Three days passed like a wound that wouldn't close. Izuku moved through the farmhouse like a ghost, measuring distance in the space between him and Katsuki—a table's length at meals, a hallway's width when they passed, the thickness of a door between their rooms. Katsuki's eyes never landed on him longer than a heartbeat. No touch. No warmth. Just the memory of a robe falling open and a mouth that had swallowed his cum. Izuku's stomach churned with every silent breakfast.
"You okay, kid?" Eijiro's voice cut through the barn's dim light. He was forking old hay into a wheelbarrow, sweat gleaming on his tan shoulders. "You've been spacing out all morning."
Izuku blinked. "Yeah. Just tired." He grabbed a pitchfork, the wooden handle rough and familiar in his palms. They worked in companionable silence, clearing the horse stable of debris, and for a few minutes Izuku almost forgot the ache in his chest. Then Eijiro's phone buzzed. He checked it, grimaced. "Gotta grab a part from in town. Be right back." The barn door swung shut behind him, and suddenly the space felt too quiet.
Footsteps. Not Eijiro's. Heavier. Slower. Yo Shindo appeared from the shadows of an empty stall, his gray eyes glinting with that familiar predatory gleam. He was shirtless, as always, his lean torso slick with sweat from working the fields. He moved into Izuku's space before the teen could step back, hands landing on either side of a wooden post, caging him in. "Hey, baby boy. Been missing you."
Izuku's heart hammered. "Yo—I'm working. Eijiro's coming right back—"
"He'll be a while." Yo's voice was low, honey-slick. "Come on. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. Just a little fun. Your granddad doesn't need to know." His hand came up, fingers brushing Izuku's cheek. "You're too pretty to be all alone out here."
Izuku's mind raced. Katsuki's rejection coiled in his chest, cold and hollow. Maybe this was all it had ever been—just a body wanting a mouth, a hole, a release. Maybe it didn't matter whose. Maybe the good feeling had nothing to do with Papa Kats. "Fine," he heard himself say, the word scraping out of his throat. "Fine. Just—quick."
Yo's grin widened. He pulled Izuku forward by the waist, shoving him to his knees on the dusty barn floor. The impact jarred through Izuku's knees, and before he could brace himself, Yo was already undoing his jeans, pulling out his cock—average length, cut, already half-hard. Izuku's mouth went dry. This was nothing like Katsuki's. Nothing.
"Open up, pretty boy." Yo's hand fisted in Izuku's green curls and yanked his head back. "Show me that throat."
Izuku parted his lips. Yo shoved inside in one rough motion, not waiting, not gentle. The taste hit Izuku's tongue—salt and sweat and something bitter—and his throat convulsed as the cock hit the back of his palate. He gagged, hands flying up to push at Yo's thighs, but the older man just laughed and thrust deeper.
"Yeah, take it. That's it." Yo's hips started a brutal rhythm, fucking Izuku's face without rhythm, without care. Each thrust slammed into the back of Izuku's throat, making his eyes water, his nose stuffy, his lungs burn for air. He tried to breathe through the gagging, tried to find a rhythm, but there was no rhythm—just violence, just the wet sound of his own choking, just the ache in his jaw as it was forced wider.
Izuku's hands clawed at Yo's pants, desperate for a pause, a breath, a moment. Yo's grip only tightened, nails biting into his scalp. "Don't fight it. You wanted this, remember?" The words were a taunt, and Izuku felt tears slip down his cheeks. This wasn't what he wanted. Not this. Not like this.
He thought of Katsuki's hand on his head—gentle, guiding, letting him set the pace. He thought of Katsuki's low groan when he'd taken him deep, the way his grandfather had called his name like a prayer. This was nothing like that. This was meat and desperation and a man who saw him as a hole, not a person.
Yo's hips stuttered. A grunt. And then hot, bitter liquid flooded Izuku's throat as Yo came without warning, holding Izuku's head down until he swallowed or drowned. Izuku swallowed, gagged, swallowed again, the taste coating his tongue, his throat, his sense of self.
Yo pulled out with a wet pop, a string of saliva and cum stretching between Izuku's lips and his cock. But he didn't step back. Didn't tuck himself away. His cock was still hard, still glistening with spit and the remnants of his climax. "Not done with you yet, baby boy." His hand fisted in Izuku's hair again, yanking him upright. "Lay back."
Izuku's mind was static, his throat raw, his knees aching against the dusty barn floor. "I—Yo, I don't—"
"I said lay back." Yo shoved him, and Izuku's back hit the hay-strewn ground. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Above him, the barn's wooden beams swam in his tear-blurred vision. Yo's hands were already at his waistband, rough and impatient, pulling at the drawstring of his shorts. "Let's see what else you've got."
"No—wait—" Izuku's hands flew down, grabbing at Yo's wrists. "I don't want—I said just—"
"Just what? Just a quick blowjob?" Yo laughed, low and mean, shaking off Izuku's grip like it was nothing. "Come on, baby boy. Don't be a tease." His fingers found the waistband of Izuku's shorts and yanked them down, along with the thin fabric of his thong. The cool barn air hit Izuku's exposed skin—his thighs, his hips, the soft curve of his belly. "Fuck, look at that."
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body trembling. "Please—Yo, please stop—"
"Show me that teen cunt." Yo's voice dropped, honey-thick and demanding. His hands forced Izuku's thighs apart, spreading him open to the dim light filtering through the barn's wooden slats. "Damn. You really are a virgin, huh? Look at that shit. So tiny. So tight." His thumb traced along Izuku's slit, and Izuku flinched, a whimper escaping his throat. "Bet no one's ever been inside you."
"I—" Izuku's voice cracked. "I am. I'm a virgin. Please, Yo, I don't want to—"
"Shh. It's okay." Yo's thumb pressed harder, circling his clit, and Izuku's hips jerked—not with pleasure, but with the shock of unwanted touch. "I'll be gentle. I'll make it good for you. You just gotta relax."
"No. No, I don't—I want you to stop." Izuku's hands pushed at Yo's chest, but the older man didn't budge. "Stop. Please."
Yo's gray eyes glittered. He ignored the hands on his chest, instead sliding one finger down, pressing at Izuku's entrance. "Let me just—"
"No!" Izuku's voice broke into a sob. "Stop! Get off me!"
The finger pushed inside. Just the tip. It burned—a sharp, wrong stretch that made Izuku's whole body seize up. He cried out, a raw, animal sound, and tried to twist away, but Yo's grip on his thigh was iron. "Hey, hey. Relax. It'll feel good in a second."
It didn't. It felt like violation. Like a splinter driving deeper with every breath. Izuku's chest heaved, tears streaming hot down his temples, into his hair. "Stop. Stop. Please, God, stop—"
Yo pushed deeper. Two fingers now, forcing past the tight ring of muscle, and Izuku screamed—a high, piercing sound that cut through the barn's quiet.
"Get the fuck off him!"
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. A blur of motion. A fist connecting with Yo's jaw, sending him sprawling sideways, his fingers ripping out of Izuku with a wet, painful drag. Eijiro stood over them, chest heaving, his face twisted with fury. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He grabbed Yo by the collar and punched him again, the sound wet and final.
Izuku lay in the hay, half-naked, shaking, his thighs spread and his cunt exposed to the cold air. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His vision swam as sobs wracked his chest, each one a convulsion that left him emptier.
The barn door slammed open. Heavy footsteps. A voice—rough, familiar, sharp with panic. "What the hell—"
Katsuki.
Izuku turned his head, and there he was. His grandfather stood in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun, his crimson eyes scanning the scene—Eijiro pounding Yo's face into the dirt, Izuku sprawled on his back, shorts tangled around his ankles, tears and spit and cum drying on his chin.
Something in Katsuki's face broke. Then hardened.
He crossed the distance in three strides, dropping to his knees in the hay beside Izuku. His hands—rough, calloused, warm—found Izuku's shoulders, pulling him up, pulling him in. "I got you. I got you, kid." His voice was wrecked, nothing like the flat, dead tone of the past three days. "I'm here."
Izuku collapsed into him, his face pressing into Katsuki's chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. He sobbed—ugly, heaving sobs that shook his whole body—and Katsuki wrapped both arms around him, crushing him close, one hand cradling the back of his head.
"Shh. I got you." Katsuki's voice was a low rumble against Izuku's ear, rough and raw, the sound of a man barely holding himself together. "You're safe. You're safe now."
Behind them, Eijiro's fists connected with flesh again and again. Yo's groans turned to pleas, then to silence. Katsuki didn't look. He just held Izuku, rocking slightly, his hand tracing slow, steady circles on Izuku's back the same way it had on the porch swing—but this time there was nothing pretending about it.
"I'm sorry," Izuku gasped against his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I—"
"Don't." Katsuki's voice cracked. "Don't you fucking apologize. Not for this." His arms tightened, and Izuku felt a shudder run through the old man's body—rage or grief, or both. "I'm the one who's sorry. I should've been there. I should've—" He stopped, his jaw clenching against the words.
Eijiro's punches slowed. Stopped. He stood, breathing hard, wiping blood from his knuckles. "He's out cold. I'll call the sheriff."
"Do it." Katsuki's voice was flat again, but this time it was edged with steel, not distance. "Then get back here. I want him off my property tonight."
Eijiro nodded, already pulling out his phone, stepping out of the barn. The door swung shut behind him, leaving them alone in the dusty half-light.
Izuku's sobs quieted to shaky breaths. He didn't lift his head from Katsuki's chest. Didn't dare. Because if he looked up, if he saw Katsuki's face, he might break all over again.
Katsuki's hand moved from his back to his hair, fingers threading gently through the green curls. "I got you, kid. I got you." His voice was softer now, barely a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere."
Izuku pressed closer, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Katsuki's robe, and let himself be held.
Katsuki's arms stayed locked around Izuku for a long, trembling moment. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at the boy's face—at the tear tracks, the swollen lips, the hollow, shattered look in those green eyes. Something in Katsuki's chest cracked open, raw and bleeding.
He reached down and untied his robe. The fabric fell open, revealing his broad chest, his muscular stomach, the dusting of ash-blond hair trailing down his navel. But underneath, for once, he was wearing something—a pair of tight black boxer briefs that hugged his thighs and the heavy bulge between them. Izuku blinked, confused, as Katsuki shrugged the robe off his shoulders and wrapped it around Izuku instead, pulling the worn cotton closed over his naked chest and tucking it tight around his shivering frame.
"There," Katsuki muttered, his voice rough. "You're decent now."
Izuku looked down at himself, swallowed by the oversized robe that smelled like his grandfather—sweat and hay and something earthy, something safe. He clutched the fabric at his chest, his fingers twisting in it. "Papa Kats, I—"
"Don't." Katsuki's hand found his chin, tilting his face up. His crimson eyes burned, but not with anger. With something softer. Something that looked almost like pain. "Don't say anything. Just let me take care of you, okay?"
Izuku's lip trembled. He nodded.
Katsuki shifted, settling onto the hay-strewn floor and pulling Izuku into his lap. The boy came willingly, curling into the curve of his grandfather's body, his head finding the hollow of Katsuki's shoulder. Katsuki's arms wrapped around him, one hand splayed across his back, the other cradling the back of his head, fingers threading through the damp green curls.
"I got you," Katsuki whispered, his voice a low, steady rumble against Izuku's ear. "I got you, kid."
Eijiro moved quietly in the background, grabbing one of Katsuki's spare work jackets from a hook near the barn door. He shrugged it on, then knelt beside Yo's unconscious form, checking his pulse with clinical efficiency. "He's breathing. Still out cold."
"Good." Katsuki's voice was flat, cold. "Leave him there."
Eijiro nodded, stepping back to lean against a wooden support beam. His red eyes stayed fixed on Yo's prone body, ready to move if the bastard so much as twitched.
Minutes passed. Izuku's breathing slowly steadied, the sobs fading to shaky inhales, then to something almost calm. He pressed his ear to Katsuki's chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A rhythm that said alive, alive, you're alive and you're safe.
"I'm sorry," Izuku whispered. His voice was wrecked, barely audible. "I shouldn't have—I mean, I knew he was bad, I knew, but I just—I thought maybe if I just let him, then I wouldn't have to think about—" He stopped, his throat closing.
Katsuki's hand tightened on the back of his head. "Don't finish that thought." His voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "Whatever you were gonna say, stop. You didn't do anything wrong. That piece of shit took advantage of you. That's on him, not you. You hear me?"
Izuku sniffled, nodding against his chest.
"I mean it, Izuku." Katsuki pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "Look at me."
Izuku lifted his head, his green eyes glassy and red-rimmed.
"You didn't do anything wrong." Katsuki's voice was hard, certain, brooking no argument. "You hear me say that?"
Izuku swallowed, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek. "I hear you."
"Good." Katsuki pulled him back in, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Good boy."
The barn door creaked open, and a figure stepped in—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a sheriff's uniform. Tenya Iida's sharp blue eyes swept the scene, taking in Izuku curled in Katsuki's lap, Yo's unconscious form on the ground, Eijiro standing guard with bloodied knuckles. He sighed, a heavy, weary sound.
"I got a call about an assault." His voice was deep, formal, the voice of a man who'd seen too much of this. "Kirishima, you wanna tell me what happened?"
Eijiro straightened, his jaw tight. "I found Shindo on top of the kid, with his fingers inside him. The kid was screaming for him to stop. I pulled him off and knocked him out."
Iida's expression darkened. He turned to Yo, then back to Izuku, his voice softening. "Son, is that true?"
Izuku shrank against Katsuki's chest, his fingers twisting in the robe. He nodded, a tiny, jerky motion. "He—he told me to suck his dick. I did. I thought—I don't know what I thought. But then he wanted more. He fingered me and I told him to stop and he wouldn't—he just—" A sob wracked his frame. "He wouldn't stop."
Iida's jaw tightened. He turned to the paramedics who had followed him in, a middle-aged woman and a young man carrying a medical bag. "We need a rape kit done. Now."
The woman nodded, kneeling beside Izuku. "Hey, sweetheart. I'm gonna need you to come with me, okay? We're gonna take care of you."
Izuku's grip on Katsuki's robe tightened. "No—no, I don't—"
"I'm not leaving you." Katsuki's voice was firm, his hand rubbing slow circles on Izuku's back. "I'll be right there the whole time. They need to check you out, make sure you're okay. I'll be right there. I promise."
Izuku looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of deception, any hint that Katsuki was about to pull away again. He found none. Just that steady, burning gaze, those calloused hands holding him like he was something precious.
"Okay," Izuku whispered. "Okay."
The paramedic led them to the back of the ambulance, where she set up a small, sterile space. Katsuki sat on the edge of the gurney, Izuku perched on his lap, still wrapped in his robe. The paramedic worked gently, efficiently, asking questions in a soft voice that Izuku answered in a monotone. Did he penetrate you? Yes. With his fingers. Did he use a condom? No. Did he ejaculate inside you? No. He came in my mouth.
Katsuki's hand tightened on Izuku's thigh at that, but he said nothing. Just held him steady.
The swabs were cold. The speculum was worse—a sharp, invasive pressure that made Izuku gasp and squeeze his eyes shut. Katsuki's hand found his, fingers interlacing, squeezing tight.
"Almost done," the paramedic murmured. "You're doing great, sweetheart."
Izuku focused on Katsuki's thumb tracing circles on his knuckles, the rough calluses, the warmth of his palm. He counted his breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
When it was over, the paramedic handed him a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, donated from who-knew-where. Izuku changed in the back of the ambulance, Katsuki standing guard outside the open door, his back turned but his presence unwavering.
When Izuku emerged, dressed in clothes that were too big but clean, Katsuki turned and looked at him. Something in his face softened. "You okay?"
Izuku nodded, though his eyes were still red, his voice still hoarse. "I think so."
Katsuki stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.
They walked back to the barn, where Iida was finishing up with Eijiro. Yo was being loaded onto a stretcher, handcuffed to the rail, a bruise already blooming across his jaw. He was conscious now, his gray eyes finding Izuku's—and there was nothing soft in them. Just cold, flat hatred.
Izuku flinched, pressing closer to Katsuki.
Katsuki stepped in front of him, blocking his view. "Get him out of here." His voice was low, dangerous. "And if I ever see his face again, I'll finish what Kirishima started."
Iida nodded, exchanging a look with the paramedics. "He'll be transported to the county jail. With the physical evidence from the rape kit and Kirishima's testimony, we've got more than enough to hold him. He's not getting out anytime soon."
Katsuki's shoulders relaxed fractionally. "Good."
Iida turned to Izuku, his expression softening. "Son, you did the right thing by telling someone. None of this is your fault. Do you understand?"
Izuku swallowed, nodding. "Yes, sir."
"If you need anything—counseling, support, someone to talk to—you call me." Iida handed him a card. "Anytime. Day or night."
Izuku took it, his fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you."
Iida tipped his hat, then turned and walked back to his cruiser, the taillights disappearing down the dirt road as the ambulance followed.
The farm fell silent. The barn's wooden slats creaked in the evening breeze. Somewhere, a cow lowed, the sound muffled and distant.
Katsuki turned to Eijiro. "You okay?"
Eijiro flexed his knuckles, wincing slightly. "Yeah. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can't handle." He glanced at Izuku, his red eyes warm. "You good, kid?"
Izuku managed a weak smile. "Thanks to you. You saved me."
Eijiro waved a hand, that easy smile returning despite the bruise blooming across his knuckles. "Don't mention it, kid. Seriously. Anyone who does that to someone else deserves what they get."
Katsuki stepped forward, his voice rough but sincere. "Thank you, Kirishima. For real. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up."
Eijiro's smile softened, his red eyes meeting Katsuki's. "I'm just glad I was there. Listen, I can stay the night if you need me to. Help with the animals, keep an eye on things. I don't have anyone waiting for me at home."
Katsuki hesitated, his arm tightening around Izuku's shoulders. Then he nodded, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face. "Yeah. I'd appreciate that."
Eijiro clapped him on the shoulder, gentle despite his size. "I'll take care of the livestock and lock everything up. You just focus on him."
Katsuki didn't waste another second. He guided Izuku away from the barn, his hand a steady anchor on the small of his back. They crossed the dark yard, the farmhouse windows glowing warm against the purple evening sky. Izuku's legs felt like they belonged to someone else, his body moving on autopilot as Katsuki led him up the porch steps, through the door, down the narrow hallway.
Katsuki's bedroom was big and worn-in—a heavy wooden bedframe, quilts that smelled like hay and soap, a window cracked open to let in the cool night air. Katsuki pulled back the covers and guided Izuku onto the mattress, then climbed in beside him, wrapping his arms around his body and pulling him close.
Izuku pressed his face into Katsuki's chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin—musk and sweat, the faint tang of tobacco from years ago. He felt the steady thrum of Katsuki's heartbeat against his cheek, the calloused hand that traced slow, soothing patterns down his spine.
"I've got you," Katsuki murmured, his voice low and rough in the dark. "You're safe. I've got you."
Izuku's breath hitched, a sob he'd been holding in finally escaping as tears soaked into Katsuki's robe. He wanted to stay here forever, wrapped in this warmth, hidden from the world and everything that had happened. His grandfather's arms were the only place that felt real anymore. The only place that felt safe.
"Don't leave," Izuku whispered, his voice breaking. "Please don't leave me alone."
Katsuki's arms tightened around him, his lips pressing to the top of Izuku's head. "I'm not going anywhere, kid. I promise."
Izuku closed his eyes, letting the steady rhythm of Katsuki's breathing pull him under. Outside, he heard Eijiro's footsteps crossing the yard, the creak of the barn door, the soft lowing of cattle. But none of it felt threatening anymore. Not with Katsuki's arms wrapped around him, holding him together.
The night had grown still, the farmhouse settling into its familiar creaks and groans. Izuku lay curled against Katsuki's chest, the warmth of his grandfather's body seeping into his bones, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a lullaby that promised safety. He should have been asleep, should have let exhaustion pull him under, but his mind wouldn't stop racing—replaying Yo's hands, his own stupid desperation, the way he'd almost let it happen because he'd been so fucking empty inside.
Katsuki's hand traced slow circles across his back, a grounding pressure. Then, without warning, rough lips pressed to Izuku's forehead—soft, deliberate, a question asked in silence. Izuku's breath caught, his body going rigid. Katsuki didn't stop. He kissed his temple, the corner of his eye, the bridge of his nose, each one a whispered apology, a promise he couldn't put into words.
Izuku's heart hammered against his ribs, the rhythm erratic, desperate. He knew what this was. Knew what it meant. Knew the line they were about to cross, the one they'd already obliterated three days ago. But Katsuki's lips on his cheek, warm and chapped and achingly tender, dissolved every argument into a single, undeniable truth: he needed this. He needed him.
He raised his head, his green eyes meeting crimson in the dim light filtering through the curtain. Katsuki's expression was raw—guilt and want and something softer, something that looked almost like love. Izuku's lips parted, his breath a shaky exhale, and before he could think, before he could stop himself, he closed the distance.
The kiss was a collision—desperate, broken, tasting of salt and promises. Izuku's hand found Katsuki's jaw, trembling fingers curling into the rough stubble as he pressed closer, pouring every word he couldn't say into the pressure of his mouth. Don't leave. Don't hate me. Don't make me feel dirty.
Katsuki's response was immediate, instinctive. His arm tightened around Izuku's waist, pulling him flush against his chest as his lips moved against Izuku's—slow, deliberate, a man relearning how to be gentle. His calloused hand came up to cradle the back of Izuku's head, thumb stroking through the green curls, grounding them both in the quiet rhythm of their mouths.
Izuku's body melted into the kiss, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as Katsuki's tongue brushed his lower lip—soft, asking, not taking. He opened for him, a shuddering sigh escaping as their tongues met, slow and exploratory, tasting the salt of tears Izuku hadn't realized he'd been crying.
They broke apart, foreheads resting together, breathing mingled. Izuku's hand slid from Katsuki's jaw to his chest, feeling the rapid flutter beneath his palm.