#even if it IS too late to nap now

[slaanxsh]

Prev / Prev | Slaanesh's Domain, Palace of Pleasure, 6th Circle of Seduction

The courts of the Prince of Pleasure were aflame, the children of Slaanesh riding on the rich seam of hatred that the Ruinous Power leeched into the very fabric of his kingdom. The gentle lilac sky took on a reddish hue, the mellow ponds and rivers dotted about the rings stirring and chopping in the storm of the Prince's emotions. Between the bright magenta and bloody sangria, one could be forgiven if they mistook the principality for the ruddy wasteland Khorne called home.

Only, there was a conspicuous lack of Blood Daemons. Plenty of Nurglish daemons though; luckless wretches that had been plucked from Grandfather's garden to endure all manner of torment. Nurgle's creations could not feel, but torment went far beyond the physical as they were discovering. Their endurance meant naught but that these cruel games could go on at length and when they were done, the bodies of the slain could be used to fertilize the Prince's own gardens.

All for the death of their prince, S'ríash, killed for the sake of Nurgle's Great experiment. Not only had the Plaguefather lied about his involvement, he was refusing the grieving Slaanesh the closure of giving his child a proper burial. Instead of rituals and rites to preserve his beauty, even in death, S'ríash would rot and decay deep in the heart of the Plaguelands and that Slaanesh could not bear even the thought of. So he had lashed out, putting the Plague Legions entirely on the defensive for Slaanesh was by-far a more warlike god than Nurgle.

Only news of another deity lumbering through his realm drew Slaanesh's attention away. Even the Prince's favorites were not so presumptuous as to call upon their patron during this time. From his satin throne, the Pleasure-Lord glared down at the shivering daemonette chosen to break the news. Who could be so foolish, so impetuous and insensitive, as to invite his attentions?

Hating them before seeing them proper, Slaanesh watched the being stride before his chamber, dark fur start against the spotless ivory of his throne room. Heavy antlers. Pale Green eyes glittering with uncertainty and no small amount of apprehension and terror. It was him. Forgotten about in the throes of the Prince's rage, it was the Master of the Seasons. Ïshtaran.

Several emotions play over the Prince's face-- disbelief softening into adoration then hardened into rage. Something icy and sharp, like an impossibly fine blade. Ïshtaran found himself staring, especially struck by the splendor of his once-paramour after having not seen it for an age. Slaanesh was beautiful and wrath only made him moreso, the Prince of Perversity wearing anger in a way no other being, not even mighty Khorne, ever could.

" 𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴?" Slaanesh had risen in one fluid motion, pastel robe flowing behind him. For the moment, his heart had chosen anger as the emotion to indulge and it made the sharp planes of his face even sharper. Even more beautiful. Before Ïshtaran had knew it, Slaanesh was before him and he soon became aware of hot sensation on his face. Dripping on the pristine white floor.

Slaanesh had struck him, the God's ichor dripping from the Prince's talons. He bore his teeth, heaving with fury. Ïshtaran had barely felt it.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦?"

The chimeric god had moved then, quicker than any seneschal could intervene, but not to retaliate. He threaded claws through the silver-gold mane framing the Prince's face and came to cup his cheek, looking down at the smaller deity. One of his eyes was ruined, one side of his face leaking blood. Ïshtaran's smile was only slightly pained

"𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙰𝚕íí𝚕í𝚕í𝚜𝚑."

Slaanesh's eyes drifted closed. He held tight to his anger. He hissed a command for his daemons to leave, which they obeyed with haste. Only once they did, he looked again at his once-consort, eyes glittering with so many things Ïshtaran could not pick out any one thing. Aside from the tears that threatened to spill, anyway. The second of Ïshtaran's soft, strong hands rose to join the first and that proved to be death of whatever ire the Prince was clinging to.

Melodramatic as always, the Dark Prince all but collapsed in the brawny bulk of the Master of the Seasons. For the moment, he had but one desire, one none of his most skilled handmaidens could satisfy at the moment. To be held.

Ïshtaran allowed Slaanesh to cry into his fur. To hide his face and so shield his great pride, even if only he was there to witness anything. But he also felt the prickle of the Dark Prince's claws, still gorey with his blood. How they gripped at him, greedy and wanting. Always wanting. A chill rolled through him; even the Pleasure Lord's perfume could not suppress it nor dull Ïshtaran's mind to what he knew would come from being in the Prince's grasp again.

Perhaps coming back here was a mistake. Ïshtaran thought, looking down on the young Slaanesh, who even now was reaching up perfect fingers, dabbing away at the bloody ruin of his face with his own soft robes. Worry, concern. As if he hadn't wrought the wound. And even then, in the corner of the Prince's depthless lavender eyes, Ïshtaran could see the hardness behind the concern. The anger, abated but not gone. The punishment for his absence would be allayed, maybe, but he knew well enough than to expect a pardon.

Gently, the Dark Prince pulled him along, fistfuls of mane in his hands, and with one flick of his eyes, Ïshtaran knew where they were going. The boudoir of Slaanesh, to make up for lost time and -- in Slaanesh's case -- soothe a great hurt. Soft lips pressed against Ïshtaran own, any objections he might've raised were blasted away immediately.

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[aviul]

abstractober day 15: thinking small

[nexus-nebulae]

so like. the last of the Paradox crew that we introjected is finally reaching the end of their fronting cycle that was way longer than anyone else's and. wow did not expect That Many of them to be the ones mostly in charge of collective memory and internal protection? we're forgetting More Stuff bc we don't have Percy constantly popping in to provide some system history

[onewingedangels]

ngl y'all i don't feel like watching tga cause now i'm feeling super sleepy all of a sudden

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[astralprisms]

WHEN WILL I FINISH THIS GAME. WHEN. ARGH.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i have done everything to make myself as tired as possible so i can sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow but im wide awake😭

[mymelodyisme]

My sister’s graduation day 😤 let’s go 👏🏽

[parkitaco]

the world is determined not to let me take a nap today i can’t continue like this

[possum-tooth]

sleepy

[thenonbinarysunstreaker]

This is the insomnia I need next Wednesday. Fuck's sakes

[wingslikeiicarus]

.

[victory-cookies]

I love when I’m kinda already at the end of my rope bc I’m tired from a long day at work dealing with idiots and I come home and ask my dad if I have to make my own dinner and he says that no he’s making it, and then when I come down to eat he has made for each of us half a cheese bun and a salad. Like it’s so stupid but I am so tired and hungry bc I haven’t eaten barely anything today but today has to be the day that he’s like “We need to cut back on our carbs!”

[blue-sleeps-in]

i shouldve slept man im probably gonna pass out at like 16:00 again

[stellawish]

precious

summary: just cuteness thats it

MY LOVE❤️‍🔥

he’s not up yet?

nah steel sleeping😴

okay omw

Satoru looked away from the phone and glanced at his son. He rubbed his still-closed eyes with tiny fists. Gojo expected crying, but his baby just sighed.

Your son almost always woke up without fuss, greeting you or Satoru with his sweet smile. But lately, he’s been crying more often during that fine line between the sweet remnants of sleep and waking up. Teething is to blame.

Satoru turned to his side, placed his large palm on Haru’s plump belly, and slowly stroked it. "Papa’s here."

Although Gojo always sulks when the little boy sleeps (since his baby is so cute and he always wants to play with him), there have been times when he accidentally woke Haru during naps because he kissed and poked his chubby son too hard. You always scold him for that.

But now he understands that his little one sleeps restlessly, so he tries to protect his light sleep.

Lost in thought, Gojo didn’t notice any movement beside him until he felt tiny fingers wrapping around his much larger one.

Haru turned his head and smiled sweetly, revealing dimples on his flushed cheeks.

"Hi, baby! Did you have a good nap?"

Your son stretched his short arms, then rolled onto his stomach, smiling shyly. Gojo pulled him closer, supporting his back. Sitting next to him, Haru rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned.
Gojo kissed his son’s soft tummy.

Haru moved even closer to his father, rubbing his chubby cheek against Gojo's like a kitten.

"Aww, my baby!"

Your husband definitely passed on the gene for the love of physical contact to his boy.

Satoru cooed, "I missed you too! Now tell Papa, what dreams did you have? Was Mama there?" Haru babbled as if answering the question.

When you said you gave birth to an exact copy of Gojo, you weren't even kidding. Besides the identical appearance, your son was just as talkative as his papa.

Gojo lay on his back and put his son on top. Haru reached out his hands to Papa's face and patted his cheeks while giggling. Satoru wiped the drool from his rosy lips and stroked his soft cheek.

"You're the most precious baby in the whole world," Gojo cooed.

"Ahuu"

more dad!gojo and Haru HERE

guys if you want me to add you to my taglist lmk

luv you!💫

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