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al0v3w1tch · 3 days ago

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Lord Apollon… Today is Lord Apollo’s worship day and this is a basic information post about Him, I hope you enjoy this post and make sure to check out my Hades and Persephone posts! https://www.tumblr.com/al0v3w1tch/766671508589477888/%E0%BD%90-%E0%BD%8B-lord-hades-today-is-lord?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/al0v3w1tch/767560383657607168/lady-persephoneyesterday-was-lady?source=share ✷ Who is Apollon? Apollon (or Apollo) is the Greek God of music, prophecy, healing, and archery; He is the son of Zeus and Titan Leto and the brother of the Goddess Artemis who aided Her mother in birthing Him. ✷ Mythology. When Leto was pregnant with the twins Apollon and Artemis, Hera discovered the affair between the Titan and Her husband Zeus so she forbade anyone to allow Leto to give birth on any land, fortunately, Leto found the island Ortygia to take refuge on but Hera would continue to make the childbirth a longer process when she forced the Goddess of childbirth, Eliethyia, to have Leto wait nine more days before giving birth. Artemis was born first and even helped Her mother to give birth to Her brother, Apollon who made the island come to life with flowers, plants, and music while carrying a golden sword. At only four days old, Apollon set Himself out on a quest to avenge His pregnant mother by slaying the serpent that tormented Her as She was seeking refuge. When the python was found, Apollon managed to shoot it down with His bow and quiver. However, this angered Gaea, who is the mother of serpents who ordered Zeus to send Apollon to Tartarus, Zeus, however, punished Apollon by exiling Him for nine years. After the years had passed, Apollon fixed the problem with Gaea and was gifted the Oracular Temple of Delphi. As a way to say thank you, Apollo set up the Pythian Games in Her honour. During the Trojan War, Apollon played a role in supporting the Trojans. When Achilles had murdered Apollon’s son, Troilus, on the altar of Apollon’s temple; the God set out to kill Achilles Himself and when Paris had the chance to do it, Apollon took the opportunity to use His archery skills to hit Achilles’ tendon, killing him instantly. ✷ Lovers. Apollo has had His fair share of lovers, both male and female; the most celebrated of His lovers are Daphne, Princess Koronis, huntress Kyrene, and Hyacinthus; He had many divine, semi-divine, and mortal lovers like His father, Zeus. ✷ Symbols and Offerings. Symbols: -Bow and Arrows. -The Lyre. -Ravens. -Laurel. -Wreaths. Offerings: -Sun Water. -Wine, water, milk, herbal teas, honey. -Olive Oil. -Honey Cakes. -Orange/Lemon Pastries. -Lamb/Goat Meat. -Fruits. -Cheeses. -Bread / Wheat. -Golden Objects (Gold Bowls, Gold Wine Cups, Flakes of Gold). -Bows and Arrows (fake/real / toys). -Sun Art or Imagery. -Musical Instruments. -Wolf/Dolphin Imagery. -Yellow/Gold/White Candles. ✷ Prayers. -Shining Apollo, bright-haired son of Zeus, strong of arm and flawless of form, of all the gods none are your equal in beauty or grace.

Apollo, of Leto were you born on well-favored Delos; in Athens and in Sparta and in all the lands were you honored.

To you did men and women offer prayers for health and healing in days of old; to you did the poets call for inspiration, O leader of the lovely Muses. Apollo, driver of all ill and evil from the land, in Delphi were you severed by the faithful Pythia, with whom you shared your prophecies.

Apollo, never has your glory been forgotten; throughout the centuries have artists turn to you for light and vision.

Great god, I praise you and your gifts. -Lord Apollo Far shooter, illuminator of the mind

You have sent me Sunflowers when you were seeking to help me. You have helped me so much in this year and I appreciate you so deeply for it.

My heart swells when I see one of your flowers or see your name. Your energy fills me with hope and love.

But it has not been easy.

I ask you to be gentle with me this time. I'm seeing your flowers again and I can only brace myself.

I ask you to carry me through this next stage of my growth. I ask you for strength. Life has been too hard on me, you know this. You've been there since I was a child. You and your sister. Apollo. Artemis. Names that have followed me forever.

I don't know what's coming. I don't know what's next for me. I just pray that it's not so hard. Not so painful. I know that's not entirely up to me though, and that you know what's best. I'm just scared.

Still, I thank you. I thank you for all that you have done for me and all that will come.

I thank you.

-Shining Apollo, bright-haired son of Zeus

and tender-hearted Leto who bore you on the shores

of free-floating Delos, brother of Artemis

of the silver shafts, lover of truth who knows

what will be, who grants the gift of foreknowledge

to those who seek, patron of the wise Pythia

who sits at the center of the world. Apollo,

friend of the lovely Muses, player of sweet songs

upon the lyre, healer of plagues, defender

against all evil, ever-youthful one whose hands

are deft, whose arm is strong, whose bow-string taut and thick

looses a rain of arrows, enough to dim the sun.

Fairest of gods, long of lock and smooth of cheek,laurel-crowned one, I thank you for your blessings.

✷ Blessed Be.

#paganism #hellenicpaganism #pagan #hellenicpagan #witch #witchcraft #aphrodite #hades #persephone #apollo #dionysus #hestia #greek deities #hellenic polytheism #apollo worship #witchcore #witchblr

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literallyjusttoa · 1 year ago

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My top 7 Apollo exes from Ancient Greece

DISCLAIMER: Though I have done a lot of research of mythology for this, it is based off of the riordanverse version of Apollo. I won't be acknowledging any awful implications in versions of these myths, not because I don't think they're important, but because it simply isn't a part of riordanverse Apollo's characterization in the books. Also I'm not going to mention Copollo. I love Copollo like the rest of you, but sadly that is a Rick Riordan exclusive, and also technically Commodus is an ex from Ancient Rome, not Ancient Greece :3

Ok with that out of the way lets talk obscure and non-obscure Apollo relationships

7. Apollo & Thyia

This one clocks in at number 7 because I love the idea behind it, but it is the most bare bones relationship myth wise. All we really know is Thyia is a priestess of Dionysus and she and Apollo maybe had a kid once. But like, the idea of Apollo dating his brother's priest? Hilarious, A+ stuff. Also, Thyia isn't just one of Dionysus' priests, she is THE priest of Dionysus. She runs his temple in central greece, is thought to have offered the first sacrifice to him, and might have been the first Maenad? Either way this relationship must have been insane. Also she's a nymph so she's definitely still kicking out there, would love for these two to meet again.

6. Apollo & Hyacinthus

Ok ok I know what y'all are thinking. Number 6?? This is like Apollo's number 1 most tragic relationship of all time!!! And yes as an angst lover I do enjoy the pain this relationship brings our boy, but I just feel like there's not many places to go with this relationship besides what we already have. Like Apollo and Hyacinthus were kind of the perfect couple. Which, like, great for them, but it doesn't give me much space to add anything? I guess, great ship, no notes.

5. Apollo & Hypermnestra (& Oikles)

Ok, half the reason this is here is because her name is Hypermnestra. Slay. But also this is a great place to bring up my favorite little headcanon. In a lot of Apollo's relationships, there will be a child, and myths will have different versions with different fathers. Some say it's Apollo, while other's say it's whoever he dated's husband. In this case, myths disagree on whether Amphiaraus was Apollo's son or the son of Hypermnestra's husband, king Oikles (Oikles??? I love these names). The implication here is infidelity, but I disagree. No, I think every time there's confusion over who parentage it's because Apollo was dating both the woman he's said to be with and her husband, and therefore no one knows who ended up, y'know, fathering the child. Anyways Apollo dated both Hypermnestra and Oikles and you can't convince me otherwise.

4. Apollo & Branchus

I like this relationship because in my mind, I always thought it was Apollo's first. In one version of their myth, it is said that Apollo met Branchus after leaving Delos as a dolphin, which I always thought implied this was soon after he established Delphi, which was really early on. Idk something about a young Apollo accidentally revealing his godliness to this boy he really likes is just so sweet to me. And he makes Branchus into a prophet, which is so cool! These two are cutie-patooties is what I'm saying.

3. Apollo & Kyparissos

C'mon, the man died of grief because his deer died. Throughout ToA we learn that deep down Apollo is a mushy ball of emotions and compassion, and that convinced me that these two spent 75% of their relationship crying over baby animals and pretty people. I love the idea of Apollo dating someone who's honestly just as much of a loser as he is. And while it is sad that Kyparissos is another lover Apollo had to turn into a plant, I have to emphasize again that he died of heartbreak, because his pet deer died.

2. Apollo & Cyrene

Listen, these two are boss bitches and you cannot convince me otherwise. In the same way I like Kyparissos bc I feel like he and Apollo are so similar, I like Cyrene bc I feel like, in a lot of ways, these two are very different. Like, don't get me wrong, Apollo can be strong and wild when he wants to be, but Cyrene wrestles lions. I like to think the time these two spent together really helped each of them grow in their own way, which makes for a really fun and interesting relationship. Also, just like Thyia, Cyrene is sometimes referred to as a nymph, so she could still be out there!

1. Apollo & Admetus

The more I think about these two, the more I love them. Admetus meeting Apollo at his lowest and helping him through it. Apollo falling head over heels as a result and doing everything in his power to repay the man. The two of them still holding such strong affection for each other even decades after the time they had together, to the point that Apollo would mess with fate to extend Admetus' life. Apollo's life is full of turmoil, and this period of it was probably the worst, but despite that, his relationship with Admetus seems so steady. The other gods are said to be embarrassed of Apollo's love of Admetus, and I think it's because Apollo loved him in a way that went directly against the values of the gods. Apollo and Admetus' relationship was defined by service and care, filled with selfless intent and genuine love. While many gods give their lovers gifts and special favors, the idea of actually going into servitude for someone you love is as ungodly as you can get. Apollo spent time with Admetus, and he wasn't possessive of him, helping him to find a wife after their time together was through. I think this relationship is a great example of how Apollo, even in his lowest moments, is a genuine and caring person, and how that often separates him from the rest of his family. Also these two are just cute and they both love cows and they're cows in love.

#trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sunny speaks #long post #this idea hit me out of nowhere and I had to do it #shut up sunny #lmk if I convinced yall to ship anything because some of these pairing have given me brainrot

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hyakinthou-naos · 5 months ago

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While this doesn’t align with reconstructionist beliefs, I personally regard Lady Sappho as a Thea/Goddess, and a consort of Lady Aphrodite.

I don’t often include Deified Mortals in my practice as a Hellenic Polytheist, but there are a few select exceptions - and Lady Sappho is one of them ⚢

Sometimes I remember that all lesbianism is named after 1 really gay lady from 4000 years ago. Whether you use the term Sapphic or lesbian, it still is from her which is hilarious, hope she enjoys being women loving incarnate

#sappho #aphrodite #Lady Sappho #Lady Aphrodite #HelPol #textpost #the temple of hyacinthus #deified mortal #deified mortals

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starstruckunknown-princess · 7 months ago

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Hyacinth - Joel Miller x Reader

Hyacinth (Hyacinthus) - Meaning: Please forgive me

Summary: After hitting your car, Joel Miller takes you out on a date to apologize.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Fluff!, slight language, reader wears makeup and a sundress but is otherwise a blank slate, Pre/no outbreak AU, no Ellie, reader was left at the altar, dinner date conversation, making out, nicknames 'sugar' and 'darlin', Joel Miller is a warning in and of himself

I'm really happy with how this turned out! Just a fluffy first date with Joel Miller. Enjoy!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

“Am I crazy?” you asked your best friend, Maria, while applying your mascara.

“For what? Going on a date with the guy who smashed up your car?” Maria asked dryly, shrugging her shoulders while she watched you get ready. “Nah, I’ve done crazier shit.”

“What if I remember him much more handsome than he is? Like the adrenaline made me think he was super hot?” you asked.

“You can always invoke the code phrase and I’ll call you from ‘the hospital.’” Maria offered, putting ‘the hospital’ in air quotes. You smiled over at her and reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled back at you. “Though I hope he’s not a dud. It’s about damn time you got back out there.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, touching up your lipstick. You hadn’t had anything more than a hook-up since you were left at the altar two years ago, throwing yourself into work and fixing up the house you bought with your ex.

With a final look in the mirror, you fluffed your hair and gave yourself a look of approval, then turned to Maria for final approval.

“You look hot, babe. This guy isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

You laughed, “Good, cuz he’s the one who hit me. Well, my car, but you know.”

Three days ago in the grocery store parking lot, you’d been pulling into a spot when a scruffy-looking man hopped into the truck in the spot across from you, started it up, and pulled forward without looking. The front of your little sedan stood no chance against the grill of his behemoth contractor’s truck.

He’d been incredibly embarrassed and apologetic, offering his insurance info and to pay for the damages himself. Amidst all this, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Brown curls with a striking hint of gray at the temples, broad, square jaw, and his eyes. Oh, you couldn’t get enough of his eyes and their dark brownness that threatened to swallow you whole. He must’ve noticed you staring because shortly after the tow truck arrived, he asked you on a date.

“I know this ain’t the best time and, y’know if you’ve got a boyfriend or somethin’ feel free to tell me to shut up, but uh, I was wonderin’ if you’d let me buy ya dinner Friday night? As an apology.” A light blush had risen in his cheeks and he shuffled his feet like he was nervous, so you agreed to it. The smile on his face could’ve lit up the whole city. “Great, I’ll drive.”

You’d both laughed at his joke.

The doorbell you installed yourself rang, pulling you back to the present. Maria went downstairs and opened the door. You turned back to the mirror for one last once-over before Maria called your name. You descended into the foyer of your house and couldn’t help the smile that rose on your face.

Joel Miller framed in your front doorway, wearing a dark green button-down and dark wash jeans would forever be seared into your memory. He looked, in a word, delectable. When he saw you, he smiled.

“Hey,” he said. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you said, but Maria cleared her throat from where she held the door open. “Oh! Joel, this is my friend Maria. Maria, this is Joel.”

They muttered hellos and you grabbed your purse, muttering to Maria that no hospital visit was necessary. She smirked her knowing smirk and nodded, bidding you good night.

Joel brought you to a nice Italian place, behaving like the perfect Southern Gentleman the whole time. He’d opened doors for you, pulled out your chair, and kept his hands to himself other than a hand at the small of your back to guide you to the table. You’d thought manners like this had gone the way of 8-track players and rotary phones, but you were utterly charmed by him.

While you looked over the menu, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him in the candlelight. You didn’t know he’d been doing the same since he picked you up until he cleared his throat.

“Uh, you look really beautiful tonight,” he said. You could tell he was nervous — dark brown eyes darting all over, fingers tapping on the table.

You smiled warmly at him to try and ease his nerves, “You look really nice, too, Joel. I’ve been looking forward to this since you hit my car.”

Your assurance seemed to calm him and he chuckled, “Me too, actually. Best accident I’ve ever been in. Well, second best.”

“What’s the first?” you asked, curious.

A pink hue tinged his cheeks and he looked down at the table. “My daughter. She wasn’t planned, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yeah, is that,” he cleared his throat again, “is that an issue?”

“God, no!” you insisted, “So you’re divorced? I hope?” you joked.

“Uhh, her mom split before we got married. Haven’t heard from her since.” He muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the server came over and took your orders.

When the server left, Joel wouldn’t meet your gaze. Before you got the chance to ask about his daughter he leaned forward a bit and made eye contact. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this often. I think the last date I went on was when Sarah was in preschool so it’s been a while.”

Because you had a faulty filter, or because you wanted him to know you knew how awkward dating was you blurted, “I was left at the altar two years ago. So I haven’t dated much either.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Yeah. We’d been together for six years, I followed him out here for his job, and then on the big day — poof! He disappeared. Two days later, he called from Florida and said he’d gotten a job offer he couldn’t refuse but he didn’t want to uproot the life I had built here,” you scoffed at the bitterness of your memory, washing it down with a sip of wine.

In the dimness of the restaurant his features softened, but you didn’t see pity in his eyes. Only understanding.

And damn if it wasn’t exactly what you needed.

Joel, you were coming to realize, was exactly what you needed.

“Well he’s a goddamn moron,” Joel said. “Only spent a few hours with ya and I can tell.”

Your heart fluttered when his big hand landed on top of yours on the table. The weight of his hand on top of yours felt incredibly intimate, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. In fact, you really liked it.

“How old is Sarah now?” you asked, not moving your hand.

“Almost fourteen.”

You couldn’t help your reaction — your eyebrows shot up and you tried the mental math. Joel wasn’t that much older than you, maybe mid-thirties, late thirties max, so if his daughter was a teenager he had her in his early twenties.

“That must’ve been hard,” you said, turning your hand over under his so you were palm-to-palm and squeezing his hand gently, “Raising her on your own.”

Joel nodded and squeezed back, “Yeah, but my brother helps out and working for myself helps too.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a contractor.”

You lit up at that, mentioning all the little house projects you’d attempted and the two of you chatted about how much subway tiling a bathroom sucks until your entrees arrived.

You kept talking as you ate, finding more and more topics as the night wore on. Joel agreed to split a tiramisu even though he “didn’t much like sweets,” which you giggled at.

“Me neither, but tiramisu is the exception.”

You let him have the first bite, and he nodded in pleasure. “Yeah, that’s pretty damn good.”

Once the tiramisu was gone and the server dropped the check, you did the check dance, but he insisted that tonight was about him making amends so he should pay. You conceded, but only after insisting that next time was on you.

He’d raised an eyebrow at you, dark eyes getting somehow darker, “There’s gonna be a next time?”

Returning his smile, you nodded, “If you’d like to. I know I would.”

Joel finished signing the receipts and stood up, extending a large hand down for you to take. He lifted you up and your body filled with heat at his gaze. Even though you’d just eaten, he looked hungry.

“Me too, sugar,” he said lowly, lacing his fingers between yours and leading you out to his truck. Again, he opened the door for you like a gentleman and you could feel his eyes on you as you climbed in. You watched him round the front of the truck and get into the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on his hands as he turned the key and made a show of double-checking before he backed out of the parking spot which made you laugh.

You couldn’t help your eyes landing on him every few minutes as he drove you home, talking incessantly about his daughter. It was incredibly endearing how enamored he was with his kid, how much he admired her accomplishments and how he wished he could spend more time with her without work getting in the way. You could tell this was a man who loved deeply, was loyal to the core, and would carve his own heart out of his chest to make those he loved happy.

You were half in love with him already, but you shoved that thought away because it was way too soon.

Joel turned down your street and pulled into your driveway, hopping out and opening your door yet again. He helped you down and you kept hold of his hand.

“Walk you to your door?” he asked, voice husky and eyes dark. You nodded and he led you by the hand onto your porch. It was like something out of a movie. The warm night breeze wafted his spicy cologne toward you, making you lean in closer. His eyes bounced from your eyes to your lips, his own lips parted. From this close you admired each of the gray hairs blooming along his temple and in his short beard.

“Can I kiss you, darlin’?” he asked, accent thicker than it had been.

“Yes please,” you breathed, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was warm, soft yet firm, like the first bite into a perfectly ripe peach. He tasted like tiramisu and your hands wandered up to his chest. Underneath his shirt, you could feel his pulse quickening along with your own as his hands came to rest at your hips.

You wanted more, wanted to deepen the kiss and pull his firm, broad body flush against your own —

But then your front door opened, revealing Maria.

“Oh! Sorry, thought I heard…”

You and Joel broke apart at your best friend’s interruption. Joel looked sheepish, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Give us a sec,” you said to Maria, who shut the door. Years of friendship told you she was eavesdropping on the other side of the door, so you kept it brief.

“I had a really, really great time tonight, Joel,” you said.

He smiled down at you, brushing some hair behind your ear. “Me too. You busy tomorrow night?”

You shook your head, “Free as a bird.”

“Good. Pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #tlou fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff

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vacantgodling · 5 months ago

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PARAMOUR CHAPTER 1: WEDDING PREPARATIONS

WIP: the fall of galere book 1: PARAMOUR

SUMMARY: an hour before the ceremony that will wed hyacinthus shrapnel to The Keeper of Chateau aux Aisles D'or, he receives an unwanted, but unfortauntely necessary visitor.

tw(s): implied murder, mentions of character death/patricide, a lot of footnotes lmao.

There were many preparations that one must think about to host a proper Galerian wedding—arrangments thankfully made without the bride to be, Hyacinthus Shrapnel’s, input.

He hadn’t had to go through the priests and clergy to secure an auspicious Temple for the ceremony. No, the prominence of his bridegroom was a weight hefty enough that it was preemptively arranged to be lofted to the most grandiose of heights: The Sanctuarie D’Orage¹, in its main, intimate nef². He hadn’t had to gather or oversee the étoiles or poisson³ to rehearse, nor even send out the illustrious invitations to announce his union with the head of the chamber, and perhaps true lord over all Galarian society even above the reagent, The Keeper of Chateau Aux Aisles D’or. The only responsibility that Hyacinthus had, in fact, in the undertaking of this grand occasion, was the procurement of his wedding gown and making sure it was presentable to his personal liking. A truly arduous task, as red was never his favorite color.

Thus, here he sat, on the precipice of his wedding march, staring down the gown he’d purchased on his elder sibling’s dime with the same glower of hate that a chained dog bore towards it’s master. He had been painstakingly pampered for this occasion: a long bath run, with milk, honey, and all the usual exfoliants; his long, luxurious black hair was steamed, straightened, freshly trimmed; his nails gilded with pure gold… the list goes on. And as a denizen of the chapel applied powder and lipstick to his handsome, dark, chiseled face—entrée was granted to one he wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing. The one who was the mastermind behind this betrothal arrangement, and the one who’s money Hyacinthus had no qualms about spending like water: the eldest of the damned and wretched children of one long dead business vulture Clematis Gunn—Vermassen⁴ Tagetes Gunn de Beneaux.

Their own weaseled wedding to the fifth prince of Galeré had taken place only several years prior to this date, but the royal manner of their current state was definitely going to their overgrown head. Hyacinthus scowled when they pulled back the curtain to reveal themselves, even more, perhaps, when he noticed the two flutes of bubbling champagne ferried in their gloved hands.

“Come now Cinthy, don’t look so delighted to see me.”

Sarcasm dripped from their treacherous tongue, disguised by the visage of a sinister, mustache-laden smile. They strolled leisurely across the room, easily elbowing the church denizen out of their way without a single thought. The poor girl stumbled, but she said nothing; knowing to yield to her betters. Tagetes set the champagne down on the vanity before Hyacinthus.

“Even after all the trouble I went to procure you some liquid courage.”

“I should think it’s poisoned, knowing you.” Hyacinthus sneered, but Tagetes only chuckled, and caught their younger brother’s chin in their hand.

“Careful little dog; do not fully sever the hand that feeds you with those golden teeth.” As if queued, Hyacinthus bared his teeth at Tagetes, the golden hue of his canines glinting in the dimmed light. “Were it not for my intervention you would be left to the streets. Some gratitude for my interference is in order, yes?”

Hyacinthus yanked his jaw away, glowering further still—yet wisely, perhaps, said nothing. Neither to thank them, nor deny the accusation; he instead let his gaze wander away to the gown awaiting his figure to wrap around.

“This isn’t my style.” He said. Tagetes followed his eyes, laughing softly.

“No, I suppose you’d prefer to wear a white ball gown enmeshed with gold. Shoulder pads too, of course? Not that you need any help accentuating your shoulders—they are quite broad enough as is.”

If Hyacinthus was one to do so, he’d have upturned his nose. But he simply said, “It’d look less tacky.”

“I hardly think it looks tacky—it is tradition. Even I wore such a gown on my wedding day.”

“The tackiness of your own gown was in mostly due to whom was wearing it.”

Tagetes tutted darkly. They gestured back towards the champagne that they bought. “Drink some.”

“I told you—“

“And if I drank some first?” Tagetes gingerly plucked one of the flutes of champagne from the vanity and drew some of it from its glass prison—only until it was nearly half. Then, they set it back down again.

“The other as well.” Hyacinthus remarked. Tagetes shook their head. “You truly think I want you dead, Cinthy? With all the effort I have furnished in you? Truly, if I wanted you dead—you would be.” Still, Tagetes obliged and gingerly lifted the second champagne glass to their lips. As they sipped at it, Hyacinthus murmured, “Such as father, I presume.”

He received no answer for that; though he needn’t one. Anyone who looked closely enough at the dynamics of the Gunn family knew that Hersieur⁵ Clematis’s death was no accident. Who was responsible for it… anyone’s guess. But if Hyacinthus had to bet money—and he was not of a gambling sort—he would put money on Tagetes.

The saccharine smile he received for his accusation was sinister enough as it were.

Once Tagetes had leveled the second glass to equal fullness of the first, they set it back on the vanity before Hyacinthus.

“Tell me, dearest brother, does this glass of champagne appear to you as ‘half empty’ or ‘half full’?”

Hyacinthus scoffed and stood abruptly from his chair, sweeping towards the gown that he ought to have donned by now. Seeing as it was their cue, an assortment of servants scurried to his aid; first affixing the tight, red bodice that pushed his pectoral muscles up as a proper bosom, tying its laces tightly so it would not come undone. Next came the garter and stockings, then the first layer of skirts—a sighing orange color akin to the sun at dawn, growing increasingly deeper in color with each layer until the heaviest and most saturated top layer was laid over the underskirts. A beautiful vermillion in color, adorned with delicate golden beads like stars dotted across the entire body of the skirt, tapering off into golden flames that licked the bottom hem, to mirror the sun’s rays.

As one servant affixed the veil, Tagetes saw it fit to continue; “If I were in your shoes, the glass I have presented to you is best viewed half full.”

“I know you well enough to smell your schemes, Tagetes. I have no interest in being grateful for being a pawn.” Hyacinthus rolled his eyes, stooping gracefully in a near curtsey so a shorter servant could fuss with the laying of his bangs. “The streets.” Tagetes rebuttled with a sing song voice. “I could’ve easily married you off to an old, decaying lord, with old, dying money. You would struggle to find a richer husband than The Keeper. Nor one so well connected.” Tagetes’s dark eyes were practically gleaming when they said, softly, sinisterly, “The Keeper is more than your botched birthright should even afford you.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Hyacinthus snapped, but it was easy to see how the words gnawed at his skin. He shooed the servant attending him away roughly, casting them to the side like a wet rag.

“Now, now.” Tagetes tutted. “Behave Cinthy. I can’t afford to have you mess this up.”

“I should strangle you within an inch of your life.” Hyacinthus snarled.

“But then you’d lose access to your pretty dowry. Think of the storeroom I’m sure your bridegroom has.”

“Money is—”

“Worthless? Perhaps. But with your expensive tastes, I doubt you believe that.”

“You—” Hyacinthus was cut off by the loud chime of bells overhead; The Sanctuarie’s clock tower alerting all of those far and wide in La Castra that it was nearing the auspicious hour—the time of the wedding to be spoken of for years and years to come; another Union of The Keeper of Chateau aux Aisles D’or—head of The Chamber, who benevolently ruled all of Galeré, even above the reagent themself.

“It seems as though the curtain’s draw is upon us.” Tagetes astutely observed. When they turned their eyes back to Hyacinthus, the look within them made something with Hyacinthus wither.

“I do mean it. Behave. At least until the curtain falls. Remember your glass.”

As quickly as they’d come, they swept out of the room, leaving both flutes of champagne on the vanity, and with a final wave of adieu, they were gone. Perhaps out to the nef, or perhaps to mingle.

Hopefully to hang themselves, Hyacinthus thought.

But there was no turning back now; within the hour he should become a wife—whether he wished it or not. He regarded the two champagne glasses before him. Then seeming to make a sudden decision, he grasped one in his hand and downed it, without much other preamble than that.

FOOTNOTES:

¹ = Sanctuaire D’Orage or Temple of the Storm is the largest temple in all of Galeré located in the center of religious leadership La Castra. It is a large, foreboding structure with a catacombs underneath and stretches high into the clouds as though it were trying to touch the sun. It features the largest statue of The Shepherd in the country.

² = nef — referring to the central most part of a church or temple; ie: a nave.

³ = the étoiles and the poisson are the bride and groom’s wedding precession. in a Galerian wedding, there is no such thing as a maid of honor or bridesmaids/male equivalent—the bride is to take the role of the Sunset and the groom the Ocean. in old Galarian folklore, the earth was made via the union of the Sunset and the Ocean, and so traditional wedding garb is reds for the bride and blues for the groom. the étoiles and the poisson represent the stars and fish present at this union, and in a wedding they dance before the bride and groom as they enter horizontally, then meet at the central altar. the bride is accompanied by The Moon who leads them to the altar, and the groom is accompanied by The Coral who leads them to the altar.

⁴ = a Galarian honorofic, referring explicitly to a married wife. Husbands and Wives are not gendered in Galere; for husbands simply are breadwinners and managers of the external household affairs and wives are the managers of finances and the internal household estate. Hyacinthus Shrapnel, once he is wed, will become a wife as well.

⁵ = a Galarian honorofic, referring explicitly to a married husband.

#s: paramour #ren writing #happy paramour 3rd anniversary y'all have chapter 1 as a treat #its wholly unedited as well so LMAO

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gingermintpepper · 2 months ago

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Hello! I want to know... Besides Hyacinthus, who is your fav Apollo's lover (male or female)? I really love Cyrene 🤭

Oho, thank you so much for the ask!

There are a couple candidates that immediately come to mind tbh. I'm not the sort that has a strict OTP sense when it comes to Apollo because I imagine there's importance in each of the affairs of the gods that are written about - there must be some reason that we remember their names and stories even now, y'know?

Ultimately, I have a brief selection of the lovers of Apollo whose stories I have personal and vested interest in with no particular preference except maybe for Evadne who, if I were forced to give only one additional favourite besides Hyacinthus, I would probably say it's her.

As for why I prefer Evadne over all the great and powerful romances Apollo has had; maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for the ooey-gooey romances but there's something so sweet about Evadne and Apollo's relationship and the consequent relationship Apollo has with Iamus, his and Evadne's son. I also love the subtle politics of such a relationship - from Evadne's side, yes she's a princess but more importantly, she's one of Poseidon's inhuman daughters - a child between Poseidon and a nymph - and the child between her and Apollo - a son of Zeus - goes on to become the father of a long line of famous prophets for the King of the Gods himself. That makes Iamus one of those rare children of a major god who is not divine but certainly not human either, something that is further exacerbated by the fact that for the first five days of his life, Iamus is cared for by his father who ensures that the baby is fed not milk but honey from the fangs of a snake.

All in all, it's not a very remarkable story in the grand scheme of things. There's no big drama like with Admetus and there's no great tragedy like with Coronis or Melia. Apollo doesn't act particularly noteworthy in either Pindar or Hyginus' account of the tale like he does for Cyrene or Branchus and the end result is a line of prophets sacred to Zeus and the Olympia oracle - a classic example of Apollo in his role as father to the great prophets and wisemen and yet something about the gentleness of Apollo in his affair with Evadne has always captivated me.

Evadne, who so feared her father that she would abandon her newborn child just to spare herself his anger, was able to trust and love Apollo. Likewise, Apollo did not once abandon her, sending the most blessed of attendants to help in her birthing and automatically stepping in to make sure Iamus was fed, clothed and warm until his mother returned for him. It's something about a young Iamus going into the River Alpheus - an ancient stream - and calling out for his purpose from his father and grandfather. It's something about Apollo's immediate and calm response and the way he leads the youth to the temple that will be his destiny and personally educates him in the ways of divination.

It's just one of those stories that always sticks out to me for the portrait of a father and lover it sketches of Apollo, even in a seemingly innocuous myth such as this one.

#ginger answers asks #apollo #evadne #iamus #genuinely though I love this story with all my heart and soul #evadne and iamus are one of those myths that always get me really excited and I love love LOVE paternal Apollo #The other big contender for me is probably Coronis #Yes I know that ends with her cheating and then Apollo (or Artemis or Zeus) smiting her and her lover and the town they were shacking up in #but Apollo genuinely did love Coronis and I like imagining that Coronis loved him too #There are versions where Apollo slays Ischys but can't bring himself to kill Coronis or versions where #Apollo is so immediately hurt by the knowledge that Coronis was cheating on him that the grief of that effectively paralyses him #and it's Artemis who must avenge the shame done to her brother #In all cases Apollo IMMEDIATELY regrets the decision to kill Coronis and rushes down to at least save their child #Which again big paternal Apollo moment because Apollo adored Asclepius and you can take that belief out of my cold dead hands #Coronis is one of those big fancy fate stories I like a lot #Where there's no happy ending for her - because of what she did the only thing waiting for her is death and destruction #but Apollo loved her. Even when she was unfaithful while with his child he loved her #And I just love pulling that apart #My favourite of his male lovers aside from Hyacinthus is Cyparissus!#But yeah hope this answers your question adequately! =w=

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hyakinthou-naos · 3 months ago

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I started my journey as a Hellenic Pagan very Anti Zeus™️ - and I will admit I was extremely ignorant; I couldn’t image why anyone would worship Him. The way He had been portrayed and explained to me in my childhood had cast a very dark shadow over Him.

But now? While He’s not currently part of my personal pantheon, I am slowly working to accept Him as one of my Household Gods. Our relationship is growing, slowly and respectfully, and I hope to spend the rest of my life building Kharis with Him.

This image spoke to me, as this is very close to how I imagine Zeus (except with mostly white/grey hair) and I wanted to share it with our Temple community.

Praise be to Lord Zeus - King of the Heavens and all-father of humanity. Praise be upon your name.

- Aön

omg it's zeus

process video

closeup of the dad

#Zeus #Lord Zeus #King Zeus #HelPol #Hellenic Polytheism #image and textpost #the temple of hyacinthus

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 month ago

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Hi Whimsy! This is my first time making a Kinktober request so I apologize if I'm not doing the right format, please give up a head up if I'm missing anything.

I would like to make request on Apollo/Hyacinthus aphrodisiac fic please. For the details: Hyacinthus bought an aphrodisiac potion from Aphrodite to spice up their intimacy. They have a talk about limitations because this is their first time using the potion, but then they accidentally overdone and went wild together.

Thank you in advance and I hope you had a great day!

My first Apollocinthus request! Huzzah!

"A most potent gift"

Pairing: Apollo/Hyacinthus

Themes: Soft | NSFT

Warnings: Aphrodisiacs | Kissing | Biting/Marking | Anal sex

Wordcount: 3.5K words

Summary: Hyacinthus procures a rare tonic from the Goddess of Love, and he and Apollo use it on themselves when they spend the night together.

A/n: In my stories of these two, Hyacinthus is given the nickname “Cinthus” by his friends and family, and his sister, Polybea, is an “oops” baby who was born when he was twelve.

Minors DNI | 18+

Hyacinthus lifted the clear, bejeweled vial to the sunlight pouring in through wide, arching gaps between the marble columns of the great temple. It was full of a rare and precious draught that glittered like finely spun gold.

“My sincerest thanks, oh Golden One, for your gift,” he said at length and bowed deeply. “It shall be gratefully received by Lord Apollo and I both.”

“Take great care when you indulge in it, Hyacinthus, Prince of Sparta,” Aphrodite warned, though not unkindly. She was seated on the edge of the altar hewn in her honor, admiring the costly perfume she held in her gilded hands. It was one of several rich offerings the Spartan prince had laid out for her in exchange for her gift. “Apollo is a god, but you, on the other hand, are mortal. The passions brought forth by this tonic would be too much for one such as you to bear.”

“I understand,” Hyacinthus said. He straightened himself, but kept his gaze lowered out of respect. He also held the vial in his hands like it was a fragile jewel, for the Goddess of Love would not take kindly to the sight of him being careless with it in any way. “And I will heed your counsel. Farewell, my lady. And my humblest thanks once again for your generosity.”

The wind swiftly rose, and the air grew as sweet as the fragrance clinging to Aphrodite’s crimson robes. Still, Hyacinthus stood where he was with his head bowed. He trembled when warm hands clasped his cheeks and lips as soft as silk pressed against his brow.

“Farewell, Hyacinthus, prince of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, her voice as soft as her kiss. “I shall remember you to Apollo when I see him upon my return.”

Suddenly, the wind died as swiftly as it came, and the air grew strangely bereft of the potent scent that sweetened it before. Hyacinthus lifted his eyes. Aphrodite was gone, as were the offerings he presented to her. Nothing but a cold and empty altar remained in their stead. He took a deep, steadying breath to compose himself, turned swiftly on his heel, and walked away. He was pleased with not offending the goddess, and he was elated with the rare token he had received. It would be put to good use when Apollo called on him next.

The sun was already setting when Hyacinthus rode back to the palace accompanied by half a dozen guards who had kept to the temple garden while he prayed within. They knew nothing of what took place, and the prince uttered not a word of it to them, though he knew they were all curious. It was not his place to speak of such things unless encouraged, and Aphrodite had not encouraged him to do so. He guarded his tongue instead and talked of other matters during the chief of the journey.

“Are you preparing for the summer games, Cretheus?” He asked the soldier beside him. “Is your twin preparing for it also?”

“Every day whenever opportunity allows, my prince,” Cretheus said, glancing back over his shoulder. His brother rode right at the back, keeping a sharp eye on the bustling streets and crowded terraces they rode by. “Arion is certain he will emerge the better of us two. I, on the other hand, believe otherwise.” The captain of the palace guard and Hyacinthus’ friend of many years turned his attention back to the prince and grinned. “The others have begun a wager. What say you, my prince? Would you care to add something to the pot?”

“Perhaps I will,” Hyacinthus said, grinning also. He kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse when the gates of the palace that towered over the other homes loomed ahead of them. “See me on the morrow, captain!” He cried even as his horse cantered down a wide, unpaved path edged with twisted apple trees and myrtle shrubs. “I will have decided how much to pledge by then!”

His mother and sister were the first to greet him upon his arrival. They stood in the outer courtyard when he rode through the palace gates. The sky was now a deep violet, and the first stars were already burning brightly between wisps of darkened clouds. Slaves garbed in simple robes of charcoal gray ran to and fro, lighting torches and braziers. Soldiers would gather around them later when they sought a respite from the night’s cold.

“Cinthus,” Diomede called out to him. She stood beneath the branches of an ancient oak tree, her daughter’s hand firmly in her own. Polybea was all of nine, and too playful for her own good. Her mother did not want her to run toward the horses, lest she startle them and put herself in harm’s way. “Pray tell me what became of your visit to the temple?”

“It was better than I had hoped, mother." Hyacinthus returned, reining his horse to a stop. A slave came forth and took the steed into his care after he dismounted it. “I believe the Golden One heard my prayers.”

Diomede espied the supple leather saddlebag her son loosened carefully and took to hand, and she bit her tongue all the same. Hyacinthus had said little of his intentions, save that he wished to visit the temple dedicated to the daughter of Ouranos. She would have to wait until he decided to speak to her of it.

“That is good,” she said, twining her free arm around his when he joined her. “Now come. Your father expects you to bathe and join him in the barracks hall for dinner.”

Hyacinthus led her and his sister to the women’s chambers on the upper floor before parting ways. He stalked to his rooms at the end of a dimly lit passageway and left the saddlebag he carried at the foot of his bed. Then he rang a little bell for a slave. He needed to bathe and dress before going to the barracks. His father would not take kindly to him arriving in the hall set aside for the soldiers to have their meals while dressed in sandals covered in dust or garbed in robes smelling of sweat and horse. He was a prince, after all, and he was expected to comport himself as such.

The slave who answered his summons led him to the bathing chamber set aside for the lords of the palace. Here Hyacinthus disrobed himself before walking into the sunken pool filled with fragrant water, though he did not linger long. He bathed as quickly as he could, then he dressed in the robes the slave laid out for him on a marble bench: a tunic of crimson and gold that had been given to him as a gift by a wealthy merchant hoping to curry favor with the king, a fine leather belt, and soft doeskin sandals. Hyacinthus studied his reflection in a silvered-looking glass the slave held up for him while he combed his hair. He looked presentable, and very much the image of a prince. Pleased with his efforts, he gave the comb for the slave to take, and he left for the barracks. Dinner would begin soon.

Cretheus met him on the way. He accompanied the prince down a long corridor until they reached a vast hall decorated sparsely before going to sit with his own friends. Hyacinthus spoke with him and those around him for a few moments. He was also reminded of the wager. He again promised to pledge a prince’s portion, and then he excused himself. His father was already seated, and he awaited him.

The meal that night consisted of thin, flat disks of bread and roasted fish dressed in lemon and herbs. There was black broth and cheese also, and figs that were already in season. Hyacinthus sat with his father upon the raised dais, speaking with the soldiers who were invited to sit and eat with them that particular night. It was a custom Amyclas, his father, began after he became king. It did not matter if they were the sons of nobles or lowborn youth of uncertain birth. Amyclas would call a score of them to his table, and he would speak to them. Sometimes, he would ask after their families. Other times, he addressed their concerns or any failings they discovered within his army. And he learned much. Hyacinthus was asked to do the same since he turned ten and three, for such would be the duty that would fall to him the day he ascended the throne.

Hyacinthus ate all that was served to him in haste, so eager was he to be gone. “Are you hoping to meet someone, my son?” Amyclas leaned over and whispered in his gruff voice.

“Why do you ask, father?” Hyacinthus replied with an innocent air. His father did not know that Apollo was his companion, and neither did his mother. He was not yet ready to speak to them of such a thing.

“You finished your meal uncommonly fast,” Amyclas explained, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He paused when a slave came to take away their dishes. “You even ate your bowl of black broth without complaint, and I know how much you loathe it. You did so because you wish to leave, and you wish to leave because you wish to meet someone. That is the only notion I can think of. Pray who is it? Is it the daughter of someone at court? Perhaps I can speak to her family on your behalf.”

Hyacinthus flushed from cheek to chest. His father missed so little. “I cannot say for the moment,” he began. “Perhaps I will speak to you and mother about them later on, but I cannot do so for now.”

“You cannot speak about this person.” The king arched a brow. He lowered his voice even more. “Is your companion the son of a noble, then? Or is he a soldier you formed an attachment with and are afraid to speak of?”

“Father…”

“Arrangements have been made in similar instances. And there have been brides who have been agreeable to much the same. Tell me a name after the others have retired to their beds. I will speak with your companion for you and devise a proposal that would appeal to all of us.”

“I cannot tell you, father. I am not yet ready to do so.”

“You insist on not telling me,” Amyclas murmured. He did not like what he heard. Hyacinthus hid little from his family concerning the company he kept, and this gave his father pause. “Is this companion of yours one of the slaves? Pray do not tell me you have formed an attachment with one of the slaves.”

“My companion hails from high birth and fortune, father,” Hyacinthus said. He looked into his father’s eyes to impress upon the fact that he was not hiding anything unpleasant. “And they are far from a slave. This much I can tell you.”

“I see.” Amyclas, somewhat appeased, leaned back into his seat. He raised his cup to a slave passing by. It was a signal he desired more wine. “For tonight, I will excuse you. Go on, my son. And tell this companion, whomever they may be, that I insist on speaking with them when the opportunity arises.”

“Of course, my king,” Hyacinthus said, pushing back his chair and rising. He bowed to his father, said his farewells to the others, and left the barracks not long after, highly amused with the idea of his father holding an audience with a literal god in his throne room.

More stars dotted the night sky when the prince returned to his rooms. He locked and bolted the door behind him and removed his sandals. A sigh rose from the tips of his very toes when cool marble pressed against the bottoms of his feet. Relieved, he walked toward a window open to starlit views of distant mountains. Apollo would come to him here, as was his wont to do.

And the prince did not have to wait for much longer. Apollo appeared a pace behind him, the golden glow of his earthly form spilling out all around him like a brilliant halo. Hyacinthus smiled when the light of his companion’s radiance flowed around his feet like waves lapping at the shore of a lake.

“Welcome, my lord,” he said.

Apollo gathered him into his embrace and held him from behind. “Beloved,” he whispered into his ear. “How fare you this night?”

“I am well,” Hyacinthus said. “I trust you know of my meeting the Golden One?”

“Aphrodite spoke of it to me,” Apollo said. He brushed his nose against the prince’s dark hair. It had become even softer since he saw him last. “She also spoke of the draught she gave as a gift. May I ask, my love, why such a thing is necessary? Have I failed to satisfy you in any way?”

It was strange to hear a god express self-doubt in any way. “You please me well, my lord,” Hyacinthus said. He closed his eyes and trembled as Apollo’s tongue ran over the shell of his ear. “I simply desired to try something new.”

“I see. Do you understand you cannot indulge too much of it? And that you must tell me if you are unwell in any way?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Then come, my love. Let us begin a new diversion together.”

Apollo was the first to reach the bed, an olive-wood kline wide and comfortable enough for sleeping. He opened the saddlebag and drew out the vial it held. “This is a most potent thing Aphrodite has given you,” he remarked, removing the stopper easily. The scent of rare spices poured out freely, as did the aroma of other intoxicating things Hyacinthus could not even name. “We shall each have a drop to begin with, and then we shall see where it takes us.”

A drop was what the god offered, and a drop was what the prince was given to taste. Hyacinthus swallowed that sweet-tasting drop, and he inhaled sharply. It was as if every inch of his body had been set ablaze by lust more powerful than any he had ever known.

“Oh,” the prince exclaimed. He grabbed onto Apollo’s arm, stunned by the strength of the desire heaving through his veins. His senses came alive. He could smell the sunlight on Apollo’s form, and he could feel golden ichor, a sign of Apollo’s divinity, pulse just beneath the tips of his fingers like a living thing. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once. “I want more, my lord. More. Please.”

“Hush, my love,” Apollo said. He downed a drop himself. The effect was nowhere as extreme as it was with Hyacinthus, but he succumbed to it all the same. “Come lay with me for a little while,” he implored, putting the vial on the floor. “Let me feel you in my arms.”

Their garments were disposed of without much ceremony. Apollo gently divested Hyacinthus of his belt and his tunic. Hyacinthus tugged at Apollo’s in his hunger to feel flesh against flesh. He inadvertently ripped it down the center, exposing his companion to the waist. Apollo chuckled. He took the prince into his arms again and kissed him, growling in approval when nails dug desperately into his back.

“Come,” he said, stepping back long enough to speak. The tattered remnants of his tunic he pulled over his shoulders and threw onto the pile of garments that had formed on polished stone. Then he pushed the prince onto the bed. “Come lay with me.”

Apollo was determined to not let Hyacinthus have any more of the potion provided to him. In the end, however, he yielded to the prince’s entreaties and allowed him a second drop and a third. He helped himself to more of it and returned the vial to its place in the saddlebag. Every sensation was sharper to even him and more defined. He could hear the beat of the prince’s heart. It was as loud and clear as a drum. He could feel the fire already pooling low in the prince’s belly, and he could smell the faint redolence of sandalwood and pomegranate oils lingering along the prince’s limbs. He savored them, all of them, and, when he joined the prince in bed, and the prince reared up to kiss him, he allowed himself to be drowned in them.

There was no patience this time, no tender preparation or gentle caresses. Wilderness tore at them both, urging them to take, and take, and take. Hyacinthus hissed when teeth marred his throat, his chest, and his sides. He cried out his pleasure when Apollo took him to hand, and he whimpered when he held him even tighter. Nevertheless, such acts were not enough to satisfy him fully, and he made it clear with his appeals for more of everything. Apollo swiftly left the bed and searched for the oil. He found it where it always was, right at the bottom of the heavy chest beneath a window facing the east. He wasted no time readying himself, and he certainly wasted no time readying the prince. Hyacinthus whined softly when his thighs were parted by trembling hands and when he was easily breached with two fingers. He writhed against the cushions, his cock bobbing against his belly whenever he moved. Pearlescent beads gathered at the tip, a sign of his growing arousal. Seeing it was enough to compel Apollo to forget all sense of himself. He withdrew his fingers and moved his hand around the prince’s back, raising his hips. Then he slid himself in, sinking as deep as he could manage.

Hyacinthus’ mouth parted in a silent gasp. He could not comprehend being able to take so much, and so quickly. Oh, Apollo had taken him in such a manner before, but never so fully, and never without restraint. Still, it felt just as wondrous, if not even more so. Hyacinthus’ fingers dug into the silk just as Apollo braced his free hand by his shoulder. The god kept a relentless rhythm, growing drunk on the sounds he heard. He was close. He perceived Hyacinthus was close also, and he craved nothing more than to make him spend.

“Harder, my lord,” Hyacinthus all but sobbed, clawing at the cushions beneath him as Apollo drove into him again and again. He wrapped his legs around the god’s hips, digging his heels into his back as if to urge him to go even deeper. “Harder. Please.”

Apollo, inflamed by the command, pulled out and turned Hyacinthus onto his stomach. He grabbed his hips, lifting them again, and he parted Hyacinthus’ legs with his own. Before the prince could say another word, he settled himself comfortably on his knees and pushed his length inside.

Neither prince nor god stopped to consider if the sounds of their coupling carried beyond thick, oaken doors and into the chambers and corridors beyond it. Hyacinthus propped himself on his elbows, his moans as loud as his companion’s. “There,” he cried. Apollo struck a place he had never done before; it made him see stars behind his eyes when he did. “Just there. Harder, my lord. Harder. Oh—”

Warmth spurted against the cushions, painting them repeatedly with thin, clouded stripes. Hyacinthus dropped his head against his arm. So lost was he in the bliss that washed over him that he did not feel the nails cutting little indents into his sides, or the thrusts that grew erratic. Apollo reached his release not long after. He grunted deeply as he spilled his seed, his entire body shivering violently from the euphoria that followed. He thrust until he softened, and then he stilled.

The world came into focus slowly. Apollo was the first to recover from the effects of the potion. He pulled away and collapsed onto his back, breathing as heavily as a mortal who had sprinted for miles. “Have I gone too far, my love?” He whispered hoarsely. “Did I hurt you by what I did?”

“You have not, my lord.” Hyacinthus turned and settled by Apollo’s side, even more worn by what came to pass. He looked up at the god when he renewed his embrace. “But I fear we were far from silent and discrete. Someone would have heard.”

“I will deal with any intruder myself,” Apollo promised, nearly half asleep. Such was the power of the potion they savored. It brought about passions not heard of in stories and songs, and then it brought a sense of great ease, a need for those who coupled to find restful peace in each other's presence.

“I urge you to restrain yourself.” Hyacinthus was half asleep as well. He rested his head in the crook of Apollo’s arm. “The first person to knock on those doors and demand entry may very well be my father. He knows I have formed an attachment with someone. And he insists on speaking with them.”

Apollo laughed. “Your father best be prepared for quite a revelation then. Now come, my love. Let us rest for a while. Dawn is many hours away still, and I have no desire to leave your side until then.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #apollo/hyacinthus #apollo and hyacinthus #apollocinthus #apollo #hyacinthus #greek gods #greek gods and their mortal loves #i hope you like this anon!

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