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The train is packed tight, click clacking and swaying along the track. It’s Izuku’s usual way home from school so he’s zoned out, staring at the wall of the train blankly. They’re in between stops when someone shifts closer behind him, too close.
Izuku knows it’s a man touching him by the size of the hands that grip tight around his waist. They drag heavy and rough down his sides to splay wide over his hips. Thumbs swipe along the plump swells of his ass in a dirty grope that ends with the man cupping his entire ass. His palms are so large that his fingers reach around to dig into Izuku’s thighs when he squeezes tight. Izuku has to cover up his own mouth to keep from yelping at the feeling of having his clothed asscheeks kneaded and pulled apart.
His shirt is hastily untucked and the hands slip up under it, moving slow and hot around to his front. They burn a trail upwards to tweak his nipples, making him whine and bite into his own palm in humiliation. It’s disgusting how good it feels to have his nipples played with, a sensitivity he hadn’t even known about himself until now. His breath hitches as one hand slithers even higher and traces feather soft over Izuku’s collarbones, teasing at reaching higher toward his throat but held back by the constriction of the uniform’s neckline.
The train lurches and Izuku loses his balance. Those awful hands hold him upright and spin him around, pulling him against the firm expanse of a well developed body. Izuku tries to use the lull in the attack to squirm away, craning his face upward to maybe get a peek at his assailant but the man is too strong.
One large hand comes up to cup the back of his head and neck, pressing his face deep into the buttery soft material of an expensive suit. The other reaches back around him, enveloping him in the smell of musk and men’s cologne, trapping him within a circle of heat and muscles. The top of his head barely reaches the very bottom of a thickly muscled chest and the burning hot line of the man’s dick digs into his stomach. Izuku has always been small, but it’s not until this moment that it has ever made him feel vulnerable.
His breath shudders out of him as fingers tease along the cleft of his ass, press against his hole through two layers of clothing. For the briefest of moments, he thinks maybe the man will be content with just groping him over his clothes, but then that hand moves around to the front of Izuku’s pants and pops his fly open.
When the man cups one massive hand over his baby cock, Izuku can’t help but push up into the heat of it. He’s hard despite himself, reacting to the heat and pressure of being pressed so close to someone else. The man does little more than fondle him before Izuku is cumming, eyes rolling back and mouth falling wide open to drool onto the suit jacket pressed against his face.
Izuku loses track of himself for a couple seconds, only coming to attention when he feels something circle his hole. He jerks back but he’s held fast by the tight grip around him. The man maneuvers him backwards in slow shuffling steps and it’s not until he feels cold metal against his back that Izuku realizes he’s trapped, caught between the wall of the train car and a wall of pure muscle.
Izuku’s hands fist uselessly in the man’s slacks, ruining it with wrinkles as thick blunt fingers wet with Izuku’s own cum press mercilessly against his tiny hole. With a sudden burst of burning pressure, one of them slips inside and he keens, high and pitiful. The finger moves inside him, fucking steadily into his tight hole. His back arches with the pain of it, hips twitching every forward and back- away. Izuku’s breath is ragged from pain, each inhale presses his tummy up against the clothed dick in front of him.
There’s no escaping this and it’s his fault really. He practically asked for this. He should have yelled at the first touch, should have fought harder. If someone was going to help him, they would have done it by now. More than likely, no one can even see him beneath the man’s bulk. He resigns himself to being stuck there. He’ll probably miss his stop, hopes the man gets off first, doesn’t follow him home to do worse. Just the thought makes him shiver in fear.
The hand on his head rubs soothing circles into his scalp as Izuku puffs and cries into expensive fabric, taking the pain, taking his assault. He’s lulled into comfortable numbness, rocked into a trance by the gentle swaying of the traincar and the demanding press of the finger buried deep inside him. They’ve been in this spot for hours, for days and years and it’s never going to end, just this invasion forever.
Izuku jerks back to attention when another finger nudges up against his hole, rough and insistent. He whines, shakes his head as much as he can but the man ignores his protests and splits him open. If one thick finger was nearly too much to take, then two is practically impossible. He sobs, overwhelmed by pain and helplessness, the sound muffled and quiet in the little cove the man has built for them.
He can feel every twitch of the man’s cock as he fucks it up against Izuku’s shuddering chest, the wet spot that spreads dampness into Izuku’s own shirt. Suddenly the man yanks Izuku’s face down onto his crotch, lining up his gaping sobbing mouth with the tip of his dick right as bursts of cum start soaking through the fabric. He chokes on the taste, gags at how it fills up his mouth and coats his tongue in the thinnest film of awful.
Lips stretched wide and nose dripping with snot and tears, Izuku can’t catch his breath. He struggles but between the grip on his head and the way his two fingers hook into Izuku’s wrecked asshole, there’s no escape. His ears ring, spots dance in the corner of his eyes and just as he feels like he’s about to pass out, the pressure eases. Massive hands pull his face back and angle his head away so he can gulp down greedy lungfuls of air.
Izuku’s head is fuzzy and he’s only vaguely aware of the fingers slipping out of him, of a soiled hand gently tugging his pants back into place and smoothing down his rumpled shirt. He can’t feel his legs but it’s okay because those large arms wrap around his waist and lift him up, tuck his fucked-out and tear stained face into the crook of a thick neck. Izuku hates this man but he’s too desperate for comfort not to wrap his arms around the man and press closer.
Exhaustion hits and suddenly Izuku can’t keep his eyes open, can’t even feel proper fear as he’s off the train. He was too weak to even fight the man off in the first place, there’s nothing he can do now when his legs tremble like jello and the tips of his fingers tingle.
The ringing in his ears is just dying down when the man lowers him onto a nearby bench. Izuku whines with pain but before he can fuss too much, the man is gently nudging him to lay down on his side. Warm filthy hands card through his fair and a burning hot mouth drops feather light to press against Izuku’s temple in the sweetest lingering kiss.
“Be good,” a deep voice rumbles in his ear. And just like that the man is gone.
Izuku can feel himself drifting off into exhausted sleep, but he fights it just long enough to slit his eyes back open and notice two things. The first is that, miraculously, they got off on Izuku’s stop. The second is that Endeavor is a lot more intimidating in person, even from behind.