My name is leaf and I am a multifandom author. Some quick info on me is that I'm currently double majoring as an undergrad, I'm nonbinary, and I use any pronouns. Also, I have a wonderful partner who supports me through all of it.
This blog is proship and anti-censorship. You will find themes of incest, below 18/above 18, gore, and noncon on this blog. I know I cannot keep minors (below the age of 18) off of my blog, but I do ask that minors do not dm me directly. I won't accept writing requests from minors either.
Below are some important links you can use to support me and my writing. My requests are usually open and I also accept kofi donations in exchange for a fic (dm me for details):
My Tumblr Writing || Requests : Open || Ao3 || Ko-fi
content: ed, sickly sweet, lovey-dovey and horny leon, p in v sex
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desperate to please you. so disappointed in himself, in his body, for not being able to treat you the way he wants.
not that he was bad at it before, but he gets outrageously good at eating you out now that his dick is untrustworthy. knowing exactly where to lick and prod, how to curl his fingers and push into that spongy spot that makes your back arch.
his favourite past time is looking up from between your legs and seeing you moaning above him, head thrown back, hands making a mess of his hair. he can’t help but let out obscene noises each time you pull at his strands, each time he feels your cunt tighten around his fingers. his dick never gets fully hard, but he still feels arousal. a damp, distant warmth in his abdomen.
he’d be humping the bed. not vigorously, not like he did when he was a younger man, but slow and controlled. a slow grind, over and over, until you’d come too many times all over his face and couldn’t take it anymore. the arousal would linger for hours. never enough to get him hard, but he still felt it. it made him heady, cuddling up to you, pawing at your breasts and kissing up your neck. he wished he could fuck you like he did when you’d first met. missed the feeling of entering you, of cumming inside you.
after searching online, reading countless articles, he came up with a semi-solution. fastening a harness around his broad hips, dildo lodged in the front. at first he’d felt embarrassed. the contrast was shocking. his limp dick remained in his briefs, but when he’d look down at you, your cunt sucking in the toy and leaking all over it, it really made him feel like he was fucking you, again. and you enjoyed it which was all that mattered to him. but this was a good alternative, close enough to the real thing. his hips would still stutter when you came around the toy, as if you actually were tightening around his length.
“just like that, lee. keep going.” his dick twitched at your words, your hands in his hair, the raked lines your nails had carved down his back. god, he couldn’t even get hard but he felt on top of the world.
“want you to cum.” you’d whisper in his ear, breath tickling his neck and making the hairs on his skin raise. “wanna see you cum, honey.”
he groaned, digging his nose into the crook of your neck, thrusting harder. he felt it, now. not hardness, but warmth. wet. he was leaking into the fabric of his underwear, under the harness.
“so good for me, always so good.” you kept going, lips parted and panting.
“i’m-oh, fuck.” he whimpered into your skin, hips stuttering. his orgasm hit him like a truck, knocking the wind out of him. you took his face gently in your hands, guiding his lips to yours. he was still cumming, eyes screwed shut, mouth malleable and weak for your kiss.
once his thrusts had stopped completely, you wrapped your arms around him, manoeuvring your bodies to lay you both on your sides, hissing at the movement of the toy still in you. his eyes were glazed over, heart pounding and head throbbing.
“you okay?” you whispered, gentle and oh so caring. his heart squeezed. you caressed the side of his face with your palm, grazing the stubble that’d grown there.
“almost killed me.”
you snorted, flicking his forehead.
he chuckled, wrapping his large arms around you, and squeezing you into him. you nuzzled into his bare chest, pressing kisses into his warm skin. his breathing was beginning to slow down, but you could still hear his heart pounding.
happy pride month to those in the closet. to those who went back into the closet. to those who have unsupportive families, friends and relationships. those who were bullied and harassed because of their identity. those who were killed because of who they truly were and loved.
I just watched The Devil Wears Prada for the first time, and I think a lot of people misunderstood the ending. Andy wasn’t choosing her boyfriend or her friends. She was choosing herself. She realised that she could chase ambition without losing integrity, and that success means nothing if you can’t recognise the person in the mirror.
And Miranda? I don’t think she’s the villain so many people paint her as. She’s complex. She is cold when she needs to be, but deeply human underneath all the control. The reason Andy affected her so deeply is because Miranda sees herself in her. Not the hardened parts she shows the world, or even says to Andy herself, but the parts she buried long ago. In the film we see her crying to Andy reflecting this, this side of her that longs for family and softness.
Miranda’s story is what happens when a woman is forced to choose strength every single day just to survive in a world that punishes her for having it. She didn’t become ruthless because she wanted to but because she had to. Every cutting remark, every impossible demand it’s like an armor for her. A woman having success in a man’s world.
When she looks at Andy, she sees the woman she once was before the armor. That’s why their dynamic hurts so much because Miranda isn’t trying to destroy Andy, she’s almost testing her. She’s asking, Can you do what I did? Can you become hard like me? It was almost a challenge.
By walking away though, Andy answers that question. She chooses to keep her softness, her empathy, her sense of self. The same things Miranda had to sacrifice. That’s not a rejection of ambition but a reclaiming of identity.
I think Andy showed her the light again. The soft part of her she buried long ago. And somewhere inside her, I think Miranda respects her for that. She calls her new job after all to help her. She even smiles at her by the end. I also think Miranda showed Andy how to be more confident and ruthless by the end. (Less of a shell of a person).
Overall I really enjoyed the film but I wish people had a bit better critical analysis when looking at the ending. It’s easy to stamp onto it, Andy choosing a man, but why make this film about men. It was never about them. It’s about femininity. About women and power. About how women navigate ambition, expectation, and identity in spaces that constantly demand they prove worth. Andy’s journey isn’t about rejecting success but about redefining what success means for her.
How would your Blorbo react to meeting a (possibly maliciously made) clone of themself?
They would get along fine / they would work together / they would team up
They would be indifferent to the situation / they would not care
They would be uncomfortable
They would barely tolerate their clone
They would panic
They would be defensive / alert / threatened / ready to attack
They would try to kill their clone immediately
Voting ended onJun 2
Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds
What if Art is not just a man who is ready to retire married to a woman who wants him to keep playing but actually a man in a death spiral whose depression is killing his tennis game and his sorry tennis game is depressing him? What if Tashi wants to save his passion for tennis not just so she can vicariously enjoy him being at the top of his game, but also because she wants to see her husband happy again?
This fandom refusing to entertain the idea Tashi actually loves her husband and wants him to be happy is wild. Not once does Art express excitement about retirement or describe a single thing he wants to do after he stops playing tennis that he's excited about. Tashi is not crazy for thinking he's not (quite) ready to retire, he's just missing Patrick, struggling in his marriage and feeling demoralized by the losses he suffered while recovering from his shoulder injury.
I don’t know why people act like Tashi’s love for tennis and Art can be mutually exclusive. If you rewatch the movie it was obvious from when they first met that she was interested in him. She was the one that brought up Stanford not mentioning Patrick at all and when they talk about fighting for her number she encourages Art. As much as Tashi loves tennis do people really think she would’ve asked Patrick to throw the game if she didn’t love him. Asking that is disrespecting a sport she loves and Patrick realizes that. The only reason people might not realize that is because Tashi shows her love through tennis. She says it herself tennis is a relationship and is the only thing she knows to do in life. It’s not even that crazy to see why she would be with him they both love tennis have the same views on hard work and discipline. Like why wouldn’t she end up with a tennis player one of the best at that. What we will not do is fall for “Tashi only loves tennis” because she is such an interesting character and to do that is to ignore her complexity.
