#Archfey Warlock

[snejkha]

Redrew Ophelia again because I wasnt happy with the previous one hh...

[vyvilha]

new dnd character !!! oresta or orysja, a tiefling archfey warlock weirdwoman

[emperorsgf]

🧚 ✋ 🤡

[artofshinga]

been so so overwhelmed and stressed lately so i needed a quick for-fun piece of my BG3 main (aka the only one whose game file i actually completed) Maerys, a noble high elf archfey warlock/bard, with a bonus headcanon that her archfey patron is her grandmother. she is great and i love her.

none of these poses have names/titles except the top left one which i've decided is called "trying to be cool and suave about scanning a fast food menu at 3am while blitzed out of your gourd"

[ilmarisart]

Warlock moment 😔🪷

[cardboardfisher]

Eivariel Valen - Archfey Warlock - Level 10 Design

[randomfanart27]

Baldur's Gate 3 Tav Character Sheet

[fetasy]

nice dinner

[wisspurr]

Bathed in fire

My warlock Samuel and his archfey patron

[ceilingcow]

I want to make a dice box for my D&D satyr warlock, Sidereal, with his weasel familiar, Cinnamon. I’d call this a successful test for engraving the front cover illustration. :]

[rielzero]

Been a bit since I drew a refsheet for a female character. This is Eira, does her appearance strike you as familiar? She's somebody's mom.

*Goes back to lurking*

[snejkha]

Ophelia sketchpage because my girl should get more art hh

[monstrous-ideas]

Ophelia the Satyr warlock for my dear friend @snejkha!

Looks like she saw something exciting to gossip about...

She was very fun to draw! Love her character ~

[emperorsgf]

Unless you seek the wrath of the Seelie Court, you will let me pass.

[artofshinga]

One of my D&D groups has a player who mentioned he may run an "oops all warlocks" game for us - he mentioned it just the one time and it's all the others needed to get excited. My husband kept asking me what I'd play and I had NO plans - because, well, it'd only been mentioned ONCE. But he asked again and I was like okay fine, I'll design ONE OF EACH PACT

So I did

The rest of the Pacts are under the cut:

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 93 - A Last Night

Chapter Summary: Church and Astarion get away from it all. They decide to try something new.

Pairing: Astarion x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 497K+ words; Chapters 93/96 (Master Post)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51849265/chapters/160845664

Excerpt below:

“Bite me,” he beseeches him. 

Church’s hips stutter and he pulls away to look at him. 

That silly, breathless, worried face…

Astarion smirks at it, tilting his head to expose his neck further. The beginnings of a lusty bruise already darkens his pale skin there, no doubt. 

“Are you… are you sure — ungh!” Church groans loudly as Astarion clenches around his cock, a mischievous hand tugging hard upon his tail. “Oh gods… oh gods…!”

Astarion does think about it for a second. Tieflings have relatively sharp incisors, compared to humans and elves. Despite his gentle mouth, Church has always been mindful of that. 

Of course he would hesitate. 

Astarion supposes he loves him for that. 

“Bite me,” he growls. “Claim… me!”

He doesn’t specify in which manner he’d do that, but Church doesn’t seem to care. He falls back down against Astarion, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his skin. His tongue swirls upon it — hot, hungry, and —

Astarion gasps into the pleasured pain as Church sinks his teeth into his flesh with a groan. He doesn’t break skin, but Astarion knows that it will leave quite a distinct mark — until Shadowheart next heals them, anyway. 

If only he could see it…

A half-baked idea, fueled by delirious lust, leaps to mind. 

“Darling…?” Astarion squeaks as Church presses a much lighter, apologetic kiss against the spot. “A favor… ah! If you would?”

Church’s eyes are heavy as he absently soothes at the bite mark. 

“Anything,” he says in a voice rough with simmering arousal. 

Astarion moans as he feels the tiefling slide slowly back into him, filling him until his brain can’t quite…

“Mhh… tadpole?” Astarion requests needily. “I want to see what you did to me for myself.”

“Oh?” Church huffs a surprised, sheepish laugh. “Ah… ah! Are you sure?”

“Please?” Astarion whines. 

Church smiles as he slows his movements, closing his eyes and concentrating instead upon finding the connections between the two of their tadpoles. 

Astarion’s eyes unfocus as the aura shimmers in their peripherals. Stars… webs… whatever. They all lead to the same outcome —

An uncanny, full-bodied warmth. Hot blood pulsing through his veins. A heart pounding so loud, so hard like a drum…

...not to mention the alien weight of a tail, furling from the base of his spine...

“Oh,” Astarion breathes, suddenly gazing down at his own face. “Hello.”

Gods, his disheveled hair is a laughable mess. How Church has managed not to tease him about it is a wonder. But Astarion’s eyes are drawn instead to the left side of his neck. 

There is a patchy set of bruises forming where Church had claimed him. The largest of them is dark and purplish, with pink marks framing where Church had bitten him. If they had come from anyone else, they would have been ugly things, but from Church…

…they’re a gift. A prize Astarion is so very eager to flaunt. 

“I can use one of our tinctures to heal it?” Church offers, still buried within the elf as he anxiously holds his gaze. “I’m so sorry. I thought this was what you…”

“No need,” Astarion murmurs, tilting his head to expose his neck as he examines himself with wonderment. “I’m enjoying your masterpiece. I wear it well, don’t you think?”

Church huffs a laugh, but as he shifts, two different jolts of searing pleasure rocket through Astarion’s abdomen. 

“Ungh! The hells?” he groans as Church echoes him as well. “What…? Oh my…”

“Ah! Sorry, sorry I don’t…” Church melts against him, a moan and a sob of pleasure rocking his body instinctively into him. 

Astarion clings to him, gawking at the simultaneous images of Church whimpering on top of him and his own face, slack with pleasure. 

“It seems our tadpole connection shares far more than image,” Astarion murmurs, eyes fluttering at Church’s subtlest movements. He supposes he should have remembered, back when Karlach had ‘hugged’ Church through Wyll’s arms. If Astarion so much as breathes it still sends a resonant wave of pleasure into his brain. The recursive sensation echoes within him, tingling his nerves as well as the additional set he doesn’t own. 

“Should I s-stop?” Church asks, straining to remain still as his tail shivers ecstatically. “Pull out? Or… stop the tadpole? Both?”

“Oh no, please no,” Astarion beseeches him. “I am… very much enjoying this. I…!”

He shudders as Church draws out slightly, before pulsing gently back in. 

Gods he feels himself stretched tight around… himself. It’s bizarre. Incredible. Overwhelming, feeling both of their bodies entangled together at once. 

And it isn’t just their physical sensations or sight. Through the haze of lust, Astarion hears the echoes of something else. Pulses of something extraordinary. 

“Church,” he breathes as he makes sense of them. “Oh… Church.”

Some of the thoughts are intelligible words and ideas — desperate longing to continue their encounter, anxiety about the delicate moment, concern for Astarion that Church doesn’t dare babble about now when everything is so tense. 

But the rest of the thoughts are nearly amorphous. They are colors and sensations in themselves. And among this confusing web, Astarion can see it.

It’s a wonderful, accursed thing. 

So complicated. So simple. 

It’s madness. It’s sanity. 

And despite all its contradictions and intangibility, it is far more real than the cynical vampire spawn had ever thought possible. 

It’s a nebulous magic called love. 

And Church’s mind is full of it. 

Astarion reaches out to echo those abstract thoughts as best he can, as well as summon his own. It’s like a strange song that Astarion can only hum along with from where he exists — mind connected to mind. He hopes Church gets the message. 

And from the way the tiefling trembles and gasps, Astarion knows he does. 

At some point their tangled senses grow all too overwhelming, and Astarion catches himself by surprise as he cries out, the pressure inside of him releasing in a sticky mess over his untouched cock. And yet, with his nerves still spinning and sparking, he loses himself again in the phantom sensation of Church's hips grinding into him, of his partner's pleasure coming to a searing head.

In no time at all, Astarion feels the heat of Church’s release spilling out of him, inside of him. He’s claiming Church as he claims him. 

It’s bizarre.

It’s transcendental.

No bard could do justice to that, Astarion decides.