June 2025 Drabble #2

Endeavor/anon men – Keigo talked Enji into getting blindfolded and played with by a bunch of their hero colleagues. Enji has no idea who he actually invited and he's starting to feel his nerves big time.

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They’re only communicating in whispers. That’s enough to distort their voices and make them unrecognizable; and enough to drive Enji up a wall.

“It’s a shame that his eyes are covered. They’re so pretty.”

He flushes, fingers twitching against his knees. He has to force himself not to scoff and not to heat up so much with embarrassment that he’d burn the blindfold. He’s promised Hawks that he would put in effort not to fuck shit up tonight and he is good at keeping his promises. Usually.

But he hates when they compliment him. When they talk about him like he’s some dainty little twink. It makes his belly grow tight and needy.

“Maybe another time,” someone else answers. And is that Hawks? He tries to figure it out but the more he thinks about it the less the whisper seems like it could have come from him.

Something touches his left pectoral. It’s a soft, tickling little touch that could be one of Keigo’s feathers but could also be someone’s fingers or a piece of fabric. Enji sucks in a sharp breath and leans back a little on instinct. His skin feels too tight and prickling. He wants to reach up and yank the stupid blindfold off his head.

He wants to see who Hawks has invited into the room. He wants to know which of their colleagues he’ll have to avoid in future because they’ll have seen him at his most vulnerable and absolute worst.

They’ll know what his body feels like and what his voice sounds like when he climaxes.

“Easy,” someone whispers. And someone else? He thinks it’s someone else? Says in a low, breathy voice: “Jeez, he’s sensitive. Such a strong reaction.”

“He’s gorgeous.”

“Still wish I could see his eyes.”

“You think I can have him suck my cock?”

“Why don’t you try?”

“Fuck, can he lift his arms up?”

“What for- ugh just ask him, why don’t you? He’s right there, you know.”

Enji feels himself panting softly. His heart is thundering so fast as he listens to the whispered conversation. He can’t tell whether it’s just two or three or more people talking. His hearing isn’t good enough for this; he doesn’t have a music quirk or whatever.

He’s just a single man trying not to loose his shit as he kneels naked and vulnerable and blindfolded in a room with a bunch of people he might or might not know. His stomach keeps twisting in on itself. He’s so nervous he’s starting to get nauseous.

“Yeah… sure… you’re right. Hey… hey, Endeavor, can you-”

He grits his teeth so hard his head begins to hurt – but he lifts his arms before the question is even fully out. He doesn’t even know why they want him to, but he’s… he’s curious.

Someone groans loud enough to make him think he can almost tell who that bass-y voice belongs to, but it’s gone again quick enough. He feels a touch to the sensitive underside of his arms, fingers sliding through his armpit hair. The touch is unexpected enough that he can’t tamp down on the grunt that squeaks up into a whimper, or how he jerks back and lowers his arms again quickly.

Someone laughs low. Someone else whispers: “So sensitive~”

And Enji feels like he’ll have to wring Keigo’s scrawny little neck for even suggesting this.