criticalkink | CR Campaign Three: Character Prompts

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: Char1/Char2, flogging

Body of comment: Char1 has a thing for Char2's strong hands. Having seen them wield a weapon, they're wondering how well Char2 can swing their favorite bedroom toy.

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:

"[something punny about floggers], Char1/Char2, 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

Though they don’t elaborate any more’n that, Fresh Cut Grass’s ornamental little brow-pieces don’t even twitch – instead, the robot simply holds out their nearly-empty bowl for Ashton when they gesture. Ashton notices, distantly, that there’s a tiny tremor to their own hand as they scoop up the last piece with unsteady fingertips.

“Whatcha need, Ashton?” Fresh Cut Grass asks quietly, watching all of this as steady as they always do.

“C’mere,” Ashton says instead, and fuck them but the robot does, just like that, wheeling around and rolling right into the vee of Ashton’s legs where they’ve let ‘em fall open at some point without even realizing it.

That’s a problem for Later Ashton, though. Right now, though:

“Here,” Ashton whispers, holding the last copper out, and Fresh Cut Grass, bless them, seems to understand quick enough. They lean forward, accepting the last piece of money-food-money right from Ashton’s fingertips, and for a brief second Ashton’s skin is alight with its proximity to those smooth, strong metal plates that form Letters’ lips and jaws.

Their entire hand could get crushed in there, Ashton thinks giddily, almost dizzy with this new knowledge. Letters is probably one of the few beings down here who, even alone, could do as much damage to Ashton as the fuckers who wrecked their head and eye and shoulder did, except that –

Letters would never. Letters just eats what Ashton brings home for them, and inquires about the ins and outs of Ashton’s awful puns, and mediates between Milo and Ashton when they both get into one of their moods, and encourages Ashton to feel and say things that Ashton doesn’t always feel up to feeling or wanting to say otherwise.

And maybe all Ashton can do in return is provide Letters with the coppers they like to eat, but if that’s the case, well then Ashton is gonna give them so. Fucking. Many. Coppers.

“How’re you feelin’?” Fresh Cut Grass asks, pulling back when this last coin has vanished after the others.

“Good,” Ashton says, slow. They’re still – trying to take this all in, a bit. “Like – a bit fuzzy? But, really good. Kinda want to rub one out, to be honest.”

“Like masturbatin’? Then you should,” Fresh Cut Grass returns simply. Like it really is just that easy. “And thanks for bein’ honest, Ashton. I know it ain’t always easy to do.”

Ashton is already on the edge, and this comfortable, easy acceptance of their – their everything – ain’t helping any. “Letters,” they grit out. One hand is already headed down their own pants, scrabbling for pressure and a hold. “Please.”

“Should I go?” the robot asks mildly.

“No.” Ashton hadn’t realized they were going to say that until the word is already out, but once it is, it just makes sense. “No, st- stay with me. Please.”

“Ok!” And Fresh Cut Grass does. Stays with them as Ashton gasps and shudders ‘til they feel like they’re flying apart; stays with them as they slump back against the wall, panting; stays with them, as the weird feeling of shit fuck what do I do now starts creeping in, and Ashton is kinda left grasping at straws because honestly they don’t want that sinking sensation to start right now.

Letters. Maybe they’ll know what to do.

“Letters?” Ashton croaks.

“Yes, Ashton?”

“Hair? Please?”

And that’s all they need to ask – just like that, Fresh Cut Grass’s dexterous fingers slide back in amongst the crystal spikes and rest there. Grounding. Nice. And for all their hand remains cool and even harder than Ashton’s own, Ashton has never minded all that. At all.

“Thanks, pal.” The words drip out of Ashton, soft and slurred. Already that weirdness is fading away – slinking back into the jagged edges of Ashton’s fractured head, maybe. “So. Verdict?”

“Definitely a kink,” Fresh Cut Grass muses. Huh, all right. Ashton is already nodding against the wall at this – they’ve got a few of those, so the news ain’t really a surprise even if they haven’t run up against this particular one before Letters came into the picture – and then Fresh Cut Grass does that thing where they, just, come for Ashton’s entire life with their precise, meticulous way of, like, seeing people.

“As far as I can tell, it looks to be tied to providin’ for someone else,” Fresh Cut Grass goes on. “An’ to receivin’ some concrete indication that they’re satisfied with the provision, which seems to translate t’ them bein’ satisfied with you, whether that is as a person or as a friend or whatever other role you’ve assigned them in your mind. Like, if the one you’re feedin’ has somethin’ that you thought they’d like or need, then their pleasure becomes yours, by proxy. Maybe feels like permission for you to be happy an’ satisfied too.”

And see, the thing is that – like usual – Fresh Cut Grass ain’t wrong, exactly. It’s more that – Ashton is never quite prepared for their pulling things outta the darkness of people’s heads and holdin’ them up to the light like they’re something precious that deserves to be studied and understood better. And this litany in particular feels like one blow to the head after another. Fuck.

“Fuck,” Ashton whispers, with even more feeling than before.

Fresh Cut Grass regards them with concern. “You all right there, Ashton? Those’re just my observations, of course, and if they’re unsettlin’ or unwelcome then we can leave them be for a while, ‘til you’re ready to revisit the idea and -“

“No, I – I appreciate ‘em, Letters.” Whatever dissonance they might be feeling at being seen so clearly, like maybe the robot is peering right through that gaping hole in their skull, Ashton also knows that Fresh Cut Grass deserves to hear this much. They do so much, and it ain’t their fault Ashton is – like this. Like anything, really. So.

“Really, I do,” they continue, quiet-like. “Never really had a friend like you before, and it’s – it’s nice. Unexpected, sometimes, but – real nice.”

“Aw, Ashton.” Fresh Cut Grass bumps their good shoulder companionably, without ever relinquishing that steady hand on their hair. “I mean, to be fair, I’ve never had a friend like you either, an’ I appreciate this tremendous change, too.”

Ashton huffs a tiny laugh at this – not like they’re disbelieving what Letters is saying, more in perpetual incredulity that more people didn’t take a shine to this amazing little fucker the second they met them – and leans further into the robot’s side. “We should stick together then, huh.”

“Yeah,” Fresh Cut Grass says thoughtfully. “We should. I’d like that a lot, Ashton.”

“Deal,” Ashton says, with a yawn. And, thinking it might bother the robot otherwise, they add, sleepily:

“And I promise I’ll go say sorry to Milo. When I can stand again.”
And somehow Fresh Cut Grass’s smile, small as it is because of those rigid plates, feels bright enough to light up the fucking world.

CR Campaign Three: Character Prompts

Re: 'shiny,' Ashton/FCG, Food Kink, M, 3/3