Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13185426.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo/Reigen_Arataka
  Character:
      Reigen_Arataka, Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Swap, Hand_Jobs, Crossdressing, Gift_Exchange, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-29 Words: 2271
****** Power of Persuasion ******
by Motte_(Gwappo)
Summary
     It only takes some dedication, a little lie, and a skirt to get Mob's
     hands all over his body.
Notes
     Merry belated crimus and a happy new year!
See the end of the work for more notes
"What... are you doing?"
Turning in front of the mirror, Reigen wonders the same thing. He gives another
twirl, watching as the thigh highs stay perfectly in place, barely moving as he
tries to snap the elastic, the sound low, underwhelming.
No, these won't do.
"I'm trying on some costumes," he says, watching Mob's reflection in the
mirror, still standing at the door. "Do you think red would be a better color
on me?"
Mob takes off his coat as he finally steps inside. "Why would you need a
costume?" he asks, dropping it in one of the arm chairs. "And why does it come
with stockings?"
Reigen sighs, bends down to take them off again. "I told you I have a school
play next weekend, Master," he lies, watching Mob out of the corner of his eye;
he's looking. The shorts must be working. "I need to practice."
"And you're doing that at the office why exactly?"
"We don't have a full-length mirror at home." Reigen comes back up with a shrug
before he turns. "Master," he says, making sure to sound his saddest, "you
didn't forget about the play, did you?"
The barest hint of an emotion flits across Mob's face as he blinks; even with
all the practice Reigen has, it's still so hard to read him at times. He sits
down at the desk, sighs.
"I think I did," Mob says, because he never lies, not even to save himself some
trouble. "I'm sorry."
Reigen watches as Mob rubs his eyes, taking in his pale complexion, the bags
under his eyes. Yes, this is a good idea. Mob needs to relax, to unwind every
once in a while.
"Well," Reigen says, starts slipping into the first red thigh high, "it's okay.
We did have a lot of work lately."
A minute of silence passes as Mob only gives a short nod in reply, takes out a
folder from one of the desk drawers, starts reading. It's good that he seems
comfortable enough with the situation, but Reigen's mind is going a mile a
minute trying to figure out a way to get them back on track.
"Why do you have to wear those?" Mob asks after Reigen snaps the elastic on the
second sock in place, turning to watch his legs in the mirror, angling his head
down to hide his smile. Mob always knows just what to say.
"They were a few girls short," he lies again, keeps fiddling with the elastic
(tight enough to stay in place, loose enough to fit his fingers into). "I
decided to take one for the team. Do you think these look good on me?"
He hears the click of a pen, the slight scratching sound as Mob starts writing,
not looking anymore. "A costume like that doesn't seem appropriate for a school
play." He reaches down with his free hand, unbuttons his jacket. "Why do they
need a fixed number of girls, anyway? I'm sure they could have rewritten the
role."
Biting the inside of his cheek in thought, Reigen turns to face the desk again.
"But do you think I look good?"
Mob's hand falters for a second. "What are you even supposed to be?" he asks,
eyes still on his papers, writing, writing.
"A dancing school girl," Reigen says, shrugs; maybe he should have come up with
a more believable story. "And I don't mind the costume. The socks are very warm
and comfortable, actually."
Mob finally looks up. "They're making you dance in shorts and knee socks?" he
asks, sounding almost shocked.
"No, the shorts aren't part of it," he says, squats down to search his
backpack. "The skirt really brings the outfit together."
Reigen knows Mob is watching him, can feel him staring at the back of his head,
no reply coming for a few long, long seconds. He unfolds the skirt, holds it up
to show Mob: black on red plaid, just long enough to barely cover him when he
bends over, and knowing Mob's eyes are still on him already makes it worth the
hassle of sneaking into the girl's locker room to snag a uniform.
Reigen pops the button on his shorts, and finally there's a reaction as Mob
clears his throat.
"Don't you think you should change in the bathroom, Arataka?"
"Call me Reigen," he replies, like he always does. He's a legitimate
businessman, after all.
Mob seems to hesitate for a second, still watching. "Don't undress in the
middle of the office, Reigen."
Lifting his brows, cocking his head, Reigen says, "You don't have to look, you
know," and Mob's eyes shoot back down to his documents, and his hands are
trembling, aren't they?
"It's not professional," Mob says, voice the slightest bit strained as he
starts writing again.
This was a great idea, Reigen decides as he lets his shorts drop to the floor.
He slips into the skirt at a leisurely pace, makes sure it sits snugly around
his waist, just high enough to be a bit too short. He checks his reflection
again, straightening the blouse where it's tucked into the waistband now,
smoothing out a few wrinkles.
It's all in place, looking better than expected, the socks shaping his legs so
nicely, making them look longer, slimmer, the bit of skin showing under the
skirt so teasing. There's something so obscene about it all, and he tries not
to look too giddy as he reaches out for the piece that will complete the
picture.
Picking up the tie, Reigen makes his way over to the desk, leaning over the
side to get Master's attention; it takes a few seconds before Mob looks up.
"Can you help me?" Reigen asks, keeping a close eye on Mob's face as he holds
up the tie. "I'm not really sure how to tie it right. Could you show me?"
"Ah, yes," Mob says, rolling his chair out from under the desk before he turns,
gestures in front of himself. Reigen hands him the tie, turns around, feeling
the slight hesitation on Mob's part as he scoots back between his legs, their
thighs lightly touching as he hits the edge of the chair. He waits, trying not
to tap his feet or bite his lip in anticipation, but all the hesitation is
making it hard.
When Mob starts fiddling with the collar of his blouse, turning it up, he lets
out a quiet breath of relief. Mob's fingers are cold where they bump against
Reigen's neck, his hands so adept as they put the tie around his neck, and he
makes sure to lean back further as Mob starts tying the knot.
His hands falter as Reigens leans back into his chest, one hand on Mob's thigh
to hold himself steady, head angled down to watch those broad hands. "I need to
see," Reigen says after a few more seconds of nothing, feeling Mob's breathing
pick up.
He shifts a bit before his hands start moving again, lightly resting his chin
on Reigen's shoulder as he leans closer. Mob's breath is tickling his cheek,
and it's such a tempting idea to touch their faces together, it's all about
patience, patience.
When Mob leans back again, turns the collar back down, Reigen realizes he
missed all of the actual tying process. Ah, well. Ties are for nerds, anyway.
"Thanks," Reigen says, following as Mob turns towards his desk again, ignoring
the way those legs are trying to push him away. He shifts one hip up onto Mob's
thigh, leaning back into his chest again, turning his head back far enough to
make eye contact. "Hey, can you take a look at my socks?"
"Why?" Mob asks, voice still even, controlled.
"They're a bit loose," Reigen says, "and I'm not sure if that makes it look
stupid." Mob starts shifting again, and it feels like he's going to try and
push him off, so Reigen puts one leg up on the desk, holding the skirt down to
keep himself decent for now. "Does it look okay?"
Mob doesn't answer as Reigen runs a hand down his own leg, back up again, lets
the elastic snap. The skirt is riding up higher with every movement of his arm,
just shy of being inappropriate.
"It looks fine," Mob says eventually, one gentle hand on Reigen's arm pushing
him away.
"Really?" Reigen asks, looking back up at him. "Don't you think they might slip
down while I'm moving?"
He shuffles further up Mob's thigh, sitting on his leg now. "Feel the elastic,"
he says, and Mob's hand is limp as Reigen puts it on his thigh, running the
tips of Mob's fingers over the fabric slowly, gently before he lets go..
Mob traces his thumb over it, the slightest tremble to his hand that vibrates
up Reigen's thigh, thumb slipping under the elastic to rub it against his
forefinger. When Mob starts stretching it, lifting it just a bit to test the
give, Reigen uses the moment to slip into his lap.
He feels so comfortable resting against Mob's chest, thumb still tracing
Reigen's skin with every careful movement, and it's surprisingly easy to sit
with his leg up on the desk like this, carefully hooking the other one around
Mob's knee. It's not exactly elegant, but it lets the skirt travel high enough
to barely cover his crotch now, biting his lip as he watches that hand work.
"They're not too loose," Mob suddenly says, still sounding unaffected enough
that Reigen wonders for a moment if he's just imagining the whole thing. Ah,
Mob is so hard to read.
But his hand is still on Reigen's leg, so broad, so good, still caressing his
skin. "What about the skirt?" Reigen asks, smoothing it out with a shaky hand.
"Does it suit me?"
With hesitant movements and the lightest touch Mob slides his hand up further,
and his fingers feel warm now, so much more alive as they barely slip under the
hem of the skirt. Reigen bites his lip to stifle a moan, consciously shifting
in Mob's lap.
"It's nice," Mob says, nervousness finally reaching his voice, sounding a bit
out of breath.
"Yeah," Reigen agrees, embarassingly aware how unsteady his voice must sound.
"I had to train my legs to look my best, you know. Especially my thighs."
Mob seems to get the invitation, squeezing a bit as he keeps feeling Reigen's
thigh, still brushing his fingertips under the skirt. Reigen closes his eyes
for a moment, takes a deep breath to try and keep the blush off his face before
he dares look down at the slight tent in his skirt again.
He watches as Mob keeps rubbing, squeezing, but doesn't go further, and,
swallowing, Reigen puts his own hand over Mob's (so big, so warm) and guides it
up, slides it under the skirt, letting go as Mob squeezes again. He's so close,
almost close enough to feel his briefs, to take him in hand.
Mob rests his chin on Reigen's shoulder again, strands of hair brushing across
his cheek as Mob's thumb starts tracing his clothed erection, watching that
hand move under the fabric of the skirt.
He gasps, reaches up to wrap a hand around Mob's neck, holding onto him as he
moves in his lap, biting his lip. He can feel the bulge in Mob's pants now,
hears him stifle a groan, pressing their cheeks together now. It's mesmerizing
to watch as Mob cups him, the fabric of the skirt rising and falling with every
slight move, his touch so gentle, his hand so large.
It's still slow, agonizingly so, and Reigen considers reaching down to speed it
all up, but Mob slides his hand into his briefs a moment later, starts stroking
him for real. Reigen moans as he watches it all, moving every few moments to
feel Mob still hard and warm against him, wanting to reach down but not knowing
how to return the touch without slipping off his lap.
Reigen keeps watching, his leg still up on the desk starting to feel
uncomfortable, but it doesn't matter, drives his high higher as Mob keeps
stroking, and Reigen starts rubbing his cheek against Mob's, realizes just how
easy it would be to kiss him right now.
But they'll have to save that for another day, for Mob's hand starts speeding
up, making Reigen's legs shake as he grips him firmer, every touch feeling so
much better than his own hand ever has, but still so careful, too careful, like
Mob is afraid to break him with a firmer touch.
"Master," Reigen gasps, and Mob's hand stops for a second, "harder, please."
Mob's free arm wraps around his chest, holding him close, nearly knocking the
wind out of him as his other hand speeds up, gripping tighter, so overwhelming
that Reigen arches his back, the skirt finally falling out of place, and he can
see Mob's hand moving, can see it all, and it's too much, Reigen gasping a moan
as he cums on Mob's hand, on himself, staining the blouse, the skirt.
Reigen shudders, tries to calm his breathing as Mob's hand slows down, tugging
his underwear back up and the skirt back down, audibly swallowing. It would be
a shame to pass up a chance like this, so Reigen leans in to kiss the corner of
Mob's mouth; it doesn't matter how he flinches, lets out a gasp, hands shaking
still. He will have to get used to it, Reigen decides, nestling up to him with
a satisfied smile, whether he likes it or not.
End Notes
     Please feel free to point out any mistakes, English isn't my first
     language!
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