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The day Izuku realizes there might be something wrong with him is the day that he deliberately gets on a crowded train car just so he can be trapped in the press of people and feel them against his skin. 

It's a condition, he knows. Touch starvation, touch deprivation, skin hunger if you want to get poetic. Not enough touch in your life, not enough soft and tender affection like people running a hand down your arm or clapping you on the shoulder, it ruins you. Izuku is ruined. Completely, utterly ruined. But he can't help himself. It's the only thing he can think of to do, in that weird space of time between middle school and the time he'll start at U.A. He trains, he goes home and showers, he slips out again and rides the trains during rush hour just so that he can feel like a human being again. It helps, and it's soothing just to stand on the train and be whisked away from his problems. 

And, because of course it would, something finally goes wrong the week before he's due to start classes. 

He gets off at one station, on at another, intending to ride for a bit longer. There's only room by the door, up against the little false wall that helps demarkate the entrance, so he stands there as the doors close and the press of bodies fills up the remaining space. He looks out the window as the world zooms by, the train rattling along. Even though culture dictates everyone be silent on the train, there's a decent amount of noise- a few people talking (rude), someone's headphones going loud, the train itself, the general press of bodies and motion of clothing. 

A body presses up against him from behind, and he freezes for a moment before practically melting into the warmth of it. A businessman probably, the slightly reflection on the door window tells him. Big, very big. Izuku barely reaches his chest. 

A broad hand cups his hip, and Izuku freezes. The heat from it radiates outward, and Izuku feels the cold wash of terror and indecision rush through him. 

“Well aren't you just adorable,” the man breathes, and slips a hand under his thin shirt. 

No. No, he doesn't- he doesn't want this- 

It's been so long since someone touched him so gently. The man is practically petting his stomach, his massive hand feeling him over. Izuku chokes on his cries, trembling in place because it just- it just. It feels so good, having someone touch him like this. His skin feels like it's tingling, the sensation radiating out, and his knees shake a little. His face is growing hot with shame and embarassment. He's supposed to be in training to be a hero, he should do something-!

Like what? The cruel part of his brain whispers. You're just a kid. And you're going to bother all these people on this train if you make a noise. How rude of you... 

He gives in, hot with shame and frustration, and the train jolts. He stumbles a little, falling backward against the man, and his arm squeezes around him possessively. 

It's been so long since anyone held Izuku so tight. 

The long, thick fingers keep moving up, pausing to span across his chest, and Izuku bites back a whimper as his nipple is rolled between two fingers. 

“So sweet,” the man breathes again, sounding awed. “Aren't you just the sweetest little thing...”

Izuku blinks back tears. He's not sure if they're from shame or how nice it feels to hear even the littlest praise. His nipples are aching hard, almost painful as the man plays with them a little, and when he lets go Izuku nearly moans in relief and disappointment. The man chuckles, still so soft, and his arm wraps around Izuku's waist to hold him still as his free hand comes around and gently pets the soft skin just over Izuku's belt. Izuku's heart hammers in his chest. He knows what's next, he knows what's coming, but it's still shocking when the second hand slips his belt to a much looser setting and slides into his pants.

He's never been touched by anyone else before this, never expected a stranger on the train to be the first. He's so gentle about it, too, and Izuku feels hot tears slip down his face as the massive hand wraps around him and gently strokes down with his thumb. It feels amazing, and he bites his lip to hold in something between a sob and a moan as the stranger plays a little with his slit, feeling over the head. He's getting hard, and there's a shaking inhale behind him as his cock twitches. Izuku squirms, nipples aching and in helpless need for something, anything to bring this to an end. The arm around his waist gets tighter, holding him in place, and he feels the heavy line of the strangers hard cock against his back. 

“Good boy,” the stranger murmurs, and Izuku trembles at the spark of thrilled heat the rushes through him. “Fuck, you're being so good. You're perfect.”

Izuku's been a lot of things, but perfect isn't one of them. He turns his face away from the door, hiding it against the strangers arms. 

“Don't hear that enough? You should.” 

No one can hear the man over the noise of the tracks, just Izuku as his cock grows slick from the pre-cum that's being rubbed over it. Izuku's helpless and hopeless and getting so, so hard, and his face is so red and his nipples are aching and it feels so good to be so utterly wrapped up in someone. 

“M'not good,” he whispers against his captors sleeve. “M'not.”

“I think you are, sweet thing,” comes the returning croon, and Izuku's legs are nudged farther apart to help make room for the fondling hand. He feels hopelessly on display, and the hand holding him steady slips back under his shirt to reach up and tweak his nipples again. Izuku's hips jolt helplessly, and he bites his lips to keep from crying out as his cock jerks and the stranger chuckles. 

“I think you needed this,” he whispers, and Izuku flushes even more red. “Did you hope this would happen? I see you riding the train all the time. Were you hoping someone would come up and take their time with you?”

“No,” Izuku whimpers, and his hips jerk again as his slit is teased. He's so close, so turned on, he wants to come so badly despite the thick shame roiling in his belly, he just feels so good....

The mechanical voice chimes to announce the next station, and the stranger tugs his nipple and cock at once, and Izuku bites the fabric of the suit jacket to keep from making any noise as his hips jerk. There's still a minute to the stop, and he's just gotten off, in public, by a stranger. Hot tears spill down his cheeks as the hand slips out of his pants, fingers coated in white, and whimpers as the other hand firmly grasps his jaw to force his mouth open and the cum covered fingers slip in to rest heavy on his tongue. He sucks without thinking, suddenly exhausted, the taste bitter and nasty. But he can't help himself. He's just... he's exhausted. He cleans the mans fingers, feeling the jerk of his hips and sudden heat of the man coming behind him, and trembles as the man bends to oh so gently kiss the top of his head and gently stroke his cheek. 

“Good boy,” he purrs, and Izuku's breath hitches. 

The bell for the station dings softly, the doors opening, and Izuku stumbles out onto the platform. He's immediately swallowed by the people in the crowd, and when he looks back he can't make out who the businessman was in the crowded train car. The doors close and the train whisks away, leaving him alone on the platform with the taste of cum on his tongue, sore nipples, and sticky underwear. 

He walks home, showers for a long time, and collapses into bed. 

The next day, he takes the bus instead, and tries not to think about how nice it had felt to have an arm around his waist.