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)]

Can I request some Frankie & Ed or Ed & Adam Hills?

[(Anonymous)]

It got angsty and v. long. You might want to copy/paste it into a word document.

+++

Frankie pushed his hand through Ed’s hair, grasping at a sweat-drenched clump and tearing back his head.

(Underneath him, Ed sits naked on the laminate floor – he tries desperately not to look at Frankie, who’s perched on the edge of the bed in his usual suit and tie, peering at him listlessly from behind his glasses. Sweat beads on his chest, and rolls down over dark red scratch-marks that lay like painful arêtes across his breast. His breaths are heavy and laboured; each one hurting more than the last. Frankie stares at him, his face lacking expression and his actions without a hit of compassion. Everything he did, he did to scar Ed – physically and mentally. But…Ed didn’t mind. More than that, he craved it somewhat. And he didn’t understand why.)

He pulls Ed’s hair harder; Ed is forced to lay his hands on the floor behind him as means of support. Frankie pushes his lips to Ed’s neck in a seemingly emotionless gesture and begins to bite, leaving trails of teeth marks and red patches that will soon become large oval bruises. He attempts – foolishly – to gasp. Frankie only bites down harder, a sort of demeaning punishment for trying to speak without permission.

Ed can’t help but to feel exposed and undermined in his position – he was every bit Frankie’s bitch; someone to toy with and disgrace. For some reason, in agreeing to fuck him, to let Frankie degrade and destroy him, he was happy. Ecstatic, excited, even aroused by the idea. That terrified him.

+++

Frankie stared down at the beautiful body he was allowed to break.

Ed had given him permission, obliged a little too happily to let Frankie fuck him. A lot less difficult than he’d imagined;

“I want to see you…” Frankie had him pinned to the wall, and cast his eyes to the more than apparent bulge in his trousers with nothing more than a coy smile. To his surprise, Ed merely kissed him – not in a timid way, Ed was incapable of being timid – but in silent agreement.

And so, here they were, Frankie imposing his control over Ed, and Ed…just accepting.

And he fucking loved it.

+++

Again, Frankie had him pinned down. Neither man was particularly tall or heavy, in fact, both could be collectively described as effeminate in their frames, but Frankie was the more forceful and commanding. On the flimsy hotel bed, he pushed Ed’s arms as far apart as they would go, holding each by the wrists and forcing the weight of his hips down onto Ed’s. He had brought no ropes, no silk scarves to bind him down; bur relied on fear to keep him. So far, fear was doing its job.

Frankie – his glasses close to falling from the tip of his nose – glares at Ed, “Stay.”

He pulls himself lazily from Ed, taking his glasses and placing them on the stained bedside table. (Ed watches, still bound by imaginary ropes and gags from the bed. He can’t help notice how different Frankie looks without his glasses. Almost childish.) With the same laziness, he begins to remove his clothes; slowly and indolently picking at the buttons on his shirt, not even caring to remove the heavy suit jacket that hangs from his shoulders until it lay open, exposing a myriad scars on his chest. Ed stares, transfixed and hungry, wishing, practically begging Frankie to hurry up, just to move, to go faster, to – please, please, please – fuck him now. But Frankie intends to make him wait.

Part 2

[(Anonymous)]

Ed feels everything as he waits; the push of his all-too-fragile lungs against his breastbone as he breathes between painful writhes on the hotel bed, the stench of sweat and age-old seamen from the sheets beneath him, and, most painfully of all, Frankie’s aftershave that wafts towards him, slowly enticing him. And God, it’s fucking difficult not to move, especially when Frankie moves just out of eyeshot in his pacing of the heavily tarnished floor. But he allows himself those tiny writhes, just to let him know he’s still there; just to let Frankie know he’s still there.

Frankie does eventually stir, positing himself on the dresser that lay before the bed. He plays with the light switch, dimming and brightening the lights, making Ed wince uncomfortably in the bright lights before settling on the dim setting. They sit in the darkness a little longer, Ed growing more impatient with the passage of time. From the corner of his eye, he sees Frankie smirk, running his tongue slowly along his lips.

“C’mere.”

Ed didn’t have to be told twice, he shot immediately from the bed into Frankie’s lap, waiting and praying for the next command.

“So, I imagine you’re pretty bored by now, hmm?”

He shakes his head childishly; Ed just wants Frankie to touch him, he doesn’t want to fuck about.

“No? Really? Are you sure, Ed?”

Ed shakes his head impassively. He glares at Frankie, who, falling back against the wall with a hollow thud, rolls his eyes and tuts gently.

“Well, I’m bored Ed.”

Ed wants to whimper, he wants to say anything, but words escape him.

“Do you know what you’re going to do, Ed?” At this, Ed shakes his head slowly, “You’re going to suck me off.”

Frankie stays perfectly still, but glares expectantly down, as if to ask, well? What are you waiting for? Falling to his knees, and with less than steady hands, Ed unbuckles Frankie’s belt, and slowly pulls his half-hard cock into sight. He lets it slide with graceless precision past his lips and further down his throat, until he knows any more and he’ll start gagging, and Frankie won’t like that. Ed just wants Frankie to reciprocate as he sucks harder, but he knows that’s not how this works – although he’s more than sure that he hears Frankie exhale so very gently before swallowing hard. Frankie’s hand grips his hair, twisting thick strands around his fingers and pushing Ed further onto his cock until coarse hair scratches at his face. He pushes Ed harder with each stroke, and with a vague sense of desperation, Ed moves to his own cock, that’s straining hard against his chest. Frankie immediately pulls hard at Ed’s hair, forcing his head up and rendering him still.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Ed answers with a feeble “No”.

“Fucking…Get up.”

Ed gets up.

“Lie on the bed.”

Ed lies on the bed.

“Stay.”

Ed daren’t move.

He listens as Frankie looks for something, his actions laced with a clear distain. Before long (to Ed, it feels like hours), he feels Frankie clamber onto the bed behind him.

“In the air. Now.”

Part 3

[(Anonymous)]

Ed does as he’s told, lifting his hips up and propping himself up on his elbows. He smirks to himself a little; this is what’s he’s been waiting for – the main event.

Frankie grabs at his hips, and without warning, forced a cold, wet finger into Ed; then another, then another, slowly pushing against him with arbitrary speed. Ed groaned and whined, fighting any and every urge he had to touch himself. Finally, with a soft laugh, Frankie – still mostly clad in suit and unbuttoned shirt – slowly pressed is cock into Ed with an elongated groan. He pushed further, slowly gaining pace, while bedsprings beneath them wheezed repetitively and the ancient pink headboard slowly beat against the wall. Ed buckled beneath him; the violent and volatile mixture of pain and pleasure was everything he’d ever wanted, and he was lost in the most overpowering state of ecstasy he’d ever felt, and he never wanted to feel anything again.

Digging his fingers into Ed’s ribs, Frankie breathed, “You’re – a – fucking – slut… a – fucking – little – slut…”, pushing harder with every pause until he could take no more, and buried deep inside Ed, came hard with animalistic grunts.

Spent and breathing heavily, Frankie flopped to the soiled mattress, and Ed soon followed. With a tired sigh, Frankie reached over and took Ed’s cock in his hand, whispering, “It’s only fair…” flicking at the head before pulling and twisting, all the while Ed lay panting, until a sudden wave of pleasure overcame him, and with back arched and head thrown back, he spilled out onto Frankie’s hand and his stomach. Frankie makes a show of pulling himself onto Ed’s hips and licking every droplet of cum from his body, starting first on his hand then moving – slowly – to Ed’s hips, never once breaking eye contact, smacking his lips after each swirl of his tongue. He moved to Ed’s lips, pushing their mouths together with languid grace, and hands stuck firmly to the pallor skin of his breast. Frankie bit down hard on Ed’s lip, leaving lingering tastes of the coppery blood and cum in his mouth.

“Now,” Frankie pulls away with a smirk, “get your shit and get the fuck out.”

And Ed complies, all the while trying to think of something clever to say, a new, a better way of telling him to get to fuck; he’s a brainless slut anyway. There’s nothing, though – no words to scream or shout, so Ed just pulls on his jeans and shoes, manoeuvring the t-shirt on his way to the door. His clothes cling to him, and as he opens the door, Ed takes one last look at Frankie, who is lying with arms outstretched on the bed – not dissimilar to how Ed was not long ago. He lifts an arm idly and waves.

(As Ed shut the door, Frankie couldn’t help but feeling alienated; like he didn’t belong in his own body, and that he’d have to apologise for what he just did – somehow – at some point. He hears his phone buzz on the bedside table and hopes that Russell’s sent him a shitty joke.)

Re: Part 3

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you very much! I'll enjoy reading that tonight, I wondered if anyone had written one :-D

[(Anonymous)]

Ooo Ed&Adam.