criticalkink | CR Campaign Four: Character Prompts

This post is for in character prompts. Please go here for RPF 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!

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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: 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!
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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!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

Julien is looking to have some fun, and he can’t stop thinking about that Halovar boy from the funeral. More specifically, he can’t stop thinking about how fun it would be to corrupt someone so innocent and naive.

Maybe he feigns interest in the Candescent Creed, only to switch up immediately when he gets Wick alone. Maybe he’s sent to speak to the Halovars on behalf of Aranessa, and Wick is the one to receive him. The circumstance is up to you, but I really just want to see Julien tempting Wick into sinning, and some absolutely depraved fucking when he succeeds. Wreck that cleric!

Slight dub con vibes is fine (Julien being pushy and Wick being hesitant) but both parties thoroughly enjoy it. I’m fine with Wick having complicated feelings afterwards (shame, humiliation, confusion, doubt). Maybe the sex is particularly kinky/rough and Wick is embarrassed at how much he liked it. Also bonus points if Julien’s interest starts as purely sexual but maybe starts to find Wick endearing eventually.

+bottom!Wick
+virgin!Wick
+overstimulation
+restraints
+slight humiliation/teasing
+dom!Julien

-watersports/scat
-bloodplay
-noncon

From: (Anonymous)

ao3 link —> https://archiveofourown.org/works/73441321 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/73441321)

The first time he sees the boy, it's at the funeral. With the pink demon by his side, he seems nervous, looking down, like he knows something he shouldn't. Something he would rather forget. However, despite the logical thing to do being to discover what he was thinking about, Julien's mind is wandering.

He couldn't care less about the Candescent Creed, those…odd religious people don't matter. He has way better things to do. But there's something in corrupting, in desecrating that innocent boy that makes his cock throb.

So here he is, at the doors of the Halovar house, speaking with the guards. Aranessa sent him, he claims, and they don't push further. He knows how desperate they are for allies, and the Royce house isn't especially weak. Of course, the man sent to greet him is none other than Wicander Halovar. He stands tall, with a fake sense of security. If only he knew…

"I've been informed you're here to make…dealings with my family, right?" He says. His voice is exactly as he imagined, soft, nervous. He can't help but wonder how his moans will sound. "On behalf of Lady Royce?"

"You've been informed correctly." He says, stepping in and walking past Wick with an air of superiority. He's in power here. "Shall we search a more private place for the negotiations?"

"I, um, sure. Follow me. May I know your name, sir?"

He grins at being called sir. "Sir Julien Davinos, a pleasure to meet you."

"Same thing."

They walk upstairs to his study. Julien takes a few seconds to examine it. Multiple books, probably holy, portraits of the family, and a general chaos on the table, which Wick tidies in record time.

"I apologize for the state of my study. I've been dealing with some…complicated feelings over the recent execution of Thjazi Fang."

That's not a name he likes to hear, even less when he's trying to wreck that cleric. "Aren't we all?" For the first time that evening, he isn't lying.

"Yes, yes. Now, the negotiations?"

He's lucky to be great at deception. The boy doesn't seem to suspect he's making up everything about the deal. In between his talking, he stands up, stepping closer to Wick, looming over him. The cleric gets significantly nervous, staring at the table, his flowery speech now reduced to intelligible mumbles and monosyllables. He's just where Julien wants him.

"Have you, face of the Halovar house and the Candescent Creed, ever considered sinning?" He says in a low, rough voice. He's devouring him with those predatory eyes. "Giving in? What sin would relish in? Greed? Wrath?"

Lust?

Wicander blushes furiously, immediately standing up and facing him. "I—No! It's against the— the— "Bind your body to the beam. Indecency and harm of form distort frequency. Maintain the vessel that channels the Light, Doctrine, Fifth Book, Verse 41—"

Julien grabs his chin, forcing Wick to look at him. He can feel it; he's about to break, and he's going to relish it. "Repeat that, now." Their faces are inches away.

"B-bind- Bind your body to—"

Time blurs for a second, and suddenly, he can't remember the verse he's learnt by heart, and Julien's lips are on him, and for some reason, he's enjoying it too much. Julien smiles into the kiss, sensing the inexperienced nature. He's really taking his first kiss.

Wick knows he shouldn't be doing this. The Light doesn't condone this kind of behavior. It's wrong, it's a sin. But the man kisses like damnation, and even worse, he kisses back, hands tangling in his long dark hair. He lets out a needy sound, processing that his first kiss, the one he expected to give at his bethroed on the altar, is being stolen by this man he met that same day. He did glance at him at the execution, but that day, his mind was solely focused on the guilt.

Now, his mind is solely focused on the way Julien is beginning to undress him.

"W-wait, are you sure? I—I haven't done this before, maybe we should—"

"Do you want this?" He cuts him, holding his chin once again.

He should lie. He knows he should lie, telling him that he doesn't, fix his attire, and make the man leave. But lying is also a sin, and he doesn't want to go down that path, so he nods, looking away. Julien, however, is not satisfied with that.

"Say it."

"I-I do! Gods, I do!" He closes his eyes, avoiding his gaze once again. Julien chuckles, continuing to remove Wick's garments. Once he's fully naked, he pulls him out of the table, making him drop to his knees. Oh dear. He knows little about these kinds of acts, but he can deduce where this is going. He's never done this before. He closes his eyes, trying to process the situation, and when he opens them again, there's a thick cock waiting for him, pressing against his lips. His eyes widen. Firstly, he expected his first time with a woman, as the Doctrine book said, should be done. Secondly, he expected it to be the usual way—missionary, on a comfy bed, with only a candle lighting the room. Something pure and controlled, not…whatever this was.

"Go on," Julien demands. He senses the hesitation, chuckling. "Oh, you've never done this before? Odd. Religious people tend to be the most debauched. Don't worry, I'll guide you. Open your mouth and present your tongue."

Wick obeys and feels the tip of his cock on the edge of his tongue. It's salty, already dripping precum. Inch by inch, painfully slow, it begins to go inside. Wick, inexperienced, tries to breathe through his nose, swallowing as much of it as he can. He gets it halfway through before he pulls back. Julien simply raises an eyebrow, and Wick shakes his head and goes back to work, this time getting it all inside his mouth. With that, Julien grabs his hair, beginning to fuck his mouth at an accelerating pace. He struggles around it, focusing entirely on his breathing. He lets out little whines and moans, closing his eyes as Julien does whatever he wants with his mouth. It's humiliating to be used for such an…impure thing. But he can't bring himself to care as much as he wants to.

Julien comes with a low moan, spilling himself on Wick's mouth. He keeps him there while regaining his breath, nose pressed against his croach, until he suddenly remembers the boy needs to breathe. The second his hand releases his hair, Wicander pulls away, gasping for air. "By the—" He's about to say "Light", but saying such a holy name after such an unholy situation feels like blasphemy. He feels the salty liquid on his mouth and, out of pure instinct, swallows it before wiping his now white lips in embarrassment.

Julien chuckled, managing to catch his breath before Wick. He looks down at him, noticing his rock-hard cock, and laughs. "Poor little thing. What if we do something for you, hm?" He says, pulling his chin up for the millionth time that evening. Wick, however, can only nod.

"Up on the table."

Wick does as he's told, incorporating and setting himself on the table where they had been previously negotiating, though now, Wick wonders if this was the sole reason why that man was here in the first place. He can't feel but sense an odd sense of pride at that, but it's quickly replaced by embarrassment once he realizes that he's fully naked, legs opening unconsciously, while Julien is still fully clothed.

Julien doesn't waste any more time, grabbing his belt from where it had been thrown away. He's already hard again, seeing how easy it actually was to corrupt him. Once the belt is on his hands, he reaches and pulls Wick's hands over his head, tying them together with the belt. Wick, as much as he hates to admit it, doesn't care as much as he should. In fact, he's dripping, cock hard, legs trembling like a newborn fawn. "Look at this pretty thing," Julien says, in a low, deep voice, before flipping Wick over the table, leaving his ass on display. "You look good enough to eat." Immediately after that, he bites the cleric's shoulder, leaving a notable mark. Thank the Light his attire will cover that.

As he feels the bite, he also feels the other man's erection against his ass, hard and big, and for a second, he panics. He's never done this before. Not even with his fingers. "Julien, I—" If he had his hands available, he would probably try and incorporate, but with the weight of the other man on top of him and his hands restrained, he can't move. This isn't even the common position, the one all couplings must be performed in, but something far more vulgar. He hears a bottle cork pop.

If his grandmother saw him now, she would be horrified. Him, arms bound by a knight, in an improper position, about to perform—"Ah!" The spit of Julien runs down his hole.

He yelps as he feels something else, just as wet begins to pour along his hole. Sticky, viscous oil, probably. It mixes with the spit, followed by a single finger pushing inside. "How does that feel, Halovar?" He hears Julien say. The sensation is…odd. Not unwelcome, now, just underwhelming.

"Acceptable." He mutters, still not believing he's actually doing this. "But—By the Light!" He whines as another finger stretches him further. Without noticing, he has begun to rock back against Julien's hand, body asking for more. And Julien is more than happy to oblige. He pulls down his own pants, stepping closer and letting Wick feel that thick cock against his ass, not putting it in, not yet. He wants to make him beg.

Wick continues to fuck himself on those fingers, as Julien curls and scissors them, until the composed cleric could only moan and whine, letting out a confused whimper when said fingers were suddenly yanked away. His hole clenches around nothing. "Why—" It's probably better than they stop now, he thinks. He's… disappointed, as much as he hates to admit it, but—

A hard slap on his ass pulls him out of his thoughts, as his hair is grabbed harshly, twisting his head back and meeting eyes with Julien once again. "Such a pretty, pretty thing. What would your family think? Their golden boy, the face of everything, here, sprayed out and sinning, not even hesitating."

He blushes fiercely at that. "S-shut up, they won't know. I—You better not tell anyone—Ah!" Another slap.

"I don't think you're in a position to give orders, Wicander." The use of his whole name makes him clench around nothing, desperate for something, even another slap. "Holy little thing, corrupted and begging for a simple knight." He's far from simple, and he knows it, but it's fun to see the blush on Wick's face move to his entire body.

"I…Julien, please…" He gives in to the temptation, and he begs.

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me, please. I'm begging you."

Julien lets out a laugh and finally, obliges. One hand on Wicks' hair, the other tight on his hip, and his cock lined up.

The stretch is delicious. Inch by inch, it pushes inside, opening him like he's never been opened before. It's thick, long, and delicious. All the pain that he feared disappears as the sensation of being stuffed and the sheer pleasure of being so full washes over him. It gets even better when Julien, clearly far more experienced than him, begins to thrust, drawing soft little mhns, gh, ah sounds out of him. "J-Julien…" He moans, rocking his hips to match his pace. "Please…"

Julien relishes watching him beg. He sees Wick struggle against the bounding leather of his belt, trying to free himself, but ultimately giving up and continuing to accept whatever he gives him. "Fuck, tight…" He groans as Wick begins to clench around his length, as if trying to milk him dry. For a virgin, he's taking it like a natural. He has to admit he's starting to find it almost endearing, and for that, he goes and bites his neck, sucking and leaving a hickey. Wicander yelps in response, eyes hazy with lust.

"Please, please, Julien…I'm so—I'm so close, so close, so close!" Wick screams as he climaxes all over the table, but Julien doesn't stop. He has far more resistance than he does, and he's willing to use it. He continues thrusting through Wicks's orgasm, not letting him breathe. "Julien, please, I—slow down!" He begs.

"You'll take what I give you and not complain about it." Julien doesn't care, continuing to fukc him with the same relentless rhythm. Wick can feel tears begin to roll down his cheeks, his cock giving weak little twitches as he moans every time Julien hits his prostate, sobbing with pleasure. It's too much; his surroundings are blurry, and right now, he can only think about Julien's cock inside him.

"J-Julien…" He whimpers, looking back at him with wet eyes and a pleading look. That's all Julien needs to grasp his hard, hard, yank his head back, and keep it there as he climaxes, filling him up. "Gods, Wicander!" He growls, taking one last bite at his untouched shoulder.

They stay like that for a few seconds, fighting to regain their breath, Julien on top of him.

"M-May the beam reach you…" He says almost out of instinct, legs limp. He lets out a soft mumble as he feels the cum run down his tights. Julien chuckles, fixing his pants and undoing the belt around his wrists, stopping for a second to admire the marks that he had left around his body. On his wrists from the binding, the bites on his shoulders…Such a sight, especially considering who this was.

"May the beam reach you." He responds, heading towards the door. It's late, no one should be around. He fixes his belt, gives a final glance at the debauched cleric, and opens the door to leave. "Hope we'll meet again." Wick only gets to nod weakly before hearing the door close. He leans back, catching his breath, before a soft smile forms on his face. He's been missing out on this.

He doesn't get to relax for long, though, as the door slams open once again, revealing Tyranny. "Hey, Wicky, who's that guy that just came out of—Fuck! Hey, you get to get railed and I need to "preserve my purity"?" The demon reclaims, crossing her arms. She doesn't seem surprised at all, just…really mad.

The blush that had just begun to fade appears again, as he almost falls off the table backwards, trying to hide himself from her view. "I—We'll discuss this later! Go back to your chambers!"

"Okay, fine! But I'll expect you to tell me everything!" She calls, before disappearing again. He's alone, finally. He sighs, reaching for his clothing. He does hope to see Julien again…

Re: Julien/Wicander, D/S, “To Corrupt an Angel”

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-01 07:27 pm (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Go crazy. Omega!Occtis and his three beefy Alphas. Just obsessed with the socially awkward nerd + hulking protector dynamic and it applies to all three of them.

From: (Anonymous)

Loza asked Wick about employment for Teor as security, and Wick was inspired to make it happen without consulting his family for once. The only problem is, he knows his family wouldn’t approve, and certainly wouldn’t hire the man for their own use. The solution? They don’t have to know! After all, a light priest such as himself really should have some protection, especially after the disastrous execution of the town’s beloved hero at the hands of his family.

Teor becomes employed as Wick’s personal bodyguard. I’d love if maybe it was originally a ploy to spy on the Halovars but he comes to really care about the boy, and realizes that whatever shadiness is happening with the Halovars, Wick is just as much a victim as anyone. Maybe Wick actually finds himself in danger more often than Teor would have thought, and he grows to be really protective. They bond a lot in the time they spend together and it culminates in tender fucking. Bottom!Wick.

From: (Anonymous)

I desperately want to see Occtis get wrecked by these three. I am desperate to see Occtis getting completely overstimulated, struggling to take three huge cocks one after another, and the three DILFs showering him with praise as he manages it each time. Bonus point for double penetration!

From: (Anonymous)

It doesn’t matter that Hal said it wasn’t his fault, Wick is being consumed by his guilt over Thjazi’s execution. He deserves to be punished, it’s the only way to atone for his sins. He begs Hal to be the one to deliver it.

Details of the punishment are up to you (restraints, spanking, begging, really anything goes) and would looooove some comfort afterwards. Also up to you if Hal/Wick have been a thing prior to the execution.

From: (Anonymous)

Occtis is fascinated by dead bodies. Hal indulges by agreeing to drink a paralytic poison/be under the influence of a modified Hold Person spell/whatever you come up with (that still allows him to retain sensation) and letting Occtis have his way with him. It's completely consensual and they have a magical system in place (perhaps some form of telepathy/the Message spell) that allows Hal to safeword even without the use of his voice. No actual death, please.

+ Autopsy roleplay with blood kink (e.g. Hal being superficially cut open with scalpels)

From: (Anonymous)

Teor goes into a rut and Wicander, being so enamored by him, offers to help. Size kink, knotting, rough sex, all that.

From: (Anonymous)

Seconded 😭🙏🏻

From: (Anonymous)

Hal puts on the mask.

From: (Anonymous)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73078301

love this prompt! i went with pretty heavy dubcon, because while I think there's some great Bolaire noncon stuff, I wanted my first fic of the ship to be a bit closer to canon.

---

They’ve shared their second set of farewells, as Aranessa flees the city with Thaisha and the now undead boy that she’d drunkenly referred to as her son. He’s used to her leaving, by now, even if this time, he isn’t as certain she’ll be coming back. The world has never felt as dangerous as it does now, Thjazi dead, Thimble and Thaisha both running to the winds.

Alogar may be in danger, but Shadia is safely tucked in bed when they return to the house. All of this craziness, and he still has all the preparations for the theatres opening to get too tomorrow.

Bolaire is the one who accompanies him home, and Hal offers him a drink.

“How does that work?” he asks. “Can you taste it? Does it affect you at all?”

“I can taste it, yes, although it doesn’t affect me. All sorts of poisons I’m immune to, even the pleasant ones.”

“Explains why you can’t stand boxed wine.” He still pours the glass - good wine, not from the remaining cases of Yargratz. “How long have I known you? You could have told me.”

“I suppose I didn’t want you to know because I enjoyed pretending I was normal. Even when you thought I was just a man with an unfortunate curse, you never were put off. How could I not savor that? This is perhaps the best outcome I could have hoped for, and we’re still forever changed, and you won’t see me as normal again.”

“Bolaire, I work in the theatre. Even with this, you’re hardly the strangest person I know.” There’s a pause, and then they both laugh. “So you can drink, but you can’t get drunk. I know you can eat, or you wouldn’t be so particular about confections, but beyond that - how much can you feel?”

“I feel whatever the body feels. It varies, between forms, dulls as they…start to fade. I generally try to avoid it; I’m not fond of most bodies.”

They have been dancing around a question, the one Hal’s had since he noticed the rapid change in tone of that slim strip of flesh, knows that this body is not the one that had been at the funeral, knows that it isn’t the first time he’s seen such a shift, in the years they have been friends. That isn’t what he asks, but it is close enough he almost holds back: “Do they - are they awake?”

“Not now,” he says. “I’m not cruel. The intended design was that I add my power to the wearer, that they be awake for it, but I will not have a master controlling what I can do.”

He hasn’t had nearly enough to drink to be this foolish, but still he asks, “and what would happen if I put you on?”

“Whatever I wanted,” Bolaire says. “But I wouldn’t recommend it. The magic I wield has a cost, and the benefits wouldn’t be worth the trade. I was an effective weapon, but not a very kind one.”

“No magic, no fighting, just - if you wanted one of the pleasant poisons. To feel something…I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Silly of me to ask, I think it’s far to late-”

“I’ve never tried, but I am curious.” Bolaire swaps Hal’s empty glass for his still half-full one. “After all you’ve learned, you truly trust me that much?”

“You’re still Bolaire,” he says, and finishes the rest of the drink as well, feels himself slip from tipsy to more full on drunk. “How would you…?

“We should take this to your room,” he says. “I don’t think this is something Shadia would enjoy walking in on.” No, that wouldn’t do at all, and especially with how his house has become a constant in and out of people these past few days.

He leads Bolaire upstairs to his bedroom (not Thaisha’s, even if thats where he’s slept these past nights), shuts the door and locks it. “Is it as simple as taking the mask off?” The words of Thjazi’s letter lingers in his mind - you’d have him well in hand.

“It is, but I’d rather you not see this body, this face. If you wouldn’t mind, close your eyes for me, Hal, and once you take off the mask, go to sit on the bed before you put it on.”

Bolaire sits down at the desk, out of sight from door and bed, and Hal shuts his eyes, before hands guide his up to help remove the mask. It comes off strangely easy, and then those hands fall limp. It is easy enough to walk back to the bed blind, and then he sits their, holding the mask. Holding Bolaire.

So strange and gentle a thing to see, such a familiar mask now made bizarre. He’d always thought it was beautiful craftsmanship, thought about emulating it for productions, but it’s different to see of it and think it was not just Bolaire’s mask, but his self. Still, unmoving, it doesn’t seem like him at all - he had expected to see it animated, talking, but then, Bolaire had mentioned spending most of his time asleep.

There is a glint of a sigil, and it pulls to him, and Hal remembers the plan - slowly, gently, placing the mask onto his own face.

For the first moment, he is paralyzed, and yet his body still moves, shifting in position. It should be terrifying, trapped in your own body, but that’s not what he feels, the strange comfort of knowing who is the one holding him mixing with the already present buzz of alcohol. Oh, this is strange, Bolaire notes in his mind. I see why it’s a state people become addicted too.

Bolaire, he thinks, and movement returns. He stretches, relaxes. “It’s why people tolerate far worse drinks than boxed wine.”

He’d taken the bottle with him, but the next glass doesn’t come with the usual buzz. I’m afraid you have my immunity, Bolaire says. Although I’m not sure how much you could take without passing out.

I can handle more than you’d expect, Hal retorts. His brain flitters through memories, and then remembers he isn’t alone in his mind. How much can you see?

Laughter. I can’t access your deep memories, only what you’re thinking right now. It made sense. Are you satisfied with this experiment?

I got to give you something new, he says, and its a precious gift, experiences, to play part in the world. He’s satisfied, yes, but there are other things to try, experiences Bolaire may not have.

Is that what you really wanted? Bolaire teases, and he can feel the flitting thoughts as if they’re displayed before him, a warm growth of arousal. He should be embarrassed, but if he’s blushing it’s hidden beneath the mask.

Under Bolaire’s control, his body rises from the bed, goes to stand by the mirror. Strange to see his body and Bolaire’s mask - stranger still to watch as his body begins to disrobe, an almost showy strip tease, and not how he would do it at all. He puts work into his appearance, but he’s not usually so vain as this, but the distance of Bolaire’s control makes it strangely easier to admire his body as it is laid bare.

The mirror is moved closer to the bed, as he sits back down, and Bolaire starts inspecting over the body, running hands across the newly exposed skin to find what is sensitive, cataloguing the little hikes of breath and flickers of thought as Hal reacts.

And then, the paralysis fades. I want you to show me, Bolaire murmurs, resting one of Hal’s hands against his cock. Let me feel your pleasure.

It is his hand alone that starts to stroke himself, already half-hard from the teasing build up, from just the thought. He wonders if Bolaire has done this before, if he’s been curious enough, or if this is the first time his interest has been piqued enough to try.

He slips his fingers against the mouth of the mask, and leaves it limp, as Bolaire takes control over the muscles to suck and lick at them, as Hal gentle presses in and out. He imagines in a flash the mask’s lips around his cock, first Bolaire as he knew him, then just the empty mask, but he wouldn’t be awake for that, so he banishes the thought away, instead just focuses on this, as he finds himself rapt in the motion, closer and closer-

Not of his own accord, the hand around his cock freezes in place, unable to move. His eyes that had fluttered close are opened again, set staring at the wanton display in the mirror. Bolaire removes the hand from their shared mouth to run wet fingers across the points he had mapped out, teasing nipples, caressing the soft flesh of the inner thigh, letting the other hand give a tight squeeze to hold back any orgasm.

Bolaire, please, he whines, and if he had control of his mouth again perhaps it would be a moan, but instead it is just an echo in the mind.

I’m not finished yet. Still unable to move, it is Bolaire who controls the strokes now, keeping them light and teasing, stopping before he can get too close. The only part of himself Hal has any control over is his throat, his mouth, his voice, and he knows its because Bolaire caught the thought and wants to hear the sounds he makes, wants to hear him moan.

His mind is falling into a litany of please, please let me cum, but words aren’t as easily forth coming rather than grunts and whines and sobs. His head would be rolled back, eyes shut to try and push himself over the edge, if he could do anything but watch the wanton display of himself unfolding in the mirror, as Bolaire savors it.

When the paralysis drops, and he can move once again, it is a hazy, desperate rush as he ruts into his hand, and feels himself spill, surge of pleasure rushing through him, falling back into the softness of the bed.

And then, Hal wakes up. He’s dressed in nightclothes, the familiar clean feeling of skin that had been washed and dried. The mirror is back where it had been, and there is no mask upon his face.

Bolaire leans over the side of the bed, a warm smile across the mask. “Get some rest,” he says. “I hear you have quite the busy day, tomorrow.” A gloved hand brushes against his cheek, and then Bolaire moves to the door.

He almost wants to ask, if it was all a dream, but at the words, he feels himself fall back into the darkness, a better rest than he has had all week.

Re: possession (Fill: Hal/Bolaire, dubcon, masturbation, edging)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-10-25 05:42 pm (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Julien has just lost everything, and Occtis Tachonis gets to come back? It isn't fair. With no one to go and kill, those frustrations have to manifest somewhere

+ undernegotiated kink
+ dubcon, especially of Occtis agreeing out of guilt or to make Julien calm down and not bc he wants it
+ Occtis disassociating / not processing his newly dead body as being his
+ choking/asphyxiation (Occtis doesn't need to breathe) or other kinks that would be dangerous for someone still alive

- heavy gore / woundfucking

From: (Anonymous)

I came here to make this exact prompt, so seconded 😭

Re: Julien/Occtis - fucked up sex

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-05 06:54 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Julien/Occtis - fucked up sex

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-05 07:23 pm (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Anything with Alpha!Julien and Omega!Occtis. Enemies to lovers. Accidental bonding. Unexpected heat/rut. Go nuts!

From: (Anonymous)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/73158431 saw prompt + wrote in the span of a day. hope you enjoy!

Re: Fill: Julien/Occtis, A/B/O

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-10-26 08:56 pm (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Azune got his clutches on me. A man desperate for attention, approval, to feel useful & to prove he's all grown up now?? Would love for any (or _multiple_) member of the Torn Banner to lovingly wreck him!

From: (Anonymous)

Occtis learns what it’s like to be taken care of by a kind father.

From: (Anonymous)

Azune likes being useful and he loves to serve. What better way than being a nice hole for anyone who needs one?

Could be with other members of the Revolutionary Guard, Teor/Kattigan/other Torn Banner mercenaries, or just any random citizen of Dol-Makjar (Murray could be fun).

From: (Anonymous)

didn’t know i needed this!

(Fill) Azune/Kattigan/Teor/(Others) Free Use, M

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-17 10:14 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: (Fill) Azune/Kattigan/Teor/(Others) Free Use, M

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-17 11:20 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: (Fill) Azune/Kattigan/Teor/(Others) Free Use, M

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-11-19 04:07 am (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Julien is a brat, Occtis is anxious to please, [Older Male Character] puts them both in their place. Bonus points if the canon tension between them is mentioned, with [MC] showing them that they can get along just fine with a little effort (ifyaknowwhatimean). I’m thinking Hal or Teor would probably be best suited for the job but open to other ideas! Make it filthy, make it sweet, have fun

From: (Anonymous)

Bolaire greatly dislikes involving the bodies he's wearing in sex.
He's *very* good with his mouth, and takes pride in dexterity he can use his hands with.
For Hal's sake,he got used to full body contact, as long as his clothes stay on.
He's been wanting to give Hal a fucking the other man needs for a while now, bought a selection of toys, but it turned out that in practice it's a no-go.
Between degrees of separation, hang-ups around tool use, and too little sensory imput for finesse, the evening looks to be a bust.
Then Hal has a brilliant idea. Why not turn Bolaire's pact weapon into a dildo?
Surely it won't work? The thing has very definite properties, and blades should go nowhere near where Hal proposes. But theater has a long tradition of using outrageous sword puns to talk dirty from the stage, and with a little bit of performance, they achieve a desired transformation.
Hal is very pleased with the beautiful, versatile glass toy his lover can now wield.
Bolaire? Bolaire has his mind blown.
His pact weapon is an extension of himself in a way nine of his flesh puppets are. This is the closest, the most intimate he's ever been with Hal. With his wonderful, brilliant Hal, who just rewritten the rules of his warlock pact using *metaphors*, and *acting*, and didn't even realize.
Oh.*Oh*. Is this why people are so obnoxious about sex? Bolaire fears he's about to become very obnoxious indeed.

From: (Anonymous)

Exactly what it says in the tin

More emotionally fucked up the better

From: (Anonymous)

if you're okay with some julien/occtis being mixed in (and are caught up with last night's episode, though the spoilers are very mild), i have something for you.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/73822506

From: (Anonymous)

Azune has a particular set of memories from the rebellion he likes to revisit.
When the others waited for him to fall asleep to engage in some "war bonding".
There wasn't really any privacy, but he's certain they never realized just how much he saw, or that he was looking.
He has very good memory.
He's been using fantasies of his old comrades to chase away loneliness and bad dreams ever since the rebellion ended.
Kinda complicates meeting them again.

From: (Anonymous)

The *other* meaning of having your guts rearranged.

Occtis hides from other Seekers to open up his wound and see for himself what's going on in there. Maybe try to make some adjustments.

Sir Julien, ever paranoid, barges in on him and refuses to leave.
Insist on watching.
Maybe lends a hand?

From: (Anonymous)

The body of Sylandri lies preserved in a tomb her Sisterhood guards and tends to.
It is a sacred duty of the inner circle Sisters to wash and anoint it every new moon.
Vaelus is pretty sure she's the only one for whom this ritual became quite so personal.

(LT peeps, you know what to do)

From: (Anonymous)

Lady Royce is indisposed tonight, and cannot attend her husband. She will send him her right hand instead. Dressed in her most flattering gown, and with his hair and makeup done.

From: (Anonymous)

so, playing with the timeline its less 'indisposed' and more 'they're seperated' and there's more of a question mark on the force side of forcefem, but it is a very prettied up Julien getting fucked by Thjazi while there being complicated feelings about Aranessa which feels like the central thesis of the prompt lol

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74221286

---

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for her, which is the problem plaguing him tonight.

If he said no, he does not think she would even look at him with disappointment. She would slide off his lap, and they would return to their evening, and that would be the end of that. But Julien has sworn himself as her knight - a bond greater than simply his house being vassal to hers - and whatever his father and this city will whisper about honor, that oath is one he will never let go.

She asks him to be her envoy to Thjazi Fang, and he does. It’s as simple as that.

No, not simple. Nothing about his lady’s husband has ever, will ever be simple. If it was simple, then he would be here and attending to her, there would have been no rebellion, no separation. If it was simple, Aranessa would walk the streets of the city herself, would not bat an eye at being seen, and certainly Julien wouldn’t be given a disguise.

Disguise is not quite right, but it’s the way he prefers to think of it. The same way he pretends that when Aranessa straddles across his lap, it is simply to get a better angle on the makeup. That when she strips his clothes off him, it is simply to dress him back up, not wanting any other servants to catch wind of the schemes at play.

The doors are locked, because it would not do for anyone to see them like this - Julien down to only his trousers, Aranessa half dressed in her shift, sat atop him and pressing him back into the vanity, taking her time with her careful brushes. She has already curled his hair, and now she paints his face, softens his features and brightens his eyes and lips, makes him every inch a lady, look as close to her as possible while still leaving some of his features to show.

If she can feel the arousal that he is failing to suppress, she does him the kindness of not mentioning it. He is grateful when she rises to procure the dress.

It isn’t one of hers, was made instead for Julien’s proportions, but it is not out of place from her wardrobe by design. There are the ivy-vines that are reminiscent of without actually declaring themselves symbols of House Royce - an easier display to hide in a city that still honors druids first and foremost.

She puts the corset on him, and laces it tight. There’s no one who would see the person in the mirror and think it Julien Davinos - except for her, and him, and that was the problem, in the end.

When he has passed inspection and Aranessa has finished in her craft, she kisses him on the forehead, presses a letter to her hands, and sends him on his way to find Thjazi Fang.

No one pays him much mind, as he moves through the city, save the glances that fall on any beautiful women that walk the streets. He makes his way across the bridge, through worse and more disreputable neighborhoods, until he finds the tavern where they were told Thjazi would be.

It is an unfortunate necessity that he keeps up with every one of the rogue’s misdeeds - separated but not divorced, he still reflects on Aranessa, even if no one would speak of it to her face. It is why it is so important they cannot be seen together, known to be in correspondence - perhaps why he agrees to this rather than tell Aranessa no, lest she choose some riskier plan instead.

Julien orders wine and sits down at an empty table. He hopes that the information is wrong, that Thjazi won’t be there.

He is.

Small mercies, he’s alone, no Thimble flying by his side. He scans across the tavern, and when his eyes land on Julien, he smirks. Infuriating.

He does his best not to recoil as that bristly beard brushes against his ear. “Can I buy you another drink,” Thjazi asks, “or should we just take our business upstairs?”

“No reason to drag this out,” he says, and Thjazi laughs, leads him upstairs to a room.

If things were easy, then Julien would simply hand over the letter, Thjazi would read it, pen a response, and that would be that. Instead, he is pushed to lie down on the bed, Thjazi pushing up the skirts before pulling the letter out from the pocket between the layers, stepping back to read it. There is a small desk with a quill pen and ink; a thrum of magic and Thjazi sets it to take telepathic dictation, writing the response even as he returns his attention back to Julien.

It cannot be coherent, composing a letter while fucking someone. Julien has never opened the letters, and Aranessa has never told him what they say. He doesn’t want to know which would be better, that it was a shaky transcription of erotic thoughts, or if there was no impact at all, that it may as well have been written out by hand.

Skirts are pressed and bunched up back around his hips where he had pressed them flat. A hand wraps around his cock, inspects the arousal that still lingers from Aranessa. “So wet for me already,” Thjazi grins. “And here I thought I’d found a lady, not a whore.”

He wonders offhand if Thjazi would ever say such things to his wife, if she would enjoy it - but no, this degradation is surely just for him.

Re: Fill: intermediaries (Julien/Thjazi, background Julien/Aranessa/Thjazi feminization)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2025-12-13 11:53 am (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

What if grandma H. got her baby boy the old-fashioned way?

From: (Anonymous)

Kattigan switches consciousness with Wulfric to cope with some bad dreams.
Occtis is using Pin's senses to scout the woods for some replacement fox parts.
They meet. They play. They end up fucking. They both think the other is an (magically sapient, but still) animal.

From: (Anonymous)

I want a detailed account of this man's descent into debauchery.

♡ for a x+1 format
♡ for partners chosen to resemble Aranessa and/or Thjazi
♡ for excess drinking, scandalous public behavior and at least one duel - you know, the Dumas shit
♡ for Golden Orchard being the Ibiza of Aramán
♡ for fleshing out Julien's friends - you know, the ones that just got murdered?
♡ for brat Julien
♡ for gender shenanigans he's absolutely not thinking about
♡ for his most daring fantasy being something shmoopy and vanilla, if not outright platonic, with someone who loves him.

From: (Anonymous)

thaisha takes good care of her sweet boy. can be as light or heavy on the actual kink as you want (though personally i like A LOT OF IT), mainly interested in seeing thaisha being maternal towards occtis even during sex

+ breast sucking (+++ handwavey druid magic allowing for actual breastfeeding??)

From: (Anonymous)

Not an exact match of what you are looking for but someone wrote a fic that is pretty close on Ao3. It's called "core temperatures"

From: (Anonymous)

not a prompt, but I’m really craving places to talk c4 (esp nsfw/dead dove) so are there any discords that fit the kink meme vibes for more casual chatting? or would other people be interested in something alike that?

(I know theres the RPF discord, but I’m assuming that’s very RPF focused rather than C4 characters)