#lsdp

lol ummmm all of them <3

no fr tho i love that fic (PLS do not drag me i know it’s unfinished and it haunts me) and it’s hard to really pinpoint one specific moment. if pressed tho, i’d probably have to say their first time with persephnursey coming out of the baths and just strutting barenaked out to his man lol

that, and a scene i have yet to write, so i won’t give you spoilers <3

(video in question: x )

oh, he’d be gorgeous. that would be absolutely stunning.

Persephone was not  spoiled. 

He wasn’t. Or at least, he didn’t think himself spoiled. He helped his parents work, ruled his kingdom well, tended the land, listened to others, cared for Cerberus. Spoiled gods simply didn’t do those things: they had others do it for them. Persephone liked  hard work, liked to sweat and earn his relaxations with his own two hands.

Unless Hades was involved, in which case, he was the very definition of spoiled, from the tips of his pumice-scrubbed toes to the topmost curls of his honey-washed hair. His husband left him wanting for nothing– not food, not clothing, not jewelry or lovemaking or affection. Barely did “I wish” have to pass his lips before it was presented before his mossy green eyes, his for the taking, and Persephone was unashamed to admit that he soaked up the attention like a sunflower soaked up the heat of Apollo’s chariot as it flew through the sky. He could  be spoiled, then, because it made his husband happy to make him happy, and the cycle was both charming and endless in that regard. He felt… a little undeserving, oftentimes, of so much love from that end, but Hades never felt as though he was pressured into anything: love, affection, or anything else.

Including, it seemed, the nuggets of gold from deep beneath the ground.

Humans coveted them, though for what reason, he was unsure, as the trappings of humanity outside of their harvests and their deaths generally did not concern or interest him– except for poetry, which he often slipped away with Apollo to see– but it was gorgeous and Papa loved to work with it in his forge. (Hades had greatly endeared himself to Hephaestus by sending him what he found; they kept it to themselves that the bigger pieces came from… rather loud nights in their ivy-covered palace.) The material was, according to the long ramblings of Hephaestus, extremely versatile, easy to work with, and “of the finest material he’d seen in quite a long while”. At Hades’ request, he often made jewelry and sent it out to Persephone, who was now bedecked in more than he could think to do with it, but each of them separately adored each invention.

This newest invention, however, Persephone was… rather unsure as to what its purpose was.

Just for fun, Mango seed.-Papa

Inside the little marble case was what appeared to be gold shaved into a fine powder, pressed just so within it. 

Curiously, Persephone unlatched the top to it, admiring the shimmer of it– he dipped his finger into the case and lightly ran the pad of it along the surface, and it came away glimmering, coated in the fine dust. 

Hmm.

He tapped at the ground with a bare foot: from a crack in the floor grew a single bloom of castilleja linariifolia, which he plucked with quiet thanks. Eagerly, he brushed the flower across the powder, leaned in to the mirrored surface of his vanity, and began to play with the powder to his heart’s desire.

“Husband?” a voice called, not twenty minutes later, and Persephone jumped; luckily, the powder wasn’t in his hands, but his makeshift brush slid across his lips in his surprise.

“In our chamber!” Persephone called out to Hades, setting his tools down to look at his work. The sound of his husband’s padding feet drew his attention and he felt his heart flutter– theirs was a new marriage, still alight with passion and the joy of merely being with one another– the door opened and closed, and he turned to greet him.

Hades stopped in his tracks.

“Persephone,” he breathed.

Before Hades’ eyes, Persephone knew, was himself, laden with gold dust that lined his cheekbones, his jawine, his collar; it danced along his chest, speckled in dots down his abdomen, spotted his lips and, most alluringly, crested against his eyelids, highlighting the deep green of the eyes below them.

“Papa sent me a new gift,” Persephone said lightly, tone casual. “Do you like it?”

Seconds later, he found himself backed against his vanity, Hades’ mouth pressed against his own; his husband kissed him fervently, feverishly, the sensation of it wildly contrasting to the delicacy of which his hands were placed–the right, cupping his cheek, a thumb caressing at the fine bones there, the left holding his waist tenderly, warm against his naked skin.

“Tell Lord Hephaestus,” Hades said lowly after he pulled away to breathe, Persephone himself still panting slightly against his mouth, “that his two gifts could not be more appreciated.”

“Two?” Persephone asked, dazed. “What was the other, I saw but one.”

Delicately, Hades slid his thumb along his bottom lip. “You, my sunflower. The first gift.” He kissed him then, again, just a whisper of his lips against his own.