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Polar Explorer RPF - Prompt Post 1
This is for prompts for all things general Polar Explorer RPF.
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
Under this umbrella you can prompt:
Prompts in line with adaptations of Heroic Age stories can also fit here, for example if you want to specifically prompt Hugh Grant!Cherry from The Last Place On Earth getting wrecked (which someone really should).
No blorbo too obscure for this post! EXCEPT: NO PEARY ALLOWED. God I hate that guy.
Rules:
Regular view: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html
Regular view, last page: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html?page=999#comments
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
Under this umbrella you can prompt:
- Historical versions of Franklin Expedition(-adjacent) guys (Rossier, Gore/McClure, etc)
- Madhouse at the End of the Earth/Belgica Expedition
- Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration - Shackleton, Scott, Amundsen, Mawson
- Andrée Expedition
- Karluk Expedition
- etc
Prompts in line with adaptations of Heroic Age stories can also fit here, for example if you want to specifically prompt Hugh Grant!Cherry from The Last Place On Earth getting wrecked (which someone really should).
No blorbo too obscure for this post! EXCEPT: NO PEARY ALLOWED. God I hate that guy.
Rules:
1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Mertz/Ninnis, sex crying
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Emil Racovitza, discovering a crazy new fish
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Very Next Day, Cherry/Birdie, E, cw self-harm
5. One prompt per comment please.
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome!
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please!
8. Feedback on prompts and fills is AWESOME; please take longer conversations to the discussion post.
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FILL: Three Men in a Tub, Shackleton/Crean/Worsley, E, cw literal filth and whale oil as lube
(Anonymous) 2022-10-01 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)The tin bathtub is barely large enough to fit a grown man, but sloshing with steaming water, it is the best thing any of them have seen in months. The housekeeper empties the last scalding kettleful in and shuts the door behind her, leaving the three of them staring at it like desert travellers at a mirage.
“You first, Boss,” Worsley says gallantly.
“No, no, you navigated us safely here,” Shackleton replies firmly.
Crean nods in agreement.
“Go on, Skipper, you’ve earned it.”
Worsley hesitates another moment, until Shackleton stares him down.
“Get in the bath and that’s an order.”
“Yes, Boss,” Worsley says meekly, a twinkle in his eye.
He strips off unselfconsciously, letting out a noise of disgust at the way his long underwear has to be peeled away from his skin. Crean laughs in sympathy. The other two are undressing as well, realising that they can finally be free of the clothing that has become like a second skin. Crean gets tangled in his shirt until Shackleton helps extract him, and he in turn helps pull Shackleton’s trousers away.
Their laughter turns gleeful as they shed the last of their filthy garments, and take in each other’s comically dreadful appearances: blubber-stained, wind-chapped, and frost-bitten on their extremities, faces swarthy and bearded, while the remainder of their bodies display an unhealthy pallor, gaunt and goose-pimpling at the unaccustomed exposure.
“What a sight we are,” Shackleton exclaims, striding purposefully to the tub and taking up the large sponge beside it. “Come on, then, Skipper.”
Worsley dips a toe in and withdraws it quickly, with a hiss of pain. Shackleton tests the water himself with a hand.
“Well, it won’t stay hot for long,” he says, and dunks the sponge in. “At least get that face of yours cleaned up while you wait.” He pulls Worsley down to kneel over the tub, and sets to work on the layers of grime on his face. “You too, Tom, come on.”
Crean joins them, plunging his hands in and groaning. They clean themselves bit by bit, taking turns immersing in the tub, scrubbing one another’s backs and splashing water all over the floor. When the water turns black they sheepishly request a fresh tub, but the motherly housekeeper seems more pitying than annoyed as she tends to their request.
It is Worsley’s turn to get in when the tub is refilled, and Shackleton has him lean forward after he fills up the water jug.
“Tom, will you do the honours?”
“With pleasure, Boss,” Crean replies with a grin, and gradually empties the jug over Worsley’s head as Shackleton scrubs at his hair.
Worsley actually moans at the feeling of Shackleton’s fingers on his scalp, drifting into a torpor of agreeable sensation as the matted hair untangles and the dirt washes away.
“Come on, Crean’s turn,” Shackleton says eventually, and Worsley suddenly realises just how thoroughly his body has registered its pleasure.
“Been a while since this happened,” he says with an embarrassed grimace, indicating his condition.
“Oh dear,” says Shackleton with a laugh, “what are we going to do about that, then?”
“I’m sorry, just give me a minute,” Worsley says, flustered.
“Don’t be,” Crean says, with a glance to Shackleton for confirmation. “I’m sure we can help you out.”
Worsley stands, awkwardly, and Crean re-fills the jug and hands it to him before sitting in the bath himself. He turns Worsley gently by the hips to face him, then grasps Worsley’s arousal, tugging it into full hardness.
“Go on,” Shackleton says, nudging the forgotten jug in Worsley’s hands. He wets Crean’s hair in an ungainly splash, and Shackleton lathers up his hands. “Ready?” he says to Crean, with a grin. Crean nods, eyes glinting, and Shackleton sinks his fingers into his hair, pressing Crean’s mouth forward onto Worsley’s prick. Worsley almost lets out a shout at the contact, and Crean makes a satisfied noise around his mouthful.
Over and over, he sucks Worsley deeper and then pulls away, pushing his head back into Shackleton’s hands like a pleased housecat and tilting it this way and that. Worsley isn’t sure whether he or Crean is enjoying himself more, or even Shackleton, with his proud smile at seeing his men happy. Worsley clutches the water jug with both hands, afraid of dropping it on Crean’s head, and occasionally sloshing more water down when Shackleton reminds him to.
When Crean’s hair is rinsed, he pulls away from Worsley’s prick with an obscene sound and shakes his head, scattering water droplets.
“Your turn, Boss,” he says, rising from the tub, and Worsley is gratified to see that both of them are hard too now. They change places, Crean giving Worsley’s ass a grope in passing. While Crean works on Shackleton’s hair, Worsley leans over the side and takes Shackleton’s prick in hand, as sturdy and thick as the rest of him.
“Oh, that’s good,” Shackleton groans, leaning back, and Worsley glows at the praise. He is aching by the time they are all three clean and towelled off, and by unspoken agreement they tumble together into the double bed at their disposal.
Crean likes to kiss, Worsley discovers, as he ends up with the sailor’s powerful body pressed against his front, and Shackleton hot and hard against his back. Worsley opens his mouth to Crean’s tongue and ruts frantically against his hip while Shackleton’s hands spread his thighs apart. He is too far gone to be self-conscious, even when a blunt finger presses against his hole.
“Just a moment,” Shackleton murmurs, pulling away to fumble with the lamp beside the bed. Then he is back, with greased fingers and a sudden whaley aroma. Worsley laughs in recognition.
“The pleasures of South Georgia, eh?”
Shackleton chuckles.
“I’d rather be covered in whale oil here, than any other place you could name right now.” The laughter stills as they all remember just how many times and ways they might have died on the way to where they are. Shackleton presses a single fervent kiss to the base of Worsley’s neck. “Thank you for getting us here, Skipper.” He finds one of Crean’s hands and kisses it too. “Thank you both.”
It is Crean who breaks the solemn moment.
“Well, are you going to fuck him, Boss, or shall I do it for you?”
Shackleton’s sudden intake of breath in his ear makes Worsley shiver.
“I’ll go first if you don’t mind, gentlemen.”
“Please,” Worsley manages, then devolves into an incoherent stream of begging and praise as Shackleton presses his fingers into him, and Crean takes both their pricks in hand to frig them slowly. Shackleton is careful, even as Worsley writhes back against him, seeking more contact. Finally, he deems him prepared, and the next time Worsley thrusts back, he meets the blunt head of Shackleton’s cock.
As he sinks into him, Shackleton wraps his arm around Worsley’s chest, holding him close. He is surprisingly quiet even as his thrusts pick up pace, huffing out soft grunts. Crean, by contrast, becomes eloquent in pleasure.
“Look at you, Skipper darlin’, taking him so well,” he says, working his hand faster over Worsley’s cock. “I’ll bet you’ve got the sweetest little arsehole, the way the Boss is enjoying it. I’m going to have you when he’s done, all stretched out and filled up with him.”
“Jesus, Tom,” Shackleton pants, “the mouth on you.”
Crean grins and puts his mouth to work swallowing Worsley’s moans as he reaches his crisis and spills over both of them, trembling hard. Shackleton follows him over the edge with a few last hard thrusts and a muffled curse. After a long moment, he pulls out and flops onto his back.
“All yours,” he says with a wink.
“All right, darlin’?” Crean asks Worsley, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. Worsley’s eyes are wet but he smiles back.
“Give me a sip of water and I’m ready for anything,” he says, but his arms tremble as he pushes himself onto an elbow to drink from the glass that Shackleton hands him. He gulps half of it down before remembering to offer it around. “How do you want me?” he asks when the glass is done, and Crean rolls him onto his knees and elbows.
“Fuck,” Crean says vehemently as he presses into him. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.” Worsley clutches Shackleton’s outstretched hand, buries his face in the pillow, and moans. Crean grips him by the hips, setting up a steady pace. “Skipper, darlin’, I’m not going to last long. Tight as a virgin’s cunny, you are. Twice as wet. Boss filled you up good. I’m gonna–fuck–yes–”
Crean pulls out as he climaxes, pumping his straining cock and painting Worsley’s ass cheeks and pink, swollen hole with his spend. Worsley’s prick twitches and dribbles as he gasps for breath.
The bed shifts and Shackleton gets up. He returns in a moment with the sponge, dunked in the still-tepid bathwater. Worsley is distantly aware of being cleaned up, but he is snoring by the time Shackleton finishes. The other two settle on either side of him again, pulling the blankets up and slotting their bodies together with the ease of long companionship in cold close quarters.
“You know what I’m looking forward to, Boss?” comes Crean’s voice, muffled against Worsley’s shoulder.
“I tremble to think,” Shackleton murmurs, half asleep himself.
“I’m really, really, looking forward to a shave.”
Re: FILL: Three Men in a Tub, Shackleton/Crean/Worsley, E, cw literal filth and whale oil as lube
(Anonymous) 2022-10-01 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Three Men in a Tub, Shackleton/Crean/Worsley, E, cw literal filth and whale oil as lube
(Anonymous) 2022-10-03 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Three Men in a Tub, Shackleton/Crean/Worsley, E, cw literal filth and whale oil as lube
(Anonymous) 2023-01-05 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Three Men in a Tub, Shackleton/Crean/Worsley, E, cw literal filth and whale oil as lube
(Anonymous) 2023-05-02 12:26 pm (UTC)(link)