heroic folklores.

  ○  — ʰᵉʳᵒᶦˢᵐᶠᵐ   ᵖᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ˡᵘᵏᵉ —

[heroicfolklores]

⸻  HEROIC FOLKLORES ⁝      an  exclusive  multi-muse  blog  for @heroismfm,  written  by  luke.  mature/taboo  content  will  be  present.  heroic tales into  folkores. 

[divinesons]

 “Staring at my cock might get a rise, but it sure as shit won't get me out of here.” Archimedes rattled the chains to further dispel the dickomtism that Teddy was trapped in. He got it, really – he did – but he couldn't feel his god damn fingers anymore. Still, there was that grim satisfaction in knowing what he'd always known to be true: the beefy little American prince wanted it, but back then he'd just been too stuck up to admit it. 

Naturally, he'd have to suffer. 

As the good old boy fussed with the chains – close enough to smell Archie's breath – the son of Persephone leaned a little at the waist, letting the soft ridge of his cock bump against the front of the other's questing attire. He craned in at the neck, stubble brushing Theodore's pale cheek, “The scrawny one in the red, check his pocket.” Archimedes swung back a little, content to get the fuck out of here and leave Teddy with a swollen set. 

It couldn't have been more than a few months later before they were on another assignment, this one required more tact… More diplomacy and subterfuge. Archimedes had the charm to work a room but at his core he'd still grown up on an island packed with demigods – his social graces weren't where they needed to be, but Theodore was a senator's son and had apparently inherited more than the metabolism of a fucking bull. 

“Mhm, of course – certainly.” Archimedes affirmed, lending a bit of an advantage to Teddy as he remained entrenched in conversation with a suspected diplomat. Discreetly, Archie's hand lifted behind Theodore – slipped up the back of his jacket – found the interior seam of his shirt… And began to draw a line down the length of his spine… featherlight, callouses running against the unblemished skin of a pampered boy. 

[heroicfolklores]

“I–” wasn’t staring, he wanted to protest as such, if it were not such a barefaced lie. So, Teddy instead settled on a low murmuring of, “maybe if it wasn’t too distracting…” while fumbling fingers tested the cuffs once more. They refused to yield. The thumping of his heart did not slow down, too – the opposite, in fact, as their bodies brushed and Teddy faintly registered what part of the other man may have touched him. A part of him craved more, the part hidden beneath all the decorum and the composure. 

Thankfully, for now, his better parts won over. He nodded and turned, phantom chains dragging behind his own self, bound to a fraying sense of self-control. He hoped the darkness of the cave hid the tent at the front of his trousers. 

The passage of time came with lessons, more family issues, and the continuous unending of everything he once knew. He was at camp one moment, then back in his family estate for a short time the next. His abilities grew – but also became harder to control. 

The color of Archimedes’s threads, however, remained the same dark red, akin to bleeding pomegranates. He could see them waving in the air as he made a perfectly lacquered smile at the potential ally before them. “We’re here to forge a new alliance, one between you and the future heroes of Olym-” a hitch at the sudden touch to his back, quickly smoothed over, “-pus.”  Heavens, what was the other doing? Each spineknob underneath the calloused pads of those fingers came alive with shivers, spiderwebbing down the rest of the cord’s length. “We’re– we’d be happy to lend you our strength if you accept this offer.” Focus on the conversation, not him. Focus on the conversation, not those fingers down his spine and… gods, the many places he would love for each digit to explore. 

[divinesons]

@heroicfolklores location: an undisclosed location, off island -- during an active quest. notes: a series of flashbacks & vignettes

Humiliation wasn't a good look on him, but everyone could make a stupid mistake, everyone could end up outnumbered, and everyone could end up in nothing but their fucking birthday suit – cuffed and hanging from their wrists by a set of manacles designed specifically to keep them from any funny business. 

Still, those measures didn't do much against what was already planted. Impaled on thorns, blood leeched, their will to live sapped – one by one these would-be-captors dropped like flies… And yet, the chains remained. An unfortunate turn of fucking events. 

So there Archimedes stood, wrists purpling as he waited – hoping – for the rest of the party to find him. Now and then he wriggled, tugged, and pulled – but it was to no avail. Short of breaking his own hands with instruments he couldn't reach, there was no getting out of this alone. The rescue party in question comprised at least one little fledgling that Archimedes had taunted not five days prior when good Theodore turned up on the island. The fates had a sick sense of humour, 

“Tch –” A cruel scoff accompanied the sharp twist of the demigod's smirk, cocky still despite the precariousness of his position – all confidence in the face of the buttoned-up good boy. “Looks like you won't just have to picture me naked anymore, pretty boy.” Archimedes tugged on the chains, rattling them overhead, “Now get me the fuck out of here.”

[heroicfolklores]

To say Teddy was worried would have been an understatement. The mission had proved more difficult than anticipated, enemies besieging them by surprise, but he should have done something when they took Archimedes. Always passive, forever docile, a little lamb he was, helpless as he watched his friend get taken away. 

He didn’t know if he was made out to be a hero. A politician, perhaps, as that heritage had run in his family for generations, but as far as he knew, he was the first half-god out of the entire Priscott lineage. Some novel combination of ichor and legacy had created him: a hero caught in constant battle with his own expectations, a forever tug of war. 

But having very real stakes always galvanized someone to grow, to harden, to evolve. Drawing on his own worry for his captured friend, Teddy had devised a way to use his magic as sort of a scrying tool, relying on detecting emotions to track their enemies down. The strings of emotions, though, were strange yet familiar … and as they entered the cave strewn about with the dead, Teddy quickly recognized them to be Archimedes’s, leading them to him. 

“Thank god, you’re-” alive, he wanted to say, but his word died in his mouth as soon as he registered the sight before him. Truly registered it. Teddy’s throat went dry, and he gulped. He couldn’t stop his eyes from openly admiring what hung between the other’s legs, impressive even in its flaccid state. 

The rattling of chains stamped out the little trance. “Right. I am- here to free you.” Teddy hurried over, going to immediately fuss with the cufflinks. The only problem? He didn’t know exactly how to undo them. “Okay, just- yeah. I can do this.” More trying to solve the problem, less thinking about how close they were now.

“But you know, this might be cosmic justice for the, uh, impolite welcome to the island you gave me.” A chuckle left him unbidden, during which he looked at Archimedes and found the other staring as well. They were close. Tantalizingly close, the distance enough for him to memorize all the colors within the other's eyes. “Don't suppose you saw any of our lovely friends on the ground here holding a key?” he whispered. There was no need to speak louder than this when their lips were almost touching. 

[joshuaorpinsource]

Joshua Orpin in "The Forsytes"

[divinesons]

The stallion did not disappoint, not by a mile. Thick in general and in unexpected places, Vince felt himself locked into place as his thighs moved in easy tandem – bucking up – before gliding back down. His firm, hot embrace sheathing Napoleon entirely even as Vince felt like his body might split through his core. In college he'd been a star athlete, as popular around the locker room as he was with his twin brother; naturally, Vincent liked to perform and being a demigod had only hardened his already toned frame, had ramped up endurance, and pushed his tolerance beyond mortal measure. 

His speed, as well, was nothing to dismiss. 

Practically buzzing around Napoleon's cock as he hummed with speedy influence, feeling the great rush of a tide that washed inside of him. Vincent's cock, hefty as it was, worked more as a joystick than anything else. He liked what he liked, only leaning in the other direction when a very particular mood struck. His fist ramped up, his arm blurring as he caught the world in what seemed like a slow motion. The stillness of Napoleon's face caught in mid bliss, the slow crawl of the son of Poseidon's gushing seed flooding him within – a cacophony of expression flashed across Vincent's features – too quick to easily discern, then he erupted with force and vigor of his own. Ropes like a shotgun splattering Napoleon's abdomen, chest, and beard. 

Still, with the son of Poseidon firmly locked in, Vincent intended to milk everything he could. “C'mon baby--” he mused, half-thoughtful and half-fucked-stupid, “y'know I can take it.” He abandoned his cock to splay his hands on either side of Napoleon's head as he felt the wet squelch of him draw out, only to slam back in as the chaotic thoughts ping ponging around his head went off like an arcade machine. Sweat beading off his brow as he managed to bear down with instruction, fingers combing through Napoleon's damp hair as Vincent arched against him – full but still wanting – a rumble sputtering up from his chest as he roared with ecstacy. 

Spilling over the rim of his hole, flooding the base of Napoleon's shaft and leaking over that heavy sack, Vincent felt the limpness of his body in real time as the kinetic energy of the atmosphere buzzed in his ears – vision momentarily blurring – as he reached behind him with a lazy grin and stroked at the heavy base beneath that bulbous seal. Fingers messy with salt and foam, sticky as his free hand slid over Napoleon's chest – gathering some of his load – before slipping it into Napoleon's mouth. “How's that, huh?"

[heroicfolklores]

The already leaking essence of Napoleon, slick and sweet-smelling, punctuated every thrust from him with a wet splat, splat, splat, as his body gained more vigor, galvanzied by the mere act of release. “Oh, my love–” grinning stupid, he half laid back onto the soaked sheets, elbows planted firm, while hips now struck Vincent at an angle meant for bullseyes. Meant to enter heavily and pound heavily, with enough strength in each buck of his hips for Vincent’s body to rattle, for those perfectly rotund pecs to bounce. 

Then, shortly after, he was sitting back up. Something forbade him to stay away from the other for a long time. Was it those eyes? That smile? Or perhaps, it was the way he could feel Vincent’s entire being hum with desire, with need so powerful it vibrated through his bones and reverbed in Napoleon’s own. “Yeah, let me give what you need. This big–” a thrust upwards, a grunt, “leaking–” then an actual leak once more, shooting a rope or two into Vincent, “cock–!” 

His vision flashed white for a moment, the entire world brightening up to nothing but a flash bang of bliss. Napoleon was brought back by the taste of salt against his lips, something his mouth instinctively sought, opening and lapping. “Mmmm,” an indulgent moan, as he savored their shared taste. “Just divine.” A tongue licked the excess off the edge of his lips. Looking down, Napoleon’s laugh was purely astonishment. “Look at what you teased out of me…” Slowly, he withdrew his cock halfway out of the other’s hole, with thick and heavy tendrils of white still connecting them together, foam all over their bodies. 

But through the foamy white, some hints of pink peeked out, enticingly so. “Lay back,” Napoleon instructed, moving then to position himself between the other’s legs, shoving them apart. “You deserve a very, very special treatment.” After smirking up at the other, he leaned his head down and went directly for the fucked-open ring with his mouth. Like suckling a sweet, briny oyster, lips began a delicate yet impassioned work on Vincent’s now loosened hole, all but tasting and swallowing his own essence out of him. 

Slinging the other’s left leg over his shoulder, Napoleon feasted to reinvigorate himself. 

[olympicvalor]

as the group of demigods traveled through tokyo together, ozzy was almost overwhelmed with how much there was to take in. the beautiful buildings, the bustling crowds of people that seemed to never die down, the flashing lights, and so on. the voices of his friends were silenced by the a voice that seemed to call upon him that was soft and whimsical. quietly stepping away from the crowd, the son of demeter walked down the road until he found a garden. 

immediately his eyes lit up at the sight of the rows of cherry blossom trees, all blossoming for the season. that must have been the voice he heard. “aren't you beautiful?” he said as he approached one of the trees in a sea of pink and white, resting against the trunk.

@heroicfolklores

[heroicfolklores]

“You must be talking about yourself,” Teddy quipped from behind, announcing his own presence – and taking the opportunity to cross the field and stand shoulder to shoulder with the other man, hands laced behind his back, an easy smile across his face.

Heavens, the man truly was beautiful, even more so up close. Teddy usually preferred his own company, kept to his own devices, but new city, new friends, right? And the threads of emotions he had instinctively found around the other male only leaned towards threads of joy and calm. Pinkish threads of psychic energy, the color akin to the cherry blossoms, radiating outward from the other.

“Sorry, if that was too forward. My name’s Teddy. I’m kind of, uh, working on many new friends.” His smile faltered a bit, made crooked by awkwardness. “Son of Hera. I assume, from the flower thing, you are of Demeter?”

[mystxcmxn]

As soon as the door closed, it was like Regan owned it. Just like the smoke from his cigar, the man filled every inch of the room with ease. Like he had always been here. A smile on his face as he took his time taking off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in the jock he had and nothing else. The confidence of the drinks flowed through him now as he got to his knees between the man's legs. "Nine inches is a lot; I can handle it." His hands moved along the man's thighs before tugging the zipper down. "The only thing that might cause me trouble is the girth." He spoke as he wrapped his hands around the exposed cock tongue, licking at the head before his lips wrapped around it.

[heroicfolklores]

He did naturally command the room with sheer presence alone, like a general whose authority could not be disrespected, especially not behind these walls. Keen eyes watched the other carefully, appraising him as he inched closer – close enough for Regan to slowly spread open his legs open, making way for that gorgeous face between it.

“Ja, it has quite a lot of girth.” And as if in example, ready to demonstrate itself, his cock sprang out into the open air, thick as a beer can, throbbing rather excitedly. Once the other’s lips parted and began taking him in, he naturally leaned backwards, groaning a low noise out of the pit of his own throat, caressing the other’s face. “Very beautiful face. Much better with a cock in your cheek, though.” To emphasize his point, selfishly for himself, Regan held the base of his own length and pressed his cock against the other’s inner cheek until the outline bulged through skin. “Baby, suck it…”

[nocturnalscns]

yup.

that's him. that's the guy.

adama took stock of himself as he watched leon pantomime where the two of them where not so long ago. this was the young man that put adama on his back, put him on to maybe having sex on the island a few times. to letting people in, again. and in. there were a few takers after leon went and cracked him open, but none of them really lingered on adama's mind like the one that started it all.

the one grunting while he thrusted at nothing, hands on what adama assumed were his invisible hips.

"leon." he kept his voice low and even. "yes, I'm here to see how you're doing." he's an adult. he can be direct about these things. "and, you've been on my mind, I can admit it." he had to glance away, just for a second, just to give himself that much. "have you been thinking about me?" shit, that sounded so needy. "I'd guess so, with how ready for sex you seem to be the minute I show up." that worked-- he could turn it around on him.

[heroicfolklores]

The mime session ended with a grin and a chuckle, his default state. He could also feel a slight flush across his cheeks. Fuck, was this guy making him blush? Whatever it was true or not, Leon put the baseball helmet back on, merely for protective reasons. “I’m gooder than a mug. All good, all right, and uh, thinking about things. A lot of… pondering.” Like he was pondering now, envisaging how they would look spread out on the bed, Adama’s back to him while he pounds the father, helmet on. 

The heat pooled down quickly, forming a tent that always swelled in the other’s presence. “Ah, shit,” he lamented, pushing down on it with a palm, only to watch it bounce back upwards. “Can’t hide anything from you.” And so, instead of trying to hide it, Leon opted for the opposite by showing off with his hands on either sides of his hips, posturing like an athlete. “So?” His helmeted head made a tilt. “You gonna do anything to help me,” a brief pause, right before he added, “dad?” 

[divinesons]

@heroicfolklores location: dealer's choice notes: wink wonk honky tonk

“You even taste a bit salty – ” Vince mused as he detached himself from the son of Poseidon's neck to reach behind himself, taking a firm grip on Napoleon's cock before he guided that firm, hot shaft toward his hole. There was a brief, fleeting contortment of discomfort as he looked down at the other as he breached himself with that thick crown – mouth rolling open as he sucked in a bit of air. Every nerve in his body wanted to race but moving too quickly would result in him finishing immediately and likely leaving Napoleon vibrating with no idea what was going on. 

Still, he had to get it out somehow – vibrating a bit – around Napoleon's shaft as Vincent sank down on him, gradually taking him inch by inch as his body hummed around him. A firm hand on the other's chest was greeted by another as he sat fully, the son of Poseidon fully sheathed within. “Hefty guy – come on," he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, more than a little endeared by the thought of testing just how hard and fast one of the big three could fuck. Impress me, written all over Vincent's face as he rolled his hips a bit, tongue moving to wet his lips, “fuck me.” This was one of the stallions, right? Vincent would have him bucking alright.

[heroicfolklores]

Wandering into the wrong person’s room had proved a serendipitous surprise, it seemed, as Napoleon’s hands held onto the sides of a beautiful man now trying to sit on his fully erect dick, thighs straddling him rather expertly. “You’re a big fan of Napo here?” he asked through a droopy grin, one that vanished soon after as he sucked in his lower lip to bottle up a groan. He couldn’t let the choir out yet, but the squeeze of Vince’s walls made it quite the challenge. They gripped onto him hotly, velvety in feel and all but divine in their squeezing of his girth. 

A girth that, by all means, defied expectations with how thick he was – especially near the middle, bulbing out so that when he was in, he held on. But the other proved quite skillful as well, making his eyes momentarily roll as he took in the entirety of the length with ease, that ring consuming every inch in earnest until it reached base. The heat, the squeeze, and that rascal’s smile and challenge – gods, he could not even think to stop himself from busting right then and there, exploding like a pressurized hose within the heat he had nestled himself in. 

Groaning, Napoleon fought through the haze of his powerful – and the very first – orgasm to latch onto the other’s hipbones to start bucking. Heavy strokes, upwards, pushing all the girth into Vince and dragging it all so heavily back out, with a growing grin on his face. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I recover quick and store quite a flood in my balls,” he breathed out. “Hold tight, my love, ‘m about to– move–” And the barrage started, a sudden upward pounding into the other from underneath, each thrust accentuated by a wet squelch as the load leaking back out of Vince began to foam a salty white.   

[nocturnalscns]

as lucas walked into the space, the steam formed almost a sphere around him, avoiding his body. lucas could see an almost solid boundary to the mist, until he put his hand to his other wrist, and clicked a beaded bracelet. with his divine power dulled, the water in the air could approach and land on him. and with it, the scent of napoleon's towels and oils, enough to make his nose twitch.

"napo."

his greeting not cool or unkind, just mostly flat as was his way. similarly to his brother, lucas didn't have anything on but the towel on his shoulder. shameless and proud. "you don't spend enough of the day soaking wet as it is, huh?" teasing might be rare, but he could attempt it for one of his more playful siblings. finding the nearest bed to lay himself out on, bare and moist. "what's even in this? I feel like I'm in a soup."

[heroicfolklores]

“Lucas, finally, out of his shell!” He clapped his hands together. Truly something to celebrate! Napoleon often felt like his brother pondered too much, brooded too much, and if he had to be honest, he was increasingly becoming worried. No one should frown as much as the other did, or do … unexciting things. 

Because wasn’t the whole point of this revelry? Indulgence? They were gods under their human flesh, divinity through their veins. “This, my dear brother, is the scent of luxury and relaxation,” he replied, stretching like a sunbathing marine creature on his own mat, before his lips curled in a grin towards the other. “You know, the Japanese have this whole tradition of helping each other bathe. You want a hand?” 

[ancestralmagic]

@heroicfolklores

Japan. Augustus.

It didn't seem real, it didn't seem like him. Yet here he was, sharing drinks, remembering times where things were simpler, better. Where he burned with the same longing he still felt for the other.

Their reunion had hardly quenched the thirst that took root in them when they were near, even if he let the other man feast on him. Take what he wanted and give what they both needed...

They played at propriety but beneath it he could tell the hunger in those eyes, and it didn't take more than the waving of bedroom keys to have Augustus following him upstairs.

"Thought the first time I fucked you would be at home, by the bayou..." He whispered against his ear, hands running down to grab those thick cheeks, feel them spread over his fingers. "This works fine though." His voice is a rumble, his pants are tight already and the door hadn't even closed as he takes him towards the glass window.

"Right here, where the whole of Tokyo could watch us." His tongue runs down Augustus' neck. He is seldom that voracious, that eager, he is not a man desperate for a fuck. Alphonse is a man longing to be inside the one who bewitched him, body and soul.

He might even let Augustus in again, bend him over and make him take it over and over until he is well bred and overflowing with cum but for now he needs this...

Hands spreading Augustus thighs, undoing and lowering his pants with a mere flick of his wrist--the benefits of witchcraft. "You're gonna give it to me won't you?" He asked, thick and seductive, "gonna let me claim that ass..." they both knew this was a long time coming, and so he didn't wait before turning him around and falling to his knees, face brushing shoulder and back before he buried it between his cheeks, tongue poking in to get the first taste of his man. Tip just brushing the tight ring. His cock throbbed between his thighs as Tokyo's skyline bore witness to him savoring what was undoubtedly going to become his favorite meal along with the same man's cock and balls.

Despite his earlier comment he was sure this right here and nowhere else was home.

[heroicfolklores]

A day and a half here, and Augustus already longed for fresh air. The city had its own charm and character, that much was undeniable, but the throng of people, the dazzling lights, and the soaring skyscrapers created a sensory storm that proved a little too overwhelming for an old hound like him. 

Too much, too loud, too crowded. 

So, when Alphonse suggested to skip the tourist traps and go back to their room, he had audibly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just darn glad to be somewhere quiet,” he drawled back, voice husky and edged with want, breath teasing the shell of the other’s ear. His breath did hitch a second later as rough palms squeezed both of his cheeks, each one packed with muscle and quite the handful. An area rarely ventured by others. 

“Dirty, dirty…” he chuckled at the other’s words, the promise laced to each breathy syllable, before a slow moan creaked from his lips at the slow drag of that tongue on his neck, that... masterful tongue he presently craved elsewhere. “Yeah, you wanna claim me, hm? Go somewhere only a few lucky soldiers been in?” The question escaped through a smirk. But both of knew that Augustus had longed for this through the stretch of very long years, a decade even. He had longed for the stretch of the other within him. 

Turned and pressed against the glass wall, overlooking the entire skyline of Tokyo, the veteran’s cock throbbed to the seductive tune of the other’s words while he made a nod, dazed. “Yes. Fuck, yes–” Thick and sweet, Alphonse’s words were like a cloud of scented smoke, filling every fiber of his being with a need for the other’s cock, with a need to be bred. Every sensation suddenly felt amplified, every touch a stroke of heat, and when Alphonse’s tongue probed into him, unannounced, the sound wrung out of his throat was a breathless gasp.

Heat shot through his body. It consumed him entirely from within, his walls set aflame as the other dug deeper and feasted. Augustus’s body writhed, a hand reaching behind to push and anchor itself on the round of Alphonse’s skull. “Alp–” a groan, followed by a desperate rocking of his hips backwards. Through his dazed, half lidded vision, Augustus caught a glimpse of the moon overhead. Bright and circular, nearly full.

Fuck, that meant– 

Yes, it meant he was nearing a full, uncontrollable heat.    

[zanephillips]

Theo James for Dolce & Gabbana #DGLightBlue Campaign 2025

[heroicfolklores]

the japanese had mastered the art of bathhouses. 

napoleon’s towel was perfumed to smell like citrus and lemongrass, a scent that filled every known corner of the quiet steam-clouded room he lounged in, naked except for said towel on his – well, face, meaning it covered little to none of his actual body. the heat balmed tanned skin, and the soft burbling of a nearby hot spring added to the serenity of the place. perhaps this was elysium. 

footfalls did sound a few moments later, not breaking the serenity entirely but making him shift, pulling the towel off his face so he could peek at the newest entry into the onsen. the steam first obscured sight, yet a basic wave of his hand willed the water particles away to reveal, “buooongiorno, brother! finally, you’re joining the festivities!” grinning, he sat up and rested his elbows on the heated pad below, utterly bare and flushed with heat. “come, come. the steam is very healthy for you.” 

@nocturnalscns

[divinesons]

@heroicfolklores location: ares cabin notes: bonding

It didn’t have to be a fight, or a competition, but it always was. It had to be. Both were always trying to assert their dominance and establish themselves as the bigger, the badder, the stronger. Which fucks harder, longer, finishes more, attracted the most. From the big swings like who hit the hardest, or got the last hit, who could carry the most kegs without their knees giving out, to whose partner screamed louder from the room next door – or who wrecked whatever lucky piece they were cracking between them. 

Brothers in perpetual competition with one another, raging more often than not. 

Dick’s eyes were dead set on his brother now though, fist twisting and pumping in furious tandem as the typical helmet – anointed with the horns of his first kill – sat a little offkilter atop his head. The race was a frequent one, usually the reward being bragging rights until their next bout: but whoever came first, won. “Loser gets their ass ate till they cross.” Dick snarked; that was risky business, he’d made it his mission to try and get a finger in there on more than one occasion and he didn’t trust Regan to not try the same. 

[heroicfolklores]

to have a brother was to relentlessly compete with them in every damn possible way. 

this shared philosophy between the two ares brothers had led each one to places they … would have gone regardless, but did so quicker and more recklessly because of the other’s taunts and rouses. he wanted to beat dick, but he would also a bullet in the chest for that son of a bitch. did that make sense? 

their bond was like those of two apex predators, both holding dominion over their own areas but still invading the other’s habitats - playfully so. a war of teases, of loud bets and wrestling matches, of biking races and, of course, heated competition like this. a fist around his cock, one arm slung over the arm of the bench behind him, regan looked up at his brother in the middle of stroking furiously, working himself up enough for fat drops of sweat down his face. 

“ja. just be careful because i can last all day,” he chided back, flashing him a toothy grin. the challenge did not slow regan’s frenzied strokes, each one eliciting a wet slurp as his pre coated his entire length and inadvertently made his desire rise, but damn it, he would not slow down for a hollow victory. “afraid to go faster, bruder?”

[onlywands]

"N-not under attack, c-camp is f-fine." His words were coming out in stutters as he tried not to moan through it all. Hands trembling as the reaches out to clutch at the blanket that's covering his brother. He knows the other demigod will be able to fix this, it had been his invention after all!

"It's too dee-EEaaghh, nnngh, t-too deep brother!" His first explanation comes out frantically, broken up by gasps and moans as that infernal contraption slides even deeper inside of him. The vibrations picking up so that his body is literally starting to buzz from the power of it.

Tears begin to prick at the edge of his vision. He can't believe he has to tell Phelix how he'd been right, he was never going to live this down. "Should have listened, s-should have nnnghh ohhh f-fuck, should have waited." This was beyond embarrassing, shame and a bit of arousal combined were causing his pinks to become bright pink.

"Just wanted to see, and now it's... It's stuck mmmfff!"

[heroicfolklores]

oh– oh. the realization spreads through him as a small wave of heat, pooling downwards and waking up the rest of his body. “huh.” phelix can’t help his next chuckle. after all, he had warned his dear brother that it was only a prototype, not the real thing yet. “this is where your eagerness gets you. completely at my mercy.”

because phelix has the remote to the device now buzzing intently so within his brother, and he takes it out of his bedside drawer full of his other inventions. a black, rectangular control panel with several buttons. using one hand, phelix pulls the other up onto his lap and with his other free hand, he clicks on a button. 

a whirring sound immediately fills the room as the device extends, increasing in length, reaching the deeper recesses of felix. “the ‘increase length’ option,” he drawls by means of explanation, like he’s giving a lecture, “is basic engineering.” his lips curl, amused. “but it has a secret feature.” another click on a button, and the extended device within his brother starts to contract and grow, rhythmically so, probing him internally. “i call this one the deep excavation. name’s a work in progress.” 

[ancestralmagic]

there were ghosts everywhere for the toussaint and for alphonse most of all it seemed. the ghost of new orleans decades before, the ghost of a boy who longed too much for far too long, the ghosts that haunted his city, his house, his family. the man that stood next to him—the man whose path he once believed was so deeply intertwined with his own, then forced to reconsider and now… who could say what to make of it?

"you?" he laughed, a dry, almost bitter one… he did not know, how could he know when he thought his own feelings had soured what they had? "i thought… yeah, i felt that might be the case before you made me reconsider."

letters. he remembered the letters, he remembered the drafted responses, the unsent ones, the ones that made it through. like drops of water where once a river ran. "personal is not what i'd call them…" he responded, why did you not come see me? he wanted to ask but did not, would not. "but then again, i think we've spoken different languages for a long time now."

his hands were on his pockets, but they might as well be clenched into fist. crushing herbs and spreading smoke, heartbreak clings to the soul his mother would say.

"don't." he warned, voice low, dangerous. dark eyes finally settling on his old friend, deep, profound. hurt and yet longing. "don't talk like that."

a breath, a second, the feeling of the breeze between them. the air out in the bayou, the familiar reach of someone who was so close they were almost part of yourself. there was a time like that.

too late. too fucking late. his hands were closed into fists as he pushed augustus into a tree, feeling the air leave his lungs as he colided, letting him feel the fire and the anger he held back for so long. "you were an asshole." he said, slowly, deliberate. taking his time with each word as if speaking through the years they spent apart.

"you had no right." fists curled around his shirt, muscles bulging through the suit augustus couldn't keep his eyes off. "you have no right."

whatever defense augustus might have, it went unsaid, unheard, for alphonse clashed his lips against the other man. chasing a taste he hungered for his whole life; this time there was nowhere for augustus to run, nothing for him to do except take it or punch him away. either way he could no longer avoid the clashing of their bodies, of their souls as alphonse's large frame trapped him against the old tree.

[heroicfolklores]

the ghosts of a long-abandoned past raged around them, an invisible yet inexorably strong current. augustus could feel its pull, its relentless tug. flotsam and debris rushed along the riptides, threatening to drag him under. shame, guilt, regret, all of it surged through the current with a roaring force, thrumming in his ears like a second pulse.

but there was more. he caught the scent of brackish water, the vivid air of a long-gone bayou, days spent by the shore with moss curling around their ankles, mosquito welts dotting their arms, and a childhood unburdened by the weight of adult understanding. the two boys who once lived in those moments were long gone, but remnants of them lingered in the two men now meeting again through that strange thing called fate.

the bark of the tree bit into his back. augustus didn’t move. his eyes remained steady, fixed on the embers in the other man’s—his old friend’s—smoldering gaze.

“an asshole. and a bad friend,” he added, his voice edged with surrender.

this close, he could smell him. herbs and incense. the old alphonse.

this close, he could feel him.

as if reading his thoughts—no, as if knowing exactly what he wanted—augustus felt the press of the other man’s lips against his own a heartbeat later. his body stilled instinctively, only for that stillness to melt as he gave in, arms rising to pull him closer. breath and heat and apologies tangled together in the kiss augustus returned, hungry and unrestrained.

“i have no right,” he panted between kisses, hands trailing down the other’s back, remembering, gripping. “but i’ve never been a righteous man.” a brief pause, a breath. “and neither are you.”

his teeth caught his own upper lip, a faint, reckless edge in his voice.

“i’ll make you remember every inch of me.”

[kovider]

if someone where to tell him that son's of poseidon weren't charismatic, he would have to point them in napoleon's direction. the man is nothing but hot air and sea salt. calixto wonders, as the fingers trail along his jawline, how many times he's offered the same thing to someone else and how many times they've said yes. he lifts a hand to place on top of napoleon's, leaning his cheek against his palm for a moment as their eyes lock against the backdrop of the sea and the moon. 

“tell me, napoleon,” calixto says with a small turning of his head. he presses his lips against the pulse point of napoleon's wrist, gentle, before he sinks his teeth in just enough for a wince to perhaps escape the other before he pulls back. “what would you say if i wanted to celebrate here, now? would you say yes or would you still want to take me on your boat?” something flashes in calixto's eyes, and he kisses the man's wrist again before he takes a step back, turning to walk toward the boat. 

[heroicfolklores]

something about the night clings to the son of hecate like a veil woven out of stars. napoleon openly admires it. though not of aphrodite’s blood, beauty has always had a profound effect on him and calixto, right now, exuded it. his awestruck eyes blinked only when teeth pricked his wrist and he winced, letting loose a laugh but a second later. 

“teasing me with the promise of immediate fun?” napoleon rises, sand on his elbows and thighs, and stops the other mid-stride from behind by wrapping his tanned arms around him. the sea breeze winds through their now intertwined bodies, right as he drags a promise of a kiss along the other’s jaw with his lips. “you know i always love to indulge,” the words roll off his tongue smoothly, a deep and sultry timbre.

“here, right now, in the sand?” he chuckles. his hands move further down, searching. admiring. “in the waves?”