south_park_kink_meme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
south_park_kink_meme) wrote2022-07-20 03:24 pm
south_park_kink_meme) wrote2022-07-20 03:24 pm
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!
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!
Creek, toys in public
(Anonymous) 2023-07-03 12:02 am (UTC)(link)Re: Creek, toys in public
(Anonymous) 2023-08-19 05:34 am (UTC)(link)I hope you enjoy, anon!
Re: Creek, toys in public
(Anonymous) 2023-08-19 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)Tweek stares at himself in the full length hotel mirror. Green body paint coats his face and runs down his neck, spreading out across his collarbone. His hands are painted too, but thankfully his glittery blue jumpsuit prevents his arms from being covered as well. He wouldn’t be able to stand the all-over itch.
He doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be. Some alien character from a webcomic Craig loves, about a space explorer who becomes stranded on a foreign planet and falls for one of the inhabitants there. Romance isn’t Tweek’s scene, but Craig loves it. Coupled with the space setting and xeno sex and tentacle dicks—well, the comic is basically tailor made for him.
They had even convinced Bebe to come out and do Tweek’s makeup for him in exchange for a ticket to the convention. She doesn’t give a shit about sci-fi but mentioned wanting to flirt with “lonely freaks in costumes,'' which Tweek wondered if he should take offense to given his current state, but seeing as he’s only doing this to make his boyfriend happy, he figured he doesn’t fit into this particular subset of alleged freaks.
She even sealed the paint so it wouldn’t smear every time he touched his face. The incessant face itching peaks his ramping anxiety, drags up memories of a time long since buried, but Craig insists he has a solution to all that.
Early on, Tweek had been eager to agree to a couple’s cosplay. It sounded cute. He wasn’t above doing cute things with his boyfriend. But while they worked on their costumes, Craig commented that people would probably want to take pictures of them. The comic wasn’t unpopular by any means, but it was still a bit niche and he suspected they’d be the only ones cosplaying from it.
Photos of Tweek online and out of his control. A miserable, paranoia-inducing thought by itself, but that was only the beginning of the panic. Tweek went on to search for pictures of the average crowd size, finding photo after photo of bodies tightly packed between rows of booths and more squeezed onto escalators. He read tweets about heatstroke, exposed wires in the ceiling; people pick-pocketing wallets and unhelpful staff. It started overwhelming his imagination with lucid premonitions of sweaty arms smearing his painted skin and forced invasions of his personal space. He thought about a fire breaking out in the main hall and nearly vomited.
As the days ticked by on their joint calendar and the convention crept ever closer, that familiar frantic energy scratched at the inside of his skull, clawed at his chest, made his skin feel raw and tingly.
A week before the convention, Tweek brought his concerns to Craig. Apologies heavy on his tongue, he asked to call the whole thing off. Craig could still go if he wanted, of course, but Tweek wanted to sell his ticket. Tolkien would probably want to go, or hell, even Jimmy, and then he could cut the lines! Ha ha! Tweek then apologized for the insensitive joke.
Ever the supportive boyfriend, Craig took his concerns to heart and told him if he really didn’t want to go to the con, he didn’t have to, but to give him at least a day to come up with an idea that might help.
In the mirror, he can see Craig sitting on the bed. His solution sits in a matte black box beside him. They’d picked it up on their way to the hotel—Craig special ordered it and had it set aside for them at the shop, which Tweek refused to go into. His boyfriend never had issues with such things. Stone-faced, Craig walked into the aptly named Adult Store and walked out with a discreet paper bag holding what he promised would get Tweek through the crowds and social interaction and inevitable photos without issue.
A vibrating buttplug.
A remote controlled vibrating buttplug to be precise, Craig’s thesis being that Tweek is at his most relaxed while having sex. Tweek had objected that this wasn’t sex, this was a plug in his ass, but Craig countered that it was still something in his butt that felt good, and he found he couldn’t argue with that.
“Why did you get a remote controlled one anyway?” Tweek asks, turning to Craig who busies himself with opening the box and setting the packaging and instructions aside. “Like, what’s your plan here?”
“We’ll start with a low vibration,” Craig starts, turning the remote over in his hand. It’s small enough to hide in his palm, just two simple buttons on thin plastic. “If you start freaking out, I’ll crank it up.”
“And what if I get, nggh, hard?”
“That’s what the fanny pack is for.” Craig nods towards the blue iridescent pouch buckled around his waist. “Squeak wears one just like it.”
“Squeak?”
“The name of the alien you’re cosplaying. His actual name is impossible for humans to reproduce so The Spaceman calls him Squeak because of a noise he makes.” Craig looks away, cheeks flushed. “It also rhymes with Tweek.”
All this work on their costumes, all the years Craig has spent reading this comic and Tweek never once asked about the plot, or what the character’s names are, or even the title. Guilt aches in his stomach, but it’s soon swallowed up by nerves as Craig pulls the plug out of the box.
Ah shit, it’s kind of big.
Tweek’s familiar enough with toys, even plugs, but nothing with a remote and never anything used in public. He watches Craig test the different modes against his hand. Pretty standard vibrator fare—five levels of intensity for the steady vibration, a few different pulsing patterns. It still makes Tweek swallow hard.
Satisfied, Craig grabs a bottle of lube out of the sex shop bag and starts coating the plug. “Oh.” He stops for a moment, the silicone and his fingers gleaming in the dim hotel light. “I should have asked if you’re ready. Are you ready.”
Tweek snorts a laugh at his flat delivery. “Y-yeah, I guess,” he says, and Craig continues his work.
He tries to distract himself by futzing with his costume in the mirror again. A hardcopy of the comic lies on the desk for reference; the alien—Squeak—has a mop of hair that sticks up every which way. They hadn’t needed to do much to get Tweek’s to match—Squeak’s hair is even blond, or yellow in the case of an alien, he supposes. Bebe did soil it in glittery hairspray though. Tweek tries not to focus on the unpleasant crunchy texture as he attempts to scrunch his hair into position.
“Agh!” The tug of the zipper on the back of his bodysuit sends a chill rippling up his spine. Craig gently peels the sleeves away from his shoulders and pushes them down his arms just enough to make room for his arms.
Tweek hears the cap of the lube bottle pop open again and not long after that, two slick fingers tease at his hole. It takes embarrassingly little to open him up enough for Craig to pull out and replace them with the plug which, despite its size, slides in with ease. Tweek shudders. “Craig,” he whines, “are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” Craig awkwardly zips his bodysuit back up, careful not to stain it with lube. “You’re going to be so relaxed, you won’t even notice all those people.”
He disappears into the bathroom to wash his hands and Tweek is left to stare at himself in the mirror again. The plug is heavy but not uncomfortable. He wiggles his lower body around to try and adjust it.
“You ready to go?” Craig asks. He grabs the final piece of his outfit—a metallic silver hood with a clear plastic front to emulate the astronaut helmet in the comic—and zips it to the rest of his bodysuit. Such a clever design, Tweek was pretty proud of himself for that one.
“Sure,” he says, sounding quite unsure. He adds the last piece to his own cosplay: a headband with two shimmering antennae stalks. Tweek frowns at himself in the mirror. He looks like an extraterrestrial disco ball.
They grab their badges and Craig offers his hand. Tweek takes it with a slight smile, and together they leave the hotel room.
The hallway is empty but he can hear the bustle of the convention happening beneath their feet, even from the third floor of the hotel. Even the whir and screech of the elevator doesn’t muffle it, and when the doors part and hit Tweek with a gust of air, the sound comes with it.
His hands must start shaking because he feels Craig squeeze his hand three times before the barest vibration rumbles deep inside him. Not enough to get him going, but enough to keep his busy brain focused on what’s happening down there and not the throng of people they’re about to walk into.
Day one doesn’t have many panels or events that Craig wants to attend. There’s nothing on their schedule until later in the evening. Right now, Craig says he just wants to explore the exhibitor’s hall and admire other people’s cosplays. Tweek nods, only half listening while his boyfriend points out various sci-fi characters and tells him which franchises they’re from, and their significance to the plot. Occasionally he’ll drop a scathing comment about the quality of someone’s cosplay, which does perk Tweek’s ears. He loves when his man is a bitch.
But even those moments are swallowed up by the steady buzzing in his ass. Okay, so maybe Craig was onto something. He doesn’t feel the least bit anxious, even though he’s walking through a large crowd of people who possess zero spatial awareness, all while secretly carrying a sex toy in his body. He allows Craig to lead him to various vendor booths, and contentedly watches as he throws down large sums of cash on merchandise without freaking out over their finances. Craig budgeted for this. It’s fine.
What’s less fine is the exuberant girl who approaches them to ask for a photo. She and Craig chatter excitedly about the webcomic for a moment—well, she’s excited, Craig is Craig—and then he grabs Tweek’s wrist to pull them out of the way of traffic for a picture.
Shimmering green body paint should be enough to distract from how absolutely pained Tweek’s smile looks. He can’t see it, but he knows it’s hideous just by the way his teeth grind together when he attempts to pose for the camera.
The girl flips her phone around to look at the photo and clutches her cheek in adoration, sighing a sigh so dreamy and loud that Tweek can hear it over the crowd. Suddenly shy, she approaches them to ask if they would be willing to let her take a photo of them kissing next.
“You can totally say no!” she insists. Which, no shit, man. Of course they’ll say no.
“Sure,” Craig responds to Tweek’s displeasure. Noticing this, his thumb makes a single minute movement, and the vibration intensifies against Tweek’s prostate.
“Ghh—!” His hands fly up to muffle the grotesque sounds threatening to expose him in front of this stranger. She doesn’t notice, too busy excitedly bouncing back into place to take their picture again. Angry heat colors Tweek’s face, but Craig disarms him with that frustratingly handsome smile of his—slight and lopsided—and pulls off his helmet.
“Relax, babe. Don’t pay attention to her, just pay attention to me,” he says, just loud enough that only Tweek can hear, before he angles their lips together in a soft, still kiss. Barely anything, but Tweek’s dick still jumps in his tight little jumpsuit.
“Oh my God, you two are soooo cute!” the girl squeals, and Craig pulls away. She rushes over to show them the picture but Tweek can’t bear to look at himself. He’s never liked photos. Besides, he’s too focused on other things right now.
Tweek wanders over to a display of plush toys to feign interest in before she requests anything else. “Nice. Can you send that to me? Here, I’ll give you my number,” he hears Craig ask. That photo will probably be printed, framed, and tacked up in their hallway along with all the others.
He closes his eyes. The ambient noise of the crowd around them floods his senses at first, but he shifts his focus south to pinpoint the distant rumble of pleasure inside him. A part of him hates that this is working, that he’s soothed by having something in his ass. The other part of him thinks he should spread the gospel. This revelation could help other socially terrified people!
“Ack!” he yelps in surprise at a sudden weight around his shoulders.
“Relax babe, it’s just me.” Craig’s hands fall to roam his sides, down beneath the protective shield of his fanny pack to paw at his bulge.
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“Huh.” Craig hooks his chin over Tweek’s shoulder. He can feel every hot breath ghost over the thin fabric of his suit, enough to force a shudder up his spine. “You’ve got a lot of resilience. If I had a vibe up my ass, I would have come like, an hour ago, but you’re not even hard.”
Craig’s fingers knead and pull over the slippery fabric, coaxing him to arousal in front of all these adorable stuffed aliens. He steadily grinds his hips into Tweek’s ass at the same time, rocking the plug against his prostate with each subtle movement. Static blurs the edges of Tweek’s vision. Each moan he manages to choke back makes his eye twitch instead. If the vendor were paying attention she’d probably think there was something wrong with him, and then she’d look down and see his boyfriend fondling him under an out of fashion fanny pack and call con security.
“Are you crazy?! There’s, ngh, a billion people here. Someone’s going to see us!” Tweek hisses, but doesn’t make an effort to stop him.
“Sounds like you need to calm down.”
“Wait, wait, wait, Craig, don’t—!” Firm hands grab Tweek’s waist to hold his ass flush against his crotch so he can feel the vibrations as he cycles through them. He settles on a rapid pulse.
“You wanna check out the Artist Alley?” Craig asks, loosening his grip. Tweek nearly topples forward but manages to catch himself on the edge of a rack of plush.
The plug was a good idea back in the hotel, Tweek could admit that! It continued to be a good idea when they first met through the crowd, even when they took photos for that girl. But now? With Craig teasing him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to Tweek?
No, he doesn’t want to check out the fucking Artist Alley.
“Craig,” Tweek says through clenched teeth, stepping up to his boyfriend with his fists balled and sweat starting to drip down his temple, “I want you to take me to the nearest bathroom and get this stupid thing out of my ass, and then I want you to, mmmfuck me!”
“Honey, our room’s just upstairs—”
“Ergh! I don’t care!” He grabs Craig’s wrist, nails digging into the fabric of the faux spacesuit, tighter than he means to because he’s trying to ignore the incessant bzzt, bzzt, bzzt, bzzzzzzzzzt of the plug and the way his dick painfully twitches against his stupid goddamn fanny pack. They’re walking against traffic, people are throwing them glares, flipping them off, but Tweek really doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care about how crowded the bathroom is when they walk in, he doesn’t care that some dudes watch Tweek storm into an empty stall and drag Craig in with him. Maybe he should revel in how much he doesn’t care, be proud of himself for being so cool in a crowd, but how can he even consider that when Craig’s made it so all he can think about is how badly need needs to get fucked?
Tweek awkwardly reaches behind him but his arms are too short to grab at the zipper of his bodysuit. “Help?!” he asks demandingly, looking over his shoulder with wild eyes.
“Okay.” Craig starts unzipping the suit. The bathroom air feels chilly against Tweek’s feverish skin and makes him yelp.
“C’mon, c’mon, get it out Craig!” He feels crazy, wailing and begging in a crowded public bathroom. Craig helps him tug his arms out of the tight fabric. It pools around his legs, the fanny pack falling to the ground with a considerably loud clack that immediately precedes the ear splitting, swarming buzz of the vibrator being pulled from his body.
Oh, he knows everyone in the bathroom can hear that. Tweek whips his head around to furiously whisper, “Turn it off!”
Re: Creek, toys in public
(Anonymous) 2023-08-20 06:57 am (UTC)(link)“Damn,” Craig says. “That was expensive.”
“God, what—whatever! Just fuck me!” Tweek pushes his briefs below his ass and braces himself against the wall to present himself.
“Shouldn’t we kiss first?” Craig asks, but the frustrated growl he gets in response has him scrambling to grab Tweek’s waist and drag him close.
Tweek is already prepped and open, all Craig has to do is push forward, which he does, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust, his balls smacking against his skin and filling the stall with a new kind of sound.
The vibrator having been inside him for so long numbed all sensation, leaving only the echoes of its shockwaves behind. Tweek only feels when Craig hits his sweet spot, and given that’s all he can feel, it hits him like a freight train.
His skull knocks against the metal wall of the stall as he cries out, knees buckling beneath him. Craig grunts, locks his arms around Tweek’s waist to keep him upright while he fucks into him. Relentless, crazy in a way they haven’t been since they were much younger, sneaking off to bathrooms and the bedrooms of their classmates to fuck quick and dirty while no one was looking. Maybe there’s something to be said for this semi-public debauchery. How didn’t they see it sooner?
Craig finally finds the perfect angle where he hits it every time, sparking sensation against Tweek’s unfeeling walls. “Ngh, there Craig, please, right there!” he cries, scrambling uselessly for purchase against the smooth stall. His badge hits the wall a beat behind Craig’s thrusts.
He keeps one arm looped around Tweek, the other moving down to erratically pull at his dick. Tweek’s cheek is sticky and cold with drool smeared along the metal wall; his toes curl uncomfortably in his hideous iridescent gogo boots. Something familiar coils in his belly, a white hot pleasure, an eruption that ripples through him.
Tweek whimpers. It feels like a betrayal. He doesn’t want it to be over so soon, both for his own benefit and because he feels like he owes it to Craig. This is his con, his passion, his idea, and Tweek’s about to ruin their bathroom rendezvous by coming too quickly. Throat full of moans, he can’t even find the words to tell Craig, all he can do is reach back and weakly scratch at his arm.
There’s no warning, just a sudden warmth against his belly and a mutter of surprise from Craig, who he realizes is close now, huffing short breaths against his shoulder in between nips and kisses against his skin.
“Craig…” he groans, overstimulated, but his boyfriend doesn’t let up. His hand leaves Tweek’s spent cock to press against the wall, the arm holding Tweek up trembling slightly from exertion.
Craig inhales sharply, and Tweek feels his hips stutter behind him. With the last of his strength, he yanks Tweek’s ass flush against him and finishes as deeply as he can.
They both take a moment to come down. Craig’s breathing evens out while Tweek’s remains erratic, somehow finally hitting him that they have very much been heard and now they’ll have to take the most shameful walk of their lives if they want to leave.
Come rides the curve of Tweek’s ass and down the back of his thigh as Craig pulls out. He manages to tuck himself back into his costume neatly. Tweek’s tangled mess of thin sheer fabric binds his legs in a precarious situation.
Carefully, they both work to pull it back up. Each drag of itchy fabric and harsh zipper lining is like touching dry ice, his skin overly sensitive, but they manage. His antennae headband fell off at some point during their activities, but Craig finds it and gingerly places it on his head. The star atop the well-fucked Christmas tree.
Craig pushes open the stall door first. Silence. Tweek tries to make himself small behind his boyfriend, but reveals himself when he turns for the door, but Craig keeps heading straight towards the sinks.
“Don’t forget to wash your hands, babe,” Craig calls after him. Like they didn’t just give these sci-fi nerds a free fucking show. Like they shouldn’t be hiding their faces in shame, looking down at their feet until they can disappear back in the crowd and maybe wash their hands in a bathroom they didn’t just have sex in.
Shell-shocked, Tweek turns on his heel and joins Craig by the sinks. He pumps soap foam into his hands, lathers up, and shoves them under the frigid stream, all while trying not to think of the gaggle of staring eyes or if the hotel properly sanitizes their faucets.
Flecks of water fly off Craig’s hands when he flicks them dry. “Wow, she’s really good.”
Tweek looks up. “Who?”
Craig gestures towards the mirror. Tweek immediately understands what he means.
Not a speck of body paint is out of place. Against sweat and tears and sexual frustration, his face is unsmudged, beautifully green and sparkling. He looks down at the hands he just washed, completely forgetting about the paint there, but they, too, are still vibrant. Which maybe should worry him because how the hell is it going to come off? Will he just be green forever? Mainly though, Tweek is just impressed.
“Oh yeah,” he says, touching his face, “She is really good—wait, who are you texting?”
“Bebe. I’m telling her we just made love in a bathroom stall and your makeup didn’t smudge at all.”
“Make—!” Tweek sputters. “Craig, that wasn’t making love that we just did. That was pure, uninhibited, carnal fucking!”
“I’m always making love when it’s with you, honey.”
Tweek snorts a few giggles. “God, you’re so chee—” A butt plug, their butt plug, is dropped in the bowl of the sink in front of him. “—sy.”
A breeze ruffles their hair as the door swings shut, the crowd of con-goers having left in a hurry after returning their runaway property. At least they shut it off for them.
They both look at the plug, and then at each other.
“I think… I think we’re going to have to wash this in our room and then, eh, I think you’re going to have to put it back in,” Tweek sheepishly tells him, rubbing his arm. Even thinking about their short walk back to the elevator is making him anxious.
Craig nods. He leans forward to unzip Tweek’s fanny pack and deposits the plug inside.
“Ew.” Tweek’s nose scrunches up. “You don’t know where that’s been.”
“I know one place it’s been,” Craig says, offering his hand, which Tweek gratefully takes, but refuses to dignify his joke with a laugh.
“How long is the convention again?” he asks as they exit the bathroom. Craig points to a conveniently placed banner hanging over the main hall which lists the dates. “Christ! F-four days?!”
“Yep. We need to make sure to put that thing on the charger every night before bed. We’re gonna be standing in a lot of lines for a lot of signings.”
Tweek’s dick twitches at the thought.
“I’m glad it’s working for you,” Craig says as they board the elevator, smiling genuinely. “Maybe now we can go to Walmart together.”
“I’m not wearing a fucking—ergh, butt plug! To Walmart! Craig!”
Someone coughs beside them. Aware of their surroundings again, Tweek realizes they are very much not alone in the elevator. They can’t see him blush under all this makeup, but he hopes they know he’s deeply embarrassed.
It’s going to be a long weekend.