cinderellaarchives

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

!!Important If You Follow Me!!

Hello, my loyal follower who is reading this. I’ve come to make an announcement that I will probably have to delete this account. See, I’ve gotten into personal trouble on my business main and frankly I need to wipe everything and rebrand that. *This* Tumblr (the one you’re reading) is connected to my *main* tumblr (the one I need to delete).

You might be asking

“Oh no, Cindy!! Are you leaving us forever-!?”

Fear not, loyal follower! I won’t be leaving you all without providing a backup account!! You can still find me here @cinderellasarchive

It will take me a while to put all my old posts onto my new blog so please bear with me.

I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

Xoxo, Cinderella

TLDR; have to delete this account bc of personal stuff on main, here’s my backup @cinderellasarchive

[cinderellaarchives]

@cinderellaarchives alt blog! Currently reworking it!!!

[cinderellaarchives]

Want You Back with: Housewardens

Where they're still in love with you.

Other parts: Vice-housewardens + Ruggie ; First Years (-Ortho)

Riddle Rosehearts

After the breakup, Riddle acted like he'd read somewhere that repressing emotion was a perfectly valid coping mechanism. Which, to be fair, he probably had. And so he embarked on what could only be described as a grief management routine so structured and detail-oriented that you almost had to respect it.

First came the part where he behaved like nothing had happened.

He went about his day with all the usual pomp—collaring students, citing arcane dorm rules, and drinking his tea as usual.

If anyone brought you up (on purpose or by accident), he would simply blink, nod, and go back to arranging sugar cubes in a perfect geometric formation. "We are no longer together," he would say, as if it were an administrative change and not, say, a soul-crushing emotional catastrophe.

Then came the coincidences.

He began showing up in places he absolutely did not frequent before. The café you liked? Suddenly, he was a regular. The library on Thursday evenings? There. The very hallway outside your class despite Heartslabyul being on the opposite side of campus? Oh yes. There too. And every time you spotted him lurking (because that was the only word for it), he would give a startled little blink, like you were the surprise.

"Oh. I didn't see you there," he said, the fourth time in a week.

You stared at him from behind your drink. "I've been sitting here for thirty minutes."

"Well," he muttered, "public seating is for everyone."

By week two, he began inventing reasons to talk to you. Weird ones.

He approached you one day, armed with a rulebook and what looked like three sticky notes marking battle locations.

"According to Queen of Hearts rule 42," he said, clearly having practiced this in front of a mirror, "ex-partners must return borrowed items within twelve days."

You blinked. "You lent me a pencil."

"It was part of a set," he snapped, scandalized.

You told him you'll give it back and he looked like someone slapped him.

You thought that might be the end of it. But then, course, it escalated.

He showed up at your door one evening with a paper in his hand. A list. A physical list. Titled, in absolutely unnecessary cursive, "A Non-Exhaustive Record of My Missteps."

"It's not meant to change anything," he said stiffly, not quite looking at you. "Only to… acknowledge."

There were bullet points. Short, awkward, and occasionally baffling.

Should not have critiqued your sock choice in front of your friends.

I apologize for saying 'emotional outbursts are not strategic.' That was, in hindsight, a poor choice of words.

You are allowed to eat dessert before dinner. Even if it is cherry pie.

I realize now that asking if we could schedule arguments during free periods was not romantic.

I should have asked you to stay.

You didn't know what to do with it—him. He was so Riddle about everything. Polite. Procedural. Very slightly insane. But under all the awkward attempts at regulation and paperwork, it was clear he missed you. Badly.

And the truth was, you still hadn't returned the matching pencil.

You kept it. Not because you believed in fate or romance or even well-meaning tyrants who quoted rulebooks like love poems—but because part of you thought, maybe, if he was willing to be just a little more flexible, there might be a version of this that could work.

And you hoped it could.

Leona Kingscholar

After the breakup, Leona made it his personal mission to convince the entire world—Ruggie, his dorm, the mirror in his room, the literal wildlife outside—that he did not care.

He went around saying things like, "Tch. Good riddance," and "Like I got time to babysit someone who cries over movies," even though no one had brought you up. He slept more. Talked less. Got moodier, which no one thought was possible until he started growling at actual potted plants for existing near his nap spots.

Whenever Ruggie so much as hinted at your name—usually while dancing around some scheduling conflict or trying to explain why Leona's mood had tanked again—he'd get cut off mid-word.

"I wasn't even talking about them!" Ruggie would complain.

"Then stop thinking about them so loud," Leona snapped, face buried in the crook of his arm like the concept of you physically hurt his eyes.

But of course, the moment your name stopped being brought up, that became a problem too.

He started acting restless. Less asleep all the time and more awake and clearly trying to look like he's not looking around for someone. He'd frown when someone laughed in the hallway, then look annoyed when it wasn't you. He started showing up to classes he normally skipped, sitting in the back with his legs stretched out and arms crossed like he was doing the entire school a favor just by existing in the room.

And then the things started appearing.

First, it was his jacket—left casually across the back of your desk chair, like maybe gravity had just pulled it there on accident. Then his spellbook, shoved between your textbooks in a way that definitely required premeditated effort. Then a sandwich. An entire sandwich, wrapped up and labeled "Not Yours."

He denied all of it, obviously.

"Must've been Ruggie," he said, regarding the jacket that literally smelled like him.

When confronted about the book: "I don't even read, what're you talking about."

As for the sandwich? "You're imagining things. I didn't make that for you."

By that point, no one believed him—not even himself.

The final blow came in the form of a confrontation you hadn't expected. Late evening, when you were walking back to your dorm from the library. You were alone, or you thought you were, until you turned the corner and found him there—half in shadow, arms crossed, gaze trained somewhere just over your shoulder.

He didn't say hello.

Didn't say anything actually.

Just let the silence stretch until it started fraying at the edges, and then muttered, voice low and rough:

"You still want this, don't you?"

You stared at him. He didn't flinch, but you could tell he wanted to. He held himself like someone who didn't expect the answer to be yes, but still desperately needed to hear it before he gave up entirely.

And you realized somewhere between the jacket, the sandwich, and the way his voice cracked at the end of the sentence—that for all his snarling and attitude, he never stopped loving you.

He just didn't know how to ask you to stay without sounding like he might actually need you.

Which, of course, he did. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Not yet, anyway.

But the next time he leaves something behind, you think you might return it in person. Maybe even stay awhile.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul handled the breakup the only way he knew how: with spreadsheets, surveillance footage, and a truly unhealthy amount of denial.

He claimed to be fine, of course. Said it with a straight face while color-coding inventory spreadsheets and inputting customer satisfaction data at four in the morning like a man unburdened by heartbreak. But when the tweels found the Lounge security footage paused—again—on a scene of you laughing near the bar, they stopped asking.

He'd memorized the timestamp.

And no, he didn't want to talk about it.

Azul had always been prone to spiraling in a unique way. After the breakup, that tendency mutated into something truly concerning. He didn't cry. He didn't wallow. Instead, he opened a blank document and began calculating. How many hours you'd spent together. How often you laughed in his presence. What the average rate of eye contact was in happy couples versus yours. There were charts. Graphs. Some kind of weighted affection index.

Unfortunately, Jade opened the file looking for the March sales report and instead found a document titled:

"Projected Probability of Them Still Loving Me (v6)."

He would not let him live it down.

"Idea," Floyd said. "You wanna run those numbers again but include the variable where you're super pathetic lately?"

Even Jade raised an eyebrow. "The correlation between desperation and appeal might not be as linear as you'd hope."

Azul tried to brush them off. He even lied (very badly) about what the spreadsheet was for ("Just… tax optimization. Personal hobby. Totally normal."), but the damage was done. The eels were smug. He was mortified. And worst of all, he still couldn't stop thinking about you.

So he pivoted.

If direct emotional vulnerability had failed him, perhaps passive-aggressive marketing would do the trick.

You started receiving coupons. Neatly folded, hand-delivered, no return address—but you recognized the ink. And the handwriting. And the aggressively formal tone that somehow still managed to sound like begging.

"One (1) free drink of your choice at the Mostro Lounge. Offer valid for exes statistically proven to be an optimal match."

Another read:

"Your preferred drink has been discontinued. Kidding. Please come back."

And your personal favorite:

"A reminder that our pairing was 94.3% ideal. Come back. For research."

You didn't respond. He didn't expect you to. But every week, a new coupon showed up—some increasingly ridiculous, some borderline romantic, all of them signed with that same flourish he used when pretending he wasn't panicking.

You weren't sure if it was pathetic or endearing. Probably both. The coupons had piled up in a drawer now, next to a coaster you never returned and a little napkin with a sketch he once made of you during a slow night.

You told yourself it was nostalgia. Curiosity. Scientific inquiry, if anything.

And one slow afternoon, you found yourself digging through the drawer, smoothing out the least crumpled coupon, and thinking—just for a moment—that you might stop by.

For research. Obviously.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim took the breakup as well as someone who had never actually took a negative emotion in his life to heart could. Which was to say: terribly.

He cried. A lot. At first, it was appropriate—private tears, sniffles in the dorm room, a distant gaze over his drink. But then it started happening at other times. Like during an ad for laundry detergent where the happy couple folded towels together. Or during a weather report where the forecast mentioned rain, which, apparently, you once said made you sleepy. Or during absolutely nothing at all, except that the sun was setting "a little too much like that one day you held his hand, remember?"

He insisted he was fine.

"Totally fine!" he chirped, voice three octaves higher than normal, eyes red-rimmed and suspiciously glossy. "Breakups happen all the time, right? We're both growing and learning! It's healthy!"

No one believed him.

Jamil looked like he was considering reporting you to the disciplinary committee just to end Kalim's reign of emotionally unhinged sunshine. Even Grim asked if someone should "turn him off and back on again."

But Kalim doubled down. If he couldn't be fine naturally, he'd brute-force his way into happiness. Which, in his mind, meant: throwing parties. So many parties. For no reason. His calendar suddenly became a horror show of "themed celebration nights" and "spontaneous joy hours," all of which were weirdly tailored around your favorite things.

"Here!" he said brightly, handing out goodie bags. "Everyone gets this specific brand of chocolates and stickers! Because those are just objectively fun! Not because anyone used to love them or anything!"

It was transparent. Alarmingly so.

Even when he gave someone a little clay charm that looked exactly like the one you wore on your bag, Kalim waved it off with a too-wide smile. "Just spreading the joy! It's important to stay positive, right?"

Everyone knew it was a cry for help. The kind that sounded like party poppers and glitter and repressed sobbing in the school gardens.

The turning point came on a quiet afternoon when he showed up at your door holding a tiny cupcake. It had a frosting heart on it. His hands shook slightly.

"I know this is weird," he said, already teary. "I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. I just—"

He swallowed, voice cracking like something inside him was giving up the act for good.

"Even if you don't love me again," he said, "can we still be something?"

You looked at him—his earnest eyes, his trembling lower lip—and you felt something soft and painfully familiar unfurl in your chest.

Because Kalim didn't know how to lie to the people he loved. Not well. Not really. He was all impulse and heart, the kind of boy who loved too loud and too fast and never quite knew how to stop once he started.

And maybe you weren't ready to be what you were. Not yet.

But looking at him, at the little cupcake with the slightly smudged heart and the the way he was holding it like he might shatter if you didn't take it—

How could you say no?

You took the cupcake. And maybe his hand, too. Just for a moment. Just to see if something could still bloom.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil did not mourn the breakup. Mourning was for people who couldn't maintain composure under pressure. For people who let emotion smudge their mascara. He was not one of those people.

At least, not publicly.

He was flawless. Unbothered. The exact picture of someone thriving post-relationship, thank you very much. His interviews were polished. His smiles were poised. His posture was impeccable. If anyone noticed that his usual acerbic wit had gone curiously blunt, no one said anything.

They wouldn't dare.

Privately, though, when the cameras were off and the spotlight blinked out, Vil cracked in very small ways.

He started using your favorite perfume. A subtle layer, never enough to be obvious, but just enough to make him feel like you were still somewhere in the room. Like maybe if he breathed in deep enough, he could hold onto something.

He flipped through magazines during lunch breaks, claiming it was for "market research." But every time he lingered on a movie review or a lifestyle spread, it was with the faint, ridiculous hope that you'd read it too. That your fingers might have touched the same paper. That your eyes caught the same line he was rereading for the fifth time.

He knew it was foolish. But Vil had always been prone to beautiful illusions. It was sort of his thing.

The unraveling came, ironically, in the most public of places: a toothpaste commercial.

He was halfway through filming, mid-speech about the importance of a radiant smile, when something in the script triggered a memory—something you once said about how his laugh.

He kept talking.

Kept improvising.

Went off-script entirely.

The crew let him go for a minute—Vil was known for his "emotional depth," after all—but when he hit the line "even the most polished smile can still ache when it remembers someone who made it feel real," the director had to call cut.

"Vil," they said gently. "It's a toothpaste commercial."

He didn't speak for the rest of the shoot. Just touched up his own makeup in silence, eyes a little glassy.

It took him another week to knock on your door.

He showed up in a soft sweater, smelling faintly of something familiar, holding his own hands like he didn't know what else to do with them.

He didn't ask for much. Didn't ask for forever. Just quietly, cautiously:

"Would you like to try again?"

And you thought—looking at him, at the person who once swore he'd never show up like this for anyone, at the vulnerability hiding under all that polish—

Maybe this time, you could make it work.

Idia Shroud

Idia handled the breakup the way he handled most things in life: with a complete and total digital meltdown, buried under forty layers of denial and an emotionally scorched Discord server.

He didn't text. Didn't call. Didn't even leave passive-aggressive emoji reactions on your old posts like a normal ex with unresolved feelings. He simply… disappeared.

Vanished like a ghost into his room, into his code, into the vast and uncaring expanse of the internet, where feelings didn't exist unless they were typed in all caps or conveyed through a crying anime girl gif.

And for a while, it was total radio silence.

Until you logged into that game.

The shared one. The one you used to play together after class, where the two of you ran a little shop in a pixelated fantasy village and spent an embarrassing amount of time farming digital potatoes.

Your shop was still there.

But now there was… a shrine.

Your character's pixel art face, recreated painstakingly in custom tiles and surrounded by in-game flowers, torches, and glowing pink mood crystals that did not exist in the vanilla version of the game.

He'd modded it.

There was a sign in the middle that just said:

"Here Lies Happiness (RIP)"

You stared at it for a long time. Then, just to confirm the ridiculous suspicion building in your chest, you checked the nearby player list.

Sure enough, his username had changed too:

"SadBoy420"

Online. Loitering.

You didn't message him immediately. Mostly because you weren't sure what to say to someone who had quite literally built a shrine to your relationship in a farming sim. But still—you lingered. Logged in more often. Left offerings of rare items near the shrine like it was some strange, silent conversation.

Idia never spoke to you directly, but you noticed the shrine changed a little every day. One day it had a sign that said "I'm Fine." The next, it was replaced with a drawing of your characters fishing together. One morning it was just a massive, pixel-art rendition of the word "SORRY" in bold letters with a sad face emoji.

Outside the game, his silence continued.

But Ortho?

Ortho was not subtle.

"Did you know my brother has been listening to the voicemails you left him on loop for the past 72 hours?" he chirped once in the cafeteria. "Not that he's, like, sad or anything! Just nostalgic. Definitely not crying."

Later: "He made your favorite NPC in our custom server the town mayor! Isn't that cute? I mean, objectively, not emotionally, haha."

Eventually, you got the call.

Your phone lit up with his name and you answered before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Uh—hey," Idia said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't, like, mean to call. Or—I did, but. Crap. Okay. Hi."

You waited.

He took a breath.

"I was just wondering," he said, "if you maybe wanted to talk again. Or, y'know. Game. No pressure or anything. It's fine if you're, like, over it and I'm just like a pathetic ghost haunting your social life, haha, classic tragic NPC vibes—"

"Yes," you said, before he could spiral into apologizing for existing.

He paused. Long enough that you thought the call had dropped. Then, quietly—hopeful, almost disbelieving:

"Wait. Really?"

You smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"Yeah," you said. "Log in."

Malleus Draconia

Malleus did not understand how something so radiant could simply… end.

He didn't throw a dramatic tantrum after the breakup. He didn't disappear in a swirl of thunderclouds or curse the moon or anything out of a tragic love story.

He didn't so much as frown in public, because the full gravity of the breakup hadn't quite hit him yet. Instead, it settled in stranger places—quiet things, strange habits.

Like how he started speaking to the plush bat you gave him on his last birthday as though it were you. Not in a creepy way, more like someone who didn't know what to do with the empty space you left behind.

He asked it questions. Told it how his day went. Laughed, sometimes, as if it had told him a joke—low and fond, the kind of laugh only you had ever coaxed out of him. And when he sat beneath the stars, plush cradled carefully in his lap, he whispered to it with a gentleness reserved only for the lost.

The gargoyles? They weren't even sentient, but even they seemed exhausted. Every night he stood in front of them, musing out loud about the way you smiled or how you always called him weird little nicknames. One of them lost a nose—maybe unrelated.

Lilia, bless him, said nothing for a long while. He simply watched as Malleus wilted, quietly and beautifully, like a flower sealed in ice. But one evening, after Malleus asked in the softest voice, "Do humans ever come back when they leave?", Lilia did not answer. He only wrapped his arms around his ward and held him close.

At some point, he started writing letters. Not to send, just… to say things. Things he didn't know how to tell you, or hadn't said enough when he could. Some were serious. Some were barely legible thoughts written in the middle of the night. But he kept them all, folded neatly in a box that lived under his bed.

And then, of course, Silver found the box.

Silver, ever helpful and half-asleep, assumed it was mail Malleus meant to send and delivered the whole thing to your dorm like it was completely normal to get a hand-bound novel of unsent love letters dropped off on a random day.

You read them all.

You didn't say anything at first. You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. But that night, you left your window open—just a little.

And sure enough, just past midnight, Malleus appeared outside your dorm. Just… standing there. Looking up.

He didn't ask to come in. He didn't even call your name. He just waited. Like maybe you'd hear the quiet, and somehow understand.

And when you finally stepped outside, he looked at you like he'd been waiting centuries.

"May I court you again?" he asked softly. "From the beginning."

And really… how could you say no?

Masterlist

[cinderellaarchives]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEONA!!

I made some art for my Leona moots 😼 hope y’all like it

[cinderellaarchives]

“Canonically”, Riddle is a boy. Yet he’s been a Queen, a Princess, etc. all proudly and willingly.

That in mind, how do we feel about Riddle liking to be called “Mommy”?

MDNI

[cinderellaarchives]

morning leona

[cinderellaarchives]

I got my Lilia recently! He can’t sleep without his dolly of me

(´ ω `♡)

anyway

[cinderellaarchives]

Might fuck around and make some HCs of my babygirl (Alucard from the hit show Hellsing) despite this being an otome themed blog 🫩🚬🗿

[cinderellaarchives]

Yall quit liking ts it’s like one of my first works and it’s so buns 😭🙏

Leona Headcanons + Drabble

Contains: Gn!Reader, nsfw under the cut, mentions of eating preferences, cum in hole

︶︶⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

♡ Hate it when people write Leona as a mean boyfriend.

♡ He’d literally treat his partner like royalty (because they will be once he marries them!!)

♡ He’d definitely tease and poke fun at them affectionately, but he’d never purposely upset them in a serious way.

♡ if his partner is more masc leaning then he’d definitely feel more inclined to play fight with them, not scared to bite scratch and kick but still never anything seriously harmful. Play fighting is usually reserved for when they’re both alone though, so that’s why he reverts to verbal teasing so much in public (and he’s just a sassy bastard)

♡ if his partner is more fem leaning, then he’d still play fight with them, but he’d need reassurance that it’s okay to play rough with them (if it’s to avoid angering said partner and getting bitch slapped or he’s scared to accidentally hurt them nobody can tell) (it’s both)

♡ I feel like Leona would have a thing for people with a lil bit of a tummy. He likes a partner with a healthy appetite like him so they can share food and he won’t have to worry about them feeling the need to save food for him or anything. A lot of people say he’d have him and his partner go to a fancy rich restaurant, but I think he’d love buffets.

♡ also a big fan of post meal cuddling at home, nuzzling and purring all up on his ~~mate~~ partner’s neck and cheek while holding them oh so close.

︶︶⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

♥︎ NSFW WARNING ♥︎

♥︎ Obviously a big fan of lazy sex and cuddle fucking but that doesn’t mean he just cares about his own pleasure

♥︎ say you’re riding him; he’s not just going to lay there, he’s licking and biting sloppily wherever he can reach, aiming for your sweet spots. He’s thrusting up in somewhat the same rhythm as you as he holds your hips— but he gets handsy quick and needs to grope every part of you.

♥︎ a big fan of cock warming, being naked and snuggling under the blankets with his cock shoved juuuust right into you. Deep and just barely grazing your g-spot.

♥︎ another favorite of lazy sex he likes is when you’re both so tired and sleepy but too horny to *not* do anything, so one of you groggily grabs the vibrating toys and puts them on each of you.

You both lay cuddling for a while, occasionally changing the vibe levels and patterns tailored to your liking. Eventually it gets hotter and hotter, you’re grinding, whimpering into each other, making out sloppy until it’s too much and you both need to cum-!

Leona pulls the toy off of himself and quickly does the same to you before either of you can finish. He attacks your neck, far more awake than before, as he mumble’s permission to cum in you (as if he needs to ask, but consent is sexy).

He positions you on top of him, lining his dick with your previously lubed hole. He holds your hips down and furiously thrusts up, gritting his teeth as he is so so so close— he licks his hand in a long sloppy and *wet* stripe before harshly [rubbing your clit/stroking up and down your base] *just right* with the same amount of vigor before you both come completely undone together.

But it’s not enough for him. You cuddle and kiss for a while before he growls and flips you over on his plush bed, throwing your legs on each of his shoulders before pounding into your soaked hole. He throws his head back, his gorgeous hair falling perfectly as he pounds you with his own deep moans and groans “ahn, ahn, ahn~!” with each thrust into you…

︶︶⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

[cinderellaarchives]

SCANDALABRA X READER (ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ)

AN: So this starts out very cutesy fluffy with angst, reader has afab partz, becomes filthy smut by the end 🙂‍↕️. Reader is very “i wanna figure him out & fix him” and Scandalabra has 0 social skills. This is very Jon Wick focused!

when you first met scandalabra you didn’t think much of him. Sure he was a pretty boy, a fancy boy, entertaining. He always made you laugh and you were surprised at how you liked talking to him when no one else seemed to humor him. You could see that his act was just that, a preformance. He was being silly, having fun, playing the part of a candalabra. But still you didnt pay as much attention to him as the other hotter, more serious objects around the house.

That is until you were off questing for maggie and you ran into a victim of his scandal spreading. y’all had heard whispers from Lux and Stepford that they’d been hearing rumors that daisuke’s silverware are fake silver. Obviously, daisuke takes great pains and care to his work, and was hurt by these rumors. And you bought the silverware, paying full price mine you, so it better not be counterfeit.

Fully in your bad-cop character, you interrogated scandalabra. You slammed your hand down on abel, who responded “youch!” You flinched “sorry abel”

you point a finger at scandalabra “Tell us the truth! you’re actually the one who’s counterfeit right?”

“oh!!” His eyes bounce between you and maggie in fear before going silent. His shoulders slump, defeated “alright. i know when i’ve lost.” His voice is deep and gravely and holy shit hot. Your eyes flare clocking an immediate attraction that—if it was there before, would never have been of much consequence. But now? damn. You’re not sure.

“i’m not really a so-called scandalabra. I’m a completely ordinary cheaply made knock off from freehold new jersey.” he continues. Your jaw is on the floor, Brows knitted.

“i just wanna be special ya know. when you’re mass produced you just get that urge to strike out on your own—rebel knows how it is”

rebel peaks their head in sight from down the hallway and quips “shut up cuck”

“okay..” Scandalabra submits. You fight back a laugh, not so much because it was funny but because of the absurdity of the whole situation.

“i’m sorry for all my digging and messing around… i still kinda get off on learning all the relations around the house… if that’s okay i’ll just watch and enjoy from here”

‘gets off?’ you close your mouth now, but size him up quickly before looking at maggie who says “well it’s fine as long as you agree to stop spreading your scandals!”

“you have my word.”

“thank you scand- wait, what is your name?” she asks.

“jon wick.” you really have to stifle a laugh now.

maggie goes to head back to her usual spot, everything seeming to go back to normal. Your eyes linger on jon, he’s not what you thought and you want to know more now. He looks dejected, shoulders slumped, sitting on able, feet up on charemi, arms resting on his knees. He looks like he’s about to light a ciggerate. He has the energy of an exhausted waffle house worker on his break.

You fight a smile and head off to bed. You think about how he mentioned how Rebel gets his situation. You’re reminded at how you took them at face value too. And how they had been pushing people away, and putting on a trauma response. You wondered what his reason for the scandalabra act was.

The next morning you B-line for Scandalabra—Jon. He sits up straight when he sees you walking over to him, brow cocked. At first when you stop in front of him you don’t say anything.

You clock an internal battle in his body language. He seems nervous, naked. But he fights it and decides to go back to putting on the scandalabra performance. He plants a pithy hand over his mouth and another clutching invisible pearls. “you return!” that ridiculous voice is back. “you are rather jejune in your jests, but to become one with the path of scandal one must give as much as you take! i’ve given you an awful lot havent i? what have you for me?”

you cross your arms. You wanted to get to know the real him, but you can’t help but accept a challenge when prompted. Especially such a silly one. “Well. I do want to become one with the path of scandal-“

“of couurse you do, darling!” He looks like a valet waiting with his hand out for a tip.

“Well, did you hear washford, winnifred and river are in talks of becoming a throuple?” You sit on abel next to him, making sure to sit your thighs a little closer to him than what would be appropriate. Whispering, to make it seem like the proximity is to avoid anyone else hearing. Jon doesn’t seem to notice, he’s too busy gasping at this new scandal. He blathers on about it but you aren’t paying attention, you’re only focused on his lips.

“Jon, can we get real?” He stops and looks at you, waiting.

“The scandalabra thing is fun and i like gossiping and joking with you, but i wanna get to know you, the real you.” You give him the warmest, most sincere smile you can and squeeze his hand on the table.

He blushes and brushes his hair behind his ears, and that sexy voice is back. “Oh, you want just regular ol John?”

“yeah!” you squeeze his hand again to reassure him.

He gives a breathless laugh. “Wow, most people are scared of me. Why wouldn’t they be with how i act?” you think he says that last part to himself rather than to you.

“fuck em.” You purse your lips playfully, and smile when he looks at you. “i like you.”

He chuckles, subconsciously clutching his fake date-a-dex, He had shown you a week or so back after insisting on seeing yours. It had looked like macaroni art, but you saw that he had been trying to make friends with the objects around the house and you were the first of his friends. He drew you in along with your likes and dislikes.

“who knows, maybe we can upgrade to more than friends,” you wiggle your brows at him.

He laughs heartily this time, gaining confidence “well then, fuck! come over anytime. We can screw like normal, yeah?” Jon smirks, eyes lidded.

like normal? you wonder what he means by that. Does that mean he would’ve fucked you differently as scandalabra? God he’s so hot, you wanna take all those candalabra clothes off him. “Maybe I could just get to know you for now?” you say this but it’s not convincing because you’re staring at his lips as you say it.

Maybe it’s his self loathing, but he doesn’t challenge you. “yeah, sure. Whaddya wanna know?” he slides off abel and sits in charemi instead, putting him eye level to your thighs.

“I like gossip as much as the next person, but you seem to like it more than the average per—object. Why?”

He raises his eyebrows briefly and sighs as he ponders this. “It started as me playing the part of what i think a candalabra should be ya know. Fancy and extra ‘n all that, right? You also have multiple of me—candles—scattered about so i’m always seeing what’s going on. But after awhile i guess it was because i’m lonely,” he stops.

You hum gently, putting it all together. The date a dex, interested in all the relationships, the demanding of kisses “you want to be loved”

He avoids eye contact with you. “Yeah, i do. Everyone avoids me. Like—the only way i’ll ever get intimacy like that is if i’m making it a joke, a part of the scandalabra preformance.” He laughs. “Pathetic, right?”

you shake your head no. “You’re really introspective actually, i think that’s cool… So… yesterday when you said you get off on it…” you’re too shy to actually ask the question.

He shoots you a heavy lidded smirk. “What can i say?” is all he says, fixing his top button. You blush.

A week or so later you’re messing around with daisuke in the kitchen. He kisses you passionately, one hand petting your jaw, the other putting you on the counter. He gets between your thighs—The same position you and Jon were inches away from—and deepens the kiss. You moan in his mouth as he pulls you closer by your waist. You take the opportunity to look at Jon when he kisses your neck. Jon, who had been watching in vicarious delight, his eyes are locked on yours, delighted that you looked at him. That your eyes went straight for him rather than anyone or anything else.

Your face is bright red, this whole thing is overwhelming. And when daisuke takes you upstairs and fucks you, you know jon is watching from the candle on your nightstand.

As daisuke pushes your face into the pillows, you turn your head towards jon, biting your lip, hoping he’s watching.

That night, when talking to abel, he tells you that Jon had been “polishing” himself to it all.

The next day you decided to talk to Jon by the candles on your night stand. You sit on your bed. “Hello Player,” his voice, Jon’s rather than scandalabra’s, but unmistakably salacious.

“Jon, Hi” embarrassed, you try to go back to normal, but he persists.

“that was a hell of a show last night, gorgeous.” He teases, but you can’t tell if he’s teasing like a friend or like someone who wants you.

You fake laugh. “No privacy around here. Agh!” you pretend to be upset, And it’s obvious. Pathetically obvious, and his grin widens at the confirmation.

“that was for me, right?”

You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. An answer in itself.

“awesome.” He has a self satisfied smile. It’s quiet for a beat before he gathers himself and asks “wanna fuck?”

You do. It’s ridiculous but you do. “i want to help you make some friends, maybe some lovers,” you change the subject. He looked locked in on sleeping with you but your words take him off guard. “Yeah?”

“come with me,” you take his hand and gently guide him to the upstairs bathroom.

You give him a make over, with the help of bathsheba, barry and clarence. You let his long hair down, letting it stay straight. Clarence, with some advise on not trying to present a certain way for love/approval, helps jon figure out something that feels more him. He comes out in an all black suit, he looks so fucking good. “Damn, well done, team.” You pick your jaw up off the floor.

“Yeah i thought i’d play into the jon wick (john wick) thing,” He smirks. You half laugh half sigh. He’s still playing into a character but It’s a start at least.

“just try to be yourself with people, if you want to play into the jon wick thing, try to make it clear you’re playing a role.”

“Yes ma’am,” he’s too busy looking at himself in the mirror, admiring his image. You can’t blame him, he looks so fuckable. He catches you twirling your hair while gazing longingly at his figure in the reflection.

For a second he holds your gaze in the reflection and you think he’s going to turn around and ravage you. But he turns around, leaning against the dresser and asks “why are you doing this for me?”

you don’t skip a beat “i saw something in you.”

he cocks his head. “Like, potential?”

you smile and sit on the bed, legs folded. “no, like, i could tell there was more to you than what you were letting on. And i saw a sadness that i’ve seen reflected in myself.” You admit.

“what do you have to be sad about?” for the first time he’s not amazed and just excited to be talking to you. “Everyone likes you. Most of them. At least they talk to you, and talk about you. You get to have all these great connections and experiences with everyone… i have no one,”

you’re quiet for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say “try this new you, and give it time,” you try to assure him.

he sighs and sits on your bed with you. “i watch you ya know. With the others. It’s hot but that’s not why i’m so obsessed with it all. I want to be you.”

“me?” you tilt your head puppy style. Shocked and to your surprise, disgusted. Who the fuck would wanna be you? you have to use magic glasses to talk to inanimate objects just to have these connections that he’s so jealous of.

he nods, looking at the floor “i want to experience everything you get to experience.”

You want to kiss him. You want to give him an experience that he craves. But that would just make him the object that you’re romancing, before you’re off to the next. He wants that attention for himself. And lives it vicariously through hearing about it.

“i could make you human,” you say. His eyes light up the way his wicks do. “But it won’t make you, like, a main character of life. It won’t make everyone want to have a relationship with you. Trust me.” You grab his hand again. So soft and warm. For a second you think it annoys him because he flinches and sighs. But he looks deeply into your eyes with such a longing. “oh fuck,” he curses like he’s giving up. He grabs your face and kisses you. As passionately as the fire he plays with daily.

He pushes you forcefully on your back and crawls on top of you. You gasp, and he whispers in your ear “I’ve fucked my fist while listening to you getting pleasured by the others so many times, this will be a dream come true.” You moan at jon’s erotic words. He sits up and takes his blazer and shirt off before diving back down to kiss you. More gently this time, but with tongue. He moans into your mouth, a welcoming sweet vibration.

He’s inpatient and rough with you. Forcing open your legs and wasting no time plunging into your cunt. You gasp at the sudden fullness. He takes his fingers out as soon as he had put them in, overwhelmed, you watch as he dips his fingers into his mouth to taste you. He groans “you still taste like daisuke from last night,” he coos. “Stick your tongue out,” he demands.

Hesitantly, you do as he says. He yoinks off your panties and throws them at the wall “fuck you dirk,” he grumbles before going back to attack your cunt with his fingers. “Fuck!” you hiss, getting dizzy from the whiplash. “Taste,” he says pushing his fingers into your mouth, eyes lidded watching you taste your and daisuke’s mixed juices. You shouldn’t be into this, but you are. It’s so hot, the shame, the attention, Jon using you to inflate his own ego.

Jon pushes your knees up on either side of your chest “hold those for me, won’t ya, gorgeous?” You take them happily as Jon begins lapping at your cunt. You throw your head back. “Oh god,” You look down to watch his pretty face pleasure you, hoping to catch those eyes but instead they’re locked on the vent, hector, bragging.

are you kidding me? you narrow your eyes and grip him by his hair. “Focus on ME, not everyone else,” you insist. Jon’s smirk grows. “Yes ma’am,” he keeps his eyes locked on you, pushing one finger in while he licks your clit vigorously. You sigh at the contact, bucking your hips up into him. “soo good,” just as you start feeling like you’re going to reach your release, jon sits up and starts unbuckling his belt

he’s so tall, and thin, his skin is perfect. You match his energy taking your top off but leaving your skirt on. Next thing you know jon is naked, long thin “wick” resting on top of your slick pussy. Jon is squirming at anticipation but he holds a lit candle over your body. You realize quickly what’s about to happen. “You down?”

he looks stunning like this. Long blonde hair, heavy lidded eyes, a strong blush on his cheeks, he’s up on his knees above you. You shake your head yes, and he says “cover your eyes.”

You do as he asks, and unpredictably, hot wax hits your stomach. You gasp and twitch, accidentally grinding against his cock. He groans at the contact. He begins petting you, rubbing in the wax that is slowly beginning to act like lotion or body oil. “You’re so beautiful, y/n. I’ve seen your naked form though, of course. When watching you with others.” He’s sliding his dick between your folds now and you’re bucking your hips up between twitching at the feeling of the wax.

“I think Daemon was my favorite. Spooky. I want to know how its lips felt, how it felt when it entered you, tell me, y/n,” He starts rubbing circles on your clit.

“scary in a sexy way-“

He spanks your pussy lightly. “You can do better than that baby come on, paint me a picture,” he goes back to rubbing you.

“it… felt like it had 6 arms… it..” It was hard to focus when he was picking up the pace like that, and with the candle occasionally hitting your skin.

“Focus, baby” He pushes into you, just the tip.

“it felt like it was touching me everywhere that could feel good all at once—it felt amazing—“ you get out before Jon bottoms out inside of you. You both moan at the same time. “Fuck—Jon—“ He takes your hand off your eyes so you can see him, the candle is gone and now he’s got one hand holding both your wrists above your head and the other hand gripping your hips for dear life.

“you feel incredible, holy fuck” he moans, unable to stop himself from fucking you at a brutal pace. “Jon!” you cry in protest. “Fuck yes scream my name so everyone can hear!” He spanks you, earning him a squeal.

“i told you—to stop focusing—on them—!” you get out between thrusts. “okay, tell me you love me then,” He grabs your chin to force you to look in his eyes. Your eyes are glazed from the pace he’s fucking you, “i-love you-“ you whimper, you’re pathetic. Hearts in your eyes, unable to think straight. He’s hitting such a deep place up inside of you, you think you might break. He sighs lovingly at your admission, it’s sickly sweet, a stark contrast to the brutal way he’s fucking into you—slapping and wet noises filling the air. He treats it like a theme song, chanting him onward.

“touch yourself, baby” he lets your dominant hand go. You obey, it’s overstimulating in such a perfect way. “Fuck-fuck-ah!” Jon is moaning now, he lets go of your wrist and grips your hips with both hands, fucking you deep and fast you start to feel like he’s using you like a pocket pussy. And you fucking love it, the sight builds you to your internal chorus so quickly. “jon-! m’gonna!”

“take it, take it, take it,” he whimpers before you hit your peak. “Ah!” you moan out deliciously, hips bucking a slow roll with each wave of pleasure. Your breath slows but Jon just says “Oh my god did you just?-“ before you can confirm Jon’s hips stutter and he cums at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him out for all his wax is worth. He gasps and falls down, hands on either side of your head, fucking you through his orgasm.

He lays on top of you, cock still in you. He’s needy, already wrapping his arms around you and snuggling in. “That was. Amazing. Did i do okay?” He’s soft by now, but clearly still horny by the way he’s lightly rocking into you. You sigh at the sensitivity. “Yes, very good,” you push his beautiful locs out of his beautiful face, and kiss him sweetly.

[cinderellaarchives]

So I finished this, finally

Sneak peaks of a WIP I’m working on (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

CW: Dom!Riddle, Sub!Yuu, begging

Okay, that’s all, I go back into the shadows like a horny Batman or something.