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)]

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.