CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

[criticalkink]

The rules are under the cut for you to read if you haven't already checked out the profile!



Welcome to the kink meme for Critical Role!

This community is open to all fans of Critical Role no matter what your preference for pairing may be. You do not have to join the community: you can either watch it or just track the post. Anon commenting will always be on, and IP tracking will be off. So feel free to stay anon if it makes you more comfortable.

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...

• Since we're all supposed to be adults here, let's act like it. Be respectful to your fellow posters.
  
• Your kink is not someone else's and their kink may not be yours. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's really that simple.
  
• Please no bashing of other pairings. Just like with kinks, everyone has their own flavors, and this is neither the time nor place for ship wars. This meme is meant to include the entire fandom.
  
• Crossover prompts are allowed, but they must include a Critical Role character as a main part of the prompt.
  
• RPF is also allowed, but please prompt it over here!
  
• Het, slash, femmeslash? You're all welcome here. The more the merrier!
  
• It's not a requirement by any means, but writers love feedback, so if you read something you enjoy, take a second to tell the writer. Whether it's a one word response or something longer, it's always appreciated.
  
• Please follow basic kink meme etiquette by not linking the cast or crew to this meme.

While we want this to be a relaxed and cool place, we also don't want people to feel uncomfortable being here. If you have suggestions or comments on how this community can improve please address to them to criticalkink in a PM or drop a comment on this post.

The most important rule of all? HAVE FUN.


Now go forth and prompt!

Comments

FILL: the wizard(s) mine - (Lucien/Caleb, Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf, Caleb/Essek, non-con) - 1/2

[(Anonymous)]

a/n - this ended maybe a bit darker and more psychological than the prompt suggests, but on the other hand, the prompt was "lucien wins"...

---

The throne room is spotless. The metal is clean and smooth, gleaming in the red light. Save for the moments of change, there’s no sign of the city’s flesh, no softness, the control too tight and the detail too fine. Instead of the utilitarian look the city had held, now, it had been remodeled, more fitting for a throne room at the center of everything.

He doesn’t wear a crown, no sign beside the physical changes of the power he now wielded. There was no real way to look at him, and see the man rewriting reality itself to his whims, the man who, by all rights, ruled over all Exandria.

The eyes flicker about, watching, not staring at anything in the room, but aimlessly around. They give the impression of someone who sits in the center of everything, watching, of the guard of the panopticon, gazing out at all the world. But one eye remains fixed, throughout the movements, locked in the direction of Essek and the two volstrucker, where they sit, kneeling, chained to the ground by his will made manifest over the city.

Caleb is by the side of the throne. He isn’t bound, isn’t chained, isn’t in the cone of anti-magic fixated on the three of them. He looks like he had, when Essek had first seen him, stripped down to his undershirt, leather harness across his chest, and a collar around his neck.

He had seen it before, in the Nein’s possession, although he hadn’t realized it’s purpose until after Lucien had snapped it around Caleb’s neck, cutting off his voice. Nearly as effective as the antimagic cone for disabling a wizard - spells that didn’t require verbal components were few and far between.

“You know, when I learned that our dear friend here’s only wish, for the power Cognouza offers, was the destruction of the Cerberus Assembly, I was more than happy to oblige. My run-ins with the group have been few and far between, of course, but I must admit, there’s something satisfying about completing a set. I have to say, though, with all the things I see, it surprised me that he didn’t want the whole lot of you dead - well, specifically, not the two of you. I just had to see what the fuss was about.”

Neither of the two flinch, as Lucien focuses his attention onto them. They would be trained by Ikithon, of course, presumably Caleb’s classmates, from his time there. Astrid, his mind supplies, remembering the conversation with the scourger he had executed, Astrid and Eodwulf, from the conversations before they’d first set off into Aeor.

“Who are they to you, pet?” Lucien asks, hand resting gently against Caleb’s cheek, either a mock attempt at comfort or a subtle reminder that all he needed was a touch to drain the life, to leave any of them dead. “I don’t want to hurt your friends, Caleb. Are they your friends?”

It isn’t words that come across the telepathic bond, just sensation, memory. The message is intended for Lucien, and Essek isn’t quite certain whether the amount he gets, through the eye burned into the back, is just proximity, or accident, or an intentional leak on eithers part.

The feelings are raw and direct, in a way he isn’t accustomed to, and hopes never will be. Flashes of study sessions, libraries, unity and friendship, alcohol, music, dancing, cuts and crystals inside skin, hands holding each other tightly, tangled sheets, kisses, warmth.

“Lovers, then, not friends,” Lucien says with a laugh. “You certainly have a type, pet, although, I can’t really blame you, there’s nothing I quite enjoy like powerful wizards kneeling at my feet.”

He pulls Caleb’s head upwards, to match his gaze. “The question is, do I test the three of them, while you watch and beg for it to be you instead, or do I treat myself with you, pet, and we both get to see how they react?

It’s impossible to say, whether it is some calculated plan, the eyes across his skin, one of Lucien’s charm effects, or just the brokenness of loss - but in his mind, Essek hears begging, please, bitte, please. Which of the options he asks for, if he asked for either, doesn’t leak through, but the voice in his mind, pleading, stays.

“Well, who am I, not to indulge myself?” Lucien says. “And you beg so prettily for me, pet.”

His hand pulls aside, his position shifts, slightly, and Caleb places himself to mouth at Lucien’s dick through the cloth. A telepathic order, over a verbal one, Essek thinks, to heighten the sense of Caleb falling into his control - or, perhaps, it plays exactly as it looks.

Lucien doesn’t look down, but just stares at the three of them, kneeling and bound, a smirk spread across his face. He doesn’t even drop it when he finally undoes the ties, gets Caleb to start sucking him instead of just mouthing cloth.

Essek doesn’t meet Lucien’s eyes, nor does he look at the two volstrucker. He wants to. He wants to see their reactions, any signs they might be planning something. He wants to glare righteous fury at the man sat before them on this throne. But he isn’t the sort for righteous anger - and if he ever was going to be, that time has passed. Instead, he is obeisant, plays exactly as Lucien wants him too, and he keeps his eyes on Caleb.

Oral sex is rarely interesting to watch when not personally involved, and especially not from the angle they sit at. All that’s really visible are the movements Caleb makes, the shifts and twitches and constant bob of his head. The rest of him is still, hands lying limply on his knees.

It is a long and quiet moment. Lucien makes no sounds, and even the noises Caleb might have made are cut off, by the collar’s magic. If either of the two beside him react, it isn’t verbally.

And then he shifts, leans forward, hands combing through Caleb’s hair before gripping tight. With far more speed and aggression, Lucien starts fucking Caleb’s face, his rhythm somewhat erratic. Caleb stays just as limp, throughout.

It’s after that the praise starts. Like the other telepathic leaks, it’s inconsistent, only phrases here and there. Lucien’s thoughts had never leaked like Caleb’s, and Essek had thought his mastery over it was too tight - maybe it was intentional, or maybe the sex had knocked some level of control away.

You look so good for me, pet. So soft. So warm. So wide. Keep your eyes open, I want to see them. You can take more, so good for me.

That’s what gets Essek to flinch, to shut his eyes, to look down to the floor. The faked level of intimacy to the scene that Lucien has forced and stolen. The sort of things he might have dreamed of saying himself, if he had allowed himself that sort of sentiment, the foolish idealism that anything between them could have ever ended well.

He forces his eyes back open, as the words drift back out of his head, and hopes that Lucien didn’t see the moment - as if anything could be hidden, from the man covered in eyes, sat in the middle of a panopticon.

Lucien pulls Caleb off of him, and rises, the room reconfiguring around him. The throne and the dais slide back, the floor in their wake looking like flesh for a moment before reforming into metal. A table rises before him, and he pins Caleb to it, bent over it with his head pressed to the desk. Although not as tall as he had been, before, he still dwarfs Caleb,

“Let’s get you a better view,” he notes, looking over at the three of them. “I’d hate for you to miss the show.” Tendrils slide down from the ceiling, linking to where they are each bound to the floor, before solidifying as chains and pulling upwards. Essek hangs, for a moment, and reflexively tries his levitation cantrip, still blocked by the cone of anti-magic. The chains adjust, his feet touch the ground, just barely, but the position doesn’t stop feeling precarious.

The bottle of oil sits on the table next to where Caleb is spread across it. A part of him hopes that, in the moment of disorientation from the chains rising, Lucien pulled it out of a pocket, although he knows that it's rather doubtful. He uses it generously, presses in slowly, considerately.

It isn’t long before he speeds up, hands gripping at Caleb’s hips to either pin the wizard in place or help to speed The only sounds are Lucien’s, whatever he might be drawing out of Caleb is blocked, leaving only slight grunts.

Caleb isn’t silent, though, he’s begging again, the same litany of words and intent melded messily together. It’s just please, no sign as to what Caleb’s begging for, if it’s following a stop, no, or a yes, more, or if there’s any intent at all - any of Caleb, at all.

Lucien doesn’t react to any of it, just continues, unrelenting, and looking up, at where the three of them hang.

Essek avoids the gaze that feels like it’s staring through him, tries to avoid thinking anything at all, just watches the scene spread out before him and focuses on details, not emotions, not whatever Lucien is trying to pull.

After a few moments and an eternity, Lucien’s attention turns back to Caleb, flipping him over so that his back is pressed to the table and legs hang limply in the air. It’s the first good view Essek has had of Caleb since before the whole scene had started. He’s hard, and his eyes are pressed shut, mouth hanging open, still messed from earlier. When Lucien enters him again, each thrust gets a matching gasp, muted by the collar, and a full body shudder, arcing up off of the table.

He looks beautiful, like this, and if Essek was a better person, the thought would make him sick.

FILL: the wizard(s) mine - (Lucien/Caleb, Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf, Caleb/Essek, non-con) - 2/2

[(Anonymous)]

When Lucien finally pulls out, his hands linger against Caleb’s skin for a few moments, before drifting off. He rises, matching his eyes on the two scourgers.

“Now, I know I’m quite impressive, but I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to have so enthused an audience, for this little show,” he says. “Who am I, to deny you what you’re looking for, this - heartfelt reunion. Am I not gracious?”

The chains vanish with but a thought, the two scourgers, Astrid and Eodwulf, tumbling to the ground. Before they can take any move to react, one red eye repositions itself in the ceiling overhead, staring down towards them and Caleb. The cone of anti-magic, presumably.

“Besides,” Lucien continues, “he looks so good wrecked as he is, I’d enjoy seeing him more thoroughly debauched, wouldn’t you?”

He steps back, leaving the two of them standing. They rub at their wrists, and glance between each other, Lucien, and Caleb, a silent conversation about their next move.

Whatever it is, Essek doesn’t catch the intent, because instead, he’s falling, the chains gone in an instant. He stands, starts to move closer to Caleb, before a hand grabs him by the back of his neck, gripping him around the throat. Lucien slides his fingers up into a grip in Essek’s hair, and tugs him backwards. He’s forced to his knees, before where Lucien sprawls across the reformed throne, the hand relenting but not quite releasing.

“Not yet, pet,” Lucien murmurs softly in his ear. He’s not sure if the vicious edge is for any of the many spells he threw against the man in their battle, or at not following his planned out scene to the precision he’d have liked. “Sit back and enjoy the show.”

Looking back, the pair of scourgers have decided to follow Lucien’s instructions. Neither wastes much time with formalities - Eodwulf, already fully erect, slides into the same position Lucien had, while Astrid nimbly pushes herself up to straddle against Caleb’s chest, before pressing into his mouth. The pair of them are as silent as Caleb, and move in unison, the kind that leaves the impression of a charm effect - or experience.

“Not big on foreplay, are they?” Lucien comments lightly. “I think I can train them out of that.”

Astrid shifts back, lingering for a moment to brush the hair out of Caleb’s eyes, before turning to face her partner and sliding herself onto Caleb’s cock. Her hands grip Eodwulf’s shoulders to steady herself, and his arm frame her as he holds Caleb’s hips.

They look like some strange piece of clockwork, as they slip into their rhythm. Both scourgers remain stoic, the only emotion across their faces exertion, only flushed skin and their clear arousal as signs that they’re affected by any of it.

The scene continues for a long while, before, with no warning, Lucien calls out - “Stop!” and the tableau freezes in place. It takes a moment for Essek to realize that they have not stopped of their own accord, not frozen in time but held stiffly in place, muscles tense mid-motion. “We don’t want the fun to end too early, now do we?”

He drops whatever hold he has over them, and they stagger back into movement. For her part, Astrid pulls back shortly after, trading penetration for frottage. Eodwulf falls back into pace, speeding up a little.

Lucien doesn’t call stop again, not even when Eodwulf comes, falling against Astrid. She comes to a stop as well, shortly after, and turns to look over to Lucien, still silent, eyes cast in shadow as she doesn’t quite glare at him.

He claps a few times, slowly, rising and half dragging Essek to his feet as he does. “You’re certainly a quiet lot,” he remarks. “I had higher expectations, but I’m sure you’ll improve, with a bit more effort. You both strike me to the sort that would sing beautifully under the right attention.”

They’re both pulled off in chains again. Essek keeps his eyes on Lucien, who pulls his hand away from his neck, circling around to the other side of the table where Caleb still lies, breathing heavy and shifting with each moment.

“Ah, but they’ve seen him like this before, haven’t they. Whereas you’ve only dreamed of it, isn’t that right?” Lucien asks. “But oh, we’re here to make dreams into reality, aren’t we? Come on, now, pet. Set the stage for us.”

He has no interest, in setting the stage, in risking another eye latched to his soul, but he’s not an idiot, and he’s not quite that self-sacrificing, even if part of him might wish he could be. And, perhaps, he’s not uncurious, as to exactly what it feels like, to bend reality itself with just a thought.

The room that rises around them is from the house back in Rosohna. Caleb never invited him back, into this bedroom attached to the half-lab half-library, but what’s one more intrusion, among all the rest?

It feels more real than he’d expected. He can smell paper and books, mixed with incense, component grade. Further back, the lab’s chemicals, the faint whiff of home cooking. The room is slightly messy, as if they had been studying, and the sheets on the bed Caleb lies against are ruffled.

Caleb looks ruined. Sticky and wet, come dripping out of him, mouth hanging open.His eyes are still shut, not pressed tightly, just closed, in a way that’s almost peaceful.

If this had been part of the fantasy it almost resembles, the one where they fall together as they might have, if they were different people, he would have kissed Caleb. He can’t bring himself to steal that sort of intimacy, and instead, he climbs into the bed beside him.

“Caleb,” he murmurs, which gets his friend's eyes to open. They aren’t quite focused, don’t quite meet his, but they’re still blue, not red. Essek takes a few moments before he looks away, starts to straddle Caleb - keep the show on the road.

He takes them both in hand - he’s been erect himself from near the start, unfortunately, and it’s yet to have faded. He’s wet enough that the friction is minimal, the contact pleasant, if slightly rushed.

Caleb’s eyes stay locked on his, and, across the link, he begs, again, no more consistent, just another litany of please, but directed at Essek, this time, if not solely than with all the force.

He expects Lucien to call out another stop, to pull them back, to demand more or to exert punishment or to take the final moment for himself. He doesn’t - Caleb comes, across Essek’s hands and his own chest, and Essek pulls his hand off, coming himself shortly after.

“See? All your heart’s desires,” Lucien murmurs, pressing up against Essek’s back in a way that makes him freeze up, tense. “Well, all the ones that don’t go against mine, at least.”

Lucien pulls back. “I’m afraid I’ve other business, to turn my fullest focus towards - but, please, make yourselves at home, pets. Don’t worry - I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Reality bends in on itself, and he vanishes. The room from Rosohna falls away, leaving just a simple, empty room, no throne, no chains, and a red eye sat in the ceiling, gazing down at them.

Essek pushes himself up against the wall, bringing his knees towards his chest, and waited. Waited for either of the scourgers to make their next move, waited for Lucien to return, or, both best and worst of all - for Caleb to wake up.

Re: FILL: the wizard(s) mine - (Lucien/Caleb, Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf, Caleb/Essek, non-con) - 2/2

[(Anonymous)]

So hot