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Katsuki sneers at Best Jeanist's hidden, benign smile. The indignity of being tied down to a chair rolls through Katsuki like an angry thundercloud.
Best Jeanist hums like it is an every day occurence to wrap layer after layer of strings around a human. Katsuki's legs are tied tightly together, ankle to hips. His wrists rest in his lap, fingers methodically interlaced by clever twines and then summarily wrapped again with a blanket weave of fabric fully covering his stomach to his knees and wrapped around the sturdy chair.
Not matter how much Katsuki thrashes, Best Jeanist's binds hold true.
"Fuck you and your saggy old ballsack!" Katsuki howls, the flush of mortification high on his cheeks. "What the fuck is this - this is an insult."
"No, young Bakugou. This is a lesson." Best Jeanist says. The hero is all casual lines and easy coolness, hardly bothered by Katsuki's predicament. "We have other things to attend to, as you sure as well know. However, I'd be remiss to not take this opportunity of privacy to teach you the necessity of calming your mind and body."
"Let. Me. Out." Katsuki snarls. "This is fucking insane."
Best Jeanist sighs. "I promise you, it is not insane or crazy. I can feel your tension, the strings of your wellbeing taut and ready to snap. We must release it before moving forward."
A slim, warm hand runs from Katsuki's thighs, up his stomach and over his chest before coming to a rest on the nape of Katsuki's neck. Best Jeanist drops the barest amount of pressure into his finger, the circular motion gentle on Katsuki's muscles.
Katsuki swallows, his mouth dry. Best Jeanist is behind him now, out of sight. The well-worn jeans have a soft, indescribable smell to them from where Best Jeanist stands - clean and tended to, pampered like all things Best Jeanist owns.
Best Jeanist's hands run through Katsuki's wild hair possessively. Manicured nails lightly scratch at Katsuki's scalp, shivers shaking down Katsuki's spine and his body reacts like a livewire - sparking up dangerously as Katsuki snaps his head forward, thrashing pathetically out of Best Jeanist's hold.
"Don't touch - " Katsuki scrambles to say but he is cut off immediately by a length of rope sliding between his teeth. The roughness rubs along his cheeks as Best Jeanist jerks the rope back. Katsuki is forced to move with it until his head bows over the chair, his eyes to the ceiling. Glaring, Katsuki sinks his teeth into the rope, gnawing on it.
Best Jeanist's eyes gleam with a telltale disappointment. "Bakugou, why are you making such a fuss? You know I would never hurt you or do anything untoward. Submit and I promise everything will go smoothly."
His hands both cup Katsuki's skull. Fingers card through, snagging and pulling on the tangles from a hard days shift. The rope in Katsuki's mouth tenses and tightens. He can feel it twist, his head tilting further back so the long column of his neck is exposed. Sweat breaks out on Katsuki's skin, his palms aching in his bindings.
Something broad and heavy touches Katsuki's hair. Thick strong bristles brush from Katsuki's exposed forehead down to the back of his head, combing every inch of his hair, in smooth and steady motions. The soft sounds echo, every stroke purposeful to soothe Katsuki as Best Jeanist brushes out his hair.
Katsuki keeps glaring instead. He is not going to be a willing participant in this. His hair is just fine! A comb gets run through it after every shower, and Katsuki isn't the type to skip a daily clean - he isn't Deku.
Best Jeanist seems content to take his time with this - one hundred strokes of the brush to be exact, if Katsuki's count is right. Humming lightly, Best Jeanist pets Katsuki and taps his cheek with light nod. Strings shoot around the room and Katsuki hears a rattle of the portable washing station settling next to them.
Warm water wets his hair. Not a single drop hits his face or forehead, Best Jeanist taking care. A click of a cap brings with it the smell of chamomile and honey - sweet, cloyingly sweet on the back of Katsuki's tongue. It's not his usual scent at all, too primp and proper for Katsuki's tastes. It tracks that something like this is suited to Best Jeanist and not him.
The shampoo is rubbed in to his scalp. Best Jeanist is methodical as he slowly works up a lather. In spite of Katsuki's earlier posturing, he is not immune to the motions of a scalp massage. Nimble fingers rub circles starting from Katsuki's front hair line and sweeping back behind his ears. He can feel his glare growing weaker, his snarls morphing into tiny muffled whines.
Warm water hits his hair again, sloshing the suds away with Best Jeanist helping by gently tugging the hair strands so the cleansing water can reach deep.
Another click and Katsuki's eyes flutter shut despite his best efforts to stay angry. The creamy lotion of the conditioner is applied with another round of scalp massaging before also being subjected to the warm rinse.
The fluffy towel squeezes the last of the moisture away and Katsuki wonders what is next on Best Jeanist's list of hair care.
Turns out his next step is not to deal with Katsuki's hair - but this time, his skin.
Lotion is applied to Katsuki's forehead, cheeks, nose and chin liberally in a thick layer. It's oppressive weight sticks to Katsuki's skin and he wants to bristle again, irritation rising once more from the depths.
Two palms settle on Katsuki's head and firmly stroke upwards to his hair line and Katsuki - Katsuki moans. Best Jeanist's hands pause for half a second before he does it again and again. Circular motions massage Katsuki's temple, his cheeks. Bit by bit, Katsuki's lips and teeth grow slack around the rope. The rope is an easy weight, grounding Katsuki as his head is pliantly manipulated with each pass of Best Jeanist's hands.
Katsuki's fight drains away.
The lotion seeps into Katsuki's skin and Best Jeanist keeps at it until he suddenly cups Katsuki's jaw from behind. There is a hint of pressure as Best Jeanist pulls Katsuki's head, lengthening his neck and spine in a stretch that causes Katsuki's eyes to roll back in pleasure.
The massage continues with a deeper rub on the tense muscles around Katsuki's shoulders, Best Jeanist oblivious to how he is shattering Katsuki into a million pieces one muscle group at a time.
Drool wets the rope. Katsuki keeps his eyes shut as he becomes a melted puddle version of himself, held together only by Best Jeanist's strings binding him to the chair. No longer are the warmth of Best Jeanist's hands a surprise. Not even as the firm pressure moves down from Katsuki's shoulders, following his collar bones until strong thumbs reach Katsuki's chest.
The muscle is kneaded. Strings loosen, falling away to show more of Katsuki's upper body. The thinness of his top seems flimsy like this - has it always been so threadbare? Katsuki shivers, his nipples hardening and peeking through to the room. The rope muffles his gasp when Best Jeanist touches them with dry palms. His circular motions never stop, his thumbs following the contours of Katsuki's muscles.
Liquid heat pools in Katsuki's gut. His face is burning with it.
"Shhh," Best Jeanist murmurs. Katsuki blinks and finds his face close to Katsuki's own. Best Jeanist leans over Katsuki's body to touch his chest, right inside Katsuki's personal space. "I know how much strain your quirk must have on these muscles. Relax for me, Bakugou-kun. I must go harder to give you true relief."
The groping gets more forceful. Katsuki's nipples are constantly caught up in Best Jeanist's motions, his skin rubbed raw by the friction. It lights up a burn, every touch ten times more sensitive than the one before.
Katsuki's never been touched like this. Methodically, purposeful. Best Jeanist is right there, right in Katsuki's space. Katsuki can smell only jeans.
A perfectly manicured nail drags over the stiff peaks on both sides of his chest and Katsuki feels it like a direct line to his cock. The strings force his thighs together, his balls squeezed tightly in the space between his soft, supple inner thighs. With his hands on his lap, his cock is trapped and has nowhere to go. Katsuki pants wildly as his cock thickens, blood rushing from his head.
It's stuck, heavy and hard within seconds.
Best Jeanist continues his ministrations, none the wiser to Katsuki bodily reactions. There is a knot of tension right by his left armpit that is in agony while Best Jeanist works on it. The pain radiates out, the intensity white-hot while Best Jeanist kneads the area. Katsuki never even realized he had such a bad knot there - and it hurts. It hurts until it doesn't, until each drag on Katsuki's skin sends another message to his dick that this is good.
Silent, unmoving - Katsuki releases a large breath of air through his nose and stops thinking. He is in a state of deep relaxation and Best Jeanist really is taking his time with Katsuki's body.
Fuck. This feels good. Great. Knots are loosening, muscles becoming more and more supple. The low level tension headache is gone and the rope still in Katsuki's mouth is more grounding now than ever before.
Katsuki doesn't need to scream and rage. No one would hear him. Best Jeanist doesn't care, caught up in massaging Katsuki's body like he is. Katsuki is fully under Best Jeanist's control. With that realization, the protective walls Katsuki keeps carefully up come tumbling down in a wreckage around him.
The hero can't see Katsuki's erection - the fabric is to tight for his cock to tent anything and plus - plus, Katsuki's hands cover it all too. It is so wrong to be turned on by a simple chest massage. Katsuki is a pervert for cherishing each tweak of his nipples, every murmur of quiet praise.
"It is nice to see you so docile," Best Jeanist speaks right into Katsuki's ear. His breath is warm, a slight dampness spreading from his fabric covered mouth. "Am I making you feel good?"
The rope in Katsuki's mouth strums gently with Best Jeanist quirk. Katsuki swallows, his tongue pressed along the gag. He can't reply but the dark look in Best Jeanist's eyes is enough for his cock to strain harder, the tip starting to leak embarrassingly.
Uncontrollably, Katsuki's hips rock up.
Best Jeanist chuckles softly at Katsuki's furious blush and moves his hands away from Katsuki's chest. There is no time to mourn the loss of friction before Best Jeanist goes back to massaging Katsuki's neck. Katsuki feels the strings around his hands shift. Like a marionette, Katsuki's arms rise without his say so. Under Best Jeanist's control, Katsuki's wrists remain obediantly bound and securely tied to a loop on the ceiling.
Stretched out like this, the pull in his joints feels so good. Best Jeanist doesn't stop there - his clever fingers now have access to Katsuki's sore biceps and strong forearms. The first touch to his tension riddled arms has tears springing from his eyes and impossibly more blood rushing to his cock.
Meanly, relentlessly, and steadfastly ignoring the muffled whines from Katsuki, Best Jeanist pushes and pulls and forces Katsuki's muscles into a jelly like state. Pain and pleasure blurs together in a mix that sits hot in Katsuki's stomach.
Katsuki can't think. He can't move. Only his hips have enough freedom to rut up along the strings holding his legs together. And - and Katsuki can't stop it either. He knows Best Jeanist is watching hungrily, fully in control of Katsuki's submission.
The bindings over Katsuki's legs tighten, and Katsuki wants to cry. There's no give anymore, no way for Katsuki to wiggle to get the right friction on his cock - and he tries. Katsuki ruts and thrashes and humps up like a degenerate, driven insane by the tease of it.
The bindings don't give in. Best Jeanist's hands reach Katsuki's wrists and palms.
When Katsuki moans, he is happy for the gag. His quirk uses his hands, his wrists. There is nothing kind about his quirk - it's a fucking explosion crafted in the palm of his hand. Years and years of training is all that stands between Katsuki and losing a limb.
Best Jeanist finds each and every pressure point. Katsuki whimpers and screams through it, the confusing relief of his muscles as tension bleeds away but only because his sore and aching hands are forced to endure Best Jeanist untangling years and years of damage.
God - god, and Best Jeanist wraps his fingers around the thickest part of Katsuki's thumbs and - pulls. Katsuki throbs in his pants, his legs sticky with pre-cum. White-hot pleasure slides down his spine, his balls twitching and swollen.
Katsuki is so distracted by the magic torture happening to his hands that it takes him a moment to feel the strange shift in his lap. The wave-like surge of fabric tightens rhythmically. Then - then Katsuki cries out when it starts to vibrate. Like the strings of a guitar plucked and played with, the fabric bindings shiver in Katsuki's lap, undulating and stroking.
Words stream out of Katsuki's mouth - indistinct and garbled by the gag. He wants to ask why, to beg because it is too much, it is not enough - Katsuki wants to cum, he is going to -
"Oh, sweet boy," Best Jeanist all but purrs. "This - this is more than I could've ever dreamed. So beautiful, so handsome as you let the pleasure take you."
Best Jeanist's long fingers wrap securely over Katsuki's wrist. His slim hips are behind Katsuki - the young hero can feel the heat of him, and if he stretches back a little bit more, Katsuki is sure he will find a generous erection trapped in Best Jeanist's jeans.
The threads of Katsuki's shirt wiggle and grow taut. His shirt becomes tight, oppressively tight, Katsuki's nipples caught between the threads. He can't look down, only up at Best Jeanist's torso, yet he catches the darkening pupils of Best Jeanist's eyes as his gaze strokes over Katsuki's nearly exposed chest.
Strings roam over Katsuki's lap, the soaking soft cotton of his boxers snugly wrapping around his cock like a fabric fleshlight.
One, two, three jerks of the cotton is all it takes. Katsuki's eyes roll back, his whole body set aflame as he trembles. Best Jeanist holds him steady, keeps Katsuki from flying into bits and pieces while his balls pulse and his cock spurts in his pants.
Katsuki's never cum like this. His body collapses into the chair, no strength of his own left. There is a melted puddle where Katsuki used to exist.
Best Jeanist laughs, a delighted twinkling noise. "Beautiful. I'm so proud of you. There - there, stay relaxed."
Katsuki's legs come free first, falling open and showing off the dark patch on his front. The strings drop his hands down at his side, his whole chest heaving as he tries to regain his breath.
Best Jeanist's fingers gently pry open Katsuki's lips to remove the chewed up rope. The drool that soaks the threads lands wetly on Katsuki's cheeks but before he can even flinch, Best Jeanist is there. He carefully mops the spit up, his thumb trailing over the swollen skin of Katsuki's lips.
Katsuki blinks slowly. He wants to be embarrassed, he wants to be upset and angry and mad. However, the expected emotions don't come. Katsuki is too relaxed, to well worked over to be bothered to scrounge up the energy.
"You never cease to amaze me," Best Jeanist's voice drips with something hot and heated, a tone that makes Katsuki want to tip his head back and listen obediently for once. "I'm sorry for the mess that caused. Please let me clean you up."
Katsuki grunts and stumbles to his feet. Pins and needles roar their heads as he stands and in a blink, Best Jeanist swoops down to stabilize Katsuki, strings returning around his body.
"What - shit," Katsuki grumbles, his ears pink as he wobbles in place, the reins in Best Jeanist's hands the only thing saving him from kissing the floor.
Best Jeanist chuckles and leads Katsuki forward. "Please follow me. I have the best outfit in mind for you to use while your clothes are being laundered."
Katsuki's skin is soft from Best Jeanist's lotions. His hair is clean and shining and shaped to Best Jeanist's preference. There's rope marks on Katsuki's wrists and bruises on his hips. The cold air of the room is a balm on Katsuki's abused nipples.
Cum pools in a mess, sticky and cooling on Katsuki's spent cock.
Katsuki swallows loudly and does what he is told for once, feeling like a tamed horse and a show pony - ready to be pranced around for Best Jeanist's pleasure.
But maybe. Maybe if Katsuki behaves, he will get another massage.