in this house we cherish+protect julian devorak

Leeches, 27, she/her. Still Spicy and full of Lemons I guess. 18+ Arcana Fanblog. {Link to AO3} & {Tumblr Writing Masterpost} Requests: Closed Ask me anything!

[4biddenleeches]

4biddenleeches Writing Masterpost

Last updated: 16 April 2019 New additions to the masterpost are noted with an asterisk (*) Content Warnings are listed on individual works. Please heed them before reading.

 CHAPTERED WORKS:

like fog through your fingers (IN PROGRESS) Role Reversal AU For three years, Aredhel has lived in the remote desert of Nopal with her master, Asra. Her lost memories call her back to Vesuvia to unlock the secrets of her past, only to discover on arrival that she is wanted for the murder of Vesuvia’s late Count. Fate leads her to a doctor who wants to help her clear her name—but some questions are better left unanswered, and the longer the pair searches for the truth, the more Aredhel fears she might not as innocent as she had hoped. Pairing: Julian x Aredhel Mooney (OC) | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 100k+ available here on AO3

 One Foot in the Grave (COMPLETE) Prequel AU What if Julian and the Apprentice knew each other before the events of the main game? What if, outside of Valdemar’s dubious ‘medicine,’ they were working together to find a cure for the plague? “But it’s only a professional arrangement,” Julian thinks. Surely he knows better than to fall in love with a woman who is dying. Pairing: Julian x Aredhel Mooney (OC) | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 140k+ available here on AO3

 ONE SHOTS (from newest to oldest)

(🍋=18+ content) *where he belongs. 🍋reversed!julian x you, shibari smangst *trust. reversed!julian x you, angst, hurt/comfort, touch-starved julian here again, at the end. 🍋reversed!julian x you, reversed!julian x reader same string. 🍋julian x you, julian x reader smudged ink. julian x you, julian x reader cruel, darling. 🍋julian x gn!mc, julian pov halfway to nevivon. julian x you, julian’s pov ilyushka. 🍋julian x you, julian x reader, julian’s pov coming home to you, darling. julian x you, julian x reader legs spread like butterfly wings. 🍋julian x reader, julian x you you only live twice. julian x you, julian x reader hers, now (he surrenders)  🍋julian x aredhel remembered pleasures. 🍋julian x reader, julian x you breathe. julian x reader, julian x you countdown. julian x gn!mc, asra’s pov bound (a ficlet). julian x reader, julian x you i belong to you. 🍋julian x aredhel apple blossom time. julian x aredhel certain truths. julian x aredhel duramen. julian x aredhel we will share. 🍋julian x aredhel endearment. julian x f!apprentice death. julian x aredhel rogue wave. 🍋 julian x aredhel innocence ii. julian x f!apprentice innocence. julian x f!apprentice a vision, a dream. julian x f!apprentice

 🍋KINKTOBER COLLECTION🍋 1. face-sitting. julian x f!mc, julian pov 2. ass worship. julian x f!mc, julian pov 3. temperature play. julian x reader, julian x you 4. spanking. julian x reader, julian x you 5. begging. julian x reader, julian x you 6. cock. julian x aredhel 7. praise kink. julian x gn!mc 8. blood. julian x aredhel 9. phone sex. julian x f!reader, julian x you 10. sensory deprivation. julian x reader, julian x you 11. dacryphilia. julian x reader, julian x you

[nerdanel01]

Lectionary Pursuits

Emmrich/F!Rook, Emmrich POV 3k+ wc | NSFW No spoilers for Veilguard, just smut.

EXCERPT: By now, Emmrich was not reading, not really—he was just using his eyes to recognize sound-shapes on a page, and using his tongue and his lips and his teeth to pass those same sound-shapes through his mouth. That language passed through him without leaving the faintest impression on him, without remotely registering in the cognitive centers of his brain; he was simply a transmitter, focused on the barest essentials of his task.

Every other iota of self-control and attention and discipline he could muster was being used to resist the urge to start driving his hips upward against hers.

“You can do this, Emmrich, you’re doing so well. Keep going.”

Rook’s encouragement was only a little breathy, just the slightest twist of mischief in her voice as she praised him and taunted him all at once. Her eyes were hooded, lazy and drunk with desire; from him, however, she demanded nothing but the sharpest attention and focus. 

Firmly, she instructed him: “Pick up where you left off.”

The subaqueous glow coming from the meditation room’s fish tank cast Rook’s self-satisfied smile blue; an unearthly, dangerous beauty.  Emmrich swallowed. A thin trickle of sweat was cooling sweetly on his neck; the chaise was firm beneath him. His trousers had been rucked untidily around his thighs, and atop him, Rook sat—naked as the day she was born—her warm legs bracketing either side of his hips, warming his lap… his half-hard cock fully sheathed inside the warmth of her body, so slick and wet and dripping around him that he was sure, if Rook moved but an inch, he’d find the thatched grey hair at his groin was soaked. 

After dinner with the others, they had slipped off together—something that now happened with such regularity it no longer warranted comment from the rest of the team. They would spend what was left of the evening, then, in the pleasure of each other’s company, in conversation or companionable silence, often reading together into the night: Emmrich, catching up on the latest necromantic scholarship or perusing collections of poems; Rook, reviewing missives from their contacts abroad or (more likely) engrossed in the latest romance recommended by the Randy Dowager. 

Tonight, however, Rook’s copy of Vigor Mortis lay abandoned on the shelf behind the chaise—because tonight, Rook had asked Emmrich to read aloud to her.

Of course, when she had asked him, this was not exactly what Emmrich had pictured.

She had curled up next to him, her head tilted sideways onto the chaise’s back, giving Emmrich her full attention while he began to read from his book, pausing only intermittently to catch her up on references to theorems or proposals made in earlier chapters. Emmrich had warmed with affection, but otherwise thought nothing of it when her hand had crept across the space between them to cover his knee; he had found it mildly distracting, but had made no comment, as that same hand began to climb up his leg, singeing the skin in its wake with desire. 

But when she had raked her nails along the inside of his thigh—when he had felt himself begin to strain, unseemly, against the confines of his trousers—he had snapped the book shut with a satisfying dull fwump of closed pages and turned his head, ready to chastise her. “Rook—”

And then she had dragged the heel of her palm firmly over his trousers, along the swollen underside of his shaft—and all capacity for language swiftly abandoned him.

In the shock and excitement of reaction, his hands had seized upon the book, holding it tightly shut; now, even as the pressure of Rook’s palm was breaking the rhythm of Emmrich’s breathing and leaving him tight-legged and light-headed, the fingers of her free hand gently pried his loose, and opened the book again in his hands. 

Told him simply, in her tone that brooked no argument, “Keep reading.”

And so, because he loved her (and loved her, especially, like this: commanding and demanding his obedience, unguarded and unabashed of her still somewhat inexplicable desire for him) he did—though the effort it took was tremendous. His eyes followed the words in the flickering candlelight, carried them to her ears in an embarrassingly breathy, hitched voice.   Rook gently guided him so he was lying back on the chaise, then unfastened his trousers and stroked him to hardness. 

It was a small miracle, then, that he could string a sentence together at all, never mind read from a page. When his cock was weeping and her hand was sticky from it, she stood—the sudden rush of chill in her absence left Emmrich gasping—then began, slowly, to pull her shirt over her head, to work on the fastenings of her pants. 

He had thought he had paused only the length of heartbeat to admire at her—to watch as cloth peeled away to reveal the final layer of warm, soft, fragrant skin—but he lost his place on the page, fumbled, ended up reading the same line over three times as Rook stepped out of her smallclothes, smiling with amusement. 

Then, without warning or prelude, she had draped one leg over his, aligned herself to him, and sank onto him fully.

She took him beautifully: warm and already wet, wetter than she had any real right to be, as untouched as she was. Emmrich could not help it, it was instinct as much as anything—a ragged gasp escaped him, and his back arched off the chaise as he tried to drive his hips against hers, to drive himself deeper into her warmth—but, 

“No,” Rook told him, firmly, a hand on his stomach to push him back down. “Lie still. Behave. Here, let me help you with that…”

And with the very same hand that she’d been spreading his slick around his cock, she plucked the book daintily out of his hands. With two of hers, she spread it wide for him, just in front of her stomach. Large though it was, it did not provide nearly enough modesty to conceal the swell of her breasts… nor the dark hair between her legs, where she had sank herself around him.

“Don’t stop now,” she’d teased him, tapping the opened page with her finger for emphasis until he had begun, again, to read aloud to her.  

And she had sat like that—by Emmrich’s count— for nine entire pages. 

“Emmrich.” The first hint of a warning in Rook’s voice. “Pay attention.”

Emmrich swallowed around the lump of need in his throat. “Yes, dearest,” he told her, then resumed the passage. Rook followed his eyes as they scanned back and forth; when he reached the end of the page, he did not need to ask her to turn it. She did so, obligingly, her fingers delicate on the thin parchment of the pages. Emmrich used the half second it took her (time when, despite however good or obedient he would have liked to be, he could not possibly have been reading) to drink in the sight of her—the quirk of her mouth, the hairs on her arms raised in the cold—before Rook spread the book for him again, and dutifully, without needing to be asked, Emmrich began against to read aloud.

It was hell; it was heaven; the warm ooze and drip of her around his half-swollen cock (the firmness of which had flagged, somewhat, in the lack of attention or stimulation Rook had been offering it—but if she had noticed, she seemed unbothered by it; she had kept him still sheathed securely inside her warmth) and the siren-like look at her eyes as she stared at him hungrily over the top of the pages. By now, Emmrich was not reading, not really—he was just using his eyes to recognize sound-shapes on a page, and using his tongue and his lips and his teeth to pass those same sound-shapes through his mouth. That language passed through him without leaving the faintest impression on him, without remotely registering in the cognitive centers of his brain; he was simply a transmitter, focused on the barest essentials of his task while every other iota of self-control and attention and discipline he could muster was being used to resist the urge to start driving his hips upward against hers. He could feel a flushed heat in his cheeks, in his neck; he was sure he was red. She was warm in his lap and his legs were shaking underneath her with every minute shift of her hips, any adjustment in her posture on top of him. The quirk of her smile—

The self-satisfied grin imploded on Rook’s face as it tightened, eyes screwed shut; she dampened a strangled cry through clenched teeth, resolved the sound into a hiss. Emmrich was on the verge of keening himself, with the sudden flood of warmth and wetness that gushed out of her, smearing across his groin and trickling between his legs. 

“I said behave, ” Rook told him, between deep breaths to steady herself, “or I won’t let you cum at all.”

“I am, dear,” Emmrich said, blinking at her in wide-eyed innocence. “Or, I genuinely thought that I was…?”

Rook let out a little huff, half amusement, half disbelief. Her best shorthand for, ‘get a load of this crap.’ One hand released the book to land, ever so lightly, on his stomach. “That wasn’t you flexing?” she asked him, running her fingers down the quicksilver path of hair that traced from his navel to his hips. “Misbehaving, making your cock jump inside of me?”

Andraste forgive him, but he loved the sound of the word ‘cock’ in her mouth, crass as it was—and this, in addition the teasing touch of her fingertips along his stomach was enough to have him swelling inside of her with renewed enthusiasm. Had he clenched his core, as she alleged, knowingly or unknowingly? “That—that wasn’t my intention.”

Rook huffed again. “Sure it wasn’t.” But whatever sudden rush of want or need had seized her then, she’d regained control of herself, now; her fingers traced back up his chest, circled pensively. A sudden gleam in her eye, she told him, “If you can make it to the end of the chapter without trying to fuck me again, I’ll start squeezing.”

A proposal she promptly demonstrated by tightening the clench of her cunt around him.

He could not help it: his back arched off the chaise; his eyes slammed shut; he practically shouted in surprise of the sudden blessed satisfaction, a sound he was not entirely confident had not made its way down the passage and out into the Lighthouse library. It petered out into breathy gasps, and supplications lined up to parade off his tongue. “Rook—”

“Mmm,” she practically purred. “You like that idea, don’t you?”

“Very much.”

“Enjoying this, still?”

“Very much.”

Her delighted grin widened, sharp enough to cut her face in two. She spread the book wide for him again.

Used her lowest, most obscene voice when she told him, “So keep reading, Professor. Don’t leave me hanging about the unexplored connections between veil lustration and fade harmonics.”

Fade harmonics? Is that what they were reading about? It was hopeless—he’d be re-reading this passage again tomorrow evening, and now he’d be lucky if he ever managed to get through it without becoming aroused. She was warm above and around him, and he was loose and tingling with arousal from his head to his toes, which were curling in his boots, ankles carefully dangling off the edge of the chaise so he did not grind mud into Rook’s furniture. His tongue was starting to feel thick and clumsy in his mouth, muddy, inarticulate; simply the vague promise of imminent tension and friction had eroded terribly what very little cognitive capacity he had left. 

But he loved her, and he wanted to please her—wanted her wrapped and snug and secure in his complete surrender to her, as he was—and so he dragged his eyes back to the book spread in front of her stomach, held in her beautiful fingers (and he must not let his attention wander by thinking of all places he’d much rather those hands be holding him) and bound his eyes back to the page in front of him. 

“ For further explication, we may look to the early experiments of Ligeia Argyra…” 

Though Rook nearly undid all of the effort that had taken him in one fell swoop by smiling at him over the top of the book and mouthing, silently, good boy .

Then shattered his concentration utterly when she clenched herself around him.

Emmrich’s hands tightened around Rook’s thighs; the experiments of the late mage Argyra dissolved into a litany of overwhelmed, half-choked gasps of surprise and pleasure. 

“You said— hha, Rook!” the accusation cut cleanly short as Rook deliberately tightened all the muscles in her thighs and her core around him, “ you said, ‘the end of the chapter.’”

“Did I?” Rook replied, innocently, sweetly. 

“Rook.” He shaped her name into a devotion, a plea. “Rook, that feels—”

“Keep going,” Rook told him. Her voice was noticeably breathier now, a rosy tint to her cheeks. “Keep reading, or I’ll stop.”

Dizzy with need, the words on the page swam before his eyes—then, after a few deep breaths, finally settled. If he had thought this a struggle before, that was nothing. His progress down the page had slowed considerably, interrupted by terrible gaps where Emmrich had to close his eyes or catch his breath, when Rook was gripping so tightly around him he thought he might simply finish and spill inside of her without her ever moving her hips an inch. 

“In the thirty-eighth year of the Towers age, after—after her first s-successful sublimation of the malign en-haa!—energies concentrated around—concentrated around—Aurelius’ Reach, Argyra began her study….”

And so desperate was Emmrich to focus—to behave, as instructed—to be good, for her—eyes glued to the page, he did not notice as one hand slipped free from the book and disappeared behind it. Did not notice Rook’s fingers circling between her thighs until, with a sweet, low moan, her hips gave an impulsive thrust against his.

It took him a moment to register the accompanying rush of slick warmth dripping out of her; a moment longer to realize she was so wet because she was now touching herself, and when it finally clicked his whole body shuddered deliciously. He watched, enraptured, as she stroked herself with middle and ring finger; felt his legs begin to shake behind her at just the sight and the sound of her bringing herself pleasure. 

Faintly, in the recesses of his mind, a nagging—with a rush of urgency, Emmrich realized: she has not told me to stop.

Her thighs were trembling with coiling pleasure; the book had become unsteady in her grasp. Emmrich lifted one of his own from her thigh to secure it, had to lick his lips and swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat. And as the contractions of her soft, swollen sex began to accelerate, signaling her imminent finish, he forced his eyes back to the book.

“...of the phenomenon—scholars—would later t-term veil lustration, though of course—of course, no such designation existed in her time…”

Above him, Rook’s eyes widened. Gone, now, was the haughty, controlling demeanor with which this encounter had begun. She looked at him now with only open adoration. Emmrich kept reading, though he did not think she really heard a word that he was saying. But the look on her face only became softer and more vulnerable when confronted with such relentless obedience, and it was not long before adoration was slipping into desperation, need—

“Emmrich!”

Her whole body shuddered, curling around herself as reached her own satisfaction, drawing her climax out with tight little twitches of her fingers on her clit, and it felt—it almost never felt this good just to watch her finish, to feel her grip and writhe on him as her body sang with pleasure, but perhaps because she had done nothing more than sit on him until now, it was nearly enough to tip him over the edge. 

But not quite.

It took Rook a moment to recover, breathing deeply, eyes squeezed shut. Still, she kept the book adamantly fixed in her grasp. And when she finally opened her eyes, she looked at him with such a smouldering, devastated look—a wild look—a predator daring prey to run, eager for the chase. 

Emmrich swallowed. He turned his eyes back to the book. 

“These early ventures would later form the basis of—”

Rook wrenched the book out of his grasp and in one swift, dismissive movement, tossed it to the floor. 

Emmrich had about half a second to be consternated about this rough treatment of such a precious volume before Rook had pinned his shoulder in one hand and, leaning over him, began to fuck him in furious earnest. 

It was too much, all at once; the stimulation; the friction; the brisk chill of the air in the meditation room every time she withdrew from him; the ecstatic warmth and velvety wetness of her when she took him inside of her again. The way she spoke to him:

“By the Maker, Emmrich, but I love your voice.” Nothing practiced or sultry about, pitched in a frantic, keening sort of tone that told Emmrich she really meant it; if he hadn’t already been red he’d be coloring from head to toe. “And you were so good. So, so good, so patient. So focused, even with your cock twitching like that inside of me—”

“Rook.” He practically wept her name. He could barely think, nevermind speak, body so alight with pleasure it had begun to crowd out everything else. “Darling, please, may I…?”

“Yeah,” Rook answered, emphatically—enthusiastically. “Yes, Emmrich, you can cum—cum inside me now, cum for me.”

And she began to thrust against him in the way she knew by now he liked best: grinding in his lap, long, smooth rolls of her hips against his, driving him fully to the hilt within her. Emmrich felt his own hips rolling to meet her, to match her rhythm—this time, Rook did not stop him. Then with a gasp and a shout every muscle in his body was diamond-tight and scintillating, though he shook like so much dust; and he spilled himself inside of her as she moaned his name and clenched around him, meeting his orgasm with her own.

…the warm weight of her in his lap; her sharp huffs as she caught her breath, her breasts rising and falling—the world came back to Emmrich slowly. With the book discarded, he could see plainly now the damp sheen on his stomach, the mess Rook had made leaking over him. A situation not likely to be improved in the short term, Emmrich thought, as he could already feel the the thick warmth of his own seed beginning to spill out of her, around his softening shaft. 

And Rook looked at him… like he was everything. With a love that he had coveted in others but had come to believe he would never really possess himself. 

Rook looked at him with a love that would make Death itself quake. 

Slowly, delicately, she leaned her face down to his. Emmrich sighed, closing his eyes, expecting a kiss. 

Instead, Rook pulled away; and opening his eyes in his ensuing confusion, Emmrich saw she had plucked the book back up off the floor, and was spreading it open again in her lap. 

He was practically flaccid inside of her, but she had not unseated herself from him; it seemed, she had absolutely no intention of doing so. At least, not yet.

“Now, pick up where you left off,” she told him, “and keep going while you drip out of me.”

[4biddenleeches]

U ok? Or have another blog?

I'm good! Screaming about Dragon Age: The Veilguard at @nerdanel01 these days.

[elsyrel]

That’s unhygienic, Julian

[rabbit-illustrations]

I actually totally thought I uploaded these here  But it’s from my old ‘The Arcana’ au where it’s more like a fantasy game (I was thinking Persona where they summon their respective Arcana)

[liusia-piu]

~What does a doctor want from a "witch"?

[ensizel]

Warming up doodle of my husband dahudhofugasdkjaidhpodfj

The hand appears belongs to my MC Provaria :3

The reference is a scene from movie Anna Karenina(2012)

(Btw i mean Julian does give me a bit of Vronsky vibe sskjskjks

[theartofsabrinak]

Are you serious?

Malak takes a nap on a very comfy head. 😌✨

[alpinechamomile]

new tale art really said *tilts head at you adorably* 💙💜💖 (all cgs by Gabriella Rossetti)

cgs were gathered and posted by @ask-count-lulu 🫶

[infinitystoner]

Julian Devorak

credit: ttenri_

[theboxfort]

From the latest update (June 2nd, 2023)

Oh, fuck this. If you're a new user, don't forget to set your dashboard to Following and turn "Based on your likes" and "Best stuff first" off

[count-pudding]

silly doctor with leeches

[wangxianficfinder]

oh I wasn’t aware it was feeding the ai. I’ve inserted hundreds of fics into chatgpt for their continuation or for a different plot within the same context just for fun and out of curiosity… but I’ve never posted any of them…

Indeed, anything that is given to AI it can use later to draw from. That's why it doesn't matter if you post them or not as it has now access to those writers' texts without their permission.

~Mod L

[gentil-minou]

for the love of everything that is good and nice DON'T DO THIS

[sidepartskinnyjeans-deactivated]

Please do not do this! I'm happy to talk about 'what ifs' or 'what happens next' even if I can't write a whole fic but PLEASE don't put any fics into AI!

[math-is-magic]

#i'm so exhausted#fic being scraped off ao3 by bots is bad enough#readers actually FEEDING fic into AI is breaking my actual heart#DO NOT EVER FEED FIC INTO AI WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S PERMISSION#99.999% of authors are THRILLED to discuss AUs for their fics#the 'what ifs'#the 'missing scenes'#the possible alternate outcomes#JUST ASK THE AUTHOR TO CHAT WITH YOU ABOUT THIS#most of us would cry with joy if you gave us the chance to ramble about our fics!#DO NOT FEED MY FICS TO AI PLEASE I BEG YOU -@cicerfics

[orlissa]

Hi,

It’s you friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:

I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.

That is my anti-permission.

Thank you for your attention.

[lexosaurus]

I know the OP is saying this in a bit of a lighthearted way to be nice but I’m not that nice and I’m frankly really appalled at what I’ve been seeing so I’m going to explain why you shouldn’t do that.

AI CANNOT create on its own. It’s not that smart. Anyone who’s ever build any sort of language AI can tell you with 100% certainty it’s not that smart. It can “learn” and it can “create” sentences, but it needs to be fed a language to do so.

So it will only ever “create” based on what it’s fed. This is absolutely crucial.

There are ethical ways to do this. I did this in my undergrad with my class, taking .txt files of old classic books and feeding them to our programs for words. That way our programs were only ever “creating” from works that did not break copyright laws.

But feeding an AI someone else’s fanfic? Yeah, now you’ve given the language model SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK to learn off of WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION.

It doesn’t matter that it’s a fanfic and technically, the author does not own the characters/setting. They created the story, they engaged in creative exercise, so that fanfic is theirs. YOU do not have the right, legally, to take THEIR work and do what you want with it, much less feed it to an AI who will take their work and now use it to further its language learning.

Especially since AIs like Chat GPT have a payment model. Now someone else is making money off of a fanfic author’s work, and YOU directly contributed to that.

So if you do that? Fuck you. Sincerely.

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

I love it when anons/guests find my works and kudo/leave reviews, but given the new revelation that Elon Musk is using bots to mine AO3 fanfiction for a writing AI without writer's permission, my works are now archive-locked and only available for people with an AO3 account.

[vanyamired]

r/AO3 - Sudowrites scraping and mining AO3 for it's writing AI

241 votes and 35 comments so far on Reddit

[not-a-regular-mom]

what the fuck.

[kelssiel]

to archive lock multiple works at once:

go to your dashboard then “works”

click the “edit works” button

select all the works you want to lock

click on the “edit” button

scroll down to “visibility” and select “only show to registered users”

then “update all works”

this will hide your works from anyone without an archive of our own account

[preludianstaves]

Reblogging again for the addition by @kelssiel <3

[4biddenleeches]

Hey leech ❤️ I’m feelin real lonely the night before my bday and your Julian fics are really helping me thru it. Thanks for all the lovely content and I hope life is treating you well!

thank you so much for this message nonnie! Hope you get more fun and joy on your birthday than the night before. <3 Good things are coming for you in this next year of your life!

[serranodebergerac-deactivated20]

I’m Harpy! I haven’t made a pinned post in awhile… 

Here’s what I love to draw!