criticalkink | CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

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CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

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.

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criticalkink in a PM or drop a comment on this post.

The most important rule of all? HAVE FUN.

Now go forth and prompt!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For a moment those two orcs seemed really interested in purchasing Caleb, and not for his physical strength. I would love to read something related to what could have happened to him if that conversation had gone poorly.

I didn't know I wanted this but I want this.
Very seconded!

holy shit, +10000000

AN: If you feel confused by the nameless orcs, please blame my cough syrup.

----

Caleb became aware of his body again with a low groan, his head felt full of cotton balls and used tissue. He hummed to himself, sticking to the shadows easily. There were always a lot of shadows in his dreams. It helped him focus. Kept him grounded and reminded him of where and when he was and more importantly why he was here. The faint niggling in the back of his mind, like all the lines and angles didn’t line up properly.

Things didn’t fit right, nothing felt right. He was picking at the edges and tucking in the loose bits, trying to soothe that odd stuffy feeling from his brain.

“The mutt is awake.” There were fingers carded through his hair and when he tried to sit up in alarm, they grabbed a handful and pulled him back. He cried-- that fucking hurt.

He dared open his eyes, and there it was, full of green muscles and sharp tusks, petting huge fingers through his hair, finding a knot and tugged on it until it came loose. The orc hummed low in his throat, deep voice resonating and lips pressed together as he smiled down thinly at Caleb.

“Was—What is going on? Where am I?” The ground was colder under his skin and he didn’t recognize the room at all. He could piece together blurry images of staggering down on the pavement, the air was hot and suffocating with the searing smell of burnt iron, and Fjord was on his left, falling backward, one arm clutching his side, and he couldn’t see Beauregard anywhere—Herr Gott... Is Beauregard alright?

“Stay still.” A low voice crooned above him, in misshapen Common. “Haven’t you been trained?”

“Hey... You didn’t say it could speak.” Another voice roused from another corner of the room. Another orc, this one looked even bigger than the one restraining him. He must be over six foot tall, broad shoulders that bulged underneath a black shawl which were open to his navel, showing off a chest covered in thick black hair matching those on his head.

Swallowed thickly, Caleb darted his eyes around, trying to assert the situation as quickly as he could. The bigger orc was not speaking at him, though he was clearly referring to him, the way his beady eyes kept sliding back to where he was on the floor. There was another one sprawling in the far corner, he realized. It was too dark to make out the features, but that one was clutching its abdomen, and there was a singed odor of burnt flesh and hair coming from its direction.

Caleb remembered that smell. The feeling of someone slipping under his arm as he began to fade on the pavement, all but dragged him away from Fjord...

“He could do magic, too,” grunted the injured orc. “I saw it. Real deadly.”

The bigger orc—biggest, as far as Caleb could tell, chuckled. He carried an air to him, like a leader, or at least, the herder of what was no doubt a pact of orcs that Caleb has been brought to. His heart started hammering in his chest as he noticed from the corner of his eye yet another one standing watching them in the shadows. The air felt thick and heavy suddenly, diluted with a tangy musk and something sickly sweet. He sucked in a great lungful anyway, just to steady himself and his shaking fingers.

“And you said he’s a slave.”

“Yup... The half-bred told us so. Real expensive too.”

The leader snorted, a primal sound juxtaposed to his imposing presence. He turned his head then, staring right at Caleb, as if he could strip him bare and break him apart just by running his eyes across his body.

“Listen...” Caleb began, trying to sound as calm as he could. “Your guys provoked first. We were merely protecting ourselves. If you let me go, I’m sure my... master would at least pay a handsome sum for me.” Trying to appear nonchalant, he moved up from the guy behind him, and began inching back away from them, putting a little distance between himself and the leader. He almost made it when suddenly his arms were grabbed from behind and pinned painfully against his back.

"Really, if you hurt me, my master would send others here! They’re going to make short work of you, I swear!" He hissed and winced as his arms were pulled harder. Casting was more difficult in this position, but if he just managed to pull back... If he just got his hands in the right position—

He saw a shape out of the corner of his eye before something big and green encased his right wrist. An excruciating pain exploded and he cried out, hearing bones snapped. His knees gave out in a panicked second and he went down, still held up halfway as the leader orc kept his hold on his now useless wrist.

The four orcs now stared down at him in the subdued light, baring their teeth, fanning out around him to block his escape.

"Does he squeal, I wonder?" Asked the silent orc who has been watching from afar, who has now slinked closer into the circle; a tall and wiry orc, this one, with thick black hair tied into a high bun and kept in place with twigs. He smiled and appraised Caleb in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed.

“Wh—why?”

“You killed one of us,” the leader replied. “We take one of you. Show your master how it’s done in this town.”

Caleb growled low in his throat, going to move, but fingers in his hair slammed his head backward with enough force to stun him. He snarled and the burly hands dropped the pretense of being nice all together, sharp talons digging into the soft muscle of his shoulders and forcing him to lie down on the ground, even as his feet kicked out uselessly, catching nothing but air and marble.

“Feasty.” The leader chuckled, his grin stretching into something more beast-like, tusks sharpened under the dim light. "Your master should have beaten that out of you. But we don’t expect proper conduct from a half-bred.”

“Arschloch.” Caleb hissed, half in pain, and the orc just hummed in response. There was a quiet, harsh triumph in the sound that made Caleb feel as if he’d suddenly fallen from a great height, plunging into a darkness that was deeper than he could comprehend.

“Don’t worry.” Comforted the leader, though his smile inspired no comfort at all; in fact it made the thing in Caleb’s stomach tighten uncomfortably. “We'll just soften you up a little, and then maybe when we’re through, we’ll send you back to your master. Is that alright?”

“Fick dich! Fuck you!” Caleb spat, trying to shove them off of him, but unable to actually hurt them in any meaningful way. He was too busy freaking out to really think about the large hands descending down on him, petting down his sides. Clawed fingers dipping under the hems and brushing his skin, one of them up in his face and another slid behind his back, trapping him between them.

“It doesn’t have to be all bad.” The leader chuckled, yanking his shirt up his torso and off. His pants and boots were removed with less finesse, the fabric dragging down his thighs and scraping the skin along the way. When he’d fought as they tried to get him down on the floor, one of them had grabbed his neck, pressing his thumb into the dip of his trachea.

"Hold him open."

Large hands reached down, spread his legs out and up by his ankles, and then there were fingers pressing relentlessly and he would rather bite through his own lip then let out the sound that wanted to claw its way out of his chest. He couldn’t stop the jerk when the fingers suddenly pressed inside, rubbing everywhere at once and managed to feel wrong at every twist and turn. Friction and the slide of something slick probing, backing off in an ever deepening rhythm, breaching him slowly, one knuckle at a time.

Caleb imagined he could feel them each individually, wicked fingers with grooved knuckles, mercilessly thick and hard and curled a little inside him, pressing against something different and feeling fuller than before.

“Oh, Gott...” He murmured, toes curling, knees jerked inward. He tried to bite back a helpless sound, pulled his damaged wrist closer into his chest protectively. Beauregard... Is she okay? Is she coming? Is any of them coming for him...

“You want it that badly?” The orc that was opening him up laughed, mockly. “Is this what you do for your master nightly, I wonder.”

“You guys will all be dead, I swear...” Caleb hissed, and the hands which had been running down his spine grabbed his shoulders when he went to move.

“Be good, mutt.”

“Let him be.” One of them snapped and that was all the warning he’s got. In a split second he’s got hands on his hips and he was being pulled up and back, and then—he thrusted inside Caleb in one merciless roll of his hips.

Caleb’s mouth flew wide open. It was like he was being split apart. Deeper and thicker than the fingers and with even less grace, pushing in painfully and he couldn’t stop the sound that escaped him, a cry he wanted to grab it out of the air a moment later.

“Mmmh. Feels good.” The orc’s hissed breath was moist against his shoulder as he bent over his body and Caleb shivered, felt his body furling open with each slide, saw red lightning arc across the insides of his burning eyelids as he sank searingly into him.

"Stop—" He babbled hoarsely, his throat tightening in panic.

The orc fucked like he was jerking off; too fast, just the right side of pain no matter how prepared you were. Caleb couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched each time he pressed inside, he had bitten his tongue at some point and tasted the metallic tang of his blood. He closed his eyes, trying to block out everything but the beat of his own heart, managed to laugh in between the small noises he made, not really feeling it but desperate for something other than screaming.

“Look, the little mutt likes it.” The orc grunted, leaning over Caleb, trapping his broken wrist in an awkward angle.

“G—go fuck yourself.” Caleb hated the hitch in his breathing, the pounding of his heart in accordance with the thrusts against him, could feel sharp tusks on his shoulders and he purposefully leaned away from the contact. Hands moved to his hair, forcing him close, not close enough for a graze, but close enough to breathe against the side of his face, making him break out in shivers.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” The orc hissed, swiped his lips along Caleb’s ear until he jerked away. “Fucking a human. Find out how good you feel.”

He stilled for a moment, puffing over Caleb, hateful amusement on every exhale. "I wouldn't have thought you would still have such a squeeze to ya." he asked in a dark intimate tone, and Caleb tried to make the answering shudder at least look like further struggling. "Maybe you did all your service on your knees," and he pushed Caleb's chin up with four fingers so he can slide a thumb across his bottom lip. "Maybe I'll try this mouth if we have enough time to spare."

Caleb tried to bite, but his teeth chattered as his guts spasmed, the pain in his wrist was making things fuzzy and he could no longer tell what his body was doing. The orc somehow pushed even deeper, and he couldn't resist him, couldn't escape this at all. The pace was harsh, too hard, and Caleb grit his teeth, couldn’t do any more then ride it out.

When the orc came, he jerked against him with a powerful breath and a mindless grunt. It was the faintest notion of heat; Caleb sobbed, once, at the feeling of fluid filling him, his skin already starting to heat up with sweat and exertion.

Could this get even worse? Would this be worse? He looked at the roof of the room and up into the rafters—to the sunlight leaking in through rusty holes in the panels and saw a bird sitting high up on a beam, its tiny feathered body nestled against the wood. The shining black eyes looked below to where he was being laid down, its head cocked to one side, as if it understood the pain of the creature staring up at it. He latched onto the bird like a lifeline, leaving his body for a fraction of a second, feeling the aches eased. It was temporary, of course, and with the next agonizing surge of pain, he was brought back to the real world.

He opened his eyes for the silent one hovering above him with a soft smile.

“I’m next.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

“Play nice.” He rearranged Caleb’s position so that his shoulders were off the hard floor at least. Could already feel the forming bruise. This one fit between his thighs, all compacted muscles and gangly angles, sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong. Sharp fingers shifted his hips and nudged Caleb in horrific intimacy and he bit his lip, not wanting to cry. “Look, mutt. You've gotten all messy."

And then he pushed in, too thick and too hot and Caleb moaned, taking it as best as he could. His body creaked around the invasion, and no matter how tightly he gritted his teeth he can hear himself keening, high and wounded.

It took three more strokes and then the orc hit—Caleb knew exactly what he hit. It set off an explosion inside him, sending fire crackling down all his nerves, tearing a ragged scream from his throat as he arched in sensate agony. He collapsed to the unyielding floor, trembling along the paths of his scalded nerves, shuddering as the orc's growl reverberated between his ears, as he battered precisely at it and took the pleasure of hearing him choked on the screams battered up his throat, the electric pain pulsing along his whole body again and again.

He came with a breathless cry, sticky all over his stomach. Through the heat that blossomed in his nerves he hated it. Face burning as he refused to stare when they laughed, fingers smearing through the mess on his chest and he—couldn't pass out, couldn't do anything but be hideously present for every twinge, every ache, every crackle, every thrust. The bird was still there when he looked up to the rafters again, feeling ridiculously grateful for it as it peered at him from the shadows.

“Told ya to just relax.” The orc’s breathing was heavier, wet hand back on Caleb and lifting him into the jerky movements of his hips. He shook with his orgasm, and Caleb thought he could feel every spurt, unnaturally hot inside him, pushing into him hard and fast as he shivered through it. Overly sensitive, his whole body alight.

But he wasn't to be allowed the pleasure of a respite as the bulky figure of the leader swiftly took its place between his legs.

“…Bitte. Bitte...” His throat felt thick, voice high in fright, liquid fire began dripping through his veins and pulsing behind his eyes in neon starbursts of color. “Stop it, please.” He plead in a cross between angry and desperate. “I don’t want this! My friends... they will come for you. You can’t—”

"Shut your mouth!" The large orc shouted, smashed a fist into his cheekbone. The edges of his vision became inky and the orc's body covering him enlarged in size in his failing eyesight, filling everything with a view of a perspiration-covered chest. He felt like he was bordering on the brink of madness, as faces floated in and out of his vision, and he could see the bird circling just above the rafters, unseen by them all, just a whirling bird, circling and circling and circling and—

He must have been lost somewhere in his head, blacked out, he thought, because he opened his bleary eyes and was disoriented for a moment. A green, bulky hip was right in his face, completely naked, and already hard. Caleb could’ve sworn whoever it was holding him was fucking into his spine now, his bone creak in protest and he didn’t want anything else thick and wet in his mouth.

He tried to toss his head but a hand tugged on his hair and Caleb stilled, letting it pry his mouth open.

“You’ll get it if you try to bite, got it?”

They sheathed his mouth with a hiss, and Caleb let it go slack for them to use. It tasted salty and musky, hot against his tongue and bitten lips. Fingers curling around his jaw and forcing him to keep his head up on one arm and neck that strained with the effort. He retched once, making a small, soft sound in the back of his throat, closed his eyes and let them do it.

From there it could have been forever-- he’d lost track, couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the ache in his jaw as it added to the list of places that were sore. His whole body throbbed like a huge bruise. The one behind him stiffened, his rhythm thrown off as he came with a growl. He choked on a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a cry. His throat began to clamp down in panic, the delicate reflexes all returning to him as the seconds drag on and his fear ratcheted higher.

The last orc pulled out and Caleb coughed up a mixture of spit and bile which splattered across his face before dribbling down his cheeks. His back felt sore, seriously doubted he could take one more until another one was pushing in anyway, still slick and too warm with his own saliva. It felt impossibly huge, and it hurt and he couldn't take it anymore.

“Please,” he tried again, “Bitte, bitte, nicht mehr...” The pain was terrible, he couldn’t even see straight, eyes gazing blindly out at the blackness that now created the rest of his world.

The orc grunted, hips grinding against Caleb in short violent pulses. Each jarring thrust was too deep and—too much—and Caleb had to clench his jaw, fingers scraping across the floor under him as the orc crooned something he couldn’t make out over the rush of blood in his ears. Multicolored stars burst behind his eyes and each vicious thrust made them explode again, made him throb up to his lungs and drove a cracked noise of pain from his throat. The orc laughed, leaned over him to lick his neck and hummed as if tasting something delicious.

"Go on, then, mutt," he murmured to Caleb as he jostled them both steadily with long hard strokes that bludgeon a rising ache into him and knock a terrible succession of little high noises out of his gasping mouth. "Cry for me." Another thrust and the orc was completely embedded in him, pressing at all the wrong places and Caleb keened, cried out in a blend of agony and overwhelmed sensations.

When the orc finally came, Caleb had no voice left. He wailed soundlessly, bile splattering up onto his skin as his legs fold beneath him. He collapsed, tipped over onto the sheet and lied there for an immeasurable time, marked only by frenzied heartbeat and ragged breaths, feeling every last bit of his being evaporated.

The world shattered around him, peeling away in fractions, faces and sensations blurring together. He was drifting in a sea of noise and he had nowhere safe to go; no place he can go to ground and hide from this because it was all inside of him. He could still feel them. Inside. Moving. And he was—a doll, not a real person. Only an object to be turned and moved and hurt and used. He was a shell, battered hollow and stickily besmeared.

He moaned in a heart-in-throat reflect when a hand grabbed his head, forcing his unfocused eyes to look up, blinked at the dark black hole where their face should be. He was stuck behind the half-filled blackness of his eyelids and he could feel. Everything. Like it was happening all over again and why—

Shadows loomed over him. A voice was ringing, calling him—his name? But it was quickly fading away in the back of his mind. He was numb all over, aside from the constant shaking of his insides that felt more like scurrying insect legs scratching around in his belly. And then there were hands on his chest, his ribs, he could feel them, every finger burning into his skin and marking him like he was something and they were all over him and.

He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s—

He hummed to himself, sticking to the shadows easily. There were always a lot of shadows in his dreams.

----

Beau was the last one to leave the shed.

She waited until the last of them has left the door—Caleb, bundled in the cleanest cloths they could find, out like a light in Caduceus’ careful arms. Fjord limped on his good leg, flanking their left, his armor bloodied. He leaned on Jester, half folding her into his chest for a comfort hug. Nott, quiet and crying and seething, teeth bared for her own sake, trailing behind them all. Her small arms clutched Caleb’s coat and his books, leaving his component pouch for Beau to pick up.

She felt the back of Yasha’s hand brushed hers, bloody knuckles grazing against each other. Gently, as if afraid she might get hurt. As if she was the one who was hurt—

Sucking in a shaky breath, tasting blood and poison on her tongue, she finally turned away, throwing the torch on the dirty floor full of bile and spit and blood and the screams still echoed among the crackled walls. Wiping her nose, she watched as the fire spread, draping over the bodies, swallowed up the evidences of what had transpired in a violent blaze.

Not op-anon, but omg yes this was so good. Thanks for writing this writer!anon. It's precisely my brand of non-con, oof.

!!!!!! Thank you for writing my prompt! I love it and it's just the sort of thing that I was imagining. Caleb's terror is wonderfully written and I was so happy to see all of the MN come to the rescue at the end.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

Caleb/ those orcs (non con)

Re: Caleb/ those orcs (non con)

Re: Caleb/ those orcs (non con)

FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 1/4

FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 2/4

FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 3/4

FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 4/4

Re: FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 4/4

Re: FILL: Feuerstarter (Orcs/Caleb, E, non-con) 4/4