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Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t ask for help. Ever.
So when he showed up at your door after training, still sweating, his chest heaving too fast, and growled, ‘just need to get this shit out of my head,’ instead of any greeting, you already knew exactly what he wanted. Not comfort. Not conversation. Just someone who could hold his chaos without flinching.
You let him in. He walked past you without looking you in the eyes.
Ten minutes later, he was already lying on the living room floor, shirtless, arms bound in front of him with thick rope. Knots firm, but not tight enough to leave lasting marks. You knew he hated the feeling of being restrained. You also knew he hated, even more, that he was already hard just from the pressure on his wrists.
“Look at me.”
He lifted his chin, wearing that familiar defiant glare. Red-eyed and threatening.
You stepped forward and planted the sole of your black boot right in the center of his chest. Pressing. Slowly. Until his breathing changed.
“You came here, Bakugo. Needy. So right now you’re exactly what I want you to be.” You increased the pressure just a little. “And today I want a useless, explosive man who only knows how to moan when someone finds his weak spot.”
His jaw locked. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. His cock, still confined by his tight black underwear, visibly throbbed.
You crouched, took off your boot, and dragged the sole of your foot along the side of his thigh. Then you stopped right over his balls. No pressure. Just your weight.
“Take my sock off with your mouth.”
He spat on the floor. “Fuck you.”
You lifted your foot and brought it down with moderate force between his legs. Not enough to truly hurt him. Just enough to knock the air out of his lungs with a rough grunt. His balls were compressed beneath the sole of your foot. His whole body tensed.
“I’ll give you one more chance. Take it off. Now.”
Katsuki cursed under his breath, but he leaned in. His teeth caught the sock's elastic. He pulled. The sock slid off crookedly, your foot finally free. Then he did the same with the other one. You raised an eyebrow, satisfied.
“So loud and so easy.”
With him on his knees, you picked up the leather paddle from the table and moved behind him. The first strike on his right thigh landed with a sharp crack. He growled. The second in the same spot left his skin flushed. The third landed on his ass. He jerked forward, his cock swinging with the movement.
“You train your ass off and still can’t take a real spanking?” You let out a low laugh. “Pathetic.”
“Shut the fuck up, you—”
The paddle cracked against his balls.
Not at full force. Just enough for the wet sound to echo and his body to fold forward with a loud cry of ‘Fuck!’. His eyes squeezed shut. His cock throbbed, more precum leaking out.
You crouched in front of him, grabbed his chin, and forced his gaze up. “Want to quit already?”
He sucked in a breath, his chest rising against the ropes. “Keep going, damn it.”
You smiled, dragging the paddle over the head of his cock, smearing the wetness. Then squeezed his balls with your other hand. Firmly. Not hard enough to crush, but hard enough to make him grind his teeth.
“You get so hard when I treat you like this. Look at that.” You lightly flicked his cock with the paddle, watching the reddened head slap against his own stomach. “The great Bakugo, the next number one, on his knees and dripping because a woman crushed his balls.”
He tried to grumble again. You squeezed harder. The sound that escaped him was muffled, but real. His thighs trembled.
You let go. He curled forward in pain. Katsuki was still trying to maintain that defiant look, but his pupils were blown wide and his breathing uneven.
“Lick.”
You stretched your sweaty foot toward him. He hesitated only a second. Then his tongue came out, rough, dragging over the skin. You felt the tremor as he reached your toes.
“Come on. Clean it properly. You’re good at this, at least.”
While he licked, you leaned forward and brought the paddle down hard on his ass. He moaned from the impact but didn’t stop. So you kept going, landing more strikes across his cheeks. With every hit he moaned against your foot, the sound vibrating through the sole.
You pulled your foot away, grabbed a fistful of blond hair and yanked his head back. His mouth hung open, his tongue still wet. You leaned in and spat. Your saliva ran down his lips.
“Swallow.”
He swallowed. His red eyes burned with anger and something else he’d never admit out loud.
Next you turned him around and shoved him until he was kneeling with his chest against the couch. Balls hanging, his cock brushing against the upholstery. You slid the paddle between his thighs and struck upward. Squarely on his balls. The shout was louder this time.
“Count.”
“One—”
You hit again.
“Two... fuck—”
You landed the third blow.
“Th-three.”
The skin of his sack was already hot, reddened, and sensitive. On the fourth strike he twisted so hard he almost collapsed to the floor.
“Ah, fuck!”
You stopped, grabbed his balls from behind with both hands and started massaging them firmly, pulling them downward while he cursed, unable to put together a complete sentence.
“You’re not coming until I say so. Understood?”
He shook his head, sweat sliding down his temple. “I… I don’t need your permission—”
You squeezed tighter. The air left his lungs in a rough moan.
“Understood?”
“…Yes.”
“Yes what?”
His pride resisted. You saw it. Then his voice came out low and drawn out, as if every syllable hurt more than the ache in his balls.
“Yes, m-ma’am.”
You released his balls. Then you ran your hand up and down his cock slowly, just to feel how hard it was throbbing.
That sight pleased you. There he was, on his knees, hard, his balls aching, his chest heaving.
Your hand sped up. He moaned loudly, his forehead pressing into the couch.
“You can handle explosions all day long. Can’t handle this?”
His cock was dripping onto the floor. A thin, steady line. You increased the pressure just a little more and watched his whole body shake. His shoulders tight. His toes curling.
“Fuck… don’t stop.” His voice cracked.
You sped up even more. You wrapped an arm around his chest while your palm stroked his cock in a fast, steady rhythm.
“You want to come?”
“Yes—”
“Then ask properly.”
He grumbled. You moved your other hand down to his balls and squeezed until he yelled.
“Ah, please. Ma’am. Let me come—”
You sped up. Your hand on his cock was slick with precum. His balls were hot and tight in your palm. When you felt his body lock up, you gripped the base hard.
“Come.”
The first spurt came out strong, staining the couch. The second came with a long, low moan that was almost a growl. His whole body shuddered against the ropes as he emptied, his balls contracting in your hand. You kept going until the last spasm, until his cock was too sensitive and he tried to pull away.
Only then did you let go.
You calmly untied the knots. Katsuki collapsed onto his side on the floor, panting, his chest still streaked with cum, his thighs and ass red, his balls throbbing. You sat beside him, running your fingers through his blond hair without saying anything for a while.
He didn’t look at you. Just breathed.
After a minute, his voice came out low, still rough:
“…This doesn’t mean you get to boss me around outside of here.”
You smirked.
“Yeah. Sure.”
He huffed, but didn’t pull away when you drew his head into your lap. He stayed there, quiet, body still warm and bearing the marks, pride bruised in a way only you could reach.
And for now, that was enough.