The package arrived just after sunrise, thudding against the screen door like a stone dropped in still water. Katsuki had been awake for hours already — the old bones didn't let him sleep past four anymore — sitting at the kitchen table with cold coffee and the memory of his grandson's wet shorts burned behind his eyes. He pushed himself up, the robe hanging loose off one shoulder, and shuffled to the porch.
The cardboard box was unmarked, nondescript, the kind of thing that usually held tractor parts or fishing lures. He tore it open without thinking, without checking the label, because who else would be getting mail at this address but him?
Then he saw it.
The dildo was enormous. Silicone, skin-toned, veined with ridiculous detail — a thick, veined shaft that had to be nearly ten inches long, with a bulbous head and a suction cup base. It sat in its plastic cradle like some kind of obscene artifact, and Katsuki's hand froze halfway to pulling it out.
He looked at the label. Izuku Midoriya.
The air left his lungs like he'd been gut-punched.
What the fuck.
He stared at it. Then at the label again. Then back at the dildo, this massive, realistic piece of silicone that his eighteen-year-old grandson had ordered — had needed so badly he'd paid for overnight shipping — and something hot and wrong twisted in Katsuki's gut.
"Shit," he muttered, his voice rough in the empty morning.
He couldn't stop looking at it. The size of it. The head, fat and round, the way the veins were molded into the shaft, the curve meant to hit something deep inside. His grandson wanted this inside him. His grandson had been so desperate, so aching, that he'd ordered a cock this big to shove up his—
Katsuki's jaw tightened. He shoved the dildo back into the box like it had burned him.
This is none of my business. He told himself that, repeated it like a prayer. None of my goddamn business.
But his body didn't give a shit about what was his business. His cock was hardening, thickening beneath the robe, the head pushing past the fabric and jutting out into the cool morning air. He looked down at himself — at the heavy, veined length of his own dick, at the way it was already leaking pre-cum, already aching — and he couldn't stop the thought that crashed through him like a wave.
That thing he ordered is big. But it's not as big as me.
"Fuck," he growled, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand moved before he told it to, wrapping around his shaft, and the heat of his own palm made him gasp. He was sixty-five years old. When was the last time he'd been this hard? When was the last time he'd even wanted like this, this desperate, this consuming?
He couldn't go back inside. Not like this. Not with Izuku asleep in that tiny room, probably dreaming with that wet little cunt clenching around nothing, waiting for the package Katsuki was holding.
His hand moved. Slow at first, then faster, the slick sound of his palm working his cock loud in the quiet dawn. He braced his other hand against the porch railing, the rough-hewn cedar digging into his palm, and he fucked into his own grip like a man starved.
Don't think about him. Don't think about his—
But he was thinking. He was picturing it — Izuku in that tiny bed, shorts shoved down, fingers buried in that soaked little hole, whimpering. Was he loud when he came? Did he moan? Did he say a name?
Katsuki's hips jerked. Pre-cum dripped onto the porch boards, thick and viscous, and he bit down on a groan.
He wanted something huge inside him. He ordered a cock bigger than he could probably take.
Katsuki's fist tightened. He thought about the way Izuku had stared at him at dinner, the way those green eyes had traced every line of his chest, the way his breath had hitched when Katsuki's robe had fallen open.
He'd take mine.
The image burned behind his eyes now, relentless and vivid — Izuku's body spread open on that tiny bed, thighs trembling, that little cunt pink and wet and completely shaved, the way his grandson must keep it. Katsuki's hand moved faster on his cock, the slick sound obscene in the quiet morning, and he couldn't stop the fantasy from playing out in full color behind his closed lids.
He'd be so small beneath me. The thought came sharp and vicious, and Katsuki groaned, his hips thrusting into his fist. That tiny body, those soft thighs — there's no way he could take all of me. No fucking way.
But in the fantasy, Izuku was begging for it.
"Please," his grandson whispered in Katsuki's head, voice wrecked and desperate, those green eyes wet and hazy with want. "Please, Grandpa — I need it, I need your cock, I've been so empty —"
"Fuck," Katsuki growled, the word torn from his throat.
He saw himself standing at the edge of that bed, the robe discarded, his cock heavy and aching between his thighs. Izuku was naked beneath him, those small tits bared, nipples hard and pink, that curvy body arched up in offering. His hand was already between his own legs, fingers pressing into that soaked little hole, showing Katsuki exactly where he needed to be filled.
And I'd start slow. The thought was almost tender, and that made it worse. I'd start by teasing him.
Katsuki's cock throbbed in his grip. He imagined lowering himself over Izuku's body, the heat of that smaller frame against his chest, the way Izuku's breath would catch. He imagined the weight of his cock resting against that shaved cunt — the first contact, the wet heat of it, the way Izuku's whole body would jolt.
Then he'd start smacking it against him.
Hard, wet smacks against that clit — that swollen, sensitive clit that Izuku had grown from the hormones, big and desperate for attention. Katsuki imagined the sound of it, the way Izuku would whimper and buck with every impact, the way his pussy would glisten, getting wetter with each slap.
"That's what you need, isn't it?" he muttered under his breath, his hips fucking into his fist with frantic, desperate thrusts. "You need your Grandpa to take care of this needy little cunt."
In the fantasy, Izuku was sobbing. Not from pain — from want. From the unbearable pressure of being so close to what he needed and not having it yet. His legs were spread wide, his fingers gripping the sheets, his little hole clenching around nothing.
"Please," he was begging, his voice breaking. "Please, Grandpa, put it in — I need it inside me, I need you so bad —"
And Katsuki would give it to him.
Slow at first. Inch by inch. He imagined feeding that desperate cunt his length, watching his own cock disappear into that tiny body, feeling the impossible tightness of Izuku squeezing around him. His grandson was so small — there was no way he should be able to take this. But he would. He'd take every inch, because he wanted it, because he needed it, because he'd been dreaming of his grandfather's cock since the moment he'd arrived.
"That's it," Katsuki rasped, his voice low and rough in the empty morning. "Take it. Take all of it."
But the patience wouldn't last.
Katsuki knew himself. He knew the hunger that lived in his bones, the same hunger that had driven him his whole life. He could be tender for exactly as long as it took to feel that tight heat wrapped around him — and then the animal would take over.
He imagined grabbing Izuku's hips, those soft curvy hips, and driving into him. Hard. Fast. The kind of fucking that shook the bed frame, that made the headboard bang against the wall, that made Izuku scream — actually scream — with every brutal, desperate thrust.
"You wanted my cock, didn't you?" Katsuki growled in the fantasy, his voice dark and savage. "You wanted your Grandpa's monster dick. So take it. Take all of it, you little slut."
And Izuku would. He'd take it and love it, his body bouncing with every impact, his little tits shaking, his cunt gripping Katsuki's cock like it was made for it. He'd be crying, drooling, completely wrecked, and he'd still be begging for more.
"Harder," he'd sob. "Harder, Grandpa — please —"
Katsuki's hand was a blur on his cock now. Pre-cum dripped down his fingers, thick and slick, and he could feel the orgasm building in his gut like a fist, coiling tight and white-hot.
I'd fill him. The thought came like a punch. I'd fill that little teenage womb with my cum. Pump it into him until it's dripping out of that stretched hole. And I wouldn't stop. I'd keep going until I couldn't get hard anymore.
He imagined pulling out just enough to watch his own release leak from Izuku's body, then slamming back in, fucking his own cum deeper into that hungry cunt. He imagined Izuku's hand pressed against his lower belly, feeling the bulge of Katsuki's cock inside him, feeling where he was being filled.
"I'm gonna —" Katsuki's breath caught, his hips stuttering. "Fuck, I'm gonna —"
The orgasm hit him like a freight train.
He came hard, his body jerking, his hand tight around his cock as he spilled across the porch boards in thick, violent spurts. The sound he made was raw, animal — a guttural groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest, a sound he hadn't made in years. His vision blurred, his knees nearly buckled, and he had to brace himself against the railing to keep from falling.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the distant call of a morning bird.
The cum was cooling on his fingers. It was pooled on the cedar planks, splattered across the worn wood, evidence of what he'd done. Evidence of what he'd been thinking about while he did it.
Katsuki stared at the mess, his softening cock still in his hand, and the shame hit him like cold water.
What the fuck am I doing?
He was sixty-five years old. He was a grandfather. The boy asleep inside that house was his grandson — his daughter's child, a kid who'd been sent here because his mother trusted Katsuki to take care of him. Not to fantasize about. Not to imagine filling him with cum until his balls were empty.
But the fantasy was still there, burning behind his eyes. And his cock was still half-hard, twitching with interest, as if it hadn't just emptied itself across the porch.
Katsuki let out a shaky breath and finally let go of himself. The robe fell back into place, hiding the evidence, but he could still feel the ghost of his own grip, the heat of the fantasy clinging to his skin.
He looked down at the box. At the dildo, still sitting in its plastic cradle, obscene and undeniable.
I should throw it away. The thought was rational, clean, the kind of thing a normal grandfather would do. I should toss it in the trash and never say a word. Pretend I never saw it.
But his hand reached for it anyway.
He picked up the dildo, feeling the weight of it, the silicone warm from the morning sun. It was ridiculous — that was the only word for it. Ridiculously big, ridiculously detailed, the veins molded into the shaft, the head fat and round, the curve meant to hit something deep inside.
And his grandson had ordered it. His grandson had wanted this inside him so badly that he'd paid extra to have it overnighted.
Katsuki's jaw tightened. He thought about the way Izuku had looked at him at dinner — those green eyes tracing his chest, his hands, the outline of his cock through the robe. He thought about the wet patch on Izuku's shorts, the way Deku had licked it, the way Izuku had trembled.
He wants something inside him that bad.
Katsuki looked at the dildo in his hand. Then at the door of the farmhouse, where his grandson was sleeping, probably naked, probably with his hand between his legs even now.
He couldn't give this to him. He couldn't knock on that door and hand over a ten-inch dildo and pretend everything was normal. He couldn't tell Izuku that he'd seen it, that he'd held it, that he'd jerked off to the thought of his grandson taking it.
But he couldn't throw it away either.
In the end, he did the only thing he could think of. He put the dildo back in the box, closed the flaps, and set it on the porch railing. He'd leave it there. Izuku would find it when he woke up, and they'd never have to talk about it.
Katsuki wiped his hand on his robe — the cum was cooling, sticky, a reminder of everything he'd just done — and turned toward the door.
His hand was on the screen door handle when he heard it.
A sound from inside the house. Soft. Muffled. Coming from the direction of Izuku's room.
Katsuki froze.
It was a moan. Thin and high, barely audible through the walls, but unmistakable. A sound of pleasure, of need, of someone touching themselves in the dark.
His grandson was awake.
And he was touching himself.
Katsuki's cock twitched, already starting to thicken again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Fuck.
Katsuki's hand trembled on the screen door handle. The moan came again — muffled, desperate, a sound that bypassed his ears and went straight to his gut. He should go to his room. He should bury his face in his pillow and pretend he hadn't heard a thing.
Instead, he turned toward the stairs.
The old wooden steps creaked under his weight, each one a betrayal. He was too heavy for this house, too loud, too obvious. But he couldn't stop. His feet carried him up, one step at a time, the sound of Izuku's pleasure pulling him like a rope tied around his chest.
His cock was already hard again, aching and thick beneath the thin fabric of his robe. He was sixty-five years old, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard twice in one hour. Maybe ever. The thought should have stopped him. It didn't.
The hallway stretched before him, dim and shadowed. Izuku's door was at the end, closed, a sliver of light bleeding from beneath it. The moans were clearer now, punctuated by soft, wet sounds that made Katsuki's mouth go dry.
He pressed himself against the wall, his breath coming shallow and fast. He was hiding. In his own house. From his own grandson. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh, but the sound died in his throat when Izuku's voice cut through the silence.
"Ah— fuck—"
Katsuki's hand moved before he could stop it, sliding down his chest, past his navel, wrapping around his cock. The heat of his own grip was almost shocking. He was slick with precum, leaking like a teenager, his balls heavy and aching.
Inside the room, the wet sounds quickened. A rhythm. Steady. Desperate. Katsuki could picture it with devastating clarity — Izuku on that narrow bed, legs spread, one hand between his thighs, the other tangled in the sheets. His mouth would be open, those freckled cheeks flushed, his eyes squeezed shut as he chased his release.
Katsuki stroked himself slowly, matching the rhythm of the sounds coming through the wall.
This was wrong. Every fiber of his being knew it was wrong. The word "grandson" was a cold slap every time it surfaced in his mind. But the word "whore" was louder.
"Please —" Izuku's voice, high and broken. "Please, I need —"
A sob. A real one, cut off by a moan that turned into something desperate and animal.
"Fuck," Katsuki breathed, the word barely audible. He pressed his forehead against the doorframe, his fist pumping his cock in short, desperate strokes. "Fuck, boy, you're gonna kill me."
Izuku's breath hitched. There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched like wire, and then a sound that broke Katsuki completely.
"Katsuki..."
His name. Moaned through the wall like a prayer, like a confession. Not "Grandpa." Not "Sir." His name, spoken in a voice thick with need.
Katsuki's hips bucked into his fist, a groan ripping from his chest before he could stop it. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if Izuku heard him, didn't care if the whole fucking farm heard him. His grandson was in there, touching himself, saying his name, and Katsuki was going to come apart right here in the hallway.
"That's it," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Say my name again, boy. Let me hear it."
Inside the room, the wet sounds grew frantic. Izuku's breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuated by whines that made Katsuki's balls draw up tight.
"Katsuki— Katsuki, please—"
Katsuki bit down on his own lip, tasting blood, and fucked into his fist like a man possessed. He imagined pushing through that door, crossing the room in three steps, and climbing onto that bed. He imagined Izuku's legs falling open, that wet pink cunt exposed and ready, and sliding into him in one smooth, brutal thrust.
"I'd fill you so full," he rasped, his voice cracking. "You'd feel me for days, boy. You'd walk around this house with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone would know."
Izuku moaned — a long, high sound that built and built until it broke into a series of wordless cries. The wet sounds stopped, replaced by the slick, rhythmic clench of someone riding out their orgasm, and Katsuki felt his own release rising like a wave.
He tried to hold it back. Tried to stop himself from coming in the hallway like a damn animal. But his grandson was crying out on the other side of the wall, saying his name, and the sound of it shattered something inside him.
He came with a choked gasp, his cum hitting the doorframe in thick white ropes, splattering against the old wood. His knees buckled, and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling. The orgasm tore through him, leaving him shaking and breathless, his hand still wrapped around his cock as the last pulses of pleasure faded.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then, from inside the room, a soft, contented sigh.
Katsuki pressed his eyes shut. His cum was cooling on the doorframe. His grandson was lying in bed, covered in his own release, satisfied and unaware. And Katsuki was standing in the hallway, holding his softening cock, feeling the weight of everything he'd just done.
I can't do this.
He pulled his hand away from his cock, wiping the slickness on his robe. The cum on the doorframe stared at him like an accusation. He needed to clean it up. He needed to go back to his room and never think about this again.
But his thoughts drifted back to the package on the porch railing.
The dildo.
His grandson's desperate need, packaged and delivered, sitting there like an offering.
Katsuki walked back down the stairs. His legs were shaky, his heart still pounding. He opened the screen door and picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands.
He couldn't give it to him. He couldn't knock on that door and hand over a ten-inch silicone cock and pretend everything was normal.
But he couldn't throw it away either.
In the end, he set the box outside Izuku's door. Right next to the splatter of cum on the doorframe.
Let him figure it out.
Katsuki walked to his own room, closed the door, and lay down on his bed. His hand still smelled like his own release. His cock was sticky and sore. And his grandson was on the other side of the house, sleeping peacefully, with a dildo waiting for him in the hallway.
He stared at the ceiling and listened to the silence. He felt so tired even though it was still morning.
Izuku woke with a gasp, his body arching off the mattress as the last fragments of the dream burned through him. Katsuki's hands on his hips. Katsuki's mouth on his throat. Katsuki's cock—that massive, uncut thing—pushing into him so slowly he thought he'd die from it. His pussy clenched around nothing, slick and desperate, and he realized he'd been moaning before he was even fully conscious.
He lay there, chest heaving, staring at the water-stained ceiling. His shorts were ruined. Again. The fabric clung to him, soaked through with his own arousal, and he could feel the wetness spreading beneath him on the sheets. He'd come in his sleep. He'd fucked himself on a ghost cock and come so hard he'd soaked the bed.
"Fuck," he whispered, the word strange in his mouth. He never swore. But then again, he'd never woken up with his grandfather's name on his lips before, either.
His hand slid down his stomach without permission, slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. His fingers found his clit—swollen, aching, so sensitive that the barest touch made his hips buck. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and pressed down, slow circles that built the heat all over again. He was still so close. The dream was still so close. He could almost feel the weight of Katsuki's body on top of him, the scrape of calloused hands on his thighs, the thick head of that cock pressing against his entrance.
He came again in less than a minute, a thin, breathless cry escaping through his clenched teeth. His hand kept moving through the aftershocks, milking every last pulse of pleasure until his arm went limp and he collapsed back into the pillows, trembling and wet.
The silence of the farmhouse pressed in around him. Somewhere downstairs, a floorboard creaked. Izuku's eyes flew open. He's awake. He's been awake this whole time. What if he heard me? What if—
He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the slick mess between his legs. He needed to get to the bathroom. He needed to check if his package had arrived. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through him, shame and anticipation tangled together until he couldn't tell them apart.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the hardwood cool against his bare feet. His shorts were beyond saving—he'd have to wash them in the sink and hope Katsuki didn't notice. He tugged them off and pulled on a clean pair, the fabric sticking unpleasantly to his still-sensitive skin. Then he crossed to the door, his hand hovering over the handle.
Just a normal morning. You're just going to the bathroom. Nothing weird about that.
He opened the door.
The box sat directly in front of his door. Plain brown cardboard, no markings except the shipping label. The top flaps were lifted, then folded back down—a seal that had been broken and then carefully closed.
Izuku's blood turned to ice.
He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he pulled the flaps open. Nestled inside the packing peanuts was the dildo. Ten inches of realistic silicone, veined and curved, with a suction cup base and a color that matched skin tone exactly. It looked obscene. It looked exactly like the thing he'd fantasized about.
The box had been opened.
Someone had seen this.
Katsuki.
Izuku's vision tunneled. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and he pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound threatening to escape. His grandfather had opened his package. His grandfather had seen the massive dildo his desperate grandson had ordered in the middle of the night, and he had left it here, outside the door, like a question he didn't know how to ask.
He stared down at the silicone cock, and he felt the walls of the farmhouse closing in around him.
Izuku's hands closed around the box before his brain caught up. He hauled it into his room, pressed his back against the door, and stood there shaking, the cardboard crushed against his chest. The dildo shifted inside, a weight he couldn't ignore, and he held his breath, listening for footsteps in the hallway. Nothing. Just the creak of old wood settling and the distant hum of a refrigerator. He saw it. He fucking saw it. Izuku's stomach turned, heat flooding his face as he imagined Katsuki pulling back those flaps, staring down at ten inches of silicone, understanding exactly what his grandson had ordered in the middle of the night.
He couldn't keep it in the box. That felt wrong now — like leaving evidence in plain sight. He dropped to his knees, fumbled the flaps open, and pulled the dildo out. The silicone was cool against his fingers, heavier than he'd expected, and he held it in both hands like it might bite him. The veins were molded into the shaft, ridges and curves that matched the shape he'd seen in his dreams at dinner, the shape Katsuki had let him see through a sagging robe. This is obscene. He shoved it under his bed, deep into the dark space where the dust bunnies lived, and shoved the empty box in after it. Then he sat back on his heels, chest heaving, and stared at the floor like he could burn a hole through it with his shame.
"I can't do this," he whispered into the grain of the wood. "I can't. I should leave. I should call my mom and tell her I need to come home." But even as the words left his mouth, his hand drifted down, pressing between his legs. The fabric of his shorts was damp again — had been damp since he'd opened that door — and his body responded to the pressure like it had a mind of its own.
You're pathetic. You're fucking pathetic. He squeezed his thighs together, the ache sharp and sweet, and for a long moment he just lay there, trembling, hating himself for wanting this so badly he couldn't breathe.