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The new stablehand arrives with the dawn—broad-shouldered, tight-lipped, jaw dusted in stubble, sweat already blooming dark under his shirt by the time Izuku spots him unloading feed like it weighs nothing. Worn gloves, long strides, no hat. The kind of man that looks like he’s never taken a shortcut in his life.
Izuku watches from the fence rail, sipping lemonade like it’s wine, one leg hooked up, cowboy boot dangling. There’s a stretch of sun spilling golden across the yard, catching on hay and dust and the sheen of that stranger’s forearms as he lifts, tosses, repeats. Muscles that twitch with every throw. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t glance his way. He works like he owes it.
And Izuku—he grins.
Because hard work’s never once scared him off.
“You don’t smile much, huh?” he calls out after a few days, voice sugar-sweet as he leans into the barn doorway, shoulder brushing the frame.
The stablehand—Katsuki, according to the new time card—doesn’t even look up from where he’s checking tack. “Don’t get paid to.”
Izuku lets out a low whistle, sauntering in further. “Well, damn. What do you get paid for then? Just the hay and saddles, or do you do hands-on work too?”
Katsuki turns his head just a fraction, not enough to give the full glare, but just enough for Izuku to feel it. A chill down the spine, that slow, heavy don't fuck with me kind of look.
Izuku only smiles wider.
He keeps it going all week—little touches as they pass in the stable aisle, hand brushing Katsuki’s arm “by accident,” leaning too close when handing over the feed sheet, dragging words like “tight fit” and “deep clean” into slow, suggestive syrup. Even when Katsuki glares, it doesn’t stop him. Especially when he doesn’t say anything.
Izuku starts to think he’s got this man figured out. Silent. Stubborn. Maybe a little flustered under the gruff.
But then, the evening light hits Katsuki just right—shirt half unbuttoned, hay caught in his hair, grease on his jaw—and Izuku’s mouth goes dry.
That’s the moment he decides.
He’s gonna corner him. Push him. Win.
He doesn’t realize what he’s walking into. Not yet.
Not when the barn glows amber in the dying light, shadows stretching long across packed dirt and wooden beams. Not when he steps inside with slow, confident strides, boots scuffing soft against straw.
He spots Katsuki near the back, sleeves rolled high, arms slick from cleaning tack again—same damn reins he was polishing this morning. Izuku smiles. That’s something about men like him. Always working harder than they need to. Always pretending not to look up when someone’s watching.
Izuku leans against a support beam, just outside the stall, and pitches his voice low and smooth. “Kacchan.”
Katsuki grunts without turning.
Izuku continues, lazy and casual, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Pa asked me to come check if everything’s locked down for the night. You know how he gets about the barn door since the goat incident.”
Another grunt, this time tinged with disbelief.
Izuku presses on. “Figure you might need a hand closing up. Or, I dunno… keeping warm out here.”
That gets a pause.
Not much of one.
Just a slow, dragging moment as Katsuki sets the reins down with more precision than necessary. Then he straightens, turns, wipes one gloved hand on his thigh, the other still holding the leather strap like he might use it if the mood turned.
Izuku doesn’t flinch. He smiles, cocky and sweet. “That a no?”
Katsuki watches him.
Silent.
The stare drags.
Something sharpens.
It’s subtle—barely a shift. A change in the air, the tilt of his head, the way his shoulders don’t relax.
Izuku doesn’t catch it. Not yet.
He’s too busy watching the way the light outlines every hard line of Katsuki’s chest. Too sure of his own game. Too wrapped in the idea that he’s still steering this.
He steps closer, past the line of shadow into the stall’s glow. “You know, I’ve been real patient,” he says, voice dropping, lips just curling. “Most boys’d jump at the chance to have a little fun with the ranch owner’s son. But you—”
He doesn’t get to finish.
Because Katsuki steps forward once.
Slow.
Deliberate.
And Izuku’s breath stills.
“You think you’re real slick,” Katsuki says, voice rough, finally speaking straight at him, and the sound of it makes Izuku’s pulse stutter. “Always hangin’ around. Always talkin’. Always touching.”
He’s closer now, hand loose at his side, the leather strap still dangling like a silent threat.
Izuku swallows. Keeps his smile. Barely.
“I’m just friendly,” he says.
Katsuki snorts. “You’re not just anything.”
And Izuku should’ve turned around then.
He doesn’t.
He stays right where he is, breath held somewhere behind his grin, heart thudding too loud in his ears. Katsuki takes another step, and Izuku could move—could play innocent, backpedal, laugh it off—but he doesn’t. Not when the stablehand’s heat rolls off him like smoke.
“Didn’t plan nothin’,” Izuku says, tongue wetting his lips. “Just checkin’ the stalls. Like Pa asked.”
Katsuki’s eyes flash.
Then his hand’s on Izuku’s shoulder—firm, final—and Izuku’s being turned, spun fast enough to make the air catch in his throat. He hits the beam behind him with a thud, rough wood biting into his back, and Katsuki’s already on him, chest to chest, the hand at his shoulder sliding down, grabbing his hip, turning him again—bending him forward over the brace.
“Fuck—wait—” Izuku breathes, but there’s no real protest behind it. His palms slap the beam, body pinned, ass pressing back instinctively, already arched.
Katsuki steps in close behind him, voice a low growl at his ear.
“You think I wouldn’t notice? All those looks. All that mouth.” A hand slides down his back, over his ass, gripping tight. “You wore that attitude like a collar.”
Izuku’s breath stutters as Katsuki’s fingers find his waistband and yank. Pants slide down fast, scraping his thighs, and there it is: slickness already glistening between his cheeks, that slow stretch and shine no farm boy gets by accident.
Katsuki huffs a laugh, dark and satisfied. “Well look at that.”
Izuku makes a soft sound, face flushing, but he still tries to salvage something—“I—I just—I didn’t know if—”
SMACK.
Katsuki’s palm cracks across his ass, loud and hard. Izuku gasps, the sting blooming instantly.
“Shut it,” Katsuki growls. “Lyin’ little shit. You prepped yourself. You wanted this.”
Izuku nods into the beam, whimpering.
Katsuki’s hand lingers, then grips that reddened cheek hard. “Glad it’s me,” he mutters, voice rough with heat. “Glad I’ll be the one to train you right. Break you in.”
He pushes Izuku’s legs apart with one boot, and Izuku’s hips roll down automatically, offering more, already trembling.
“Gonna teach you how to be obedient, ranch boy.”
Katsuki grabs Izuku by the waist and manhandles him an inch to the side—rough but sure, the grip on his hips leaving smudges of dirt and sweat. He twists Izuku’s body just enough to splay him across a padded feed bag, one leg still bent at the beam, the other stretched further apart.
Katsuki reaches for his belt with a flick of his wrist—quick, practiced—and unbuckles, the clink of metal sharp in the barn’s thick heat. Izuku hears the slide of denim, the drag of zipper, the unmistakable sound of a man getting ready to ruin.
He doesn’t dare look back. Just breathes, shallow and fast.
Katsuki steps forward, bare cock heavy and flushed, twitching as it brushes against Izuku’s thigh. He glances down, eyes dragging slow over pale skin, sweat-shined and begging for touch.
Then he sees them.
Freckles.
Scattered across Izuku’s shoulders, trailing down his spine like a path.
“Huh,” Katsuki mutters, fingers grazing one just beneath the dip of his back. “You got these all over?”
Izuku shudders violently, arms locking to keep himself braced. “Nn—y-yeah—”
Katsuki grins, slow and dark. “Wonder how far they go.”
He drags a fingertip down the curve of Izuku’s ass, then lower still, ghosting over his hole—slick, twitching, already hungry. Izuku makes a keening sound, high and breathless, trying to rock back, but Katsuki pins him still.
“Nah,” he murmurs, cock nudging right where Izuku needs it, not giving it yet. “You wait. You’re gonna take it right. Like the good boy you are.”
Izuku’s voice is wrecked when he nods, face buried in his folded arms. “Yes, sir—yes—please—”
Katsuki grabs both hips in a vice grip.
Then pushes in.
One brutal inch, then another, until the tight heat of Izuku’s body clamps around him. Katsuki groans through clenched teeth, the stretch slow and deep, savoring how Izuku arches under him, how his legs spread wider on instinct, like his body knows exactly what it's made for.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Katsuki mutters, grinding forward till his hips meet soft skin. "You were made for this. Keep callin’ me sir, just like that. Let me hear it.”
Izuku shudders, arms shaking where they’re braced on the bag. “Yes, sir—g-god, please—sir—”
Katsuki pulls back, snaps forward hard—enough to slap a moan out of him—and that’s when it happens.
Izuku slips.
“Ka—Kacchan—fuck—”
The word breaks out rough and raw, swallowed by a groan that melts into the hay, but Katsuki hears it. Stilling, buried deep, he leans in close, lips right behind Izuku’s ear.
“Kacchan, huh?”
Izuku flinches, head shaking frantically. “No—shit, I didn’t mean to—”
But Katsuki just grins.
“That’s a cute nickname,” he growls, starting to move again—slow, punishing thrusts that grind deep and drag out every inch of sensitivity. “Comin’ from such a slutty little cowboy.”
Izuku makes a choked sound, the hay rustling as he shifts helplessly, knees weak.
“I didn’t—ngh—mean—” he pants, but his body’s already betraying him, pushing back into every stroke, cock leaking untouched against the feed bag.
“Sure you didn’t,” Katsuki snarls, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back just enough to speak against his cheek.
“Deku.”
The name punches the breath out of him.
Izuku’s mouth falls open with a moan, loud and long and shameless, hips jolting back so hard Katsuki nearly slips deeper.
Katsuki laughs. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
And fucks him harder.
The stall fills with the rhythm of skin against skin, the thick wet sound of Katsuki pounding into him, driving Izuku down into the rough burlap of the feed bag. Every thrust knocks another moan out of him, wrecked and rising, the kind that shudders straight from the gut.
Katsuki leans over him, breath hot and voice dark with satisfaction. “Tell me, ranch boy—who the fuck do you belong to?”
Izuku's voice catches, lips trembling. “Y-you—Kacchan—sir—I belong to you, just you—n-no one else—”
The words spill out too fast, slurred by pleasure, laced with desperation.
Katsuki growls in approval, fucking into him harder. His hand slides up Izuku’s chest, then curls around his face, thumb dragging over his lips.
“Then prove it,” he says.
He pushes two fingers past those parted lips.
Izuku takes them instantly, no hesitation. Sucks them down deep, tongue curling around the knuckles, moaning like it’s cock in his throat, not rough, calloused fingers. His eyes flutter, cheeks hollowing, taking it like a good boy.
Katsuki watches him, lips curling.
“Obedient little fucktoy,” he snarls. “Knew you’d be good for me.”
Izuku moans around his fingers, nods, drool dripping down his chin.
And Katsuki fucks him like he owns every piece of him—because now?
He does.
Izuku sobs—sweet, breathless, desperate whimpers muffled by Katsuki’s fingers stuffed in his mouth, spit clinging in long, shining strands when he gasps around them.
“S-sir—Kacchan—I’m—fuck, I’m so close, please—!”
His body trembles under each brutal thrust, cock dragging against the coarse feed bag, red and leaking, twitching with every grind of Katsuki’s hips against his ass. He tries to hold back—he tries—but his legs are shaking and his breath is hitching and it’s too much.
Katsuki’s voice comes low, hot against his ear, teeth just grazing the edge.
“You think you’ve earned it, Deku?”
Izuku whines, nodding. “Y-yes, yes, sir, please—I’ve been good—I’ve been so good—please let me come, I’ll do anything—”
Katsuki pulls his fingers from his mouth with a slick pop, then shoves them down, curling around Izuku’s cock.
Izuku screams into the straw, hips jolting.
“Beg louder,” Katsuki growls, pumping him with cruel precision.
“Please, sir—Kacchan—I need it—I need to come—I can’t hold it—I can’t—”
And then Katsuki’s voice, sharp and final: “Do it. Make a fuckin’ mess for me.”
Izuku breaks.
He shouts, choking on his own moan as he spills across the feed bag, cock pulsing hard in Katsuki’s hand, cum striping the rough burlap in thick, hot streaks. His whole body convulses, thighs trembling, mouth slack, still babbling thanks even as his orgasm wrings him dry.
Katsuki doesn’t stop.
Not until Izuku slumps beneath him, boneless and ruined, exactly where he belongs.
Katsuki stays sheathed deep, cock still twitching inside that tight, soaked heat. His chest heaves with every ragged breath. Sweat rolls down his spine, fingers still gripping Izuku’s hips like he might slip away if he lets go.
“Shit,” he mutters, voice gravel, thick and ruined. “Fuck—I’m close—”
Izuku’s head turns just enough to speak, cheek smushed to the sack, hair clinging to his forehead in damp curls.
“Do it inside,” he breathes. “Want it—want you—inside me.”
Katsuki snarls.
“Not ‘cause you told me,” he growls, hips rolling with deep, punishing finality. “You don’t give the orders, cowboy.”
He pulls out halfway, just to drive back in again, burying himself to the hilt one last time. His hand cracks across Izuku’s ass, one more sharp, stinging slap that echoes around the stall, and Izuku moans, even now, even fucked-out and spent.
“But fuck,” Katsuki hisses, voice cracking, “I can’t pull out—not from this greedy, tight little fuckin’ hole—”
He groans deep, loud, head tilting back as his orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. His cock jerks, spilling hot and thick inside, ropes of cum flooding Izuku’s clenching heat. He ruts through it, groaning, emptying everything he has into the body bent and waiting for him, perfect and open and his.
When he finally stops, still pulsing, still locked deep, he slumps forward.
Catches himself on trembling arms.
Presses against Izuku’s back, breath hot between his shoulder blades, his weight anchoring them both in the afterglow.
Then he shifts.
Reaches forward.
Cups Izuku’s chin, turns his head gently. Those flushed, tear-slick freckles glow in the low light.
Katsuki’s thumb strokes over a cheekbone, and he mutters, quiet, almost reverent—
“You did so fuckin’ well.”
He leans down.
And kisses him.
Soft.
Right on the freckles.
The kiss lingers for a beat too long—just enough to feel Izuku’s breath hitch, his body twitching with aftershocks under the tenderness. He blinks up at Katsuki, cheeks flushed deeper than ever, lips parted like he might actually be speechless.
But then—
“…We should probably clean up before Pa sees us.”
Katsuki barks out a laugh, low and hoarse, forehead dropping briefly to Izuku’s shoulder. “Of course you’d be thinkin’ about your daddy catchin’ us. Fuckin’ slutty farmer boy gets railed in the stables and starts worryin’ about his chores.”
Izuku pouts, turning his head away as he reaches back to fumble with his pants. “I’m not slutty,” he mumbles, though his thighs are still trembling, and the evidence of Katsuki’s release is already leaking down them.
Katsuki leans away, watches him struggle for a second with a smug little tilt to his mouth before tucking himself back in and buttoning up.
“Yeah, sure,” he drawls. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, Deku.”
Izuku huffs.
But then, voice quieter now, hopeful: “Um… You wanna come over for dinner?”
Katsuki’s brow quirks.
“M’ma’s cooking tonight,” Izuku adds quickly, straightening his shirt with both hands, still not meeting his gaze. “She makes these fried sweet potatoes with the little burnt edges and she said she had extra—”
“Sure,” Katsuki cuts him off, grabbing his belt and tugging him close again, just enough to steal one more kiss. “Long as you promise me another night like this.”
Izuku bites back a smile, nodding. “Okay.”
They step out into the fading light, the air cool on their flushed skin, the fields stretching gold beyond the barn. Katsuki throws an arm around Izuku’s waist, pulling him snug as they walk.
Izuku leans in, limping just a little, grinning like a boy who finally got everything he wanted.