peek-a-boo
dubious consent, blindfolds, vibrators, fear play, bondage, candle wax, face slapping
?/reader, erwin/levi/miche/reader, 1.2k words
who's handling your body tonight? you don't get to know. they're not interested in telling you. the best you can do is guess.
one: miche was the one that brought you to the bedroom.
you shift again in the ropes linking you to the bedposts, your nude body spread like a taut starfish. your belly lifts and falls as you breathe evenly, practicing calm inhales and exhales like you're not in a vulnerable, helpless situation.
someone has entered--they entered a few minutes ago--but the cloth over your eyes keeps you from knowing who. one pair of footsteps had entered, and whoever they belong to has shut and locked the door.
only one person, then. there has been no time for another to enter.
you hesitate to speak, only because you don't know who you're addressing. if it's miche, you'd breathe his name and ask for his touch. if levi, you'll stay in stubborn silence until he forces sounds out of you. if erwin, you'll ask what sir is expecting of you tonight.
but you don't know. all you can do is wait until they introduce themself.
two: the footsteps are light and quiet.
soft steps circle your bed. they could belong to someone with a light frame and a nimble gait, or they could be gently placed to mask much heavier weight above them. they might be roll-stepping, gauging each inch of their foot placement to disguise their usual stride.
you shift again. they're deliberately not speaking, and that alone is telling you what the plan is tonight: you don't get to know who you're with. you'll have to figure that out on your own.
using what you've learned, you put forth your first guess.
"ah...miche?"
no answer. a closet is opened several meters away from you, your partner retrieving a few tools. at no point do they hasten their movements, and not once do they let slip the sound of their breaths.
if anyone would have a hard time staying that quiet, it'd be miche. he's huge and burly, the largest of the three. he's got remarkable skill and speed, but his talent as a scout comes from his strength more than his stealth. perhaps it's not him with you.
three: the hand in the glove seems large.
you flinch when a leather-clad finger drags across your stomach, drawing a line down to your heat. the glove they wear is thick and stiff, hiding many features of the hand it covers. most likely, a big hand would wear a big glove like the one currently touching you. erwin and miche are the top suspects.
your folds separate as the finger comes between them, pricking every nerve in your system. shuddering, you can't decide if you're excited or nervous. someone is touching you--but who? who the hell is playing with your body?
"you..." you breathe, your hips flicking and twitching. "please...who's there?"
the finger leaves. a moment later, a vibrator is put against your cunt, its nub placed properly on your clit. it's left deactivated as the individual moves away.
you pull on the ropes, whining impatiently. "this is--fuck..."
there's not a single gap in the blindfold. not once chance to even glimpse at your partner.
hot wax splashes on your stomach, yanking a whimper out of your throat. heat pools in your abdomen as your skin absorbs the intense sensation of liquid fire, enduring it until the wax hardens.
it's hot, but not unbearable. whoever they are, they're showing a hint of mercy. they could be far worse.
that liquid hits you again, hot and strong right on your ribcage. hissing, you toss your head to the side.
"which...which one of you fuckers is--ngh!"
it's particularly harsh when it hits your inner thigh, burning the tender spot with the heat of a vibrant flame.
"okay, sorry! i'm sorry. i didn't mean it. i'll be good."
it's a test, more than a promise. they each react differently to the way you apologize.
four: they trust and accept your apology.
the vibrator turns on. waves reverberate through your body, making your limbs twitch and your lips quiver. no more wax hits you; you've been deprieved of pain and granted pleasure.
"thank you, sir."
it has to be erwin. he puts more value on your words than the other two.
a weight pushes down the mattress near your head. not a whole body--perhaps a hand.
you can feel a shadow above your face. they're close now, hovering.
"sir..." your chin tilts up, hoping he'll connect with you. "sir, please."
you can feel their breath, but you can't hear it. nothing about the gust against your cheek is noteworthy. it's just moving air, devoid of clues.
they move back, picking themself off the bed. before they go, they put the lightest, quickest kiss on your knuckles.
gasping, your fingers fly out to feel the face but they're too late. finding nothing, you process the feeling of their lips over and over to discern anything about it. those might've been erwin's lips--or levi's, or miche's. there's no fucking way to tell.
"please...sir, is it you?" it's painful to go without confirmation. you need to hear his voice, to have him tell you that you're correct and you'll be rewarded for guessing right.
nothing happens for a minute. the vibrator buzzes, drawing you up the peak.
"sir," you continue, your voice weary and desperate. "please tell me it's you. i need to hear your voice. i need--"
five: they're cruel.
searing pain lashes across your cheekbone, skyrocketing your fright. you were completely wrong. erwin would never--
"i'm sorry!" you cry, wincing as though the leather-clad hand is going to come back for seconds. "i'm sorry, captain! captain, captain, i'm so sorry. i'm sorry!"
still nothing. not even a tsk from levi, nor a huff of disapproval.
"levi--captain--please, i'm sorry." the footsteps circle you as you plead, giving no consolidation for your terror.
the glove comes back to your cunt, spreading your folds and guiding the vibrator in a gentle motion against your clit. perhaps now he's rewarding you for getting it right.
"thank you--oh--hah--th-thank you..."
their dexterity is perfect; they know you well. the vibrator sways slowly, its buzz absolutely delicious in your nerves, and before you know it your bucket spills over as you drop into a quaking, intense orgasm. gasping and moaning, you forgo confirming their identity for just a moment as you indulge in fantastic pleasure.
"thank you," you say again. now they'll take off the blindfold and take care of you, revealing their identity. "nn--come here--"
they don't. the vibrator turns off and is left where it is.
it's not cleaned up right away, just abandoned against your body with no regard for hygiene.
you swallow. that's not like the captain at all.
the footsteps glide away from the bed. the deadbolt is unlatched and the door is opened.
"w-wait!"
their first step outside the room puts them on a floorboard that creaks under their weight. you remember that board: it squeaked under miche's frame--and only his frame--as he led you inside. anyone lighter than him likely wouldn't trigger its whine.
the door is closed. under the blindfold, your eyes are wide.
six: erwin retrieves you from the bedroom and cleans you up.
seven: levi's waiting in your room with a cup of tea.
but what does it matter? nobody's revealing anything to you, nothing besides the silent brag that they know what you went through and they will never give you the truth.
8 notes
·
View notes