Chapter 6: Cookie Dough Molestation
The warm, buttery scent of chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen, a cheerful counterpoint to the slightly chaotic aftermath of Izuku’s costume fitting. Flour dusted the countertop near the mixing bowl, eggshells sat in a discarded pile, and melting butter gleamed in its wrapper. Izuku, wearing only a loose apron tied loosely over his bare chest and hips, concentrated on scooping dough onto a baking sheet. His 34C breasts shifted slightly with each movement, the cool air of the kitchen pebbling his nipples. He hummed tunelessly, focused on getting the perfect dollop.
"Looking good, sunshine!" Hizashi chirped, bustling over from the sink where he’d been washing a spatula. He dried his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder, his own DD-cup breasts prominent under a thin, worn t-shirt. He leaned against the counter beside Izuku, his gaze openly appreciative. "Those cookies are gonna be perfection. Just like the baker."
Izuku flushed, a familiar warmth spreading up his neck. "Papa, stop," he mumbled, though a small smile played on his lips. He was used to the compliments, the casual appreciation of his body Hizashi had always fostered, but the sheer lack of inhibition could still fluster him.
"Why?" Hizashi grinned, mischief sparkling in his eyes. He stepped closer, crowding Izuku’s space near the oven. Before Izuku could react, Hizashi was pressed flush against his back. One arm snaked around Izuku’s waist, anchoring him, while Hizashi’s other hand slipped easily under the loose apron. Cool fingers found the warm, bare skin of Izuku’s stomach, then slid unerringly upwards.
Izuku froze, cookie scoop hovering mid-air. "Papa—" The protest was breathless.
"Shh, just checking," Hizashi murmured, his voice dropping to a low, playful purr right by Izuku’s ear. His hand closed firmly over Izuku’s right breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh with practiced familiarity. He squeezed gently, testing the weight, his thumb rubbing deliberate circles over the hardening nipple. "Mmm, yeah. Nice and full. Rising beautifully." He gave the nipple a sharp, playful pinch that made Izuku gasp and arch his back instinctively. "Perfect handfuls. Truly."
The kitchen door swung open. Shouta shuffled in, looking weary, his capture weapon askew, dark hair falling into his eyes. He took in the scene instantly: Izuku pinned against the counter by Hizashi, the blond's hand clearly fondling their son’s bare breast under the apron. Shouta’s expression remained impassive, the usual resigned tolerance settling over his features like a well-worn cloak. But his gaze lingered for a fraction of a second on Hizashi’s possessive grip before flicking to the coffee maker. However, the telltale bulge tenting the front of his dark jumpsuit trousers was unmistakable, hardening rapidly even as he moved.
Hizashi felt it too – the shift in the room’s energy, the sudden, magnetic pull of his husband’s arousal. His playful kneading of Izuku’s breast stuttered. The teasing glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by an almost predatory hunger solely focused on Shouta. His hand slid out from under Izuku’s apron as if burned, leaving the younger man sagging slightly against the counter, face flushed crimson, trying to catch his breath.
"Shou," Hizashi breathed, the single syllable thick with need. He abandoned Izuku completely, crossing the small kitchen in two strides. He didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to Shouta’s waistband, fingers fumbling with the fastenings with urgent impatience.
"Easy," Shouta rumbled, his voice already roughened. He didn’t push Hizashi away. His dark eyes, now sharp and heated, locked onto his husband’s face.
"Need you," Hizashi gasped, shoving Shouta’s trousers and briefs down his hips in one rough motion. Shouta’s cock sprang free, thick and fully erect, the flushed head already glistening. Hizashi moaned at the sight, dropping to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, flour dusting the knees of his jeans. He didn’t waste time. He leaned forward, his hot mouth engulfing the head in one smooth, hungry motion.
"Fuck, 'Zashi," Shouta groaned, his head falling back, one hand instinctively tangling in Hizashi’s blond hair. His hips gave a shallow thrust forward, feeding more of his length into that wet heat.
Hizashi hummed around him, the vibration making Shouta curse again. He bobbed his head, taking Shouta deep, his tongue swirling around the shaft, tracing the thick vein underneath. Saliva dripped down his chin, slicking Shouta’s balls as Hizashi’s other hand reached up to fondle them, rolling the heavy weight in his palm. The wet, sucking sounds were obscenely loud in the small kitchen, punctuated by Shouta’s ragged breathing and Hizashi’s muffled groans of need.
Izuku stood frozen by the oven, the cookie dough forgotten. He watched, his own body humming with a confusing mix of residual embarrassment and unwanted arousal. The raw hunger in Hizashi’s movements, the sheer desperation as he deep-throated Shouta, was a world away from the casual groping Izuku had just endured. It was primal. Consuming.
Shouta’s grip tightened in Hizashi’s hair, guiding his pace, fucking his mouth with short, sharp thrusts. "God, that mouth… sucks cock so fucking good…" he gritted out, his knuckles white.
Hizashi pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Shouta’s glistening cock. His eyes were glazed, desperate. "Need you inside me, Shou," he panted, scrambling back to his feet. He shoved his own jeans and panties down frantically, kicking them aside. His cunt glistened, already slick and flushed, dark blond curls clinging damply. "Now. Please. Fuck me. Need you to wreck this pussy."
Shouta didn’t need asking twice. He grabbed Hizashi by the hips, spinning him roughly to face the large, cold stainless steel refrigerator. He shoved Hizashi forward, bending him over, Hizashi’s large breasts squashing against the chilly metal with a soft thud. Shouta spat into his palm again, slicked his cock with a few rough strokes, the sound harsh.
He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against Hizashi’s slick entrance. "Greedy thing," he growled. Then he slammed forward, sinking his entire thick length into Hizashi’s cunt in one brutal, unyielding thrust.
Hizashi screamed, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the tiled walls. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the smooth fridge door. "OH GOD! SHOU! FUCK!" He pushed back desperately, trying to take him deeper, his ass meeting Shouta’s hips with a loud, wet smack.
Shouta set a punishing rhythm immediately. No finesse, no gentle build-up. Just pure, animalistic power. He gripped Hizashi’s hips hard, fingers digging in, as he pulled almost all the way out only to ram back in with jackhammer force. The wet slap of flesh on flesh, the deep, guttural grunts from Shouta, and Hizashi’s high, keening cries filled the kitchen, drowning out the hum of the oven and the faint scent of baking cookies turning bitter at the edges.
"Yes! Fuck! Harder! Oh god, your cock! Stretching me so good!" Hizashi babbled, his voice breaking. "Fill me up! Make me feel it! Ruin this tight cunt!" With each brutal thrust, her breasts mashed against the fridge, bouncing slightly, nipples hard peaks against the cold steel.
Shouta leaned over him, his chest pressed to Hizashi’s back, his breath hot and ragged against Hizashi’s neck. "Take it… take every fucking inch… this pussy’s mine… fucking mine…"
"Yours! Always yours!" Hizashi sobbed, the force of the thrusts driving the words out in gasps. "So deep! Oh fuck, Shou, I’m gonna— GONNA CUM!"
Shouta’s pace became frantic, his thrusts losing rhythm, becoming desperate, hammering jabs deep into Hizashi’s grasping cunt. He reached around, his hand roughly finding Hizashi’s clit, already swollen and throbbing, and rubbed hard, fast circles.
"FUCK! SHIT! CUMMING!" Hizashi shrieked, her body locking rigid, her cunt clamping down violently around Shouta’s cock in powerful, rippling spasms. Her scream dissolved into broken whimpers.
The intense clenching triggered Shouta instantly. With a guttural roar that seemed ripped from his chest, he buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as his cock pulsed, jetting thick ropes of cum deep inside Hizashi’s spasming channel. His hips jerked erratically with each spurt, his own release wrenched from him by the ferocity of Hizashi’s climax.
They stayed locked together, slumped against the refrigerator, panting harshly, Shouta’s softening cock still buried deep within Hizashi’s well-used pussy, their sweat-slicked skin cooling in the kitchen air. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the faint, persistent hum of the fridge motor.
Izuku stood motionless by the oven, the forgotten cookie dough now forming stiff peaks. The scent of burnt sugar began to mingle with the thick musk of sex. He stared at his papas, a hollow feeling replacing the earlier fluster. He saw the red marks forming on Hizashi’s hips from Shouta’s grip, the way Hizashi’s body still trembled slightly. He remembered the cool metal counter against his own back just moments before. Slowly, mechanically, he picked up the cookie scoop again, his hands trembling only slightly. He focused on the dough, the tray, the simple act of scooping. Anything to avoid looking at the raw, exposed intimacy cooling against the refrigerator, and the faint, acrid smell of cookies starting to char. The warm kitchen felt abruptly cold.