Polar Explorer RPF - Prompt Post 1

[coldboys]

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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Comments

darling, i love you as you are when you're alone; doug/paquita/jkd, E

[(Anonymous)]

Paquita could not believe she was crying on her honeymoon, of all times.

"Oh, come now," her husband - Douglas, smart and strong and wonderful - soothed, perching next to her at the foot of their hotel bed. "Didn't you enjoy shopping with Davis earlier?"

She sobbed, and Davis, who had been hovering watchfully on the periphery of the situation, stepped over in one long stride, holding out his handkerchief toward her. She took it and blew her nose. Paquita had enjoyed it immensely - she'd had a wonderful time out shopping with Captain Davis. He'd helped her choose a selection of dresses and blouses that suited her quite well in cut and color, and he'd carried her bags and walked arm-in-arm with her, and she'd felt safe. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe with Douglas - she loved Douglas, but he was enigmatic and ambitious and always on the move. Sometimes, in secret, she feared he'd fly so high she'd never be able to reach him. Even now, in the same room, his arm around her shoulders, she missed his touch.

"Oh," she sniffled, "it's only just that. Well. I was hoping we could, er, consummate our marriage, while we're on honeymoon."

"I see." Douglas looked down at the carpet for a moment, thoughtful. "Darling, I would love nothing more. I just have to finish these next few chapters, then -"

Paquita wept, and Douglas looked guiltily up at Davis. Oh, Paquita knew that he was on a tight deadline with his book, and that he just had to finish it, that the royalties would provide for them for years so that he could stay and build a home with her... she knew all of it very well, and she forgave him for it. She didn't want to be so emotional about it, it was just...

"It's alright, love," Davis crouched down, laying a hand on Paquita's shoulder next to Douglas's. She felt her husband's fingers twitch as Davis's brushed against them. Davis clasped her hand where it had fallen into her lap, and she looked up. He was at eye level with her. His face was so concerned, and ever so kind. What a dear man the Captain was. "He'll finish up as quick as he can."

Douglas looked at Davis, quizzical. A thought was forming behind those blue eyes, Paquita could tell. "Perhaps... perhaps you could keep dear Paquita company? While I work on my manuscript?"

"I'm willing, but I don't know that I can provide the sort of company she's looking for right now. I think she needs... the sort of comfort a husband is more suited to providing."

The air between the three of them, huddled at the end of the bed, seemed charged now, as though lightning had struck nearby. Paquita swore her hairs were standing on end. After a long pause, Douglas continued: "I know you are more than capable of providing such comforts, John." His first name? Douglas never referred to the Captain so informally. Paquita felt her cheeks prickle, an odd warm feeling in her stomach.

"This is your wife, Doug. And besides, you know I've never..." Davis looked around, as if checking to see what sort of company might be within earshot before continuing, quieter, "...been with a woman like that. I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Nonsense," Douglas said, then turned to Paquita. "Darling, do you trust our Captain to take care of you? Until I can have you properly?"

Perhaps she should have been nervous, or concerned as to how exactly her husband came to know their friend's intimate capabilities so well. But in the moment, Paquita was overtaken by an odd feeling. It was warm and definitely pleasant, the promise of an ecstatic calm the likes of which she'd never felt before flitting about the edges of her vision like a moth dancing in firelight. Was this want? Oh, how she hoped it was - that this was what a wife was meant to feel for her husband. She felt it for both of them - Douglas and Captain Davis. Did they feel it for each other, too?

Paquita blinked, allowing the feeling to settle in her lap like a purring cat, before responding. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think I would rather like that."

"Wonderful!" Douglas exclaimed. "I will get back to my writing, then. John, I owe you a favor. Love you both." He kissed Paquita on the cheek, then stepped back over to the desk where his typewriter sat. "I'll just be over here if you need me."

Douglas started typing, eager to get lost in his work again. Davis sat down on the bed in his place, holding his hands in his lap awkwardly. "Paquita, dear, I fear I'm not sure where to begin. Do you have any... experience? With this sort of thing?"

"Well, no." She thought for a moment. Oh, to Hell with it! "Show me what you would do if I were Douglas."

Davis froze. He looked frightened, like a rabbit caught in a torch-beam, but his eyes darkened. Clearly he was not unaffected - she had hit a nerve. "I don't mind, you know," she tried to reassure him. "It's only natural to love him. I love him, too. There is enough to share." Davis blinked, relaxing his posture minutely. "Go on," Paquita reaffirmed. "Do for me what you do for him."

"Alright," Davis said after a moment, tentatively raising a hand to trace the curve of her cheek with shaking fingers. "Let me lay you down."

He lay Paquita out on her back, her head on a plush hotel pillow. She lifted her skirts, spreading her legs before he could arrange them himself. Davis smiled sheepishly, taking his place between them and leaning down to kiss Paquita tenderly on her open mouth. She gasped, and he gave an incredulous chuckle. "Eager, are you?"

"Oh," she answered, "oh, Captain, I'm desperate." She'd intended her tone to sound playful, but it betrayed the real need behind it. Davis kissed her neck, nipped her earlobe, and she whimpered. "Is this how you kiss him?"

"Sometimes," Davis whispered. "Other times, I kiss him like this."

He moved lower, one large, rough sailor's hand caressing each leg, insinuating himself amongst the layers of her skirts, alighting at the juncture of her thighs. She was dizzy with anticipation as well as curiosity - what could he - ?

He parted her lips with his thumbs then, lowering his head to drag his tongue over her little... button? She'd known about the spot, had touched it before - only occasionally, but enough to understand that it could bring her pleasure. It had never felt like this, though: no one had ever taken their mouth to it. And what a talented mouth their Captain had. The friction of his tongue had been wonderful, but then he had begun to suck - as though it were - oh -

Paquita ran a hand through Davis's hair as he began to bob his head just slightly, lips wrapped around her... cock, she thought. Yes, my own little prick. The thought did something to her, made her more bold. She gripped the ginger locks in her hand tighter, thrusting up into his mouth. "Oh, John," she began to babble, "that's it - suck me - that's perfect - take it - "

Davis opened his mouth wider, adjusting his angle and letting Paquita push forward until her prick rested against the back of his tongue, his nose nestled into the soft hair above it. He grabbed her by the hips, urging her forward to rut into his mouth. Paquita distantly wondered if Douglas had looked up from his work - if he had seen the sight the two must have made, his wife fucking his best friend's face, his cheeks redder than his hair, her hard little cock twitching in his throat...

She tipped over the edge, warmth rushing out of her, spilling out onto Davis's tongue. He pulled back, swallowing all of it, gasping for air. Douglas had apparently noticed - when Paquita finally opened the eyes she hadn't realized she'd been squeezing tightly shut, she saw that he had come back over, sitting on the edge of the bed. She smiled at him, grateful; he smiled back proud before pulling Davis in to thank him by kissing the taste of her out of his mouth. She sighed contentedly, relaxing back into the pillow, watching her husband kiss the man they both loved. It was all for the best, she reckoned. She found she could be very happy with this arrangement, after all.