illithidnapped | INBOX II

how would you even begin to rescue me? You cannot even get past the first level in Elden Ring

Anyway you’ve told thousands of strangers on maginet about your desire to be fucked by a man in a suit or call someone Daddy, what’s one more?

[Yes, he saw that post.]

Edited 2026-03-17 06:05 (UTC)

[Ah. Not kidnapped.]

Well that settles that. It's you, alright.

And since it is you, I can at least admit that if I can't tell the whole world I'm only interested in having a magitek-branded elven bodyguard that complains Im doing it wrong when I've only just started fighting the godsdamned boss be the one wearing said suit and letting me call him Daddy even when he's falling asleep in the club at only three am, I can at least settle for bragging about the unnamed mien of him.

And that maybe, for him, I'd try getting him off with just my heel.

Sounds downright fun if we're thinking you sprawled across the floor while I stand over you.

[Oh, there's so much he wants to say to that— so much so that he keeps typing and restarting, making for a maddening pattern of "..." followed by nothing for such a time.]

Flatterer.

[And that means so many things, all of them so warm and adoring and depthlessly deep that he hasn't found the wherewithal to put them into words, much less over text. I love you, maybe, is the summation of that, except they don't ever use such words between them.

Certainly not in reply to a text about filth, Fenris thinks with a silent scoff at his own foolishness.]

I do not think anything you have ever said has made me want to use social media more than that. Though I suppose my "liking" your every post might give away the game.

[I love you, he thinks again, and resists the urge to abandon his work in favor of finding Astarion and kissing him breathless.]

But for you, my little love who is allergic to both sensible tactics and bedtimes, I'd sprawl myself out wearing anything you'd like. Hands tied behind my back, since we both know that's the only way you might render me helpless.

Please don't use the word like or liking in quotation marks. it makes you sound like an aging treant.

And I'm only allergic to stupid things, so remember that next time I start sneezing around Petras.

[Like nettles and hot water into tea, boil down his prickliest remarks and all that's left behind is the true essence of that bite: nothing but drowsy sweetness underneath— I love you said a thousand times in a thousand different ways. As filthy as the last refrain and teething like a kitten. I love you, whispers 'how are you', and 'hello', and 'shut up' and 'harder', and 'I wasn't born yesterday, I know a gun isn't a toy, Fenris.'

They're ridiculous like that.]

But you know sweetheart, maybe I should gag you instead if we decide to do this. As much like when I try to play Elden Rin, I might actually find a win when you're not barking in my ear.

You won't. Not when you refuse to block at any given moment.

But you can gag me all the same if you feel like it might give you an advantage. I won't deny I enjoy the way you look at me when you put something in my mouth. Though it won't stop you bristling in indignation when you're killed again under my watch.

Are you keeping my hands untied so that you might eventually shove the controller into them when you get too fussy to keep going, just as you always do?

Maybe I just think you look best when you're working for me, ever think of that?

[He's going to pointedly ignore all three of those wicked little callouts— payback will come when he has his boyfriend laid out on his back.

Well. If Astarion can keep restrained for that long, anyway. Odds aren't in his favor, Fenris is right about that: he gets impatient.]

Oh? Is that when I win things on your behalf? Or is it when you inevitably lose patience and I turn the tables, bending you over my lap and spanking you like the brat you are until you're begging me for my cock?

Simply clarifying.

NO YOURE FUCKING NOT.

Don't you dare lie to me with that simply clarifying bullshit!! I'm losing my patience righ

[Oh my gods, that's how it starts.]

You know what?

Now I am not coming to dinner.

Yes, you are.

And as far as threats go, Astarion, you've done better than that. Tell me you'll leak your own nudes and perhaps I'll pay greater attention, petulant thing.

C r a s s. That's crass behavior.

Who've you been hanging out with? Who taught you that? Aurelia?

[The word 'hypocritical' starts with 'A' and ends in 'n' in your dictionary, Astarion.]

I'm starting to think I should post something involving risque nudity. Heavy breathing round a set of sheets used like a bit.

Only it won't be mine.

[Oh, he would never. He would never— or at least, not without Fenris' permission. It's strange to have that level of consent, but a strangeness that Fenris is slowly getting used to, and one he savors each time it occurs to him.

Not that he's thinking so deeply now, of course, but still: he relishes being able to type what he does next.]

Oh, I doubt that. Or do you intend to post such a picture without your come dripping off my chin? It seems incomplete otherwise.

[If it's a game of raising the stakes, why, he can most certainly play along.]

[FENRIS THAT IS ILLEGAL.

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Fine.

I'll come to dinner.

What a good boy.

[WELL NOW HE'S DEAD. NOW HE'S DEAD AND SWEATY. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, FENRIS. A DEAD, SWEATY ELF.]

[He gives it a little while, to be fair, because he knows damn well what he just did. But when there's no characteristically quick reply:]

I can say more if you like it so much. Or is this meant to be a sulking silence?

[A blurry photo of Astarion's own face in his bedroom mirror, blocked mostly by his phone and one hand, and yet still visibly flushed red despite the fact.]

I'm still cross with you, though.

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