’s gun pressed against his forehead.

The shot rang through the entire building. The girls and clients quickly rushed out of the other rooms to see what happened.

Screams and tears broke out from the girls as Blue pushed past everyone going to his office.

But it was once he was alone that Blue had the chance to process what happened.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw your dead ones. It hurt seeing something he owned in such a state.

Only one tear falls down his cheek as he reviews the footage of what happened. He always kept cameras in the rooms, it was a security measure, but he didn’t think he’d actually ever watch the footage for something like this.

Blue already knew the man was lying about why he killed you, but it hurt to watch you get choked and beg to be let go of.

The man was just angry, he only wanted to kill. You had done nothing wrong. Which made Blue mad.

He leaned back in his seat as the hot, silent tears fell down his cheeks, hidden by the cigar smoke flooding the front of his face.

Blue decided that, from the forward, he was going to be far more strict with who could touch his toys…

My poor bunny…

Poe Dameron - Spaceship Crash

You and Poe had agreed to stay safe, to meet one another after the fight concluded.

Together, you were going to celebrate the victory.

Poe knew you were an intelligent flier, that you were going to do great things for the universe.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that everything went well, until he joined the celebrations…

Everyone was celebrating over the successful stop to the First Order. But as Poe searched the crowds, he realized you were missing.

Fearing the worst, he darted to the medical tents, desperately looking for you. His fears were met when he saw your barely breathing body.

Poe fell to his knees besides the cot you rested on, analyzing the damage you had taken.

He called out your name, to no response.

“Their ship was shot and crashed. There were some malfunctions and the safety’s didn’t trigger. They don’t have much longer, there’s nothing we can do on such short notice.” A nurse sadly explained.

“So you're just leaving them to die out!?” Poe exclaimed in horror, his tears falling fast and hard.

Despite wanting to reprimand the nurse, he knew it would do nothing. Instead, he held your hand to his lips as he watched you until your final breath.

In your final moments, Poe had been whispering soft and loving words to you, hoping you could hear him.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, that any of this happened. You deserve the world, the galaxy. You helped save us. You’re a hero… you’re my galaxy…”

Poe couldn’t stop crying, and he could barely hear himself over the cheering outside.

He should’ve been celebrating with you, this shouldn’t have happened.

No one knew where Poe had gone, and hours later, Finn had to pull Poe away from your body.

Despite all reluctance, Poe eventually left your side for the night, but he didn’t stop mourning you.

That night, he spent his time in your room holding your belongings close, not wanting to lose the last bits of you he does have.

My galaxy, I’m so so sorry…

Nathan Bateman - Killed by a Prototype

You had been one of the few people Nathan trusted enough to come around the house.

Not that he ever let you go downstairs, no.

He didn’t need you to.

When first developing Ava and her predecessors, he had chosen to try and study a real person. Not through the cameras like he did later on, no.

He thought it’d be better to model the AI after someone he liked.

But he was wrong. One of the few times he had let his emotions make his decision, and it was the worst one.

While trying to work out the kinks of the AI, it had escaped. It had knocked him unconscious for long enough that it made its way upstairs.

The girl stared at you in horror as you stood in the kitchen, knife in hand from making dinner.

You looked just as shocked to see a nude woman coming up from the basement, wires hanging from her broken arm.

She even looked oddly similar to you.

Before you could even react, she tackled you, the knife going flying.

Nathan, having heard the crash, awoke and ran upstairs.

He came up from behind and broke the AI’s skull, the body falling on top of you.

“For fucks sake. That was awf…” he trailed off once he shoved the AI’s body to the side and saw you.

Nathan didn’t know how to react seeing your bleeding body, knife sticking out from where your heart is.

There was no hospital nearby, and with how glassy your eyes looked, he knew you were doomed.

Silently, Nathan sat back on his knees and feet, just staring down at your lifeless body.

He wasn’t an emotional person, but he didn’t like how he felt at that moment.

His eyes searched yours before shifting to the dead AI woman, his creation, your killer.

Nathan’s fists reacted quicker than his brain had, and before he knew it, his hands were bloody from breaking the AI down to nothing but shards.

His feet moved to the bar, and before he knew it, he had drunk a full bottle of vodka.

His knuckles, caked in dried blood, chucked the bottle at the wall. The shatters go flying, some even hitting you…

Nathan stood over your body, once again, staring down at you. His expression unclear.

After your death, Nathan was far more careful. Adding keycards to open doors, not just simple locks.

He even kept the prototypes locked up no matter what.

And who knows, maybe your death is what got him to start drinking so much…

How idiotic…

Duke Leto Atreides - Poisoning

Leto knew the dangers of loving you, yet he still did it.

He always made his love clear, practically worshiping you in private.

Leto would risk his life and title as Duke just to care for you for forever.

He wanted to propose eventually.

But your life was taken long before he had the chance.

The Duke looked down at your slumped body, your poisoned drink spilt from where your head had fallen.

In that moment, Leto regretted never marrying you.

He loved you, but in theory, it was better to stay unmarried, open to alliances with the other Great Houses.

But this wasn’t worth it.

Your life wasn’t worth it.

Leto had to keep his composure in front of his men, but in the comfort of his room, he cried. He weeped.

His sobs shook his body as remorse and grief overwhelmed his senses.

Seeing your body in such a way, it shook him to the core.

Sure, he had experienced death before, but this was different.

He loved you, and he saw where you died, he saw you dead.

Choked sobs escaped his lips as he recounted all the moments you two shared.

He wished he could’ve kept you safe, stopped you from drinking the poison.

You were in the House of Atreides, you should have been safe.

That’s what ate at him. That you died where he swore you were protected.

You died under his care.

Why you were killed, he wasn’t sure. But he swore to find out, to avenge you.

If nothing else, he’d make sure to get you justice.

He loved you, and he messed up never marrying you.

I wish I had made you mine, my dear…

Prince John - Assassination

John, the prideful idiot, should’ve never put a bounty on Robin Hood’s head.

It only made his reputation worse.

John should’ve lowered the taxes, but he didn’t.

And now all the citizens hate him, rightfully so.

But John always had you to go back to, you to love and receive love back.

You tried to reason with John, to show him he was being unreasonable and bleeding his kingdom dry.

Yet he never listened, and he now knows the danger of not listening to the advice he gets.

You had just been going about your business, crossing through the towns when you were attacked.

What was supposed to be a simple robbery, turned to an assassination. One of Robin’s troupe mates had gone rogue; they wanted to send Prince John a message.

The message was received.

John had gotten word of what happened.

He found out about how you begged for your life.

How you cried before your body was abandoned on a wooded path.

It made him angry. It made John furious.

You didn’t deserve this. You advocated for the citizens, yet you were the one killed.

John had destroyed everything in sight upon hearing of your murder.

His guards and mother had barely been able to calm him down. But once he had come down from the rage, John broke out into sobs.

He was barely consolable, all he wanted was to fall into your arms and be comforted by you.

Just one more time, John wanted to feel you caress his scalp as you reassured your love for him.

He couldn’t believe he lost you, the only person who loved him.

In spite and pure hatred, John raised the bounty on Robin Hood and his gaggle of followers.

John wanted them alive so he could execute them on your behalf, but he’d take their dead bodies as well.

As long as they were dead, he would be content.

Robin Hood… you’ll regret this… hurting my beloved…

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Car Accident

Santi had been through so much in life, and it made him extremely overprotective of those he loved.

He always was worried and tried to protect you.

He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, especially in the dangerous world we live in.

So why did the world still take you from him?

Santi didn’t know how to react when he got the call from the hospital.

He initially had ignored the call, thinking it was a reminder to set up an appointment or something. But when they called again a few minutes after, the blood in his face drained.

“… died… car crash…” those were the only words his brain registered the operator saying.

His heart broke into a million pieces and he felt like he was hyperventilating.

You died..? How could you die in a crash? After everything tried to do to protect you?

The call had ended and Santi sat hunched over, crying into the palms of his hands. His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable.

If he had picked up the first time, maybe he could have made it to the hospital. Maybe he could’ve said goodbye. At least, that’s what he thought.

“I’m so sorry- oh god, no…” He murmured over and over, desperately wishing it wasn’t true.

He almost wished he was at the crash, that way he could’ve seen you one last time. But now, he’s stuck waiting for the morgue to call, waiting to confirm that it’s your body on the table.

Santi’s sobs only stopped when he passed out from exhaustion.

Why did this happen to you? Why you…

Anselm Vogelweide - Shot on Accident

Anselm was known for his erratic and random behavior. That included when he’d change his mind on a whim.

Despite his absurd actions, you cared for him, as he did you.

Anselm always kept you nearby, and everyone knew that. Even people just passing through his office knew that.

He treated you differently, he treated you better than most of his other employees.

Where he’d change his mind as he saw fit with his clients, he was very firm with his decisions regarding you.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

So when Anselm decided to raise the price out of the blue on a client, the client was pissed.

It wasn’t unexpected that a gun was going to be pulled, but the gunshot that rang out- that was a surprise.

His men had already detained the perpetrator before Anselm realized that you’d been shot.

Your hands clutched at your bleeding heart, and your eyes quickly fell shut, your body following suit.

Disregarding his squeaking leg brace, Anselm dove to collect your body in his arms.

His eyes were wide with horror and disbelief at the sight of you dying in his arms.

The world was practically silent for him as he watched you breath your last breath.

Anselm sat there for a moment, pulling your body close to his chest in an attempt to preserve your warmth. He felt an ache in his chest when you gave no response, your body limp and spilling blood.

Anselm didn’t give himself the time to mourn or cry, instead he went cold, his heart stilling for a moment as his attention turned to the shooter.

Looking through the fogged glass lens, Anselm ordered to have your killer chained up in the basement as he carried your body to another room.

For months after your death, Anselm tortured the person who killed you.

The basement became a crime scene of horrific activities. Teeth and nail pulling, breaking bones, slicing skin, it was all incomparable to what Anselm felt the murderer deserved.

They killed his dear dove. This was the least he could do.

His disappointment was immeasurable when he found the murderer dead one morning, Anselm felt far from done torturing them.

The body was disposed of swiftly, and afterwards, Anselm visited the extravagant grave he made special for you.

It was only then, after everything, that he let himself cry over your passing.

My dove…

Llewyn Davis - Suicide

Llewyn was your friend, and the two of you always helped one another out.

He needed a couch to sleep on, you were open. You needed a drinking buddy, he was there.

You both couldn’t offer much monetarily, both just trudging through life and old habits.

But you always left the window unlocked, just for him.

Llewyn hadn’t heard from you in a while, and it had just so happened, he needed a place to stay and was in the area.

Throwing open the fire escape window, he hopped through, entering your apartment.

He called your name as he wandered around, confused where you could be so late in the day.

Yet, when he arrived at the bathroom door he paused, knocking before entering.

He instantly wished he never opened the door.

In the tub, surrounded by bloodied water, he saw you. Your face was towards the window, like you were watching the sky before you died.

The sight made him nearly hurl, but the tears made it out first.

What have you done…

Just when Llewyn thought his life couldn’t get worse, you decided to leave him just like Mike did…

Of course, he knew it wasn’t actually a choice to go against him, but it still felt like he was part of why you took your life.

And that broke his heart.

If he had just visited you or bummed at your place more often, would you still have gone through with it?

He called the police after a bit of a breakdown, and a few days later, he was alerted that your only goodbye was a note scrawled with “I’m sorry.”

Maybe the note was for him, but boy, he wished there was more.

A simple “fuck you Llewyn” would’ve been better than this…

You had always asked him to play a song, but he alway said no. He always said he was too tired, that music was his work, not something he wanted to do all the time.

You never pushed him to play for you, not like other people did. So, he never played for you.

But now, in front of your grave, Llewyn played his heart out to you. His tears bouncing off his guitar, onto the frozen ground where you’d been buried.

‘If I had wings, like Norah’s dove,

I’d fly up the river to the one I love…’

Abel Morales - Accidentally Killed During Work

Abel knew the dangers of letting his employees continue their oil deliveries and solo inspections.

So many of his employees had already been attacked, yet he still took the risk.

He just didn’t expect the attacks to get worse.

Sure, some had been threatened with a gun, hell, one was kidnapped and beaten.

But this was the first time someone actually died…

Upon hearing about your death, Abel stopped in his tracks and demanded to know what happened.

He felt like his life was falling apart the moment his wife explained what happened.

After so many troubles and hoops he’s had to go through for his company, he didn’t think he’d be losing one of his best employees as well.

You were doing a simple house call and sales pitch.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

If he had known your colleague wasn’t feeling well, he wouldn’t have sent you out to the call at all.

He never would’ve guessed you’d decide to go alone…

Abel felt guilty over your death. You died because the competition was trying to send a message, or at least that’s what he assumed.

Abel held his head high as he found out about the circumstances of your death.

Apparently, the murderers were only meant to rough you up a bit and dump you just outside city limits, in a particularly snowy area.

But as you tried to run away, one of the goons tried to shoot a warning shot to get you to stop.

The bullet hit you in the Achilles tendon.

You collapsed into the dense snow instantly, crying out in pain.

In fear of getting arrested, the shooters fled, leaving you to bleed in the snow.

You died of hypothermia. You could’ve been saved.

That’s what hurt Abel the worst.

If your killers had just tried, they could’ve brought you to the hospital. But instead, they’re now awaiting a trial and eventual imprisonment.

But because they confessed, and it was an accidental death, they would be able to have parole, they could walk free one day.

To Abel, they deserved to rot in prison forever. But he didn’t have the right to oppose the judge, not when your family had already accepted the punishment.

Abel paid for the funeral, and there he saw you for the last time.

I’m sorry this happened… I’ll take care of your family from now on. I promise…

—————————————————

Brb sobbing in the club rn…

For real though, thank you for reading!

Feel free to send over any requests/suggestions

333 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

Text

Blue Blood and Rain [1]

King John X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info •ko-fi•

Summary: You meet a stranger in the stables.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I have totally made up servant/nobel dynamics because I wanted to and also let's forget about the plot of the film, yes?

Warnings: kissing, reader is in their early 20s, overuse of italics, typos, power dynamics because he's the king, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2820

________________________________

It wasn’t that going to the royal castle was boring, as much as it was exhausting. And very, very boring, now that you thought about it.

You were the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court for the spring festival with her son, The Earl of Bowhale, a man who was only seven months your senior. They were both on average kind, well-meaning people, even if they were set in their own ways, who paid well and certainly granted you with a degree of personal freedom that you knew many servants didn’t even dream of.

Hugo, the Earl, was his mother’s, Edith, only surviving child. A fact that obviously made The Countess fiercely protective, however in the last few years that shielding behaviour had metamorphosed into a safeguarding of a different kind: the continuation of the family name.

Barely a day passed without her bringing up the need for her son to either marry (a complicated matter) or take a mistress.

Which was why she had been hell bent on attending the spring festival to peruse a suitable noble from the court, believing that ‘seeing a young woman face to face is the only way to tell if she would be a good mother to her son’s children.’

You helped The Countess into her dress for the evening, making sure you nodded and said, “yes, my lady”, at all the correct moments as she spoke.

“I think there will be some chance of seeing a suitable suitor tonight, if not tomorrow. I know most of the court is present, but many outer nobles are not arriving until the morning.”

“Yes, my lady.” You adjusted her skirts.

“Hugo needs to seriously consider his future, the legacy of his father’s name.” She sighed. “I spoke to him again this morning.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“He is as insolent as ever. His father was never like this. I do not know where he gets it from.”

You smile, “Perhaps his lordship takes his strong-willed nature from his mother, my lady?”

She looks down at your grinning face and laughs at your tease. “You are terrible my dear,” but she beams and puffs out her chest, enjoying the praise. “And far too kind on him, there’s no way his will could match my own.”

You laugh, and are about to speak when the door to The Countess's rooms open and Hugo barges in.

“Mother, I- Oh,” he gives you a little smile and half bow as a greeting. You nod back.

“So I see she is deserving of a formal greeting and not I?” The Countess scows, but you know from experience that if someone had entered without acknowledging you they would have also faced reprimand.

Hugo pulls a face. “Mother-”

“And what about knocking Hugo? Since we are in his highness’s house, on his highness’s hospitality I do not think that forgoing manners should be our way forward.”

He sighs, but nods, before waiting for a moment to see if she will continue talking.

The Countess nods.

You stand up, watching them going back and forth in their regular verbal sparing matches.

“Mother, is it completely necessary for me to join-”

“You surely are not speaking of the possibility of not attending tonight? Are you?”

“Mother-”

“Because if you were, I would be-”

“It wouldn’t be anything, an Earl can retire to his-”

“An Earl would not insult the hospitality of his King.”

“Mother-”

She held up her hands. “I will hear nothing of it.”

Hugo sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“And what are you wearing? You are covered in mud.” She tutted.

“I was riding and-”

“Riding? At this hour?”

He nodded. “Some of the knights and other Earls went to the forest and-”

The Countess tutted dramatically.

“I was going to take Stefen to the stable and brush him down instead of attending.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You intended to brush your horse instead of attending? There are servants for that exact duty Hugo.”

He shrugged frowning, you knew how much he enjoyed taking care of his horse. “I do not trust the staff here, they do not know Stefen, they-”

The Countess shook her head, “you are attending. Go, get bathed and dress, Robert will assist you.”

“But Mother, Stefen-”

The Countess turned to you quickly, “Will you do me the favour of going to the stables and getting Stefen ready for the night?” She smiled kindly at you and you nodded.

“Of course my lady.”

“See?” She turned to her son. “Now we have a trusted member of staff to care for him.” She said triumphantly. “Or do you not trust her to look after him here?”

Hugo gave you an apologetic look, he hadn’t meant to lump you with the task. But you smile back, and he returns a weak nod.

“Of course that’s fine,” he said defeated.

You often groomed Stefen, he was a powerful and grumpy animal that tended to only obey four people, Hugo, the two main stable hands at Bowhale, and you. He tolerated others for the most part, but was quite difficult when something set him off.

“Good.” The Countess clapped her hands together.

You finished helping The Countess get ready before you stepped out of her rooms and headed for the stables. The evening light was just starting to dim into twilight.

Hugo caught up with you on the stairs, gently touching your arm to get your attention.

“I’m so sorry.”

You smile kindly, “what for, my lord?”

“Making you settle Stefen in, I,” he sighed, “I could have easily done it earlier, I just wanted an excuse to… not go…”

Your smile widened. “I know, Hugo, please don’t worry, besides, I like taking care of Stefen.”

He gives you a grin, his spirit lifting as they always did when you used his first name. “Thank you, I-”

“Hugo!” The far-off call of The Countess echoed around the castle and you chuckled while he groaned.

“Have fun!” You waved as you continued down the stairs.

He nodded disheartenedly.

You got a little lost on your way to the stables and had to ask a stern looking guard the way. When you arrived and introduced yourself to the head stable hand the poor man looked relieved.

Stefan greeted you happily, and had no qualms about letting you brush and clean the mud and grime from his coat. Much to the other stable hands's shock.

It wasn’t long before the sky was dark and you were left alone in the stables with the horses.

“You need to be nicer to others Stefan.” You scowled with a grin.

He whinnied, seeming to laugh playfully at you as you stroked his neck.

“That’s a beautiful horse.”

The low voice behind you made you jump and you spun around quickly. Stefan sensed your discomfort, snorting and stepping forward to try to put himself between you and the stranger.

“It’s alright,” you hushed, patting his side and calming him. You turned to where the voice had come from, the stranger’s outline was just visible in the low candlelight. “Thank you, it is The Earl of Bowhale’s horse.”

“A fine beast for sure.” The stranger nodded, but did not step closer. “I have heard he has a temper.”

You smile and nod. “He is a little set in his ways, strong-willed,” you stroke Stefan affectionately, “but he is a loyal companion if you earn his trust.”

“And it seems that you have.”

You smile again at the stranger. “I would like to think so, The Earl and I used to train him when he was a colt. He is used to me.”

“You ride?”

“A little,” you turn back to Stefan briefly as he nudges your shoulder and stroke him again, “occasionally I accompany The Earl or Countess when they wish.”

“Hmm.”

“And what of you stranger? Do you ride, or are you just of this disposition to watch horses while they rest and harass servants with questions?” You tease playfully.

He chuckles lightly and waits a beat before he steps closer and leans against the wood of Stefan’s stall. The flame light flickers against his features and dread grips your inside in its icy hold.

You freeze for a second, eyes wide before you bow your head and curtsy as low as you can. “Your Highness, I apologise, I did not realise it was you in the dark.”

Your mind rushes with thoughts, you were going to get punished, put in the stocks, maybe even imprisoned, why wasn’t he at the event? Why was he here seemingly stalking about in the dark?

He wasn’t wearing his crown, his clothing obviously expensive but not the attire for entertaining the court.

King John laughed again, but the sound wasn’t unkind. “You were all for questioning me a second ago, am I so fierce that you can’t even raise your head to look at me?”

You keep your position, looking down, panicking on what to do, how to-

“Hmm?” He hooks his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Has the servant lost her voice?”

You shake your head. “No, Your Highness.”

“Then answer my question.” His voice is low, nearly a growl. The pretence of softness hiding something much sharper underneath.

“You are fierce, Your Highness.” You whisper and he grins.

“And yet, you look at me?” He keeps his touch on your chin light.

“You are making me, Your Highness.” The words slip from your tongue before you truly have a chance to understand them and you screw your face up the second they are spoken.

But he laughs quietly and drops his hand to his side. “There, I wonder what you will do under your own will.”

You pause and swallow, taking a deep breath before opening your eyes and looking back up at him.

His grin widens. He observes you for a moment, the look in his eyes dark, predatory. And for a second you are sure that you made the wrong choice.

“Stand,” he says, his voice still soft and you obey slowly, “much better, I do not need you to stay in a curtsy, my pride is not so vast that I need to have everyone at my feet.”

You stay quiet, biting at your lip and pulling at the skin around your nails, but watch him carefully.

“You are Edith Bowhale’s personal attendant, are you not?”

“I am.” You nod, not wanting to fall short and lose whatever small grace has decided to put you in the King’s favour and not chagrin.

He hums a response, looking away from you for a second and you can feel relief flood your veins as you are out of his sharp glare. The consolation is short lived however, as he quickly stares back at you.

“She was speaking to me about many things, though I have to admit upon seeing you I wished I had been paying more attention.” He smiles, his voice like silk as he takes a step closer.

You pause for a second, your mind slow to catch up with the meaning of his words. “I, wait, I’m sorry, Your Highness, I-”

He chuckles and brushes his fingers against your cheek, a light touch that makes you jump and startle back.

“So skittish,” he teases, “over just a touch.”

“I-”

“A touch from your King no less,” he tuts, “I should be insulted.”

“No, that’s not, not my intention, I-”

Stefan whinnies, seemingly unhappy with how close the King is getting to you and King John uses your brief distraction to his advantage. He grabs hold of your bicep and pulls you out of the stall and swings the wooden door closed.

You can hear Stefan neighing in distress as he pushes you up against the door, his griping your arm tight.

“Calm the horse.” He says softly, his piercing eyes seeming to sink into your very soul.

You swallow, your mouth dry, but tap the door. “Stefan,” you say softly.

The horse calms slightly at your voice.

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” you repeat your words a few times until you hear him start to settle and wish they could have the same effect on you. Your heart races, your breath catching in your throat.

He delights for a moment in your obvious discomfort. “My, my, I have never seen a servant to a Countess so shy.”

You stay quiet, heat rising to your skin. You try to focus on his mouth, but no matter how hard you try you are drawn back to his striking eyes, as if he holds some bewitching magic to keep you under his control.

Slowly he raises his left hand up, giving you plenty of time to see it before he gently touches his fingertips to your cheek, lightly stroking your skin. You still jump a little, naturally trying to flinch away.

It makes him smile even more, taking a deep pleasure in your flustered reaction. He breathed in deeply, as if he were savouring a flower, “aw, what’s wrong? Does the little servant not know how to address her King? How to behave in his presence?”

“I… I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He grins wickedly at how timid you have seemingly become. “Now, now,” he teases, his voice thick and heavy, “there’s no need to apologise with those words… how about you tell me something sweet instead?”

You frown in confusion, “something sweet?”

He leans a little closer, caging you in. “Something nice.” He languidly runs his fingers down lower, along your jaw and to your neck. Your racing heartbeat drums against his fingers and a giddy thrill runs down his spine.

“I…”

“Something nice,” he repeats, “something that you could never normally say to someone like me, something that will make me smile.”

Once again your words slip out of your mouth as if you had no control over them, his hypnotic gaze seemingly completely destroying your survival instinct, “you’re beautiful,” you whisper.

He freezes the moment you utter the words, your eyes going wide as you realise what you said. The syllables of your sentence seemingly echo around the stable, ringing and repeating clearly in your mind as if you had screamed them from the rooftops.

A faint dusting of pink highlights his cheeks, but thankfully you cannot see it in the candlelight, he smiles slowly, moving his hand up and tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Repeat that.” He breaths.

Your heart beats so forcefully you’re sure you're going to faint. “You’re so very beautiful.”

He chuckles, leaning closer until his nose bumps against yours and preening a little at the compliment. “You know such words from such an unexpected source only mean more… thank you.”

He dissolves the last centimetres separating you and presses his lips to yours, swallowing down your little gasp of surprise and licking into your mouth without hesitation. His hand is warm on your neck, his body pressing up against yours as if he expects you to push him away, to run. Instead, your fingers sink into his shirt, pulling him closer as you kiss him back with equal further, a lamb happily going to the slaughter.

He growls, low in the chest when you reciprocate, heat blooming in his lower stomach as he pushes even closer and rubs his quickly hardening cock against your hip.

You gasp a little in surprise, but quickly regain yourself, wrapping your arm around his neck and urging him closer, needing to feel every part of him.

This couldn’t be real, this was impossible, you had to be dreaming. Maybe Stefan had reared up as you brushed him and you’d stumbled and hit your head, it was seemingly the only logical conclusion. You might as well enjoy this delusion as long as it lasted.

His kisses grow more demanding, more urgent and he nips at your bottom lip, groaning at your high-pitched sigh. And then whining himself when you repeat the action on him, forcing your tongue into his mouth and pulling sweet sounds from his lips.

There was-

The stable door slams open, “Your Highness, I have come to-”

King John turns furiously, “What?” He yells at the poor servant sent to fetch him.

It’s like a dam has been broken, your mind snaps back to your senses. What were you doing? What the hell were you doing? Kissing The King in a barely lit stable.

The servant stammers a little, saying something that you can’t for the life of you hear. He is silhouetted in the darkness, unseeable and the King steps closer, giving him a verbal dressing down.

You slip out the side door, and rush back to your room. Thankful for the clouded night sky that keeps your face in shadow and identity hidden from possible prying eyes.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

146 notes · View notes

writebackatya · 7 months

Text

I like to think that during the production of House of Mouse there were two team members constantly arguing about which Disney villain Maleficent should end up with

And there was one member who was like: “You know who I always thought would want to kiss Abu!?!”

#house of mouse #disney animation #disney tva #maleficent #sleeping beauty #chernabog #fantasia #hades #disney’s hercules #aladdin #abu #iago #prince john #robin hood disney #disney robin hood

247 notes · View notes

buckypascal · 2 years

Photo

Oscar Isaac + facial hair

↳ happy birthday @phyllisclichesforarainyday

3K notes · View notes

ilovelosermen69 · 8 months

Text

I would never be feral for a man nev-

#oscar isaac #prince john #oscar issac characters #robin hood #robin hood 2010 #Prince John x reader

299 notes · View notes

redeyerhaenyra · 7 months

Text

Bondage in the hearts of men

Summary: After a night of drinking, you accuse John of being unfaithful, and punish him.

Warnings: Smut, bondage (John is tied to the bed), dom/sub dynamics, fem reader, fem masturbation, reader leaves John with blue balls, a teeny tiny wee bit of cbt if you squint, ye olde language, no beta we die, let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: I know we all hate the blue contacts so I've specifically written this bratty Prince to have beautiful brown eyes✨️

Wc: 1.1k

His eyes blinked open, squinting in the morning sun, and he groaned. John's thoughts wandered back to previous night.

Oh... wine and women galore, what fun. If only you had been there... Oh well. He'd find you today and fuck you to make up for your absence last night, despite his oncoming bottle-ache. He moved to brush his curls out of face, only to find his arm did not move. He tried again, and again it did not move. John turned his head, to discover both his wrists had been tied to the bedposts. He tried to move his legs- they had been tied down too. A little panic rose within him, but sizzled out upon realising you, were sat at the opposite end of the bed.

He giggled, still half drunk. You admired the image before you, your Prince tied to his luxurious silken bed, naked apart from stray blankets that covered his groin.

"Good morning." "It's the afternoon." "Oh". John groaned again, "Well, I've never claimed to be an early riser."

You hummed. He licked his lips, and nodded to his restrained wrists; "You've tied me up?" "I have."

He laughed again. "Funny, come on now, release me."

Silence passed between you both, and you did not move, staring him down. He furrowed his brow, "Release me." He tugged on the restraints, now finding he could not break them with brute strength alone. His aura grew whiny, pathetic, his voice went up in pitch. "Release me-!"

You stood up, as if to walk away, he cried out- "-My love!!" "Your love???" You questioned harshly, John whimpered under your glare. "..Yes?"

"That is not what I heard last night." Like a tiger, you stalked your way around the bed. John shivered. "Last night?" "Last night yes. I heard the commotion, I heard you with your whores." You reached over to roughly dig your nails into his cheeks, squishing his mouth together into a pount. He groaned.

"Have you nothing to say?" "Mmf-" You relinquished your grip, he moaned at you. Simpering brat. "Mmmmm, dearest mine, I confess there were many a woman of the night in my company, but I touched not a one of them, "I don't believe you." "Ohhhh I did not! Mayhaps before I had known you I would have, but now?" John grinned up at you. "I can not lie, my sword will only rise for you."

He winked at you, and you scowled. "Come now, I know you like it." "What, that you can't get it up without me?" "Yes," he breathed hoarsely, grinning once again. You moved now to kneel next to where he lay, whispering in his ear;

"Mayhaps I do, even if you are so wanton as to rise even now-" You traveled you hand down his chest as you spoke, down, down, until it was hovering over the tent in the blankets, right where his cock would be. Taking your index finger and thumb, you carefully caressed the head, giving John the false sense of pleasure, before you snatched it away by squeezing your two fingers together tight around his cock.

He threw his head back and moaned. A pathetic display. You held that position for a few agonising minutes- if you squinted you might have been able to spy tears beginning to form in his eyes. Until finally, you let go. He huffed, cheeks flustered, leaning up to kiss at your neck, mumbling about how much he adored you.

You got up, away from his touches, and he whined impatiently.

"Daaarliiinnngg-!" "Cease." The bastard pouted at you, but seemed to forget his annoyance upon seeing you now straddle him, and pull your skirts up. John licked his lips. Your fingers danced at the hem of your bodice- John was pouting again.

"Please." "Hm?" "My love.." "If you do not speak, I will know not what is you crave." You locked eyes with him, gaze firey with lust;

"Your heavenly bosom, let me see, please," Laughing a little at his description, you opted to allow him one small victory, pulling your dress down just below your tits, making a show of it. Pushing your breasts together and rubbing your nipples just out of his reach. His hands clenched, desperate to touch you.

"You are a cruel mistress." "Am I?" "Yes! Taunting me with such a godly vision-" The prince's complaints were cut short, as he spied your hand travel down from your chest to your core, diving under your skirts out of sight. He whined again, thrusting his hips up so that he might gain pleasure from friction- but you saw it coming, and lifted your hips up further than he could reach, earning you another brazen sob from him.

He looked up at you mournfully, as you fell silent, so as to make sure he heard loud and clear the wet squelching of your cunt, as you played with yourself right on top of him. Your head fell back, and you sighed, as you sunk ever deeper into the fells of pleasure.

Then, he smiled at you, almost hopefully; "Ride my face?" It was meant to sound like an offer, despite really being a plea. Your voice was a little stuttered, "No." "No???" "No." "Why not???" "I will not give you the satisfaction." John mewled in despair- you saw through him so well.

Now, it seemed, until you reached your peak, John would be left to sit and watch, sorrowful that he could not join in. You did your best to draw it out, though you could not keep yourself from climaxing for long. It came in waves, soft and warm, rolling like desert dunes inside of you. John watched the ruffling beneath your skirt with a fixed, steely gaze, his brown eyes strangely soft, and unsuccessfully resisting the urge to coo at you as you came down from the high of orgasm.

Phew. The torture was over. You would untie him and he would plunge his length deep inside you until the both of you passed out. Or... that's what John expected. After a few moments to gather yourself, you moved to dismount him.

His shit-eating grin fell when he realised you weren't moving to untie him, you were pulling your dress back together and walking away.

"My love???" "What?" You turned back to him, feigning confusion. A beat of silence, and John realised you planned to leave him there.

"Release me!!!" He yowled out, high pitched like a hungry cat. You turned forwards again, each step you took away from him earned you a threat from him;

"When I am free I am going to tear your clothes off and fuck you till you can no longer beg me to stop!! Till you peak so hard you piss yourself, do you hear me?!? I will ruin you!!!!"

You paid no mind to his threats- they all sounded quite fun anyway. Besides, it was hilarious to hear him still wailing after you even as you were halfway down the hall.

What must the servants think of him?

#prince john #prince john x reader #prince john smut #oscar isaac prince john #robin hood prince john #smut #oscar isaac smut

129 notes · View notes

crinolinedream · 2 months

Text

RIP Richard Lewis, thanks for the laughs.

#richard lewis #rip Richard Lewis #prince john #robin hood men in tights

81 notes · View notes

retrodisneydaily · 1 year

Photo

our followers’ top 10 classic disney films

8. robin hood (1973) dir. wolfgang reitherman

2K notes · View notes

the-phony-king-of-england · 5 months

Text

MY SECOND SEMESTER IS OVER!! Celebratory PJ sketch page 👏👏

Individual doodles as well!!

#I’m tryna make my new sketchbook actually aesthetically pleasing #I think this is cool!!#I miss him 😔😔 a lot #more drawings abound #prince john #fenris art #Robin Hood #Disney Robin hood

151 notes · View notes

atomic-chronoscaph · 1 year

Photo

Walt Disney’s Robin Hood - Weeties Cereal trading cards (1973)

#robin hood #walt disney #vintage trading cards #cereal prizes #70s movies #animated features #animation #prince john #friar tuck #weeties cereal #nabisco #seventies #1973

265 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 7 months

Text

My Lord

Prince John x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 7: Slow and Soft

Summary: The ex-Prince is condemned to live out his days in exile.

A/N: Look, I know he’s got blue eyes in the film. But I have decided no.

Warnings: one slap to the face, talks of marriage, oral (f receiving), dry humping, hand jobs, 'my love' as a term of endearment, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3178

Being exiled wasn’t as bad as he had thought. The weather was certainly better.

No matter what he’d done, King Richard couldn’t bear to see his younger brother executed or locked up in some dank prison. So he’d stripped John of his titles and sent him overseas under the guardianship of the Marquess and Marquise.

Banished.

Never allowed to return to England under punishment of death.

It had taken weeks to get there, more than enough time for John to fester and drive himself to madness on the ship. Haunt himself with the imaginary horrors that were waiting for him.

Instead, when they landed, he was treated well. Like a far-off, but still regal, cousin of the Marquess. Not that it stopped him from sulking for the first few months.

However, the worst thing was, undoubtedly, you.

At least at first.

You were one of the head servants. Though you were treated more like one of the Marquess and Marquise's children, with the amount of freedom you were given. And the language you were allowed to use. The offhand and familiar way you spoke to them and him.

It had driven him up the wall. Your snide comments. Your little eye rolls. The way you somehow managed to sidestep him, and challenge him, and completely get under his skin at every single opportunity.

You had been the one to drag him out of his rooms in those first few months, not taking no for an answer.

“It’ll do you no good moping around here all day, my lord.” The way you said the title always sounded like an insult.

You took him on walks and rides, to markets and tailors, making him come with you to choose a horse. Demanding that he helped you prepare vegetables, making him carry his own bow and arrows when you both went hunting. Things that were beneath him. Things that he hated, dreaded. Until one morning, when you were accompanying the Marquise on a trip and had been away for a few days, he had woken up in such a foul mood. Realising only in the evening with a huff that he missed you. That he couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier than being in your presence.

Not to say you still didn’t annoy the hell out of him.

Originally, you didn’t even have much to do with the ex-prince. It was only when John’s spitefulness had upset some of the other servants, and in turn, the Marquess, that you had been sent to ‘deal’ with him.

He had nearly been in exile for a year at the midsummer festival. Had become a little too intoxicated on barley wine and, as you helped him to his chambers, he had kissed you. Soft but demanding. Gentle but unyielding.

You had pulled back like you had been struck by lightning. And smacked him across the face. Hard. Not some dainty brush of your fingers. Or a sharp sting of your palm, no, you had hit him with the heel of your hand. A bowl that would have nearly sent him sprawling even if he hadn’t been drunk.

You had left without a word. Or look his way.

The next morning John had risen late, memories of the previous night coming back in a rush, of him fisting his cock with tears of anger and self-pity on his skin. Quickly, he realised you had not come to wake him at the usual time.

He had enquired after you, subtly of course. And the young servant boy, Lucas had told him that you had left instructions for the ex-prince to not be awoken, due to his previous intoxication and late night. That you had headed out into the woods early in the morning.

He didn’t see you until late afternoon, having spent most of the day in his rooms, staring out of the window to the woods, waiting for your return. He bit at his nails until they bled, going back and forth with the idea of readying his horse and riding out into the forest after you.

He had pretended to be in bed when you knocked and came into his room, bringing him white flower tea.

You hadn’t looked directly at him, keeping your voice oddly cold as you explained that the tea would help with his hangover, and that the flowers were from the forest.

His heart had nearly broken when he released you had spent most of your day collecting them for him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Pain running through his heart like needles through fabric.

You looked at him then, a small kind smile on your face. “For what, my lord?” Your normal tone back.

John beamed, his eyes shining.

You swallowed. “I am sorry, my lord.”

“For what?”

You tapped your cheek, mirroring the bruise on his face.

His smile widened and he shook his head.

When during the evening meal the Marquess asked about the bruising, John had simply laughed and told him that he had had a small disagreement with someone at the festival who had a ‘mean right hook’. He made sure he caught your eye as he said it.

You both went back to your normal routines. Dancing around each other, while simultaneously spending most of your waking hours together.

Nearly a month after the festival you had accidentally walked in on him after his bath, his hair still wet from the rose water as he sat on his bed and fisted his cock.

Apologies had slipped from his tongue, despite the fact that you’d technically barged in on him. But you had simply walked around and sat down next to him on the bed. He watched you in a trance as you took hold of his length in your hand.

“Let me help you, my lord.”

He had tried to kiss you again, but you moved your face away.

Wordlessly and without looking at him, you coaxed him further onto the bed and sat with him between your thighs, his back against your chest as you wrapped one arm around him and used the other to bring him to his release.

You had left silently, leaving him to the dark night and slumber. But you spoke to him the following morning as if nothing had transpired between you.

The next evening, just before bed, you came to his room again and stroked him until he found his release with a sob in your arms.

You did the same the next night, and the next, and the next. Never allowing him to kiss you or touch you in a way that could cause your own pleasure. Always fully clothed while he was stripped bare. Over the next weeks, you slowly allowed him to hold your hand, arm or calf as you touched him. Let him grasp onto you as his orgasm overtook him.

It hurt. Though he didn’t want to dwell on why.

However, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept rotating back to you. Your soft skin, gentle hands and the sound of your heart when he pressed himself close to your chest.

John leaned against the wall, looking out to the dark night sky.

You came into his room silently, only looking to him once you’d reached the bed. You’d expected him to be sitting on it ready, unclothed. Instead, he stood, still in his attire from the day.

You barely manage to raise an eyebrow before he moves towards you, taking hold of your hands in his. His skin is cold, desperate for your heat.

“My lord?” You frown.

He takes a step forward, his heart racing, eyes shining in the candlelight. Slowly he raises his right hand and touches your cheek, brushing over your skin with his thumb.

His touch is soft, gentle. As if you were some precious thing that would break under the smallest pressure. Some skittish animal in the woods.

You gaze back at him, his slightly parted lips, his dark eyes, unable to focus on any feature for longer than a second.

He leans forward, moving to kiss you and you step back, pulling your hand from his as if he burnt you.

“My lor-”

“My love,” he looks at you imploringly. The thudding pain in his chest sharpening, beseeching. Like he had been gutted and strung out, his ribs broken and split outwards so that you could view his beating heart.

“I am not your love.” You whisper, there is no heat in your words.

“You are.” He takes a step forward and drops to his knees when you step back. “You are.” He says brokenly, his voice thick. “Please, please, I do not need to be yours. I do not... I wish I was. But you are mine. My love. You will always be my love.”

You swallow and stare at him, almost frozen by his words.

“I... I...” he screws up his eyes, all the words he wanted to say mixing up and fleeing in the moment. “You do not need to return my feelings, but please, know that I will always love you until my dying breath.”

You shake your head, pain tight in your chest. “I’m not,” you breathe deeply, your voice softer than he has ever heard it. “My lord, I am just your servant, I serve-”

“I love you.” His voice breaks slightly at the end. The weight of the words too much. “I love you,” he slowly takes hold of your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles and palm. “I love you.” He kissed your wrist, staring up at you imploringly and kissing up your arm when you did not move away. “I love you.” Cautiously he stands so that he can kiss your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, your cheek. “I love you.” He whispers.

You hold your breath, searching his eyes for something he’s not sure you’ll be able to find. Carefully he inches forward, closing the small space between you.

You don’t move, don’t lean to him, but you don’t back away. Softly he presses his lips against yours, almost sobbing when you finally touch.

He pulls back a fraction after a second. “I love you,” he whispers against you. “Please, let me love you.”

You shake your head, agony tight in your throat. You can’t look at him. Not when his voice is so soft, not when your body and heart are crying out for you to give in to him. “There are plenty of others who could warm your bed for you my lor-”

John rushes forward, kissing you again. This time his lips are demanding, pleading as he cups your cheek and slowly opens your mouth with his own. He groans when you part your lips and let him inside. “I do not want someone to warm my bed.” He kisses you desperately, stroking your tongue with his. “I want to give you my heart.”

You moan softly into his mouth, grabbing hold of his arms and pulling him closer, pressing your body up against him.

He groans against you, moving you back to press you against the wall and hitching your right leg up over his hip so that he can grind his aching cock against your heat. You gasp as he presses against your clit, focusing all his attention on caressing you where it makes you cry out the loudest, happily swallowing down your mewls and whines.

He squeezes your breast with his right hand, pinching the pebbled nipple and moaning when you whimper and arch into his touch.

He ghosts his lips down your neck, sucking a love bite into your skin just below your ear. His beard scraps deliciously at your skin and sets your nerves alight.

You bite down on your lip, trying to muffle your cries.

“Let me love you,” he whispers, his voice low and heavy as he ruts desperately against you. “Let me show you, let me make you sing for me.”

He kisses you roughly, needily, all tongue and teeth as he pulls at your skirts, snaking his hand under the fabric.

You want to give in, want to let him pull sounds and sensations from you as his heart desires but panic grips you.

“Wait,” you pull back.

He stops, stops his kisses and his roaming hands but still stays pressed close.

“My lor-” you bite your lips together when you see the flash of pain on his face. “My...” you touch his cheek softly. You want him, you want him so badly. “I cannot, I haven’t...” You swallow. “I...”

“I wouldn’t cum inside.” He mutters, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. Even as he says the words a slight groan escapes him at the thought of you spread out under him, full of his cock and spend. “Not until we’re married, you have my word.”

Your thoughts stop for a second. “Married?”

He nods and smiles. “If you’ll have me.”

“My lord-”

He presses his lips to yours again, kissing you languidly before he drops down to one knee.

Your eyes go wide. Words escaping you.

“I have asked the Marquess and Marquise. They have given their blessing; I can marry you if you wish it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, the way he phrased it. As if he were the servant wishing to marry a lord.

Slowly he takes off the jewelled ring on his little finger, one of the few things he had been allowed to keep from his time as prince. “Will you take me as your husband?” He looks up at you nervously. “Will you take me as yours?”

You nod, not trusting your voice for a moment. “Yes.”

His eyes light up as you speak, a wide smile breaking across his face as he softly takes your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. He kisses each knuckle, and then the back of your hand before standing and pressing his lips back to yours, slow and soft.

Gently he guides you to the bed, freeing you of your clothes and pressing you back down against the mattress.

Uncertainty bubbles in your veins as he moves his hands down your body, slowly feeling every inch of you. He pinches your nipples with vigour, dipping his head so that he can take one into his mouth. Lavishing your breast with attention before moving on to the other.

He groans, deep within his chest, looking up at you through his lashes when you gasp and moan softly. So determined to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from your bones.

Languidly he kisses down your stomach, pressing your thighs apart.

You nervously go to cover your sex, heat breaking out on your skin.

“My lo-”

“Let me make you feel good.” He murmurs, his voice laced and heavy with lust. His eyes hungry and wild.

You barely manage a nod before he dives to your core, licking a long, flat stripe through your folds with his warm tongue.

You gasp loudly, quickly covering your mouth with your hands as he does it again, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He’s a demon, possessed and ravenous as he devours you. Slowly sinking his tongue into you and then inching up painstakingly slowly. Ending each movement with a swirl around your clit that has your thighs shaking and stars building at the corners of your eyes.

You moan against your hands, the sensation all-consuming as he erases any other possible thought. You can’t stop squirming, simultaneously trying to get closer, nearer, desperate for more pleasure, and trying to back away from the heady onslaught of your senses.

He doesn’t let you escape, pressing firmly against your thigh and keeping you spread wide for him, his hand on your stomach keeping your back flat to the bed.

“You taste so sweet, my love.” He looks up at you, his eyes dark, blown wide and drunk.

You open your mouth, moving your hands away to speak when he leans forward, sucking your clit into his mouth and revelling in your cry of pleasure. In how your muscles tense beneath him.

He gently presses two fingers inside of you and curls them upwards to stroke your walls.

You shake under him, your hips bucking up against him unthinkingly as you gasp and sink into pleasure.

John watches you intently through hazy eyes, sucking constantly on your bundle of nerves, watching your every movement keenly. Desperate to lift you higher and higher before you come crashing down.

He strokes against a spot that makes you sob and focuses all his attention on it, your slick coating his fingers and dripping down his hand.

The pressure begins to build uncontrollably, pushing you right to the edge. You grope around for his hand on your stomach, grabbing it firmly. He squeezes back and groans against you as fresh wetness hits his tongue.

You moan loudly against your fingers, trying your best to dampen the sound as lightning runs along your nerves, your orgasm rippling through every limb. You gasp, contorting in your pleasure as John doesn’t stop, keeps stroking, keeps sucking, prolonging your bliss for as long as he can.

Finally, your legs stop shaking and he pulls his mouth away, slowly pulling his fingers from your dripping folds.

You mewl as he licks them clean and pulls off his clothes. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen him naked, but it feels different. Personal. A sight all for you.

He leans down, kissing you hungrily and settling between your legs.

The weight of his thick cock, hot against your core makes you gasp. You sink your hand into his hair, pulling lightly at his curls as he rubs his length against you, spreading your slick all over his aching cock and grinding perfectly on your clit.

You sob against him, holding him close as he keeps moving, building up a deep and overpowering friction. That bottomless weight starts to settle in your belly again, the coil growing tighter and tighter as he rubs and ruts against you.

You grab hold of his arms tightly and rock with him, trying to gasp out and warn him of your impending orgasm. “I... my lor-my love!” You gasp as he hits perfectly, his thick length massaging wonderfully over your bundle of nerves and through your folds and you gasp as you cum again. Pleasure blossoms along your spine, kissing every nerve as you cry out and are overtaken by ecstasy.

John groans, moaning loudly as you call him ‘your love’. The look of bliss on your face, the fact that you are falling apart for him drives him to the edge and pushes him over. He kisses you sloppy, whining into your mouth as he spills against both of your stomachs.

He doesn’t stop kissing you as you come back to yourself, breathing hard. Your skin is sweaty, hot, but you keep him in your arms as he presses close and whispers sweet words in your ear.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! (Using a different tag list for kinktober so I don't overwhelm anyone.)

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @campingwiththecharmings @minigirl87 @whatthefishh

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

192 notes · View notes

wisteria-lodge · 6 months

Text

SORTING DISNEY VILLAINS (1937-1989)

For *spooky season.* I suspect this will be easier than sorting the heroes, who tend to be reactive while villains are very clear about what they want and what exactly they’re going to do to get it. Let’s see if this ends up being the case.

I go into a lot more detail about this character analysis system here, and talk about the move away from the HP terminology here. But here are the basics:

PRIMARY (ie MOTIVE)

BADGER ~ Loyal to the group.

SNAKE ~ Loyal to yourself and your Important People.

LION ~ Subconscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to feelings and instincts.

BIRD ~ Conscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to built systems and external facts.

SECONDARY (ie METHOD)

BADGER ~ Connect with the group. Make allies, work steadily and well. Be whatever the situation calls for. If you find a locked door, knock.

SNAKE ~ Connect with the environment. Notice things. Tell people what they want to hear. If you find a locked door, get in through the window.

BIRD ~ Collect skills, knowledge, tools, personas, useful friends. If you find a locked door, track down the key or learn to pick the lock.

LION ~ Be honest, be direct, speak your truth. Either the obstacle is going down or you are. If you find a locked door, kick it in.

THE EVIL QUEEN (1937) - BURNT BADGER / BIRD

So. I know that in Snow White the Queen's Thing is Vanity, but. The ‘Vain Villainess’ trope is about the fear of becoming less powerful in a world that only values you for your looks.... which doesn’t actually seem to be her issue? The Queen seems pretty darn unchallenged in her universe. That’s almost part of the problem - there’s an addiction/obsession/paranoia flavor to the way she’s constantly checking in with the Mirror.

I don’t think the Queen is actually obsessed with Snow White’s beauty. I think she’s obsessed with her innocence, her “heart” (that’s literally what she asks the Huntsman to bring her, Snow’s heart in a box.) Snow White isn’t just the “fairest” as in the prettiest, but the fairest as in the most fair-minded, the most honorable. The presence of Snow, with her optimism, kindness, and trust is an existential threat, proof that the Queen is going about things all wrong. Her power definitely has a edge of sadism: She forces Snow to wear rags (none of the other princesses wear *rags.*) And I’ll be haunted by this image of the Queen’s dungeons forever.

So even though my first instinct was to go Hedonist Snake primary for the Evil Queen, that’s not right. She’s not focused on enjoying herself. She doesn’t seem conscious enough of her own desires to be a Bird, and Exploded Lion is possible… but I’m going with Burnt Badger. An obsession with being “Fairest of them all” seems to suggest a group-focused, External-facing primary, and I absolutely see how the extremely UnBurnt Badger Snow White would really get under a Burnt Badger’s skin.

Obviously a Bird secondary. The Evil Queen is Mad Scientist coded, even has a literal evil laboratory. The “Old Crone” plan features a transformation, a costume, and is very much an Actor Bird persona.

THE WICKED STEPMOTHER (1950) - SNAKE / BADGER

While she does seem to get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of controlling Cinderella, the Wicked Stepmother’s main motivation is her daughters. Her daughters kind of suck, but that doesn’t actually matter. The Stepmother is going to make sure they get that happy ending, with all the targeted loyalty of a Snake Primary. There’s a Badger secondary in there too, which you can see in the way she’s… subtle. The Stepmother takes away Cinderella‘s privilege bit by bit… but never actually goes after her directly. She manipulates her daughters into doing her dirty work (like the way they tear up Cinderella’s dress) so she can always maintain plausible deniability. She’s prim, she’s proper, she’s Lady Tremaine. Dark Courtier Badger, all the way.

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS (1951) - LION / LION

This Queen’s thing is that she’s childish. She wants what she wants NOW. Doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s impossible. The Queen of Hearts functions as both a lesson to Alice (authority figures don’t always know what they’re talking about) and as a warning (this could be you if you don’t navigate the transition to adulthood properly.) I see a very young Glory Hound Lion primary in the way she forces everyone else to cheat so she gets the emotional reward of winning the croquet game. I also want to attribute the Queen of Hearts’ extremely short fuse to her Lion primary - she acts on what she’s feeling the *second* she starts feeling it, and never questions this. Also she's a Lion secondary. There’s no plan. She lives in Wonderland. She’s living moment to moment.

CAPTAIN HOOK (1953) - BADGER / SNAKE

Unlike the Queen of Hearts, Captain Hook does not seem to be *of* the magical land he lives in. He is this outside force trying to impose order on Neverland, leading the only rigid organization there and constantly tying up/imprisoning the main characters. Hook is also the only one th threatened by the concept of time (the ticking crocodile.) *Peter* will never grow old. But somehow Captain Hook will? Or feels like he will? Tradition also says that the actor playing Wendy’s controlling father should play Hook as well, so there's definitely something about toxic order or toxic control going on (the Disney film uses the same voice actor in both roles.) So in the world of Peter Pan, Hook/Father becomes representative of adulthood/society/the Man. That makes him an Authoritarian Badger primary, defined by his organizations.

For his secondary - Hook’s not much of a planner. He’s most effective while he is talking an angry Tinker Bell into helping him, and in that scene he’s charming. He flatters her, pivots according to what he thinks she wants to hear, and while Courtier Badger secondary is possible, I think this feels more like Snake. (I also think you have to be some kind of Improvisational secondary in order to hold your own against Peter.) It makes sense - Hook has to be appealing and seductive as well as threatening, because that's kind of what adulthood is.

MALEFICENT (1959) - BIRD / LION

Maleficent’s feels socially slighted in a very *abstract* way. She doesn’t seem to have an emotional response to either the other fairies OR the King and Queen OR Aurora. Her curse doesn’t have anything to do with with her social standing, or her power, or her role in the kingdom. We actually don’t know what Maleficent’s deal is. Maybe by not inviting her to the christening the kingdom has broken some important Rule of hers. Or maybe she’s just torturing people because she’s bored, and this is a fun Project. (That is her plan with Phillip after all, and this image will ALSO always haunt me.)

But either way, she’s a Bird primary. The only question is if she’s more of a System-Building Bird, or a Project Bird.

Unusually for such a cold villain, I think I want to give her a Lion secondary. She’s patient, and her plans take place over long time-frames, but the plans themselves are direct - “When your daughter turns sixteen, I will kill her.” Done. Also, when Maleficent is threatened, she turns into a giant dragon who certainly does not plan, and her goons (while useless) are very loyal. So another point for Inspirational secondary.

CRUELLA DE VIL (1961) - LION / LION

Cruella wants a coat made out of Dalmatian puppies. That’s it. So I'm putting her in the same category as Hannibal Lecter, someone doing this for the *art,* the ~*~aesthetic~*~ of the thing. But unlike Hannibal, nothing about Cruella is cold or considered. I don’t think she’d be able to tell you why she wants that Dalmatian coat apart from “It’s fabulous, darling.” So instead of going Bird primary (the typical Weird Villain sorting) I’m saying she's a Lion. Cruella seems to have an aesthetic-based morality: "fabulous" and "non-fabulous," instead of "good" and "bad." She’s a Fay Lion primary, like Jack Sparrow.

Her secondary is harder. She definitely has goons, but they’re useless, and don’t seem to like her much. She doesn’t plot or face-change. She clearly likes Anita and doesn’t like Roger, and never bothers to mask this. Cruella first tries to buy the puppies - then sort of seems surprised when this doesn’t work? Honestly, the main impression I get from her is that she’s… not trying very hard. She only really starts to care right at the very end, when she’s driving with wild hair and crazy eyes, as her roadster falls apart around her. I’m going with Lion secondary to reflect that tendency she has to operate at either 1% or 100%.

MADAME MIM (1963) - LION / SNAKE

Madame Mim has a sort of a professional rivalry going on with Merlin, and dislikes that Wart calls him “the greatest wizard in the land.” So of course she challenges him to a wizard duel. She wants to be the best, she wants to win… and that’s all there is to it. So we have another Glory Hound Lion primary.

It’s very clear that Madame Mim loves transformation. She switches between her different faces as many times as she possibly can over the course of a single conversation. Notably, she has a sexy version of herself that she uses to charm people into doing what she wants… and there’s no reason she couldn’t wear that all the time. But she doesn’t want to. Mim gets a lot of joy out of her fluid Snake secondary, and when she’s not solving a problem she just wants to chill out in Neutral.

PRINCE JOHN (1973) - EXPLODED SNAKE / BIRD

Prince John’s motivation has a couple of layers. Obviously, he’s a *little* bit too excited about taxing on the citizens of Nottingham… but that’s because he’s overcompensating. His main visual design element is a crown that doesn’t fit. He’s not King John, he's Prince John, only in charge until his other (better) brother Richard comes home from the Crusades. That’s why he’s so easily flattered - he’s incredibly insecure. But his conflict isn't with Richard, exactly. It’s really... mommy issues. Everything John does is to please Mummy (an off screen-character.) Very Exploded Snake primary.

Secondary is hard because John is incompetent. He mostly solves problems by pointing the Sheriff of Nottingham at them. It’s a running joke that he doesn’t actually listen to his advisor Sir Hiss, who generally has the right idea but isn't a suck-up. I guess John does lay kind of sophisticated traps for Robin Hood? They don’t work, but the intent at least is Bird. So I guess I would have to go with that - a pretty incompetent Bird secondary.

PROFESSOR RATIGAN (1986) - BURNT SNAKE / BIRD

Unlike Madame Mim and Merlin, whatever Basil of Baker Street and Ratigan have going on does not feel like a professional rivalry. Technically Ratigan is plotting a coup… but he spends approximately 85% of his on-screen time entirely focused on Basil. They are at least ex-friends who now hate each other (and it’s really easy to read them as straight-up bitter exes.) Even his hatred of being called a “rat” seems to be linked to Basil - that's an insult Basil uses, implying that Ratigan is motivated by hedonism and ego, and not by the purity of the puzzle the way that Bird Primary Basil is. Really, he’s criticizing Ratigan for having a Snake primary motivation.

Ratigan is very obviously a very loud Bird secondary. He loves lists, he loves Rube-Goldberg devices. He’s based off Professor Moriarty, it's Snake Bird all the way down.

URSULA THE SEA WITCH (1989) - SNAKE / BIRD

So Ursula wants to take over, be the new monarch of the sea… which is usually a Glory Hound Lion motivation. But there's the implication the she's doing this to specifically screw over Triton... which would make her more of a Snake. Ursula also has a *very* hedonistic approach to life, something you often see in Snake primaries with small circles. It's just her and her “babies," the eels Flotsam and Jetsam. He eels also seem very emotionally important to her, as far as villain minions go. This could be another example of Snake primary loyalty.

I don't know, I just think a Lion primary Ursula would be angrier, more of a Scar. She’s doing her own thing, an makes use of an opportunity that falls into her lap. This is structurally a story about King Triton (who has the big emotional arc and the most character change) so it makes sense that she is specifically a Triton villain, and Ariel was just unlucky enough to get in the way.

I'm actually going to say Bird secondary for Ursula. I agree that she gives off Snake secondary *vibes,* and absolutely might model or perform it for fun. But the way she wins over Ariel is by spouting facts very fast and very confidently, then getting her to sign a bad contract. It’s a Corrupt Lawyer beat more than anything. Vanessa, Ursula's alternate form, is more an Actor Bird transformation (Wicked Queen style) and less a Snake secondary playing around (Madame Mim style.) Vanessa is Ursula's version of Ariel - she even speaks with Ariel's voice - and that's a Bird secondary approach. When Ursula‘s plans start falling apart, she doesn't pivot. She starts looking very Lion secondary - exactly like Bird secondary Ariel does when she’s overwhelmed.

Tl;dr

Double Lion - Queen of Hearts, Cruella De Vil

Lion Snake - Madame Mim

Snake Bird - Prince John, Professor Ratigan, Ursula

Snake Badger - Wicked Stepmother

Badger Snake - Captain Hook

Badger Bird - Evil Queen

Bird Lion - Maleficent

#disney #sortinghatchats #shc #queen of hearts #cruella de vil #madame mim #disney’s robin hood #prince john #professor ratigan #ursula the sea witch #wicked stepmother #lady tremaine #captain hook #evil queen #snow white evil queen #maleficent #wisteria sorts

83 notes · View notes