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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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Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 2/3 (whoops)
(Anonymous) 2025-01-27 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)“Flatterer,” said Worsley easily, unselfconsciously. His cock was soft between his legs, but no less enticing for it. Macklin remembered, suddenly, seeing the skipper leaping joyfully into a snowbank, fully nude, back on the old Endurance. He’d had to quickly remove himself from the situation before he could embarrass himself.
It was gratifying to find that his new body was just as affected by the sight of Worsley as his old one had been. Differently, to be sure, but no less fervently. Perhaps it really was a trick of the mind, then, that determined attraction. And his mind was decidedly still his own. In any case, his mouth still watered at the sight of Worsley’s cock, and though he had no matching member of his own to rise to the occasion – so to speak – there was a distinct quickening of his heartbeat and he could feel an answering heat between his legs, and, as Worsley took himself in hand, a shivering of something within. A flicker of excitement. Interest. Eagerness.
It was an eagerness not lessened by the sight of McIlroy swaying forward against Worsley. Macklin might have expected a stab of jealousy or at least annoyance, but no. There was only anticipation as McIlroy ran his hands up under Worsley’s undershirt and back down to wrap around his cock.
“Best get to it.” McIlroy winked at Worsley, and gave him an almost coy stroke. “And you, Mack – take this off.” He reached over and tugged at the hem of Macklin’s shirt. “Let’s have a proper look at what’s happened to you, shall we?”
He was no less appreciative than he’d been of Worsley when Macklin brusquely, jerkily pulled off his shirt and drawers to bare himself beyond denial.
“I said it before and I’ll say it again. You’ve always had a good pair of tits,” murmured McIlroy, “and look at them now. Christ, you’re a gorgeous thing. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him like this, Wuzzles?”
“Fairly sure – oh, c’mon then-” Worsley bucked into McIlroy’s hand. “Don’t be a tease.”
“I’ll be what I like,” said McIlroy, giving Worsley a wink and a squeeze before turning back to Macklin. “How lovely to see that he blushes just as easily as a woman as he did as a man.”
“I do not,” objected Macklin with a huff, hunching his shoulders defensively. The early morning air was cool despite the closeness of the cabin and he could feel his nipples pebbling.
But Worsley laughed. “Show him a bit of attention then. Since you’re determined to be so slow with me.”
McIlroy didn’t need to be prompted twice, and it was hard to deny that the pleased sound he made when he cupped two heavy handfuls of Macklin’s breasts didn’t make Macklin shudder in a rather delicious way. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Kind of woman I’d hope to see swanning about the docks on a dark night.”
“Don’t make such improper suggestions about my fella, now,” said Worsley, unoffended. “You sailors.” He settled down behind where Macklin was sitting. He was still only half-hard, but he carried himself with his usual unbothered ease and certainly wasn’t avoiding touching Macklin’s body: they were pressed up against each other now, crammed in on the narrow bunk.
“Takes one to know one.” One of McIlroy’s hands was still appreciatively kneading and fondling at Macklin’s chest. The other had drifted as though set by some invisible current, stroking along the curve of Macklin’s hip, caressing his thigh and slipping inward towards his, his – the mind still protested at the incongruity of seeing it still, but there it was, plump and pink and protected by dark, wiry curls. Two steady fingers pressed against his entrance and Macklin realised to his mortification that quite without any conscious input, his new body had gone ahead and registered its interest in proceedings. McIlroy’s fingers slipped inside without the least resistance.
“You are eager, aren’t you. I wonder-” He glanced at Worsley. “Does he usually like for you to put your mouth on him?”
“That would be putting it mildly,” said Worsley, tangling his fingers through Macklin’s hair. His other hand had wandered between his legs and he was lazily stroking himself, watching the two of them with half-lidded eyes.
“I’m right here, you know,” said Macklin, although he didn’t quite manage to sound irritable. His whole body had begun now to feel wonderfully warm. Worsley’s familiar touch, his clear appreciation of Macklin’s newly long hair, was well-matched with McIlroy’s able attentions, and he was basking in the sensation of being caressed all over. A pang of guilt that he was enjoying himself so much – but only a brief pang. After all, Worsley was always trying to coax him into relaxing. You can afford a bit of indulgence, Mack, he would playfully scold whenever Macklin raised objections on basis of time, money, or decency.
“Oh, I know,” McIlroy said, and promptly dropped to his knees with a practiced motion. He wasted no time in leaning in to drag his tongue, broad and languid, up the length of Macklin’s entrance, and all possible objections flew away at once.
It was true that Macklin had always been embarrassingly prone to coming off immediately whenever Worsley took his tongue to his hole. So it was only to be expected that McIlroy’s mouth on him now would be no different: expected, but no less promptly overwhelming. McIlroy was slow and indulgent in his devouring. No playful licks but deep daubing strokes as if he were a dramatic artist with a brush. He pushed his tongue inside and savoured, moaned, and kissed until Macklin’s clit was throbbing and his thighs were trembling. He bucked against McIlroy’s tongue even as he bit his own to prevent himself from crying out. His glasses were slipping hopelessly crooked on his nose and he fumbled the frames with uncoordinated fingers until Worsley thankfully took them from him.
“That’s it, darling,” said McIlroy, encouraging and surprisingly sweet. “Doesn’t that feel right?”
It did feel right – it felt so terribly, completely right that Macklin could hardly speak. He was dripping in glistening strands against McIlroy’s red mouth, and when McIlroy suckled on Macklin’s little clit Macklin came almost unexpectedly with a jerk of his hips and a hot flood on that inexorable tongue. He was so surprised that he didn’t even make a sound beyond a sharp inhale and could only lie there, blinking dazedly at the cabin ceiling as pleasure rolled through him in erratic heartbeats.
“Look at you.” McIlroy’s breath was hot against Macklin’s inner thigh. “Look at this gorgeous, wet cunt. Small wonder the skipper wants to put a baby in your belly. I want to do it myself. I’d keep you in bed all day, ‘til you were too round and full to do anything but lie there and beg for more.”
Macklin twitched involuntarily, words jumbling about in his reeling head. Some of them were half-hearted protests; most of them were just I want and yes.
“The mouth on you,” said Worsley from where he was curled around Macklin’s back. His eyes were dark and warm and he was hard between his legs now, his cock arching from the dark thatch of hair at his groin. “No one could say you two don’t make a pretty picture, hell.”
“And there you were, saying you wouldn’t have managed it with a woman,” said McIlroy, teasingly.
“Didn’t say I was blind. It’s a very pretty picture.” Worsley propped himself up to give Macklin a kiss, and then leaned precariously over the edge of the bunk to kiss McIlroy right on his narrow, wicked smirk before sitting up. “Now. Come make that mouth of yours useful over here.”
“Aye aye,” said McIlroy with a sardonic little salute, and he went. It seemed he hadn’t been overexaggerating his interest in men just for a chance at Macklin’s freshly feminine assets: he pushed up the twice-repaired hem of Worsley’s shirt and took his thick cock into his mouth without hesitation. Judging from the way Worsley cursed and squirmed happily against the bunk, he wasn’t only guessing either.
Worsley was a treat to watch when being pleasured. He could never keep still, never keep his mouth shut. When McIlroy pulled off of Worsley’s cock with a last lazy lick to the tip, Worsley was fully erect and Macklin’s heart was fluttering. The new equipment between his legs fluttered as well. No question about it: Miss Macklin was certainly just as affected by Worsley’s sturdy, well-formed body as was her male counterpart. Words seemed unnecessary. Macklin let his legs part, knees quivering.
“She’s wet and waiting for you,” said McIlroy, almost a purr. His lips were flushed. glistening. “Go on. Take her.”
“Are you ready?” Worsley asked, soft and gentle, rubbing a rough thumb down the curve of Macklin’s thigh. He was always conscientious, but this was so slow it was almost torture.
“Please,” said Macklin before he could feel ashamed of his eagerness. His pulse was fluttering, drumming itself through his fingertips. Deep in his core, a slower, rolling beat throbbed in waves.
“If you’re sure-”
“Of course she is.” McIlroy’s were surgeon’s hands, steady and efficient. They were precisely so as he guided Worsley solicitously between Macklin’s legs, two fingers parting the dusky, swollen labia and a third managing a last cheeky swipe before Worsley finally pressed inside.
Distantly, the remaining sliver of his brain capable of detached observation noted with interest how effective his body’s natural lubrication really was. Macklin had never actually had the opportunity or rather the inclination to experience firsthand the female anatomy in this way, and it would have been a prime opportunity for study had the far greater part of his mind not been sunk deeply into a haze of desire.
The stretch of Worsley’s cock was obscene within him. It always felt overwhelming in the best way but his altered anatomy was delivering a different sensation, new and equally wonderful, and Macklin felt his toes curl with anticipation as he trembled, desperately wanting. “Yes, oh – Wuzz, Frank, Frank-”
“There you are,” Worsley murmured, stroking the side of Macklin’s face. He slipped his thumb between his lips and Macklin opened his mouth to take it immediately, eagerly. Worsley rolled his hips, building into a rhythm. “That’s good, you feel just as good-”
McIlroy’s slender hand insinuated its way between them. “Don’t neglect her, now,” he said silkily as his fingers pushed through coarse hair and found the sensitive nub of Macklin’s clitoris. “Perhaps you can get what you need simply from a good ramming but ladies are more refined than all that.” He pressed down and Macklin gasped, automatically arching his hips into McIlroy’s touch and making Worsley groan in turn.
“Oh, damn- Mick-“
“Is she tight?” McIlroy asked, his hand working faster. “She’s technically a virgin. This way, at least.”
“Hah, definitely not the – other way – yes, yes he’s tight, Mack, is it alright?”
It most certainly was. The familiar, much-appreciated feeling of Worsley’s weight pressed against him and of Worsley’s hands in his hair were matched by new sensations, new sparks in places hitherto unknown and unavailable. McIlroy’s fingers on him; Worsley’s hips bruisingly hard at an unaccustomed angle. Typically Worsley knew just the right place to meet inside him when they were fucking. Now Macklin found himself shifting, trying to chase the fizzing sparks that he could feel hovering at the edges of his body, somewhere not quite – there – yet – his entire body quivered with every thrust, thighs flexing and flushed nipples aching and Macklin raised a shaking hand to cup at himself, desperate to urge himself forward to some kind of release.
Of course McIlroy noticed. “What brutes we are. Breasts like yours need attending to.” His hands were back, fondling and squeezing with an assertion that made Macklin writhe. “They’ll grow larger once we’ve put a baby inside you, don’t you know? You’ll try and be modest, of course, a good girl like you, but it’s no use. Everyone will see these gorgeous tits straining to spill out of your dress, begging to be touched. Just like you’ll be begging to be fucked.”
“Christ, you – don’t say that-” Too late; the vivid picture pouring from McIlroy’s tongue had already taken hold. And surely neither Worsley nor McIlroy would let him go wanting, if he increased – no, they would keep him well provided for in all ways.
There were fingers rubbing his clit, massaging at his breasts– whose, Macklin could no longer tell. He was floating, conscious only of how stretched open he felt and of the all-encompassing desire to be fucked and filled to the brim. The thick girth of Worsley’s cock was rubbing up inside him, seeking something not quite found – and then suddenly he came again with a shout, his legs seizing up around Worsley’s torso before falling limp. The throbbing in his lower belly intensified, and Worsley groaned and matched him by increasing the force of his movement.
“Can I – Mack, I’m going to, can I-”
“Please,” Macklin managed, unsure if he had enjoyed his climax or not but wanting more of whatever it had been.
“But you’re – what if-” The rhythm of his thrusts was stuttering, close to breaking down altogether. “Haaah, Mack, if you get in trouble-”
“You’ve already gotten her in trouble.” McIlroy, sounding nearly as breathless. Macklin blinked, trying to focus his dazed vision on his face where it was pressed into the sweaty hook of Worsley’s shoulder. “Do what you promised, Skipper.”
What he’d promised- “Yes,” Macklin gasped, “do it. I asked you. Please-”
Face flaming, shame boiling together with arousal in the pit of his stomach – but it was the truth. That had been what had really happened, hadn’t it? Worsley had made a breathless joke about Macklin not being in any danger and Macklin, feverish with need and for once unguarded, had groaned out that he almost wished he was. Oh, but you can try, Frank, please, I wish you could, I want you, want you to come inside-
Worsley had. He had spilled inside and fucked it deep into him, whispering loving, joyfully possessive filth in his ear. Later Macklin had murmured something noncommittal about good grief, how embarrassing and Worsley had laughed it off, kissed him, and they had fallen asleep in good humour. It hadn’t been Worsley who’d asked for this, it had been Macklin. Fucked into the mattress, ankles locked around Worsley’s waist, needy and desperate.
“Do it,” Macklin tried again, barely coherent. McIlroy’s fingers on him were both too much and not enough all at once. His aching vulva was unbearably sensitive, he seemed to have lost all sensation in his knees, he needed McIlroy to keep stroking him and Worsley to keep fucking him, possibly forever.
“Make her – make him come,” McIlroy urged in a low, rough voice. “Make him feel what he was asking you for.”
Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-27 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)“Mack, Mack-” Worsley was babbling, the same loving nonsense he always repeated whenever they lay together. “You’re so good for me, my gorgeous man – and you are mine, come here, darling, kiss me-”
Eager mouths. Worsley’s hand tender at the back of his head, cradling him, fingers combing through cropped hair-
Macklin blinked. Tentatively, he took one hand from where he’d been clutching at Worsley’s shoulder and cautiously, almost frightened, reached between them to feel at himself.
Oh thank goodness.
He glanced quickly to the side to see McIlroy grinning at him, so smug and self-satisfied that Macklin almost got annoyed again just on principle. But the onset sensation of being settled back in his own familiar, comfortable body was so relieving that he couldn’t manage it.
“Frank,” he managed to get out against Worsley’s kisses, “Frank-”
Well Worsley was hardly one not to notice a male form pressed so closely against his own, and for once he didn’t waste his breath on words. Macklin felt his hips stutter, met Worsley’s delighted gaze, and was promptly smothered with kisses even more fervent than before.
“I’ll miss your feminine wiles,” said McIlroy, regretfully.
“Ah, but where would we be without his masculine charms?” Worsley turned and gave McIlroy a kiss on the mouth as well. “Can I do for you, too? Just say the word.”
“If you’re offering.” He cast a sideways glance at Macklin.
Macklin hardly would have refused. Even if McIlroy hadn’t landed on the solution and lent his aid, he and Worsley were an admittedly handsome pair. A very pretty picture, thought Macklin, only somewhat begrudgingly. He was, after all, very recently and very entirely satisfied.
“Wouldn’t leave a fellow hanging out to dry like that,” said Worsley cheerily, and unbuttoned McIlroy’s trousers which were straining rather tellingly. “Especially not after he’s done us such a good turn.”
“Not good form.” McIlroy sighed, pleased, and settled against the cabin wall. In his dual pleasures of being restored to his usual anatomical configuration and having been thoroughly, rigorously fucked, Macklin felt only hazy contentment at watching Worsley playfully bring McIlroy off, with enthusiastic mouth and thick-fingered hands. Macklin was intimately familiar with Worsley’s hands after the past half decade of acquaintance, the rough calluses on his fingertips and palms, and he could appreciate the sight of McIlroy’s face going slack with pleasure as Worsley touched him. It was a testament to how entirely fulfilled he was that when McIlroy came and immediately grabbed at Worsley to kiss him hungrily, Macklin only pressed himself closer and enjoyed a pleasurable shiver. The two of them, with their matching lascivious grins and even worse wit. Macklin had acknowledged his predilections before. He had a resigned suspicion that after this little encounter, so might McIlroy.
It probably would have been better for his reputation had he insisted they promptly try and make themselves respectable after all was said and done. But he was feeling warmly drowsy and even to Macklin it seemed rather hard-hearted to turn McIlroy out of bed after he’d really done such as admirable job. Worsley was hardly the sort to decline a post-coital cuddle, and McIlroy was clearly basking in his victory.
“That was a fine medical emergency,” he said, sleepily. “You can drag me away for something along those lines at any hour, Wuzzles. And who knows, maybe you’ll be more inclined to women after all that.”
“I think Mack’s still the only lady for me,” said Worsley, so guileless and adoring that Macklin couldn’t even bring himself to take it as anything but a compliment.
Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-28 03:32 am (UTC)(link)my god, this was so fucking hot. I loved mick’s thesis statement: You fucked him into this mess, perhaps you ought to try fucking him out of it?
and I cheered out loud when I saw that 2/3 like for real out loud. Hot damn
Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-29 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)hahah maaan when I realised the fic had somehow gotten almost to 6k. How did it come to this fr
Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-28 03:36 am (UTC)(link)another ICONIC entry into the growing girlcurse canon. thank you so much and also. holy shit 😮💨🥵😵💫
Of course McIlroy noticed. “What brutes we are. Breasts like yours need attending to.” His hands were back, fondling and squeezing with an assertion that made Macklin writhe.
my favorite part tbqh
Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-29 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-28 08:45 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Boy problems, who's got 'em - McIlroy/Macklin/Worsley, Explicit 3/3
(Anonymous) 2025-01-29 12:12 pm (UTC)(link)