CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

[criticalkink]

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Welcome to the kink meme for Critical Role!

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What is a Kink Meme?
It's pretty simple. You post a prompt and your fellow fans get inspired and write fic based on that prompt. As it is a "kink" meme, a great deal of fic will be of the smutty variety, so if you aren't into that or not of a porn-reading age, this place won't be for you. Not all fic has to be smutty, but it does have to be kinky.

Clarification: This is a kink meme, therefore prompts must be kink-based. It is not a general prompting/headcanons meme. There have been a couple of people confused by that, so we're just making it extra clear.

Please only post one prompt per comment so to avoid any confusion.

How do I prompt?
Post each prompt as a new comment to the main post. Include pairing (or threesome or more if that's your thing) and anything else you want to add. You should put, at the very least, the pairing in the subject line along with a specific kink if it applies. You can put the whole prompt in the subject if it will fit, but if it doesn't, use the comments. For example:

Subject line: Beauregard/Jester, friends to lovers

Body of comment: Jester's been letting Beau use her for sparring practice. That kind of proximity does things to a tiefling.

I see a prompt I want to write! What now?
Go for it! You don't have to claim it, and fills can be written by more than one person. Once you've finished you must post it as a response to the original comment. Responses should use a subject line that includes the pairing, rating & any necessary warnings (i.e. incest, non-con, etc.). If you have titled your fic you can also include that. Also, as LJ limits the size of comments, if your fic goes into multiple comments, please note that your comment is part 1/5, part 2/5 and so on. Using the prompt above, the subject line could read:

"Punches and Pastries, Jester/Beauregard, M, 1/3"

And now some rules...

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• RPF is also allowed, but please prompt it over here!
  
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The most important rule of all? HAVE FUN.


Now go forth and prompt!

Comments

Fjord/Caduceus, Stuffing/Feeding kink

[(Anonymous)]

So, Fjord and Caduceus have been getting a lot closer in recent episodes. And there's been a lot of Caduceus taking care of Fjord, which is amazing. But what would also be nice is some Fjord taking care of Caduceus.
So Fjord just starts making food (just little snacks) and feeding it to our resident firbolg, with completely innocent intentions until Fjord realizes he's... kind of turned on by it? So he talks it over with Caduceus, who's more than okay with being stuffed really really full, and Fjord makes a bunch of food or buys a bunch of pastries, and feeds his boyfriend until he can't eat another mouthful.
(No non-con/dub-con please. Fjord needs to explicitly ask Caduceus to feed him. OP's not into scat, but otherwise, any other kinks are fine. Trans Fjord is amazing, but not absolutely necessary.)

Sweeter Than Heaven | Fjord/Caduceus, Feeding, E | 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

Really, he’s kind of annoyed that he can’t cook right now. Not enough so to kick Fjord out of the kitchen, but, well—he’s a bit pent up. Gardening helps a little bit, but he’s tired, too, so he’s not getting much done. He dozes off, maybe, or stares out into space enough to lose track of time, as is his wont, but eventually, the stars in the sky are a bit brighter, and someone’s knocking on the door to the garden. Claws, it sounds like, so it’s Fjord—Jester doesn’t knock, and Veth no longer has them.

“Hey, Fjord, come on up,” he says,” and as the paladin peeks out of the door, Caduceus can’t help but smile a little bit.

“Fuckin’ creepy when you do that, every time.” He’s carrying a plate of something that smells delightful—fruit?

“I have a few skills,” Caduceus offers. “What’s been keeping you in my kitchen?”

“It’s our kitchen. Might actually be Essek’s, ah, mother’s kitchen. But—it’s—you and Jester’ve made this before, and I’m sure mine’s not quite as good, I—a lot of chopping and attempts at using your spices—not wastefully!—and—here.”

He picks up a piece of tropical fruit dusted with red spice. Offers it out to Caduceus, who goes to pick it up, realizes his hands are covered in soil, and grabs it, gently as he can, with his teeth.

And it’s good, really, the spice and sweetness balancing out well. He hums, says, “really good,” once he’s swallowed, and then, realizing, “Sorry. Not—“

“Nah, it’s, er. It’s okay. Kind of… romantic? I don’t know. What—“

“I don’t understand what that means. But. Really good fruit. I’m going to wash my hands.”

“Ah, er. Yes. You can have another piece first, if you’d like?”

“Oh! Um. Alright—“ because there’s no harm in it, and this is a different fruit (a melon, green and lovely-tasting), and it’s quick to almost melt on Caduceus’ tongue, and he hums again, and Fjord’s fingers are still at his mouth. He looks up, raises an eyebrow, tilts a head, “May I?” and at Fjord’s flushing nod, he quickly licks the juice off of each finger. And he’s very thorough. He’s a thorough sort of fellow, he likes to think. And the soft almost-keen Fjord makes at that is worth the effort.

So that’s what he meant by romantic.

Interesting. “Gonna wash my hands, and then we’ll—elaborate?”

“Sorry if this is—weird, or—“

“I’m—not opposed. At all. Do you want me to do the same for you? Or—“

He cleans his hands in the basin of water before him, as Fjord stutters a bit, says, “Er, no, ah, I—I want to—take care of you? This seems like a way to—I didn’t mean for this—this is weird, I’m sorry—“

“Weird’s not bad. I liked… that.” He shakes his hands dry. “What do you want to do?”

“Just… feed you. I want to—you don’t take as much care of yourself as you take care of us,” and Caduceus bristles, a bit, but Fjord’s right, so he doesn’t say anything, “Or as much as you take care of—of me. So I’d like to return the favor. With food. A lot of it. It’s—stupid—“

“How much is a lot?”

“Well. Er. We have a lot of leftover pastries, and. Er. You—again. You—“

“You want to, ah, fill me up?” Caduceus raises his eyebrows. Fjord’s eyes go wide—accidental innuendo, Caduceus realizes.

But Fjord nods, too, says, “You don’t have to say—“

“Why not? I… I mean, I enjoy this fruit, and I enjoy pastries, and I enjoy being around you and making you happy, so—let’s try it. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable, and you do the same, yeah?”

“Yes, sure, um. Yes. Cool. Excellent. I’m going to—go get those pastries. You should—do you want this to be, like,” he makes a motion, “Sexy, or. Not sexy, just—“

“Sexy would be fun, I suppose. Don’t know exactly how it gets sexy, but I’d like to see that happen.”

“Okay. Er. So. Take off your clothes, and, ah, I might… the ribbon—? So that you…”

“I need you. Yeah. Okay, yes, cool. I like that. That sounds… kinda nice.”

“Alright,” and Fjord shifts into confident mode. “I’ll go get everything, you, ah, get undressed, and, er. Don’t eat that yet. Wait for me. Be, ah. Be good?”

And Caduceus listens, because Fjord is very convincing, and also because this is exciting and he wouldn’t like to complicate an exciting thing unnecessarily. He takes his clothes off, folds them neat, lets the breeze run over his body. And he kneels, because in Jester’s books and drawings, that’s usually sexy and inviting. He’s wet, he notices, which is cool—he almost touches himself, but that’s not waiting, so he doesn’t. He waits, then; he’s good at waiting. A few minutes pass, and Fjord climbs back through the door, which he locks. He’s still mostly dressed, carrying six boxes that stack up, covering his face. He looks barely-balanced. The box on top is familiar. And the other boxes are familiar, too, but mostly because he’s taken some sourdough starters and bought pastries from the bakery they’re from. More than some leftovers, then.

It’s a really good bakery.

“Er. Good job waiting, Caduceus. Stay there, alright? And I’m gonna…” he removes the pretty, dark teal ribbon from the first box, long and twisting. It’s the color of the sea and the deepest forests, which is lovely, and it also looks very nice on Caduceus’ body, if he does say so himself. Fjord has also said as much. Fjord puts another piece of fruit (berry, very juicy,) into Caduceus mouth while he unravels it, and just as Caduceus goes to take the fingers, Fjord removes it to start working on the wrapping. Without thinking, Caduceus whines, bucks forward a bit. And then apologizes flushes, but Fjord grins, says, “Always talking about patience, aren’t you?” And Caduceus whines again, swallows to feel the pseudo-collar that Fjord’s wrapped around his neck. His knots are quick, tight, clever; Caduceus tries to move his hands to tug at the collar experimentally but finds them stuck together behind his back, and before he knows it, he’s stuck in that kneeling position, too. “Comfortable?” Fjord asks, sits down before him. Tilts his head.

And Caduceus is, so he nods. Whispers, “Very.”

“You’re so… pretty,” Fjord adds. “I’m lucky to have you; you’re—so fucking gorgeous, Cads.” And Caduceus smiles, wiggles a bit—again, without thought. That’s kind of nice, not having to think. “Can I make it so there’s, ah. More of you for me to have?”

Oh. Oh wow. “Please.”

“Let’s, er. Let’s start where we left off.” And he picks up more of the fruit. Another of the juicy berries, this one bit into sharply enough that the juice leaks from his mouth a bit and onto his lips. Fjord touches to wipe it away, and then gets his fingers cleaned again. “So good at that, Cads; so good at taking care of me. Even when you can’t move, you’re still so good to me.” Another piece of melon, a kiss on the forehead. Every time Caduceus tries to thank Fjord, he’s cut off with more food and more praise. “So soft,” “So kind,” “So good.”

The fruit is gone very quickly. Caduceus smiles, licks his own lips, leans forward and licks Fjord’s fingers clean and delighting in the sweet smile that takes over his paladin’s face. “Thank you,” he manages, “You’re so handsome.”

“Shut up; I’m—it’s my turn to compliment you.” Fjord mutters, shuffling with his free hand through the pastry box.

“Can’t help it,” Caduceus says, “You’re—mmmmph,” he’s cut off by the taste of cranberry-cheese tart, flaky and just the right balance of sour and sweet.

“Gorgeous, do you mind if I touch you?”

“Please,” he whispers again, food in his mouth—how rude of him, what is he doing?—sounds embarrassingly desperate. Fjord’s free hand slips down and strokes Caduceus’ folds, lands on his clit—he moans, not really sure what’s possessing him, and Fjord says, “So good,” again, and takes another pastry as he continues to play with Caduceus’ bud, and Caduceus hadn’t even noticed that he’d finished the tart until the sweet cinnamon of the cupcake icing takes over his senses. It’s all just a little bit overwhelming, his nerves on fire and his tastebuds delighted and his brain kind of melting a little bit. And suddenly, Fjord is kissing him, and the cupcake is gone, and Fjord’s tongue is licking icing off of his lips, and it’s so nice. It’s really, really nice. He opens his eyes a moment, sees the front of Fjord’s trousers stained with wet, and feels briefly proud.

“Feeling okay?” Fjord asks. Removes his hand. Caduceus whines, involuntary.

Caduceus thinks, a moment, and, a bit dreamily, he says, “I feel incredible. I love you. Can I—something else I’d like to taste,” he says, hopes that the innuendo worked? And Fjord shakes his head.

“Not tonight, love. I might taste something similar, though.” Fjord pulls one of the smaller bakery boxes out, reveals the honey-alfalfa cookies Caduceus loves, and maybe these aren’t leftovers, after all, because Jester would’ve told him if she bought those. Fjord takes two of the cookies, puts his other hand back onto Caduceus, starts moving his finger into Caduceus, and he could scream, really, were his mouth not so full, being stuffed with more and more cookies every few seconds.

“I feel spoiled,” Caduceus says when his mouth is finally mostly empty, just as Fjord adds a third finger—when did he add the second? He moans at the new sensation, and then at the feeling of Fjord gently biting at his neck and chest— a break from the feeding to get a nibble for himself.

“Because I want to spoil you,” Fjord nods. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” Caduceus says, because it feels good, even if he feels a bit guilty on instinct. He grins on Fjord’s fingers a bit, hums at the sensation. He glances over to the box of cookies, counts six left. Fjord’s three fingers slip out, and he whines again, almost moans at the sudden emptiness until Fjord gets to the clit again, which does actually cause a moan. Suddenly, three of the six cookies are in his mouth, and they are flaky and soft, and his stomach aches a bit, but it’s pleasant in its own sort of way and he wants more. Fjord seems to read his mind, because, well—there they are, the last three, and Caduceus chews through them and hums afterward.

“So pretty,” Fjord whispers, “And getting so full for me.”

“For you,” Caduceus nods, “I’m yours.” Despite himself, his brain insists on one more thing to say, “I want more so badly, want to be filled.”

And why is there shame in that, he wonders, as Fjord slips some sort of sweet bread into his mouth To indulge is to acknowledge the given he has been given, to acknowledge the grains and the sugarcane and the fruit and the bakers that made these foods. To acknowledge Fjord, Her champion; to indulge is a celebration of nature, too. He appreciates the wildflower that spreads much further than planned, the moss that overtakes a stone, how is this any different?

He comes on the first bight of a chocolate doughnut, shudders in bliss and just babbles out Fjord’s name through a full mouth, and Fjord is looking at him, gold eyes soft and so full of love that Caduceus nearly screams for that, and he’s petting Caduceus’ hair, tucking it behind his ears and muttering more little praises. “Love you,” Caduceus gets out, and Fjord asks, “Do you want more?”

“So badly. Wanna come for you again, and be full, and—“

“As you wish,” Fjord says, bites at one of Caduceus’ nipples and causes him to squirm. And then, jam and pastry on his tongue , so good it makes him make a noise. “Such lovely sounds, Cads, can you make that again?” And another bite, and another noise, louder this time. And then, Caduceus can’t help it, “Love you, love you—“

A few more pastries, another orgasm (louder, Fjord’s name yelled out as he writhed) and a growing ache, no longer ignorable. He mutters, “hurts,” and then, when Fjord looks concerned, he clarifies—“It’s nice. Good kinda hurt. In my stomach.”

“Can you, uh—take a little bit more? There’s only a little bit left. I’m kind of surprised it, er, took this long—“

And Caduceus blinks, because that was five boxes, and he thought he’d maybe gotten through two, grins, says, “I’ll finish it off, yeah.” And it doesn’t feel good, necessarily, taking slow, small bites of sweet cake and then sucking Fjord’s fingers clean long after each one, but Fjord looks proud and is calling him beautiful and and mine and so good, and that’s makes up for it probably more than a million times over. The cake gone—more quickly than Caduceus thought, really, it’s ridiculous, Caduceus keeps Fjord’s fingers in his mouth, and then gestures with his head for the other hand, tastes his own bitter slick.

“That taste good?” Fjord ask. Caduceus laughs as Fjord’s hand leaves his mouth. Blinks a few times. “Might have some for myself, hm? Look at you… so much of you, wrapped up for me so prettily decorated. Like a cupcake?” The ribbon around his stomach isn’t loose anymore, he notices, realizes quite suddenly that it’s digging into his skin in a delightful sort of way. His normally near-concave stomach is rounded, soft, “Beautiful.” Fjord says, and rubs it with calloused hands. He unties the binds on Caduceus arms and legs, but keeps the stomach and chest wraps on him, and changes his own position. “Can you come one more time for me?”

Caduceus can’t speak, only nod, fast and grinning half-feral.

“Can you, er, lay down? Spread your legs? Be careful, er, don’t want you to—“

And Caduceus listens, does as he’s told, and feels a swarm of kisses all over his swollen stomach, tiny nibbles and licks, and they go down, keep changing directions until they settle near his cunt. Overwhelmed, Caduceus twitches at the slightest movement of Fjord’s tongue and fingers, feels his stomach struggle against the ribbon as he takes sharp breaths in, and Fjord keeps on eating him out. The moves are surprising, quick—Fjord’s got a clever tongue, of course, in every sense of the phrase. He moves his hands up to Caduceus’ stomach, then, and rubs it in sweet, gentle circles, and flicks his tongue around the clip, hums delightedly like he’s indulging in some sort of delicacy.

Fjord comes up for a breath, says, wet-mouthed and grinning, “You’re amazing,” and Caduceus smiles back and the second Fjord’s tongue hits his clit, he’s screaming, goshaking in pleasure on the ground.

“Good,” Fjord says, breathing heavy. Caduceus points to his own mouth, and Fjord shakes his head, “Came twice, just…grinding on your calf and taking care of you. I’ll prove it,” and he reaches down his own trousers, pulls out a soaking hand and slips it into Caduceus’ mouth. “You did that,” Fjord hums, “You got that, just by being you. By being so beautiful and and sweet and good for me. Did everything so well, love.”

“Love you,” Caduceus manages, and, selfishly “Can you keep rubbing my stomach?”

“Of course, Cads, of course.” And he slowly undoes the ribbons, rubbing all the while in gentle, practiced spirals. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. I know it’s hard for you to… y’know. Let yourself be pampered.”

“I wouldn’t mind that again,” Caduceus says, “Not tonight, but, um. Soon. You’re so handsome, so kind, so smart—so clever, I love you, thank you,—“

Fjord lays down next to him, cuddles up to him close and right, and hums, “I got those pastries for you. Had to hide ‘em from Jes.”

“Mmm, I figured.”

“Didn’t mean to give ‘em to you like this, but, uh.”

“Glad that you did.”

Fjord laughs, kisses his forehead and rubs his stomach just a bit more, and, well—Caduceus is rather tired, so he hums and shuts his eyes, and, well. The gardening can wait for tomorrow.