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Cold Boys Kink Meme ([personal profile] coldboys) wrote2026-09-28 01:56 pm

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: 
  • 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: Never so pretty, Cherry/Kathleen Scott, E, age gap + mommy kink

(Anonymous) 2023-05-10 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Content warning: Oops, all angst.

Kathleen returns to the drawing room, her other guests having bid their farewells and retreated into their cabs. It comes as little surprise to find Cherry still sitting cross-legged on the floor, a docile expression on his face. She is so seldom in London these days, and for Cherry to emerge from his country pile at such short notice - of course he came down for this.

Sighing in resignation, she takes a seat on the sofa. Cherry shuffles over to her. His gaze is fixed on the carpet, as if not looking might render him invisible. He rests his head against her knee. Their situation is a strange one, certainly. But it would seem that her late husband had begun - quite without meaning to - the work of fathering the boy in Antarctica, and she is loath to leave his task half-done.

"It is a shame you haven't learnt self-reliance yet, Cherry," she tells him, "it is a virtue."

Cherry doesn't reply, but sighs unhappily. He shuffles onto his knees and rests his head fully in her lap, nuzzling against the mauve chiffon of her evening gown. She hears him try to choke back a sob, feels the hot exhale of his breath on her inner thighs, even through all her skirts and underthings.

"No, Cherry," she tells him, sternly, "I'll not have you throwing a fit on the floor. You're a big boy now. It's time you proved it."

She pats the sofa cushion by her side, inviting Cherry join her. He slowly and carefully unlaces and removes his shoes before heaving himself onto the seat. Kathleen nods in approval: he is learning. One previous occasion Cherry had scrambled up beside her without removing his shoes, earning him a smacked bottom. She doesn't like to use such corporal measures as a rule, but with Cherry the damage has already been done; he responds to little else.

Now that he is perched next to her, Kathleen takes Cherry's chin in her hand and turns his face to hers. His eyes stay downcast. Biting his lip, Cherry clutches his hands to his chest, as if wishing for something to hold in his arms. Once, when he was in this state, he had tried to play with her son's tin soldiers, and in her shock and disgust she'd slapped him hard across his face. And what had Cherry done then, but only whimpered and panted for her all the more? There is no sense in giving him his nice things. How could he ever appreciate them, when he takes such unseemly pleasure in ill-treatment?

"You can't still be torn up over your little friend?"

Cherry shakes his head, a sullen expression on his face. Kathleen can tell well enough when he is lying, and yet despite displaying no aptitude for it Cherry remains determined to be devious.

"Then what is it?" She flings her arm in exasperation, releasing his face from her grip.

Cherry slumps to look back down at his hands, bottom lip sticking out in self-pity.

"It’s Bill," he mumbles. He speaks soft and small, lips hardly moving. "I miss Bill."

Kathleen sighs in frustration but pats her lap, bidding Cherry sit in it. He cannot put his full weight on her, he is too big, but he swings his legs up and moves closer. His arms can wind round her neck; bottom half-on, half-off her thighs so so as not to squash her. He tries to rest his head against her chest, rub his face against her décolletage, but she shrugs him away. She does not want to feel the sandpaper roughness of his stubble.

"I know you think you miss him," she tells him, loftily, "but you did not know him for so very long a time. Scarcely a year or so. It only seems so important to you because you are so very young."

"I do," Cherry insists, "I do miss him."

His lower lip is wobbling.

"If you say so, Cherry, dear," Kathleen tells him, in bored tones. "Now let's get you out of these uncomfy clothes." She fusses with the fastenings of Cherry's trousers.

"I love him," he says in a small voice, "and he loved me."

Kathleen chuckles indulgently.

"I'm sure it seemed that way to you," she placates, "but every boy who spent time around Bill seems to feel the same. And he can't very well love all of you, can he? Not when he hardly knew you?"

Cherry is sniffling, not quite crying but threatening to. She can feel his erection through his underpants. Such a mixed-up psychology is Cherry: he cries when he's aroused and settles when he spends.

"He can't have loved you, you silly, little dear," she informs him.

A sob shakes through him.

"Do you know how I know? His eyes were forever on my husband."

She unfastens his trousers, frees his cock from his underwear. It is a pretty thing, rosy-pink and just the perfect size to wrap one's hand around. Cherry is entirely undeserving of such a prick. He gets little enough use out of it.

"He looked at me too," Cherry insists, pouting unbecomingly, "he said I was - he said I was good - a good boy."

Kathleen begins to pump her fist along his cock, musing how much better it would be if Cherry's cock were to be given to someone more capable. Herself, for example. She smiles, increasing the pace of her strokes, imagining if she were the one equipped with such a prick. A charming piece, hanging neatly between her legs. It would nestle in the curls of the hair there, where the keyhole to her sex lives now.

She could use the cock to fuck Cherry. Yes, that would be much more appropriate. And if she had his cock, Cherry would have - nothing, she supposes. That would be quite fitting, Cherry never having been much of a man after all.

He'd have a hole still, a hole for Kathleen to fuck until he squealed like a girl. She smiles at the thought - oh, but she would make him scream. Then again, that task might not take so very long. She looks at him now, his head thrown back in rapture, the lids of his eyes fluttering, tears welling at their corners.

"This is what you wanted him to do, isn't it?" Kathleen coos.

Cherry nods.

"And here you are, stuck with silly, old Mummy."

She laughs at his vague noises of protest.

"Oh, I know this game," she tells him, "you loved Uncle Bill for his games and doting, but he could never have looked after you the way I can. And still you resent me for it."

Kathleen works her left arm around his back, places a hand on the gentle swell of his tummy, pulls him closer. Cherry mumbles ineffectually into her shoulder.

"He would never have done this for you. He loved my husband. And my husband loved him. Sweet, little Cherry, you could hardly have been a speck on the horizon of the real grown-ups. I imagine your adoration for Bill, if it was even noticed, would have been little more than a private joke between them."

He chokes and sobs now, and Kathleen recoils back from his tear-streaked face.

"I hope you have a handkerchief, Cherry," she warns.

Sniffling and shaking Cherry pats his front, fumbles through the pockets in his waistcoat before locating the item in his inside suit pocket. The handkerchief is folded and pressed. Cherry's initials are embroidered in red on the corner. He wipes the tears from his face, and then, as if a dam were broken and a torrent released, begins to sob desperately into the fabric.

His cock is leaking now, thicker than tears but just as salty, if Cherry tastes the same as Con. Kathleen can't imagine that he would, and she has no inclination to find out. She slicks it down over his shaft, smoothing her strokes.

Cherry is alternating between teariness, and managing to pull himself together long enough to look helplessly at her. She likes him like this. He isn't a handsome man, but like this he is so utterly wretched that she takes great pleasure in doing this - this thing that is both a hurt and a comfort. The only way it could be nicer would be if she had a cock with which to fuck him into this state, and with which to feel his body as it gives way. Not to mention, if she had a cock, Cherry might have the first idea how to please her.

"You need to set these childish fancies aside, Cherry," she advises him, "One cannot go through life throwing oneself at the feet of anyone who gives a kind word."

"Mu - " Cherry chokes out between sobs, "muh -"

Kathleen cannot tell if he is trying to say anything or merely vocalising his sobs.

"Please," he manages, at last, "please, may I -? I'm going to, I think -"

He blushes, nodding down at his cock. Kathleen considers the prospect.

"Do you promise to stop being so silly about Bill?"

One, she thinks, for one man to be so foolish over Dr Wilson was quite enough.

Cherry cries harder. She can feel the muscles of his stomach clenching from the crying and from trying to forestall his climax.

"Will you try?"

"Yes - yes - Mummy, I will try." Cherry opens his bitten lips to splutter.

"Handkerchief."

He has scarcely passed it to down to he, all tear-stained and grotty, before he is spending. Kathleen moves quickly to catch the worst of the mess. Cherry's hips lift from her lap as it happens, his hands clenching desperately at nothing. The last burst of tears drops from the creased corners of his eyes onto his round, red cheeks. He gasps, collapsing back down, panting heavily.

He flings himself forward as if to embrace her, but Kathleen proffers the used handkerchief. A reminder to tidy up after oneself. Then she gently lifts his legs from across her body, that she might get up from the sofa and pretend to busy herself at the drinks table.

She keeps a wary eye on Cherry, still lying on the sofa, handkerchief dabbing ineptly at himself. His eyes are bleary, and there are several splotches of semen on his waistcoat. Kathleen sighs, wondering if she should ring for some tea. Her friends in Paris had been right: at times, men are such babies.

Re: FILL: Never so pretty, Cherry/Kathleen Scott, E, age gap + mommy kink

(Anonymous) 2023-05-10 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"She doesn't like to use such corporal measures as a rule, but with Cherry the damage has already been done; he responds to little else."

wewwwwwwdewefbmhgjdfsgntrHYJDM THANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT. YOU'VE FUCKED HIM UP IN SUCH A PERFECT WAY.

Re: FILL: Never so pretty, Cherry/Kathleen Scott, E, age gap + mommy kink

(Anonymous) 2023-05-11 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
OH MY GAWD this had everything I didn't know I needed in my life. The mindfucking going on here...mmmm delicious. Thank you anon for this incredible gift