South Park Kink Meme

[south_park_kink_meme]

This is a kink meme for South Park. It's fun and easy!

People comment anonymously with their prompts. Then, others write fic or make art based on the prompts and post their creations in response to the original prompt comment below!


Guidelines:

1. Please do not fight about ships or content in your prompts.

2. Hit "Post a new comment" if you'd like to leave a prompt, and hit "Reply to this" beneath the prompt you'd like to fill if you're filling a prompt

It's traditional to write the fic in the replies, but you can leave external site links too (such AO3 for fic, or privatter for art).

3. Please see this example prompt if you need guidance! Prompts don't have to be elaborate; please just try to give writers/artists enough to work with ^~^


- Here is a list of kinks you may find helpful, and you can search on your own as well

- Got an idea that's SFW or not necessarily centered around kink? Check out the General Prompt Meme!

- Prompts can be filled any number of times; one fill does not close out the prompt!

- There's a kink meme Twitter account that tweets when prompts are filled and shares updates/news, and a tumblr where you can submit prompts as well

- Also a collection on AO3 if you should choose to post there as well and would like to add it. There is an input box for collections when you upload a new work on AO3, and you just type in: SouthParkKinkMeme_DW, and it'll pop up

- Here are some examples of past South Park Kink Memes on Livejournal if you're curious


Temp Note 7/30/22: I've had to turn on comment screening because of spamming, but prompts have been great otherwise, so keep 'em coming if you got 'em. Comment screening just means I have to hit a button for them to appear. Please see the FAQ post if you have any questions!


Please click here for a shortcut to the latest fills and prompts on this post!

There's also an index post with links to all the fills and prompts for easy access!

Comments

Re: Craig/Tweek, maid outfit, suit, semi public like in a bathroom or on a balcony

[(Anonymous)]

(2/2)

Craig wets the dust cloth that he’s been carrying and starts wiping the excess liquid off of Tweek, starting with his neck, and then his chest, and his abdomen— his fingers are now almost ghosting on Tweek’s wet, ruined crotch area and he so wants to just get on his knees, unbuckle his belt, bury his nose in there and-

“Stop! Don’t—Augh! Just stop doing that!”

And he stops. Now he can see that Tweek’s pissed off, fucking finally, but it’s not in the way he that wants Craig’s filthy whore hands off of him or something. He’s never felt this rejected before, it’s pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to mutter with his head down, actually sounding way more apologetic than he intended to. He looks back at him and cringes at the way Tweek’s face softens for a moment.

“I did all of that on purpose, you know,” Craig says. He’ll wipe any trace of sympathy off of that face. “Got all that shit on you. Ruined your suit. Embarrassed you.”

And his face is all scrunched up again. “Why the fuck— Urgh, the fuck, man, why would you even do that?!”

“I don’t know,” Craig answers. He scoops up some leftover jelly from his cheeks and licks it from his own fingers, one by one, without breaking eye contact.

“Are you asking for it right now? You want to get off? Do it right here? Hrrg— Is that it?”

Nope, he’s not asking for it, Craig doesn’t ever ask for shit. He doesn’t want anything, especially from not the so-called ex-junkie too scared to even admit wanting to lick milk out of Craig’s thighs. He wants to, Craig knows he’d do it, how couldn’t he? He doesn’t need to hear that, he doesn’t need Tweek. It’s no use saying it, though, when he has a giant hard on just for him, throbbing with nothing but need. When and why exactly did that happen, he doesn’t know. It’s too late for him to deny the elephant in the room, because its giant trunk is impossible to hide under his fucking miniskirt right now.

He notices that Tweek’s looking at him, too, looking at it. He’s hard too, and it’s confirmed by the way he sighs and proceeds to unzip his fancy dress pants. Yeah, that’s better, Craig thinks. Sink down to my level.

Craig doesn’t notice that he has shut his eyes in anticipation until it occurs to him that absolutely nothing is happening despite Tweek’s heavy breathing being audible in the background. He opens them back again to see Tweek again, but further away with his back turned to Craig.

He’s fucking jerking off. Without even acknowledging Craig’s presence, like he isn’t there, like he’s just some minor inconvenience he needs to be rid of. Craig is there, wearing practically nothing, probably only missing a sign that says “Cum Dumpster” or something, yet Tweek isn’t even looking at him. What the fuck. That freak. Is he even fantasizing about him? Craig doubts it. What the fuck!

“No!” He yells, without even wanting to. He’s even more pissed off now that he had the misfortune of hearing his own desperation. He’s fucking pathetic, and it’s all Tweek’s fault. Just how fucking dare he?

“What,” Tweek asks, lacking even the faintest hint of the usual warmth he radiates. He’s strangely calm and cool this time, panting and seemingly in a trance with his hand around his dick, already slick with pre-cum. It’s hypnotizing— Craig could probably keep watching him, he’d love to, even if he couldn’t have Tweek empty himself right on Craig’s face, but he knows Tweek would eventually lock himself inside a stall or something.

“Please,” Craig pleads. “Please fuck me now. Here.”

Tweek groans in annoyance, but Craig’s proposal is seemingly accepted, as he walks up to him to press his body up against him, sandwiching Craig between himself and the edge of the sink. That’s right, it’s happening, and he has won. Shorter in height, he bends Craig forward to line up their hips, and Tweek’s erection is now grinding against the cleft of Craig’s ass, his lacy panties being the only thing separating the two.

“I’m gonna, agh, I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, even though it’s not my fucking job.,” Tweek says and turns on the faucet to allow the water to pour out. He roughly grabs Craig’s jaw and washes his dirty mouth, as in, literally scrubs his face with soap as the excess jelly, cream and whatever’s left there is gone with the water. His wet hands then venture into his thighs to separate his legs, he shivers at the cold touch while Tweek is rubbing soap water over his sticky thighs.

Tweek picks up the olive oil from the tray Craig had abandoned on top of the countertop earlier. From the mirror, Craig can see him hesitate a bit before covering himself with it. Craig lets out a painful chuckle at his momentary indecision, it’s cute, but he’s also afraid of him changing his mind at any minute, hoping from the bottom of his heart that he won’t.

A slick, bony finger slowly enters him. “Oh, Tweek,” he whines, emphasizing the name with unmistakable mockery, but Tweek suddenly hoists him up by the back of his head to breathe right into his ear, just like he imagined.

“Making fun of me, grrhh, making fun of my fucking name, when you wear this,” he tugs on the poofball on top of his chullo hat, also still pulling on Craig’s hair along with it. “This fucking thing. Seriously, man, what the fuck is this?”

He feels like he owes the man an explanation, starting with the whole outfit, and the frilly headband he has on his stupid hat, and the way he’s trembling under him, and the way he’s watching himself in the mirror unraveling just with a single finger, ah, there’s a second one now. He doesn’t say anything for the whole time Tweek prepares him. He can’t speak. His already sparse vocabulary has been reduced to the bare essentials only.

“Need your cock in me,” he chokes out.

“You’ve got to, hah, you have to ask nicely.”

“Please,” he begs.

“Please what?”

“Please, sir, ugh, please dadd-”

“No!” Tweek growls, roughly pulling Craig back by his head. “No, no.”

“Fuck, I don’t know! Ugh, Tweek? Tweek! Please, goddamnit!”

Tweek’s grip loosens. “Nngh, it doesn’t sound so funny anymore, does it, now, huh?”

It does, it still does. He doesn’t dare to say that, though. It’s not like he can bring himself to laugh anymore, not when he’s the real joke here, begging for this stranger’s cock in a public bathroom.

“I deal with a lot, you know that? Augh, everyday, at work, at home, outside, it makes me sick,” he rambles, while the head of his dick is slowly finding its way inside Craig’s tight walls. “I’m sick of all the pressure, I just, I can’t go on with all this stress, man, I don’t want it, I don’t deserve it, I just don’t!”

“Ah, you don’t,” Craig repeats. He’s on the brink of tears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he says, so instinctively and genuine that it makes Craig sick. “That’s right. Aargh—I really don’t. Ack, I’m, I’m halfway there,” he reassures, like Craig is fragile, like he might break at any second.

“Relax for me, breathe,” he says. “Like— Like I did for you, near the window.” These are the last things Craig remembers hearing as at that moment, his own moans block out literally everything else just before Tweek eventually bottoms out.

“Fuck, man, augh, you feel so good around me, fuck,” he keeps saying as he thrusts up into Craig. It’s like he hates to admit it but Tweek simply can’t exist without the truth eventually escaping from inside of him, and it drives Craig crazy everytime it happens. God, he’s beautiful.

“What’s your name?” Tweek asks, as if he’s not literally balls deep inside him, like he's someone who Craig just met in a gay bar or something, offering to buy him a fucking drink.

“Craig.”

“Craig,” Tweek repeats, “Fuck, ah, Craig!”

Like a cruel joke, like karma coming back to bite him back from the ass for how horrible he’s been the whole time, someone enters the bathroom. Tweek instinctively covers Craig’s mouth with his hand, pressing hard.

“Oh god, Jesus, not now! Please,” he starts, before turning to face the intruder and see who it is. “Fuck off, Kenny!”

“But I—”

“Pee in Cartman’s water bottle or something! Augh— I don’t care!” A disappointed sigh is heard before the bathroom door is closed shut once again.

The sudden intrusion must have reminded Tweek of the outside world that still exists, since his thrusts become more erratic as he starts fucking into Craig in wild abandon and in such a hurry that he’s not even aware that practically abusing his prostate and making him writhe in pleasure in every sense of the word. He knows that he could be the most insufferable motherfucker to ever exist and this man, Tweek Fucking Tweak, would still care about making him feel good, but at this moment he’s too busy freely indulging in Craig, repeatedly burying himself in and out of him for his own satisfaction, and that just makes him so happy.

Between the overwhelming feeling of being needed and his need to be filled up, and the hand jacking him off under his ruined apron—Everything is too much at once, he can’t think, and he comes like he’s never done before in his life as he empties himself into Tweek’s hand without any warning. He hears Tweek groan at that, not with disgust, but with arousal, or at least that’s what he desperately wants to hear. “I’m—I’m close,” Tweek cries out, he also sounds like he’s choking back his tears, like he’s trying to make Craig feel less alone in that, what the fuck, and he then also finishes inside of Craig while hugging and squeezing him as tight as he can, riding out the last bouts of his orgasm.

When he removes himself, Craig’s still panting against the countertop, reeking of olive oil, with cum dripping out of his spent hole and into his thigh high stockings. He grabs Tweek’s wrist before he can reach for the faucet again. He’s not letting him wash it away just yet, no, he licks his own cum out of Tweek’s hand, not daring to look into his eyes this time. After he’s done, he turns, he leaves and never looks back.

He doesn’t go near Tweek’s table again. He doesn’t really do much for the remainder of the night, actually, as he’s literally had his brains fucked out of him and anything other than the occasional stargazing out of that one window greatly exceeds the remainder of his mental capacity.

At one point, he’s approached by someone. It’s the redhead, “Kahl”, Kyle, or whatever. Last one from the losers’ table who still seems to be around. He hands him a slip of paper containing a string of numbers.

“Ew, no,” Craig says, disgusted. Kyle looks at him like he’s his next choking victim.

“It’s Tweek’s. The one with the green suit you ruined,” he says. “Kenny told me to give it to you, he said it’d be funny, or something. I’d say you apologize, but I don’t give a damn what you do with it.”

“Go to hell.”

Kyle just groans and crumples up the piece of paper before tossing it to the nearest trash can, and leaves.

He’s thankful. Thankful that it’s over, and thankful that everyone’s leaving, so he just sit back wait for the right time to scavenge that fucking paper out of that filthy trash can.

Re: Craig/Tweek, maid outfit, suit, semi public like in a bathroom or on a balcony

[(Anonymous)]

this was my prompt, and it's so amazing, like something out of my wildest dreams! thank you, anon, I love it so much :,)