It's the Comedy Kink Meme!

[hippyjolteon]

Unless you can find anything similar, the idea for a Comedy Kink Meme is entirely mine. The Kink Meme format was originally lifted from the Digimon Kink Meme, which begat 2Bamaser's Pokémon Kink Meme and of course, blackjackrocket's Pokémon Kink Meme. (Which y'all should fill out, stat).

So, without further ado, my spin on this whole thing...

The Comedy Kink Meme!

The Basics:

1) Comment anonymously (this is very, very important) with a pairing and a kink. Comedy is a very general term, but I'll pretty much accept and go with anything. Stand-up comedians are good, sketch shows are fab, sitcoms rock and above all, panel shows are what really matter here.* All pairings - be they in-universe, crossover or on more crack than, well, let's not go there... are allowed. All kinks are welcome.

*1a) But not too broad. I won't accept characters from comedy films, but comic actors (as long as they've branched out with stand up and the like) are fine.

2) Respond anonymously with a drabble/'fic/piece of fan art. Or just comment for fun. Or do both.

3) This will inevitably end up NSFW.

How to make everyone's life easier:

1) If you request something, try your best to respond to a request as well! Preferably respond to the older ones first, but just make sure we keep this up for as long as possible! After all, everyone needs a distraction from work/school/whatever it is that you young people do these days.

 2) No drama . Keep the "comedy" in the Comedy Kink Meme alive and well.

3) Advertise. Pimp us out. Tell your friends. Keep this thing going in however many ways you can.

So, have fun and enjoy in as many ways as you could possibly imagine! Or something.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

David Mitchell/Stephen Fry! Wordy geek love!

[(Anonymous)]

"You, aa-ah, you uh, you don't have to-" David fell back, bracing himself with his palms against the mattress, lifted one hand, ghosting it over Stephen's shoulder, his hair.

"Mmm..." Stephen nodded agreeably, flicking David's flies open and tracing his fingers along the hardening line of David's cock. "I'm aware of that." He leaned into the soft touch of David's trembling fingers, slicking two of his own digits with saliva and slipping David's briefs down, allowing his erection to spring free. "I'd quite like to, though." He looked up at David through his fringe as he slid his moist fingers delicately down David's shaft. "If it's alright with you, of course."

"Yes." David breathed, and Stephen grasped him fully, jacking him slowly up and down.

"Oh good." Stephen said, smirking slightly, before dipping his head and tasting the straining crown of David's flushed cock.

"I- oh, it's... uhnghuh-"

Stephen looked up, the head of David's cock slipping from between his lips with an obscene pop. David groaned. Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?" He continued massaging David's flesh.

"Did, I mean, that was- oh Christ, did you-"

Stephen smiled, licking his bottom lip briefly. "Spit it out, David."

David, cheeks flushed, eyes and mouth open wide, looked as though he'd forgotten anything he might have wanted to say, but his tongue suddenly traced his upper teeth in the middle of a pant, and he somehow breathed out, "The uh, the male praying mantis."

Stephen's eyes narrowed curiously.

"It can't mate unless its head's been ripped off. I always- Christ!" Stephen twisted his grip on the upstroke and continued to look at David expectantly. "I always felt like that. Like it was supposed to be... I, oh, there, right there, fuck."

"Well, dearest, you seem to be in possession of your head, even a small amount of your considerable wits, so far, and you're doing just fine."

David gave a minute nod, mouth closed briefly as he swallowed.

"So perhaps you should lie back and enjoy it, okay?" Stephen waited for another small nod before he ducked his head and took David in his mouth again, further this time, and with more conviction.

"Yeah." Came a soft whisper as David laid back on the mattress, still playing with the ends of Stephen's hair as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. "Yeah." He smiled.

[(Anonymous)]

Question: when, if ever, can we come forth and post what we wrote in our journal or a community?

[(Anonymous)]

Answer: Whenever you feel confident enough to, really. The meme's supposed to go on for as long as it possibly can, but if you really fancy posting it up in a community/fandom journal that's fine. I didn't really take that into account when I created the meme, to be honest.

Request

[(Anonymous)]

Ed Byrne/ Dara Obrien. think its already been requested but if there could be something rather smutty, itd make my day.

Re: Request

[(Anonymous)]

Disclaimer: I have no idea whether his chair is really big. Also, it's fiction.
--

This, thinks Dara, is why he went for the host job with the big chair. So he could sit back and watch someone as pretty as Ed riding him. Ed's sweating, doing all the work, his hair sticking to the back of his neck. The studio's dim and empty after the recording, and just before he bites Ed's shoulder, Dara tells him how lucky he is that no-one can see him being such a complete slut. Ed blushes, and Dara decides to push that particular button more often. And if Ed's really good, Dara might even let him come.

[(Anonymous)]

Russell Howard/Russell Kane. anything you like. :]

[(Anonymous)]

OMG SO SECONDED!! Double Russell love ♥

[(Anonymous)]

Sean Lock/Jimmy Carr/David Walliams, or Sean Lock/David Walliams. Involving the use of ice cubes.

[(Anonymous)]

Shame this hasn't been written.

[(Anonymous)]

Russell Howard/Jon Richardson, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, pretty please!

[(Anonymous)]

this is the first time i've written this pairing, so i'm sorry if it's nothing like you were hoping for!
-----------------------------

Jon's eyes were glued to the ceiling. He didn't dare look, but he was pretty sure Russell's were the same. Neither knew how long they had been doing this, but there was definitely a silence between them that needed to be filled.

"Well...”

"Don't talk Jon; just lie with me for a while."

It was strange, seeing Russell like this. He was usually so bright and bubbling with energy, but tonight things were different. Maybe he was homesick, Jon thought. Maybe he missed some girl.

Jon shuffled closer. They had pushed their two single beds together earlier, it was comical really, and they had joked about it at the time. But now both men understood. They liked being close to one another. And as Jon shuffled, closing the gap between them, Russell's eyes tore away from the ceiling, and darted at the other man for a second. Both sets of eyes returned to the ceiling, and they stayed this way for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, and very much on impulse, Jon grabbed Russell's hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but Jon was nervous and so the movement became somewhat more aggressive than he was hoping. As their palms touched, Jon felt Russell's body tense beside his, but only for a split second. He relaxed, and they resumed their comfortable silence. It was a good half an hour before they spoke again.

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah mate, I do."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so, I mean, I just..." Russell trailed off, turning his head to look out of the window. He felt something soft brush his cheek. "Jon?"

"It's okay Russ, come here."

And Russell turned, and suddenly they were kissing, but not rough, intense kisses, just soft, gentle and meaningful ones. Jon shifted so he was straddling his partner, and placed delicate kisses on his lips, feather light, making Russell sigh. He ran his tongue over Russell's bottom lip before sucking it gently, and this made Russell sigh again, although this time it was more of an encouraging moan. They kissed like two young teenagers, tongues darting between mouths, exploring one another for the first time. Jon smiled into the kiss, and Russell did the same. They shifted slightly, and as they moved together each could feel the other becoming slightly more aroused. Jon moved kisses from Russell's mouth to his cheek, down his neck and towards his collarbone. Russell arched his back and gave a definite moan of approval, as the Jon’s tongue worked skilfully along his pale white skin.

Jon pulled away for a second, and looked at his friend with an uneasy smile, only just realising what they were actually doing. Sensing his nervousness, Russell cupped Jon's face in his hands and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. Jon let his hands wander underneath Russell’s shirt, feeling him shiver at the touch.

Russell tasted sweet, a perfect mix of sugar and spirits. Jon let his tongue wander through Russell’s mouth, taking in every bit of flavour he could find. Russell's tongue pushed back against his own, fighting to regain dominance between their mouths. Then suddenly, he pulled away, and began to kiss down the length of Jon's neck, mirroring the actions that had been carried out on him a moment earlier. Jon felt a moan escape from his lips.

[(Anonymous)]

David Mitchell/Frankie Boyle

Anything involving David's cock really.

Frankie/David

[(Anonymous)]

~*~

“You want to know what the sweetest sight in the world is? It’s a Glaswegian sucking on your cock - ‘cause you can’t hear her fucking voice.”

The crowd laughs its approval; he’d remembered to say cock rather than boabby this time and they’d got the fucking joke. Morons. Frankie wrinkles his nose and takes in the set at a glance: Hugh’s reliably straight faced; Lucy’s looking vacant and useless - or cute, depending on how you look at it; Dara’s shaking his head and wondering out loud if Frankie sits at home plotting ways to piss off the censors - Frankie’s ready to jump in with a crack about how, no, but he’s got their kids tied up in the cupboard but figures he can do better; Andy looks smug - he’s obviously got a joke ready to spring; Russell’s giggling and slapping the table; and the man he’s avoided the too dark eyes of is smiling, his fingers curled against his lips.

David looks at Dara as he starts to answer the question, but quickly gets sidetracked and falls into one of his rants. “That they allow this sort of person out in public where people can see her, never mind television - never mind an office of actualpower - where she’ll be able to inflict more of her inane dribbling on the rest of us - just shows how desperate that the government must be getting about Brown’s popularity: it’s not so much pushing someone off the sled for the wolves, but down their gullets!” There’s something about David in moments like this, where he’s virtually spitting venom and froth and still remains so incredibly articulate.

He’ll be the same later, pushed up against the wall in the first empty room they find; Frankie will plant one arm over his chest and shove the other down his trousers and lean over him. David will screw up his face at the smell of fags on Frankie’s breath and squirm until Frankie tells him what to do. He’ll swear impotently - hah!- and push back, and Frankie will have to fight him all the way. David hates to be kissed, so Frankie will do that at the end too; something to bruise, something that’s more bite than caress and--

Frankie comes back to himself as he feels Dara’s eyes on him. If the answer is nine what is the question? Frankie doesn’t even have to draw breath to change gear: “How many fingers can you fit in Kerry Katona?”

That gives him ideas too.

~*~

[(Anonymous)]

Andrew Maxwell/Tim FitzHigham, debating the merits of Irish booze versus English booze.

Just a drabble (for now, maybe)

[(Anonymous)]

„Surely,“ Tim picks up a bottle of Bailey’s and regards it with obvious suspicion. “You won’t claim that this is even fit for consumption.”

“Hey, fancy man, you just don’t know the proper Irish way to drink it.”

“In that case: Please, enlighten me.” Sir Tim bows theatrically, presenting the bottle to Andrew.

When Tim looks up to see the other man pulling his shirt over his head with one hand. The shirt lands in a corner and Andrew grabs the bottle, unscrews the top and tips it over. Letting the thick, creamy liquor run down his chest.

“How about a taste of that?”

“Hurrah for Ireland!”

[(Anonymous)]

Rob Brydon/anyone really, please please please. no particular kink in mind. I've just never seen anything with Rob Brydon, so apparently that's a kink in and of itself.

[(Anonymous)]

There's some on the first page now. Rob gets involved with Mitchell and Webb.
< /shameless self-whoring>
http://hippyjolteon.livejournal.com/102714.html?thread=372794#t372794

[(Anonymous)]

Mark Steele/Anyone. Hot cute sweet sexing, pleeeeeeeaaaaaase.

Does no one else see the sexassness?

Frankie/Hugh

[(Anonymous)]

Frankie Boyle/Hugh Dennis, the kink being reading fanfiction of themselves because of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILw7ffL5RGs

Re: Frankie/Hugh

[(Anonymous)]

Sorry this is so short, but it made me giggle to think of it.

-

"Why is it in these stories I always seem to wind up some kind of glorified hoover for your cock?" Hugh complained. Scrolling down the page, he found another one. "Yeah.... no, this one ends up me blowing you, too."

Under the desk, Hugh could feel Frankie take his lips off Hugh's erection. "I'm supposed to be the egotistical bastard here. Now stop reading porn about yourself and shut up. I'm busy."

[(Anonymous)]

Any two male Whose Line contestants, tickle torture.

[(Anonymous)]

Mark Watson/Adam Hills/Ali McGregor? (Srsly, have you seen these three in a room together?!)

[(Anonymous)]

Okay, you piqued my curiosity, and my damned inspiration wouldn't leave me alone. XD I may have to tidy this up and post it to my fic journal at some point in the future. I like how this has turned out.


Mark Watson was infuriating. There was something irresistible about the man's accent. Adam currently had him pinned to the floor while Adam did all manner of naughty things to him, making him squeal and giggle like a school girl in that adorable accent.

"Shove over, man, give a girl some room." Ali batted her darling boyfriend away as she grabbed Mark's collar, bringing him into a kiss.

Adam sandwiched Mark between him and Ali, sucking on his neck hard. There was something to be said about watching your girl maul another bloke. Adam would have to arrange this again.

Mark had been reduced to their plaything now, a sex toy to end all sex toys, as they played out their own lust and fantasies. Adam hadn't seen Ali look quite so glorious before. He wondered how she'd look playing with Hamish, which was a terrible thing to think, as it just distracted him further as he leant back and thought of his Hamish and what Ali would do to him.

"Ali, darling, we gotta do this more often," Adam drawled, watching Ali make light work of Mark's arousal.

"Horny bastard. I suppose you want a song and dance routine next, hey?" Ali said, gasping as Mark nuzzled her neck.

"Well, that is part of your attraction," Adam said with a smile.

"Can we not talk about this while I've got a man underneath me?" Ali said.

Adam smiled and sat up. "Sure. But stop hogging him. I haven't had my turn yet."

Ali pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at him, but complied anyway, slapping Mark's arse as she sent him over to Adam.

"Don't break him, will you? He's very pretty," Ali said.

"I'll try not to, love," Adam said.

[(Anonymous)]

Vic Reeves/Sean Lock, because Vic has to know about Sean's giant crush on him.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh so seconded!!

[(Anonymous)]

Simon Amstell/Noel Fielding, hopefully set round the time Noel was on Buzzcocks.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh Jesus, seconded so much. I was just about to request this.

[(Anonymous)]

Jimmy Carr/David Mitchell, "posh and a little bit gay"

[(Anonymous)]

(Sorry for forgetting to anon!)

OH SO SECONDED.

[(Anonymous)]

Jimmy Carr/Jonathan Ross, Jimmy nervous and a little scared (a la this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cu149uY-Ygk&feature=related)

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded!

[(Anonymous)]

David Mitchell/Richard Ayoade - awkward but fluffy

[(Anonymous)]

OMG! Seconded!

[(Anonymous)]

Greg Davies/Russell Howard - hero-worshipping an exceedingly tall man (can be as slashy or as hetty as you want)

[(Anonymous)]

Short. Sorry.
--
"Bloody hell!"
"What?"
"You're very... proportional.
"Yep."
"We're gonna need some more lube."

[(Anonymous)]

Rik Mayall/Ade Edmondson

The aftermath of Rik's bike accident.

[(Anonymous)]

Michael Palin/Eric Idle... attempting to write together

[(Anonymous)]

"Will you stop chewing on me?"

"It's not chewing, Michael dear, it's love bites."

"It's chewing, Eric. I am not some sort of chocolate."

"Odd, because you quite taste like one."

"I'm busy, you know. I have to finish this bloody sketch or John will have my head. Don't you have to finish that song?"

"You sound like it's maths homework."

"Well, John acts like a psychotic maths teacher sometimes. Now will you stop - will you stop biting me and - oh, Christ, that was the last of my Wite-Out. How am I going to get it off the sheets?"

"I've heard sperm is quite good for removing stains."

"That was terrible."

"It's true."

"If I shag you, will you leave me alone?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, good. Just - don't - don't push the typewriter off the bed!"

"I wasn't!"

"That's it. Get out of my bed. You're always in it, and you don't even bloody help."

"Perhaps if we shagged more often, I would help more often."

"Out!"

[(Anonymous)]

David Mitchell/Lee Mack. Don't tell me I'm the only one who sees it.

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded! I see it too! *sigh*

[(Anonymous)]

Andrew Maxwell/Frankie Boyle

Angry!power game sex (because we know they want it...)

Frankie + Andrew (Part 1)

[(Anonymous)]

The location is vital in padding out the story, which I am almost ashamed to say I wrote. It’s quite dirty, and I’m rather the prude.

So yeah, enjoy and don’t sue!

-x-

He has you cornered in Edinburgh’s darkness, an alleyway just off Rose Street that stinks of piss and booze.

He has you pinned against the wall, his hands tearing at your shirt, clawing at your exposed chest, ravaging inside your mouth, his tongue lashing yours. He’s refusing to let you breath, pulling the oxygen from your lungs, his hands sliding down your hips and into your boxers, groping his way around in the blanket of darkness until he’s found what he wants, and when he finds it, you know he’s not going to hold back. He’s going to make you pay for how much of a cunt you’ve been to him today, and following you out for a private cigarette is where it started. You’ve been bitching and moaning about him all day, the other comics laughing at your boldness, because if he was there, you wouldn’t dare breathe a fucking word. You know he hates you, you’re so sure of it, because when you manage to coax a sly blow-job from him at parties, you can see the hatred in his eyes. But he’s a whore, a man’s man and the favourite of every rent boy the world over, so much so, you know he’s probably advocate of their union. And yet you want him, ravenous, quickly, furiously, wither that be in a party, backstage at a festival, in a dressing room or an alley, you know you want him. You know you want the cocky little cunt to loom over you and make you wait, just so he can laugh, watching you strain under the desire you feel for him. He isn’t little, he’s short, but he isn’t little where it really matters. Nothing matters now, he’s found what he wants: your cock, alarmingly rigid in your jeans and praying for his touch.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting, grinning like he’s just won the lottery.

“So what do you want, shitebag?”

[(Anonymous)]

Dara/Frankie Boyle, possibly with Hugh Dennis watching.
Any kinks you like, but anything with Dara definitely in charge.

Part one

[(Anonymous)]

Er, yeah. I barely write fic and I don't write porn and I don't write RPS - so this is clearly my OTHER PERSONALITY of whom I have NO KNOWLEDGE and for whom I am NOT RESPONSIBLE. Glad to make that clear. It's all consensual and it's all fiction, never happened, seriously, oh help!

--

Dara's tone had been slightly incredulous. Hugh couldn't blame him. "Wait, let me get this straight. You want me to fuck Frankie while you watch?"
"Well, yes. Well, top him, really. Exactly what you do with him is up to you."
Dara had shrugged, and pulled his 'eh, fair enough' face. It was a tough job, but somebody had to do it.

Hugh's not particularly surprised when Frankie objects to Dara's plans. Loudly. "You have got to be fuckin' jokin'. Dara, your hands are fuckin' huge!"
"Like bunches of bananas, I've been told."
"Thanks. That's one of my five a day I'll never have again."

Hugh smirks over at Dara from his chair. Does that even count as innuendo, or is it too obvious? Frankie doesn't seem to have noticed. He's up on the bed, naked, on all fours. He's facing away from Hugh, hiding his expression. Dara's got one finger inside him already, his other hand splayed across Frankie's back: part restraint, part reassurance. He gives one last stroke, then reaches for the lube, and thoroughly coats his second finger. As it touches him, Frankie takes a deep breath, breathing out as Dara slips inside. Hugh knows Frankie will snark and swear all he likes; he's still going to be good for them.

Dara can feel Frankie relax, the incredible heat around his fingers letting up, squeezing less. Good boy, but Dara does have big hands, and Frankie's going to have to take a lot more. He's rewarded with an "aw, fuck" as he starts to move his fingers, flexing them and spreading Frankie open. He wants to grab Frankie's jaw, look him in the face, but he doesn't think Frankie could deal with that. Best leave him his privacy, such as it was, given he was naked with Dara's fingers up his arse.

Instead, he leans forward and down, and begins to lick around where his fingers enter Frankie. He grimaces at the taste of the lube - can't they make Liquid Silk taste any better? - but it's worth it as Frankie sighs and relaxes a little more, so distracted he doesn't notice Dara lubing up a third finger. Dara's licks speed up, becoming lighter, tickling - good to have someone else on the receiving end of that, for once - and Frankie moans, "Oh, you complete bastard."
"Do you not like it? I'd better stop, then."

Hugh reckons it's just as well Frankie's facing away from him. Right now, Frankie's face will be pure "I shouldn't've said that", and Hugh would like to maintain the illusion that Frankie never regrets anything he says. True to his word, Dara pulls his face away, and thrusts a third finger in, less gently now.

[(Anonymous)]

Stewart Lee/Richard Herring. It's so oldskool I bet no one has ever written it. Consider that the kink.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, baby. Seconded like *that*.