criticalkink | 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.

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(A/N - i tried to write wingsex but ended up with nothing but angst. i may end up writing the wingsex later, b/c caleb/yasha deserves more content, but, for now, i hope this fill works.)

After twenty two minutes and thirty seven seconds of trying to go to sleep, he finds himself standing outside of Yasha's room. His hand hovers, against the door, but he finds himself knocking anyways, gently.

She answers quick enough that he knows she was not yet asleep. Her eyes look at him. No, they don't look at him, they are fixated on the wings, sprouted from his back.

They curl in as close as they can, tightening in some attempt to be smaller, to hide from view. It is an unconcious movement, the things seem to respond to even the faintest hint of emotion, none of the tight control he claims over the rest of his body.

The hallway is silent, for several moments.

"I can not sleep," he says, finally. It is not entirely what he means to say, but the message comes across, at least.

Yasha closes the door to her room behind her. He takes her cue, and he returns to his room, and the only sound is that of her footsteps behind him, and he can feel the weight of her gaze upon him.

"Lie down," she says, and he does, leaning back into the far too extravagant softness of the bed. "Not like that," she says, almost instantly. "On your chest."

It strikes him as almost silly. He turns over, to lie down upon his chest, face buried against the pillow. He shifts, his head to the side, to try and see Yasha, as she sits down beside him.

"You need new shirts," she says. The one he wears now is the same he was wearing when the wings had sprouted on his back, and the rough holes have started to wear down, against their movement.

"Hopefully," he says, "these shall be gone before that becomes necessary."

He can only half see her face, but her frown is clear.

"Do you want them gone?" she asks. He can not read the emotion in her voice. Yasha is difficult to read in the best of circumstances.

But he knows, some, about angels and aasimar. He knows what wings must mean to her, having seen the dark, skeletal ones that she bears, against her back.

"I do not deserve them," he tells her. The words are soft enough that he is not quite certain she can hear them, and he does not know, whether he wants her too or not, not fully.

Yasha looks at him, gently. "They are yours," she says, "whether you deserve them or not."

She presses a hand into the center of his back, hard, and he feels himself being forced down against the bed, for a moment, freezes up, but then he feels the movement of her hands, massaging muscle that hadn't existed, days before, her hands, strong and gentle. It has been a very long time since he has been touched like this. He can not help, but melt against her hands.

"They are not true wings," he says. "Not like- they are a magical misfire. They could have happened to anyone. It is only unlucky chance, that they are mine."

"Fate gave them to you," she says. "It is a sign."

"I am the least among us," he tells her.

Her hands pause, and he can still feel them, through his shirt. She has shifted, her face entirely out of his view, now. He tenses, and almost sits up, but the hands resting on his back are still enough to hold him down.

"Yasha," he says, to the emptiness, waiting for a response.

"You need to take better care of them," she says. He can feel her hands shift, letting up from his back. "Will you let me touch them?"

He nods, and it takes a moment, before he realizes that she can not see the movement, his head pressed down and hidden. "Ja," He manages to choke out, finally.

Her hands gently maneuver one of the wings, gently stretching it up, so that it fully extends into the air above. He lets her take control with no complaint, does nothing but try to stay perfectly still.

Only some of what she does, he can feel. Fingers running over the top, gentle tugs and preening. He is grateful for how little she hovers over the areas he can feel, the skin fresh and sensitive in ways he can't quite handle. Even those light touches, the gentle maneuvers, are enough to send him shiverng.

He keeps the wing aloft, where she had set it, keeps it as still and unmoving as he can manage, to not hit her, to let her do this, to not acknowledge how much it is affecting him.

This is for her. He can tell, how hard this hits her. Her eyes have not left the wings since they sprouted from his back. It is an emptiness, he figures. If this is what she needs, to care for wings once again, for all that they are a sign of what he knows she must have lost. Of what he has lost as well, of what he never had.

The room is quiet, only the sounds of the wings shifting involuntarily, of Yasha's breathing, slow and calm, and his own, rushed but softening, muffled into the bed. Underneath her breath, he catches her humming, and when he gives no reaction, keeps still and lets her pull at the wings to maneuver them into position, the hum becomes her voice, gentle and singing in Celestial.

At some point, before Yasha leaves, he falls asleep, to hands gently grooming wings, to his body's inevitable surrender into darkness, to the lilting sound of a lullaby, to an overwhelming sense of peace.

His dreams are still full of fire. They were never to be anything else.

Not OP, but I really enjoyed reading this. It's so lovely and softly melancholy, and I'm always jazzed to read Yasha/Caleb! The quiet physicality of the encounter, even as it's not explicitly sexual, is so intimate. Thanks for writing this!

OP here, and oh gosh oh gosh this is gorgeous, so lovely and soft and painful?? I love these two, and you've written them beautifully!

This: Yasha looks at him, gently. "They are yours," she says, "whether you deserve them or not." hurt so well, and encompasses so much of their lives, the good and the bad things, and everything about this is just so perfectly understated.

Thank you so, so much, I just absolutely adore this *_*

this was gorgeous! such a quiet and intimate atmosphere really really suits these two characters, and the soft sadness that is prevalent for them both is perfection.

lovely lovely fic tysm for writing and sharing!

CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

Fill: Angel's Lullaby (Caleb/Yasha, T, wingfic)

Re: Fill: Angel's Lullaby (Caleb/Yasha, T, wingfic)

Re: Fill: Angel's Lullaby (Caleb/Yasha, T, wingfic)

Re: Fill: Angel's Lullaby (Caleb/Yasha, T, wingfic)