Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8899960.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo/Reigen_Arataka, Kageyama_Ritsu/Reigen_Arataka,
      Kageyama_Ritsu/Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo/Reigen_Arataka
  Character:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo, Reigen_Arataka, Kageyama_Ritsu
  Additional Tags:
      Tentacle_Sex, Dubious_Consent, Age_Difference, Demonic_Possession,
      Breathplay, Spanking, Crossdressing, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Double
      Penetration, Sibling_Incest, Alternate_Universe_-_Age_Changes, Age_Swap,
      Deepthroating
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-19 Completed: 2017-04-30 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 22744
****** undulating ~ or, master reigen gets a new look ******
by derogatory
Summary
     Mob's first thought is: oh, Master forgot to turn the lights on.
     He'll hurt his eyes working in the dark.
     And the second: oh, that's a tentacle monster.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Mob moves instinctively with the motion of the crowd. His rail pass chirps as
he passes through the turnstile but he doesn't give it an upward glance. He
knows it's bad manners to walk and look at your phone. Still. He worries at his
lip, tapping back and forth between messages and his home screen, as if the
motion alone could will a response from Reigen.
Come to the office, the text had read.
Maybe he should run there, Mob realizes. No, that would be even more rude. But
if he's willing to discard etiquette with walking and phone usage, maybe he
should just be running. He came straight from club activities, so he's even
dressed the part. The thought nags at Mob, head down, avoiding the eyes of
passerbys. The links of a nearby gate rattle with some unseen, unnoticed force.
The message from Reigen didn't seem normal.
Mob makes his way to Spirits and Such on muscle memory alone. Climbing the
stairs to the office, his legs are heavy like he had actually run there. He
needs to be careful with his anemia and club activities.
He's halfway down the hall when he feels it; angry psychic energy clawing from
the entryway. Worry takes his chest in a vice grip, prying it open and wringing
the emotion from him in whatever muted way Mob's allowed for himself. Mob
swallows hard. Something is definitely up, but it still doesn't seem right to
run; what if he ran into someone! The psychic energy is an insistent presence
that grows more oppressive each step, but nothing so strong Mob can't walk
through it. He tries to remember the last time he felt psychic energy like this
at the office. That must be exciting for Master; recently the problems they've
dealt with have all been spiritual. A hum of excitement ripples through Mob and
dissolves with practice. If there's a spirit Mob needs to dispel, it will be
nice to be useful. In that case, he made the right decision coming straight
here from practice, even if he is a little sweaty.
He opens the door carefully, announcing his presence with a mumbled, "Hello,
Master."
The Body Improvement Club has tried to time their runs so they don't go on too
late. It isn't safe for children to be participating in outdoor club activities
after dark, after all, even for the most muscular of middle schoolers. So the
club usually came to a close just before dusk, or at the very least, switched
to simple weight lifting back at the school. Because of Master's text, Mob had
to leave today's meeting unexpectedly earlier, but in the time it took him to
commute from school, the sun had already begun to set. What remains of it was
the only light in the office, orangish tint filtering into the room through the
open blinds.
Mob's first thought is: oh, Master forgot to turn the lights on. He'll hurt his
eyes working in the dark.
And the second: oh, that's a tentacle monster.
Mob's hand lingers on the door handle, half-in and half-out of the doorway,
unsure how to proceed. The monster- well, that's not the right thing to call
it. It's very insensitive to spirits, because once you start saying ghosts are
monsters or evil or demons, then where do you draw the line? Mob tries not to
make any judgement calls unless he sees a spirit directly harming someone. This
one in particular doesn't seem to be hurting anybody, it's just sitting in the
center of the room, empty except for itself and Reigen. He hasn't seen this
type before, although he has experience with spirits that can possess humans.
In those cases, the person being possessed was sometimes altered. Dimple put
some redness in the person's cheeks, but nothing too earth shattering. The
changes were simple enough outsiders might not even notice when someone has
been possessed. Other spirits changed their host's appearances in other ways.
This would explain why the spirit that had taken a hold of Reigen's body had
warped his form into something mostly human, partially Reigen-shaped and blurry
on the edges, with appendages coiling through the shadows of the room. Mob
squints. It's hard to make out more details in the dark, and he’s kind of
interested in what spirit Reigen was working on today.
"Master," he says. "Is it all right if I turn on the light?"
In a way he feels relieved. Demonic possession isn't too serious, especially
for someone as skilled as Master Reigen. As Reigen often explained, being an
expert of spiritualism, he's immune to possession and has no fear of such
hazards. He's not even afraid in the most egregious cases where Mob doesn't any
spirits. This allows Reigen to interact directly with these deeply troubled
clients for three easily paid installments of ¥2000. Master is strong but also
fair with his prices.
(Privately to Mob, Reigen had pointed out that in easier cases of possession,
he may ask Mob to step in and dispel the spirit quickly to avoid any damage to
the client's fragile psyche. Master is always very considerate of expanding
Mob's psychic abilities, as well as limiting the suffering of others.)
The overhead light blinks on, cool fluorescence illuminating the scene in front
of him. Reigen looks like Reigen, for the most part. Just a bit wider and more
purple, and a great deal slimier. Mob tries not to make a face at that part.
That wouldn't be very considerate to Master. He'd called Mob all the way here
in a hurry after all. Mob's a better student than to make fun of Reigen for
something like being a bit slimy. The personal hygiene of other people is none
of Mob's business. Even if Reigen was dripping thick, viscous liquid from these
new parts of him, stretching out in all directions across the floor.
Although its appearance was new, obviously if Reigen hadn't dispelled the
spirit already, this one must not be too dangerous. So the fact that he let it
possess him… maybe Master is trying something new with his image, like that
week he parted his hair on the other side. It took Mob a few days and some
prodding from Master to notice, although Ritsu had seen it straight away. Not
long after, Master Reigen had gone back to his original look ("Not 'old look,'"
he had corrected, shifting from one foot to the other. "Let's not call it
that." Ritsu made a weird face Mob had never seen before and said nothing
else.)
Reigen's oddly vacant eyes (Mob knew working in the dark was bad for them!)
rake over his student and Mob is painfully aware of how he must look; sweaty
gym clothes, hair partially matted to his forehead. Even with Reigen soaking
the office carpets with his new form, Mob feels he's the one making a mess.
"Master, I'm sorry," he ekes out shyly. "I thought there was an emergency so I
didn't have time to change." The creep of embarrassment tugs inside his chest
as heat rises to his ears. It was dumb to have worried about someone as
powerful as Master Reigen. Maybe he had only called Mob to the office to look
at some paperwork. Mob was having trouble with math, so Reigen suggested Mob
handle the financial work of Spirits and Such to help him practice. Mob found
it difficult at first, but Reigen always seemed so pleased when Mob did the
calculations properly. And even when they didn't add up, he told Mob not to
worry about that, which was nice; knowing that Master supported him even if he
was bad at math he swore he did correctly.
Mob gives a short bow to his master before heading towards the desk. There are,
in fact, several papers in the out-mail file, possibly a new set of bills for
him to sort through. He hasn't reached the desk before Reigen steps towards
him- no, step wasn't the write word. Lurch? Glide? Reigen's new look is human
shaped but he doesn't seem to move like one.
Mob tries to step away from his approach. No, please don't get too close, I
probably smell! Reigen moves after him, slopping wet over the carpet. Mob looks
at their feet and wonders if Reigen thought about the cleaning that they'd need
to do after meeting with this kind of spirit. Then again, Master always said
the office needed new carpets. Surely this is a way to finance such a
renovation that could be written off as a work expense. According to Reigen,
those things are very important.
Reigen doesn't say anything, but it doesn't seem like he wants Mob to move
either. That's fine, Mob already has enough homework, he doesn't feel like
doing math at work too.
But what else could his Master have called him to the office for? That text
felt urgent, but he seems to have this tentacle spirit under control. Although
that tense energy Mob sensed out in the hallway hasn't lifted yet. Mob glances
around the office. Maybe there's another spirit hiding here. That could be
dangerous; Mob makes a mental note not to make any sudden movements until
Master Reigen explains the situation.
Reigen suddenly heaves forward, crowding Mob's body close to his own. Its
energy hums angrily- or maybe it isn't anger; Mob has never been particularly
adept at the more nuanced emotions. It's something like anger, he thinks, thick
and heavy between two people.
He frowns, considers this. What was it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.
Quite suddenly, Reigen places his hands on Mob's shoulders. It's a familiar,
grounding gesture, and Mob thrills under the routine of it. Yes, this is
normal. Even if Master wants to try a new look and doesn't want Mob to work on
his math, doesn't want him to move away; he's still placing his hands on Mob's
shoulders like he always does. All these things are normal and nothing to be
worried about. That's a relief. There must not be another spirit here after
all.
A third hand rests at the small of Mob's back, wrapping around his waist.
That's one too many hands, but otherwise mostly normal too. Another slides
wetly to rest at the nape of his neck. Mob tips his head back to look at
Reigen's face. Still mostly normal, although these are way more hands and arms
than Reigen usually has.
One of Mob's own hands flutters up, fingers tracing the edge of Reigen's jacket
lapel, or where it might have been before the suit melted off into multiple
gooey limbs. The remains of the jacket are slippery to the touch and Mob takes
a bit between his fingers in interest.
"I like it," Mob says at last, hoping it's not too rude to make a comment on
Master's new fashion choices. "Maybe clients might not like it, but I think
it's interesting." He smiles, keeps his eyes bashfully low, focusing on where a
button hole might be. The tentacles around Mob's waist tug him closer, slopping
a strange sticky fluid that soaks through his gym shirt. The other leaves a
tingling impression over the skin of his neck too. There's a tightness in his
throat like he's still jogging with the Body Improvement Club.
The energy in the room ripples, lapping around them with a feeling Mob still
can't place. Whatever it is, it's warm, Mob thinks, and Reigen kisses him.
Reigen presses to the seam of Mob's lips and urges him open. Mob squeaks as
Reigen's tongue plunges into his mouth, rough over his own, and the insistence
of the kiss makes Mob warm all over. Or maybe that's from the strange sticky
fluid thats coating Mob's skin everywhere Reigen touches, or the funny taste of
him in Mob's mouth. It tastes like the canned coffee master drinks, the kind
Mob stole a sip from once. Only it seems sweeter on Reigen's lips than it had
been in the can. There's another flavor Mob can't place, but it hangs high in
the room, hitting Mob's senses every time a tentacle moves over him.
Mob's not a little kid. He's already in middle school. He knows how kissing
works. You only kiss people you really like. The tentacle around his waist
tightens as Mob's legs wobble uncertainly beneath him. Master likes me.
One tendril crawls up Mob’s leg, over the curve of his knee before coiling
around his bare thigh. Mob breathes out harshly as it massages the barely there
muscles. Reigen makes a strange, guttural noise when their mouths move apart, a
string of saliva momentarily hanging between their lips before it breaks.
Mob apologizes weakly, fingers laced together behind Master's neck. His skin
seems too slippery and while Mob occupies himself with that new aspect of
Reigen's appearance, the appendages further explore Mob's body. These new
additions to Reigen's body are smooth, but there are bumps towards the ends,
and the tighter it wraps around Mob's leg the more he feels the persistent
press against his skin. Like tiny suction cups popping on and off wherever they
touch. He shivers, wraps his arms tighter about Master's neck. He hopes Reigen
doesn't think Mob wants to stop. It's just he's never been touched there before
and whatever new arms Master has are leaving a funny sensation everywhere they
go. They're going very high up on his legs.
The tip of one peeks under the leg of his shorts, wet and warm as it glides
over the sensitive skin of Mob's thigh. He squeaks and tries to hide the sound
against Reigen's shoulder. He doesn't want his teacher to be uncomfortable.
Reigen's breath is hot and shallow against the shell of his ear. Another limb
pushes under the front of Mob's shirt and he's annoyed with it for a brief
moment (it's separating me and Master!) before the suction trails up his chest,
latching onto a nipple.
His legs give out completely at the sensation and hang uselessly over the side
of the desk. His head falls back and his body ragdolls under the grasp of
Reigen's many limbs. He breathes hard, trying to right himself, his thoughts.
Master is staring at him with too glassy eyes. His expression reminds Mob of a
cat that's seen a bowl of milk, of the hungry moment before you set it down. He
squirms weakly under the touching, feet scrambling for purchase against the
floor. The suction over his chest sends a jolt through Mob's body with each
hard suck.
Another limb creeps over the crotch of his shorts, slathering thick fluid
between his legs. Mob jumps at that, his voice trailing off into stuttering,
weak groans. Distantly, Mob thinks he may need someone to bring him clothes
from home- no way he'll be able to ride the train with drenched shorts.
Somehow, they feel wet on the inside, too, straining against the fabric.
He arches under the over-stimulation and starts as his back suddenly hits the
desk, sending various items clatter to the floor. Mob hurriedly tries to
apologize, but the only sounds that come out of his mouth are embarrassing. His
shirt is bunched up around his arms as another tentacle, hot and eager,
slithers up his bare chest and lavishes that unbearable attention over his
other nipple. Mob curves away to avoid it, upsetting a stack of papers, back
sliding farther along the desk with each press of Reigen's limbs. More
tentacles slide across his stomach, coating his skin in that same tingling
fluid. Others slither up his legs, leaving purple angry marks along his thighs
where they latch on. Mob whimpers, tries to squirm them away, but they press on
and upward, dipping under his shorts and latching onto any patch of skin they
find. One prods experimentally under the leg of his underwear, then another.
Mob's heart slams against his chest, twisting weakly under their onslaught.
"Mob."
Mob gasps at the sound of Reigen's voice, or something close to it. It sounds
distorted, or maybe that's just because Mob only hears it over the thrum of his
blood in his ears and the wet, slopping noise between their bodies. He sounds
different. He sounds happy. He sounds like he must like touching Mob all over
like this. Or that he's proud of how well Mob is doing all this, how good he's
been and how good he's made Master feel.
Up until now, Mob's eyes had been scrunched shut, but he chances a peek. Reigen
is staring at him, so open and intense that Mob's more embarrassed than he was
when he made all that noise. Reigen breathes out hard through his nose, leans
close and buries his face against the crook of Mob's neck. Mob swallows hard,
wills himself to relax.
If Master's not worried, if he's happy with this, there's nothing to be scared
of.
Before his nerves can settle properly, there's another squeeze from the
suckers, this time under his underwear, and Mob's body jerks involuntarily. The
tentacles with sudden urgency are prying his pants down to his knees, making it
easier for one tentacle to wrap around Mob's cock like a snake on a vine. Mob
weakly tries to argue, but Master seems so happy, and he grunts Mob's name a
second time and the tentacle wrapped around Mob tugs—
The bookshelf over Reigen's shoulder crumples as if crushed by an invisible
fist. Mob stares through it, body heaving, dimly aware of the mess he's made
over his stomach (against Master Reigen's new purple gooey tentacle suit!) This
feeling; It's like reaching the end of a mile run, that pained, satisfactory
burn in his chest. Mob struggles to catch his breath, body aching under the
slick, unyielding attention of Master's tentacles. They slide over and stroke
him, bumps and suctions drawing Mob's mind to a blank. The pressure rolls over
him again and words only slip from his mouth thin and unintelligible.
The end of one tentacle presses to the tip of Mob's dick and he moans,
mortifyingly. At the noise, the appendages over his stomach spasm suddenly. Mob
watches as they jerk and secrete more in a sudden burst, coating his stomach in
thick sticky fluid. It's sweet smell hangs in the air.
Another tentacle brushes up his body, past his neck, snaking to his mouth. It
slides against his lips once, twice, trying to signal something. Curiously, Mob
opens to it, and the tentacle probes inside, sliding over his tongue. Mob feels
the weight of it in his mouth, the taste of it thick and heavy like the smell.
The suckers try to latch onto his tongue and he laughs. When he closes his
mouth around the girth of it and tentatively starts to suck, Mob delights in
the groan it elicits from Master. Mob scrunches up his face and tries focus on
that, rather than the unbearable slithering that still works over his cock,
twitching hard and oversensitive as more tentacles have wrapped around it,
moving at different rhythms.
Pushed by the force of the limb in his mouth, Mob's head lolls to the side,
hair fanning out over the desk. Right, they're on Master's desk. He squints at
the mess surrounding them; overturned canisters of pens, stacks of paper
spilling out over the floor. The mouse was knocked off the desk entirely, Mob
can see the cord of dangle over the edge where the device floats, suspended in
the air alongside a similarly knocked over stapler. A coffee cup hangs mid-air
as well, liquid sloshing over the rim and frozen in time and space.
What a mess, Mob thinks with a whimper. Sorry Master, I promise I'll help clean
up. He jumps at a tug on his nipples and the floating items tremor with him.
Every nerve feels rubbed raw.
The tentacle that's been sliding over his tongue is clearly testing how far Mob
will let it dip into his throat. He twists under the unfamiliarity of it, the
foreign sensation of his throat being fucked. His jaw is starting to ache from
being held open, but when he swallows the whole spirit shakes. The tentacle in
his mouth convulses and releases that hot substance over his tongue, and it
gushes down his throat. He can't breath and the light bulbs overhead break with
deafening pops, one after another. Mob chokes and sputters, forcing it out of
his mouth by pushing at it with his tongue. The mess keeps coming, splattering
across his face while Mob coughs and struggles for air.
He struggles to sit up and the tentacles surge under him, hefting under his ass
and smearing that sticky substance over his hole. Mob feels off balance at the
touch there. His hands grapple at nothing, frantically searching for something
to hold onto, falling back against the desk. As if noticing his panic (Master
can be considerate sometimes), another tentacle squirms in his grip, pulsing as
Mob wraps his fingers around it. It squeezes through his fingers and back
again, pumping against his palm. Mob makes his grip looser, moving his hand
from the thicker parts to the tips, fingers catching against the suckers.
Reigen purrs, presses his body warm and wet to Mob's.
They keep rubbing that sensitive spot, but lately his whole body is sensitive.
The tentacles slop more and more of their goo against him and the tight ring of
muscle goes loose in small, incremental motions. One tentacle dips in— Mob
shouts, jerks away and the office shakes on its foundation. Another tentacle
urges itself into his mouth, plunges deeper than the first one had. His eyes
water, grimacing from the strain of being held open at both ends. It's a lot
right now, maybe too much, but that's not necessarily bad. He likes how doing
this has Master making those low, cooing sounds of approval. Mob's head falls
back, lets his body go limp.
By now Reigen's body is just a mess of tentacles where his bottom half should
be, all of them stumbling over each other to cover Mob's body, to touch every
inch of him. The tentacle at his ass tries pressing inside him again, slow and
careful before drawing out and then back again. It seems to be going deeper
each time, taking that sticky substance and slathering his insides with it.
Mob's legs are spread almost painfully wide now, held apart by other tentacles.
He squints, can see bruises forming where the suction cups cling to his skin.
They're marks from Master and he aches, coming a second time without even
realizing he'd been close. Fissure cracks have appeared in the office windows,
long meandering lines through the glass. Mob sobs weakly when the tentacles
stroking him refuse to relent, massaging his dick ragged.
The appendage is firmly inside Mob now, curling and coiling to mold to his
body. Another squirms to join it and Mob squeaks, more surprised by the lack of
pain when it works its way inside. There's a stretch to it, but nothing hurts
too much yet. Just a strange, full sensation. Mob hesitantly shifts his hips
after the motion, trying to urge both tendrils deeper inside. Soon he's rolling
his hips with their movements and making that embarrassing sound again, panting
hard over Master's desk. He feels the tentacles stiffen and release inside, a
rush of warmth coating parts he wasn't even aware of before. Mob watches in
fascination as the spent tentacles withdraw and wet slickness oozes out after
them, between his legs. It's only for a moment before another tentacle surges
in. It's thicker, as is the other limb it's chased by, winding up into him and
pulsing inside. Mob's body arches and shakes around the multiple tentacles
fucking in and out of him.
Tentacles are stretching in all directions now, urgent and desperate for a
piece of Mob to ravage. He shivers. There's so much of Master now, and all him
wants Mob to feel good.
Mob twists and tries to make his body open wider, to take everything as deep as
Master wants to give. Whatever Mob's taking now; it must not be enough. Reigen
has so many more parts and Mob is happy to be his student, to give Reigen every
inch of him for whatever he wants. He can't get enough from him and Mob's body
shakes with the need to be useful, to be used, and it's like he's standing at
the edge, pushed over by another orgasm that hits him like a strong wind. He
shudders as the tentacles fuck him through it, but he's not crying. He could do
more, he could take this like he takes damage in a fight.
Spent tentacles slide free, ridged sides rubbing mercilessly against Mob's
entrance as they pull out, leaving him gaping and empty and dripping for new
tendrils to squirm their way inside, plug him up. He can't even begin to count
how many there have been, how many are working in different rhythms now. Mob
groans, desperately overstimulated, but he can take more. He can take all of
Master.
Mob comes again, dry this time, and wrecked. The desk under them buckles but
Mob doesn't notice it, can't focus on anything else but the unyielding
attention of Reigen, of countless limbs working him over from every angle.
Tremors roll over Mob's small body and the building sways with it. As the
structure moans with him Mob feels in a panicked rush the tentacles trying to
retreat. They pop out of his mouth with a slick noise and Mob is murmuring no,
don't go, and clutching Master closer to him, legs locked behind him and
slipping against the smooth substance that makes up his teacher.
The room is shaking uncontrollably, furniture upended and Master says
something, or maybe it's the spirit, but it was always Master who wanted to do
this, who wanted to feel good with Mob. Who radiated that emotion loud and
clear from the moment Mob got near to the office. Mob understands it now, more
than understands it, shares it, and locks Reigen close to him with his own
fully fledged and overpowering desire.

===============================================================================

Mob's eyes flutter open. He's lying on the couch- or rather, what remains of
the couch. There's a patch of upholstery and stuffing that scratches at his leg
and Mob glances at it slowly. The couch is torn up in parts, clawed into pieces
under him. Mob blinks sleepily at its state, and then at his own. The couch is
ravaged, but he is not.
He sits up fast and narrowly avoids knocking heads with Reigen. Mob takes a
quick inventory of his surroundings; Clothing, on- though unfortunately it's
still his gym uniform. It seems wet too, but no worse than how it was when he
first arrived. Reigen- decidedly with less arms and legs than Mob last
remembers. He looks at his own legs once, twice, three times to be sure. Small
circular bruises from the suction along the tentacles- gone. The desk- broken
in two, right down the middle with items strewn around the office and coffee
soaking into the carpet. But there's no sign of the secretions that Mob was
sure were drenching the floor, his shorts, other parts of him.
Looking at the desk, the rest of his surroundings are confirmed; the office-
demolished. The light bulbs have all been blown out, making it difficult to
assess the extent of the disarray. Reigen and Mob are lit only by the cell
phone in Reigen's hand. He's crouched next to what remains of his sofa,
expression complicated.
Mob's lip starts to quiver. He ruined Master's office.
"Well done, Mob!" Reigen says and claps a hand on his back. The motion is both
comforting and out of place considering what Mob remembers from the last time
Reigen touched him. "You dispelled the spirit."
Mob stares at his Master questioningly. Reigen holds the stare for a long
moment, before his eyes sweep the ruined room. He adds quickly, "And an
earthquake hit at the same time!" Mob knows that isn't true. It sounds like the
bathroom down the hall has a burst pipe and Mob's feels similarly. "Ah, still.
This is great news. The building was really this structurally unsound, huh? We
won't have to pay rent on this place for at least a year. They're lucky someone
doesn't get fired for this sort of structural inspection negligence."
"I see," Mob mumbles, wipes his nose on his shoulder.
"We'll have to have the whole place renovated for sure." Reigen is nodding a
lot. "You did well. Do you want to get dinner? You've earned at least two
slices of pork with your ramen. Ah, you really helped me out!"
Mob sniffs. Reigen seemed pleased, and he had been talking about wanting
renovations for awhile. Still, it didn't seem right that he had to cause so
much destruction just to dispel a spirit. Did he dispel it? Mob strains through
the fog of his memory, like trying to recall a dream after waking. He must
have; there was no spiritual energy left in the room. Desire, anger, or
otherwise. Had that been the malicious spirit? Mob struggles to remember. Did
any of that actually happen? He's ruffled and different, and the desk is
certainly a casualty as it was when the tentacles were— Mob blushes.
But there doesn't seem to be any evidence on him or Reigen.
"So we didn't..." he trails off uncertainly.
"Didn't what?" Reigen asks. Mob looks closely, but it doesn't seem like he has
any idea what Mob's referring to. Probably. Reigen looks a little pink. And his
hair seems a little slicker than usual, but that could be because he didn't
have time for a shower this morning.
"Oh." Mob isn't sure how to disguise his disappointment.
"Obviously, I could have exorcised it myse—" Reigen's cut off by Mob clamoring
into his lap and planting his lips chastely over Reigen's. The man falters for
a moment before his grand gestures settle, one hand resting at the small of
Mob's back.
Fine, maybe what Mob imagined didn't really happen. But the sentiment is still
there, Mob thinks, hands on either side of Reigen's face. They can celebrate
with something more filling than ramen.
Chapter End Notes
     soooo maybe i write ritsu getting railed by tentacles next chapter?
     just a thought
     find me @mobchuu on twitter!
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ritsu fidgets in his seat. There's no way to sit without his skirt riding up
and he tugs it down anxiously. The frilly ends fall just above his knees when
he's standing, but now the material covers much less, baring smooth thighs to
the office.
It was humiliating, traveling all the way from school to Spirits and Such in
this outfit. The train ride wasn't particularly long, but it had been very
crowded. Or it must have been. Ritsu's mind lags uncomfortably at the thought.
He can't remember the commute here— it filters through his thoughts in bits and
pieces, through a strange haze. Ritsu thinks he must've stood up for the ride;
after all, if he'd sat down he would have shown everyone too much of his legs.
Except he doesn't remember that, or the walk to Reigen's office. That's strange
isn't it? Forgetting how you got somewhere.
Ritsu swallows back a stab of fear, his own psychic energy making the hair on
his arms stand up. Of course he remembers the commute from school. It's
probably like when someone has a traumatic experience and the memory is blocked
from their mind. He's forcing himself to forget it. That's a perfectly valid
explanation. While he wouldn't say it had been traumatic, the culture festival
was humiliating (didn't that kid from Claw show up?), and coupled with his rush
to Mob's part time job— that logically could push Ritsu over the edge to
temporary amnesia.
He can imagine how his commute went even if he doesn't remember it perfectly;
gawking stares from mothers, giggling high school girls, and salarymen
awkwardly averting their eyes. His face is still very hot.
No, what is important is that he arrived at the office, having raced there to
assist with whatever case Reigen was currently inconveniencing Mob with. His
brother had sent Ritsu a message, said he needed his help, and of course Ritsu
would be there as soon as possible, maid outfit or not. At the very least, it
got Ritsu away from the embarrassing school festival.
From his seat on the couch, Ritsu glances around the room. He's there to help
Mob, but he hasn't seen his older brother yet. Was it possible in his blind
rush to be helpful, he beat Mob to the office? That seems unlikely; as eager as
Ritsu might have been to be useful to his brother, he and Mob would have come
from the same school. There's no reason for Ritsu to have shown up first.
Regardless, he's not even a little irritated that Mob hasn't arrived yet, even
if Mob's text had implied the situation was urgent, too dire for Ritsu to waste
any time changing back into his school uniform. The desperate text had read;
Please come to Master's office. Mob must have known that kind of needy language
would call Ritsu over in a hurry. But nope. Ritsu isn't annoyed. Not at all.
His brother would arrive soon.
Besides, Ritsu isn't the only person in the office; Reigen is there too.
Reigen is there, Ritsu realizes with a jolt of surprise. Just like he couldn't
remember how he arrived, he's not sure why he hadn't noticed Reigen sitting in
the office before now. Or something similar to Reigen is there anyway,
lingering quiet behind the desk in some sort of mimicry of Reigen's business-
like persona. It's not shaped like the con artist Ritsu is familiar with; it's
much wider and with too many limbs. It moves constantly, but unlike Reigen
who's always shouting and gesturing grandly, this thing is silent except for
soft, squelching noises as it shifts around. Parts of the figure coil over the
computer keyboard, while other tendrils drape along the edge of the desk. The
tip of one drips a thick fluid to the floor in a steady set of drops.
Ritsu stands up fast, heart already racing. That might look like Reigen, in its
face and in the remnants of a cheap suit, but the psychic energy cascading off
him was off the charts. It was stifling, the pulse of power from someone
usually so empty and shallow. Ritsu scowls. Clearly his brother's teacher got
himself into a situation with an actual spirit and was too stupid to get help
before it possessed him. That sounds like something "Master" Reigen would do.
With this scene laid out in front of him, a wealth of complicated thoughts race
through Ritsu's head. The first, and one he's not particularly proud of; maybe
this will get rid of Reigen once and for all. Immediately, Ritsu tries to push
that hope aside. Mob, in his perfect, misguided, effortless way, loves Reigen.
Even if it makes Ritsu's insides churn to admit it, wishing the old man would
hurry up and die isn't good brotherly behavior. So with respect to Mob's
happiness, Ritsu has to amend that hope; maybe Reigen will just be horrifically
maimed and have to retire. Then everyone would be happy. But Ritsu, especially.
His next thought is more straightforward; this is going to be a fight. This
thing has enough power rolling off it that Ritsu's sure possessed Reigen has
something to do with his affected memories. He can demand answers for that just
before he exorcises it. First he has to beat it up. Although his current outfit
isn't exactly combat-ready, beggars can't really be choosers, and short of
fighting every thug in the Seasoning City, Ritsu's opportunities to use his
abilities offensively are limited. Maid outfit or not, he's sure he can defeat
this monster and rescue Reigen. Then Mob will be proud of him, and Reigen's
embarrassing failure will bring to light how completely useless he is as a
teacher. Mob will finally realize Reigen has no talent and is nowhere near as
powerful as Mob. And then his brother will lavish attention on someone with
actual, hard-wrought psychic abilities instead of some two-bit charlatan in a
wrinkled suit.
The final thought that flutters through his mind as the creature lurches around
the desk and moves towards Ritsu with alarming speed; I wish Brother was here.
Reigen plows towards him, a rush of cascading tentacles propelling his
movement. Ritsu focuses his psychic powers at him— something Ritsu's imagined
doing many times, although usually in those fantasies Reigen didn't have so
many extra limbs. They jerk back briefly when the energy collides with them,
but even with all of Ritsu's strength, the attack only stops him for a moment
before Reigen bowls forward again. Up close he's more purple than fleshy pink,
and is a great deal more solid than Ritsu expects when it collides into him.
Ritsu tumbles head over heels, skirts swishing through the air with the speed
and force of his fall. He collapses over the edge of the sofa with enough force
to knock the wind out of him. He wheezes, fingers grappling against the
cushions to claw himself back onto his feet. All at once, the creature gets
very close and moist just behind him, and—
Wait.
Ritsu gasps, mouth falling open in a torrent of angry accusations as his skirts
are hiked up. Bent over the arm of the couch, it's not the most dignified
position, made infinitely worse by the tentacles that slide over the back of
his legs. Ritsu tries to kick them away— that tickles— but the limbs don't let
go.
"Hey!" Ritsu shivers as they creep further upwards, pushing himself up on a
shaky elbow, neck craned to look back. He expected a monster so wet and
dripping to smell badly, but up close the smell is more sweet. With every
hurried breath Ritsu can sense the the raw power behind the creature's
secretions, thick and intoxicating.
Whatever this thing is, it kept Reigen's stupid smug face, with his dumb
dishonest eyes looking right at Ritsu's ass in the air. Ritsu snarls like an
angry cat.
"Reigen—" Two tentacles wrap tight around Ritsu's ankles and pull, and his body
shifts violently, face crashing back down to the seat and his hips hiked
higher. Ritsu thrashes wildly as Reigen huddles close, the tentacles snaking
around him and lapping at the front of the dress, seeping through the frills to
his skin. The secretions are strangely warm and soothing, like sinking into a
bath the night after a sports festival. The limbs massage at Ritsu, coaxing him
still. As Ritsu feels his muscles relax incrementally, a prickling feeling
creeps into the pit of his stomach, and while Ritsu is shyly identifying it,
Reigen leans in and presses his face under his skirts.
Ritsu freezes. He knows he's smart; he scores in the top percentile of his
class each year. But for something like this, Ritsu's mind can't seem to work
fast enough. He can't make sense of what's happening. Reigen exhales, warm and
heavy against his crotch. Ritsu manages only an undignified squeak as the man's
mouth moves, and the heat of it grazes over his balls—
Furious, Ritsu tries to kick away but his legs are held firmly in place.
Reigen's saying something but Ritsu can't hear him, he's too far away and too
close in ways nobody else has been before. He squirms desperately at the kisses
that graze over the thin material of his underwear, and the awkward reaction
it's producing between his legs. This is really not okay, but he can't stop the
way his hips shift involuntarily, desperate for friction. The tendrils snaking
around his legs make juicy, greedy pops as they suction on and off his skin.
Ritsu buries his face against his arms and tries to focus his thoughts. This is
unacceptable. Reigen is an old pervert, he's as powerless and spineless as
Ritsu used to be. Reigen was dumb enough to let himself get possessed by this
monster- this strange, pulsing spirit that plans on doing who knows what with
Ritsu. Ritsu shouldn't be reacting this way, shouldn't feel his dick stiffen
and ache to be touched with each gooey swipe of Reigen's new limbs. He should
be fighting, trying with all his might to buck this thing off and banish it
before Mob arrives.
Mob. Ritsu's hips jerk forward unreasonably and he bites down on his lip to
keep from moaning. What would Mob think if he saw them like this; Reigen's head
between his brother's legs and too many limbs touching Ritsu everywhere except
where he really wants. Ritsu knows he ought to be embarrassed. The thought of
his brother walking in on this should make him sick, should ratchet Ritsu's
shame to reckless levels. Shame that would twist the door frames, warp the
floors, burst pipes in the wall and upend the building from its foundation.
It should, but imagining Mob's startled gasp, and his gaze on Ritsu in such a
shameful position— he arches back into Reigen's face with a groan. His mind is
foggy, like all good thoughts and reason exist just out of his reach. The sound
of Reigen's voice is a purr between his legs. What would Mob think? What would
Mob do?
Abruptly, teeth scrape against the fabric of his underwear and that fantasy
dies. Ritsu jumps with a cry and tries to twist away. Those teeth seem overly
sharp, and the possibly of bite somewhere like that is sudden and more sobering
than thoughts of his brother. When Reigen pulls away, complicated feelings of
disappointment pool settle in Ritsu's chest. But it doesn't last long.
Tentacles hurriedly surge into the empty space, slipping moist and warm between
his legs. Ritsu gasps as one insistently presses against his dick through his
underwear, the ridges of the suckers a strange sensation through the material.
In a heated rush, Ritsu tries to imagine what it might be like to have those
suckers latching onto his dick.
So when the first blow hits, Ritsu imagines it must be like a punishment for
that filthy train of thought. The next strike is so fast, the pain so sharp,
Ritsu's still not sure what happened. Wide eyed, he wrenches his head back to
look over his shoulder just in time to spot another tendril winding up before
it cracks against his ass. The pain is quickly muted by his righteous anger,
while Ritsu gnashes his teeth and shouts, struggling fitfully. More tentacles
rear back, each coiling through the air before coming down hard over his
bottom. A few overestimate the distance and hit the bare skin on the his
thighs, his lower back. Ritsu howls at the sting of it, before hurriedly
clamping his mouth shut tight to avoid any more embarrassing noises. Possessed
or not, Reigen can't hear him like this. He grits his teeth when the next hits
land in rapid succession.
After innumerable blows his body goes numb to it, only dimly aware of the
suctions' attempt to cling to him after each strike. His skin is raised and red
even under his underwear, and the material clings to him with the sticky trails
the tentacles leave behind. Other tendrils lap at the abused skin on his
thighs, the viscous material soothing until another hit connects, the sounds
wet and loud. The tentacles rubbing the front of his pants haven't stopped, and
the combination of the blows to his rear and their uncomfortable contact
against his dick is getting unbearable.
He clamps his mouth down on his arm to hide his shuddering moans. Ritsu is
drowning in the inescapable smell of this monster, in its lavishly violent
attention, dead to anything other than its looming presence. When Ritsu comes,
it hits him harder than anything he's felt before, more intense than all the
times he spent rutting weakly into his palm in the dead of night. When Ritsu
came then, he would tear his hands away from himself and lie gasping, untouched
from the moment the orgasm crested within him. It was a frantic need that was
over as soon as it came and he wouldn't dare touch himself a second longer than
necessary.
But these limbs are nowhere near as merciful. Ritsu sobs under their
unrelenting attention, their tugging at his dick after it's spent. Another
tentacle slides down the cleft of his ass, pressing like a knuckle as it
massages his hole through the damp material. Ritsu shudders, aches for it on
his battered skin.
Reigen shoves him forward and Ritsu goes, loose and limbless onto the sofa
completely. A few thicker tentacles turn him over so he's lying on his back and
his rumpled skirts gather, pushed high up his chest. His ankle-socked legs fall
open and are held apart, one knee dipped over the edge of the couch. The
tentacle's suckers have left a ring of marks on his legs, bitten purple bruises
like a collection of hickeys. He's overly sticky below the waist. This will
ruin the costume, Ritsu thinks distantly, as if a mangled wardrobe is his main
concern right now.
The tentacles clamor over his chest, suctions clenching around the front of the
dress. Two limbs pull in opposite directions, and the cheap fabric gives and
rips instantly in two. As buttons and bows go flying, Ritsu can see the flush
in his face has traveled from his neck to his chest, skin overly pink against
the bruised color of Reigen's new limbs. Once his chest is bare, the appendages
waste no time slathering over the newly exposed parts of Ritsu. The air in the
office is cold, but the substance heats up his skin instantly, and what was a
brief tingle over the thick and battered skin of his thighs is an oppressive
clench over his nipples. Ritsu shouts as a tentacle pinches the nub of one,
leaving it red and aching while another laps at it viciously. His chest rises
and falls in frantic gasps, and with every gulp of air Ritsu can hears himself
making quiet, plaintive noises.
Against all reason, tension builds inside him again, a need crumbling his
resolve and making his hips twitch meekly upward. The view just below his waist
is obstructed by layers of fabric and lace, but he can feel tentacles pinning
him still, preventing him from rutting against anything solid.
From his abused nipples, The tendrils over his chest drift up his collarbone,
rolling over his jaw and coaxing at his mouth. Ritsu snaps his mouth shut as
they swipe across his lips once, twice, trying to coax him open. At this
proximity the scent of the secretions are overwhelmingly close and the urge to
open his mouth and gasp for clean air is maddening. But Ritsu keeps his lips a
firm line. He's not going to let Reigen get his way.
Resigned to Ritsu's mouth staying closed, a tentacle travels further upwards,
awkwardly pushing Ritsu's bangs off his forehead. It leaves a sticky trail from
his lashes to his brow and Ritsu feels his hair goes back at strange angles
under the sloppy petting. He levels an annoyed stare at the man crouched over
him. Reigen's eyes are overly glassy when he stares back, his mouth open and
breathing in slow, animal pants. Anxiety slouches through Ritsu's
overstimulated body, watching the possessed teacher stare at him hungrily.
Another tentacle draws downward, heading back to its earlier onslaught on his
chest. As he squirms and tries to angle away from it, it stops, suckers at the
end of the tentacle trembling oddly to its tips. Ritsu watches in nervous
interest as the limb changes direction and straightens out, before curling
around his neck. He has half a second to realize what's going to happen before
it crosses over itself and pulls tight. Airflow suddenly constricted, Ritsu's
hands fly up to frantically try and tug it away, trying to buck Reigen off him.
It's too slick to get a hold on it and his powers lash out in a frenzy.
Reigen's body jerks backwards at the force of the strike, but it's not enough
to tear them apart. Ritsu is dragged up after him, the intensity of the motion
throwing his mouth open. Another tentacle gladly surges into his mouth, eagerly
coating his tongue with the sweet goo that drips down his convulsing throat.
It's thin at its tip and gets thick, almost almost impossibly thick, the girth
of it exploring further, tilting Ritsu's head up to better squeeze past against
constricting muscles. There's still another tendril winding in his hair,
stroking Ritsu's forehead almost comfortingly while he writhes.
The deeper it goes into his throat, the more uncontrolled Ritsu's psychic
attacks get. The blinds in the window rattle and sway before cracking, dropping
from their wires to the floor. File cabinets slam open, sending bushels of
paper spewing into the air. Even with the destruction of the office around
them, Reigen is undeterred, staring at Ritsu as Ritsu's vision whites out in
the corners. The room fades around them, as each sense is stripped from Ritsu,
to even the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Left bare and
helpless, the only sensations Ritsu's sure of are the pressure around his neck
and his still hard dick straining against his underwear.
All at once, the clench around his throat loosens and Ritsu reels. He whines
and hacks, his mouth newly freed, "Reigen!" He hates the sound of his voice,
hoarse and wrecked. "That hurt. You—" He can't come up with an insult fast
enough before the tentacle prods at his mouth again. Ritsu closes around it
viciously, but it's too slippery to bite. Menacingly, the tentacle from before
coils around his neck a second time and blind acquiescence washes over Ritsu.
It's a familiar sort of fear and he hates it, just like hates the tentacle
sliding across his tongue, searching for the back of his throat again. Spit
pools in his mouth and he struggles to breathe through his nose while it sinks
inside, and the other limb lingers, its relaxed presence around Ritsu's neck a
quiet threat.
He's getting used to the tentacles touching him, so Ritsu jumps when human
hands suddenly shove his skirts aside. Reigen's clammy palms are between his
legs, pulling off his ruined underwear, and Ritsu would tell him off if his
mouth wasn't otherwise occupied. His freed cock rests against his hip and Ritsu
grimaces as a oily tentacle wraps around it, working over him with startling
efficiency. He whimpers under the onslaught of attention, reluctant arousal
doggedly clawing its way to the surface as the tendril constricts around him.
Reigen hunches over him, purring bizarrely, and Ritsu hopes the con artist
isn't too far gone, that he's awake enough inside to know exactly what he's
doing to Ritsu and that Ritsu will absolutely never ever forgive him. Although
he wishes he could forget the way his own hips buck up into the tentacles'
grip, chasing the contact.
The limb in his mouth trembles before withdrawing abruptly, spurting out fluid
in a few sloppy, convulsing pulses into Ritsu's mouth. He gags at the sudden
influx of fluid, sweet and thick like the scent that radiates off Reigen but
now he's forced to swallow it. His mouth tingles from the limb that pulsed
around it, his lips overly plumped and sensitive, his throat feeling both
fucked raw and strangely empty.
He ruts into the clenched tentacles around his cock, one swiping messily over
the head of it and making Ritsu's oversensitive body twitch. Strangely, without
something in his mouth or around his neck, the tentacles jerking him off are
starting to chafe more than feel good.
Ritsu hesitates and amends his earlier thought where he had hoped Reigen would
remember every dirty detail. After a few gulps of air, he lets his mouth falls
open again. Maybe Reigen doesn't need to remember how desperate Ritsu is for
more.
A tentacle plunges for his throat, and he manages not to gag so much this time.
He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing involuntarily around the the tentacles
that shudder in response. Reigen's groaning is getting louder. His breath is
hot in Ritsu's ear, his face close. Reigen likes this, Ritsu thinks venomously
and lets his mouth wet before he swallows again. The limb inside him pulses.
What a sick old man, and Ritsu tries not to think about his own leaking cock
and if he likes it too.
He loses track of time as the tentacle fucks past his lips, sliding in and out
slowly. And when the length in his mouth convulses out more fluid, Ritsu
swallows it down greedily. The limb pops out only for a moment before another
slips inside, each venturing further as Ritsu's throat acclimates and relaxes.
He still struggles to breathe when they hit those depths, but it's not as
frightening as it was before. Distantly, he knows he should be scared, knows
that not being able to breathe should be terrifying. But it's like not
remembering how he got to the office; a fog over his reasonable thoughts while
his body is twisted into doing these degrading things. He can't muster up the
energy to get away, to stop gulping down this sweet substance. Now the lack of
airflow feels less like a threat and more like he's climbing higher and higher,
scaling upwards in leaps and bounds as the sweet tasting limbs work his throat
ragged.
He's not sure if it's drool or the secretions that are oozing over Ritsu's chin
when the tentacle retracts, gives Ritsu a chance to take a another gulp of air,
before stuffing his mouth full again. He's breathless and weightless as it
works through him, building to a deafening crescendo that hits Ritsu with a
orgasm ten times as powerful than the one before. It's unfathomable compared to
the furtive jerk-offs of the past. Ritsu coughs up the tentacle when he comes,
half sobbing at the force of it.
Again the tentacles flip him over, this time on his hands and knees while
tendrils pulse and coil behind him, angling his legs further apart. They're
moving faster now, scrabbling desperately at any patch of skin they can find.
Others latch onto the lace of his dress and tug, ripping pieces of fabric off
in their rush to touch more of him. Ritsu feels dizzy with the intensity of it,
the flurry as they slide up the back of his thighs and lap at him. The goo is a
comforting salve over the aching skin from the slaps, but Ritsu's relief is cut
short by the sensation of one tentacle slathering at his hole.
"What—" He doesn't recognize his voice, slurred and ruffled at the edges. With
each tongue-like swipe of a tentacle his body loosens until one, then another,
hook past his opening and hold him open. Ritsu jerks forward on his elbows when
a tentacle dips inside, careful and slippery. It draws back and teases forward
again, sinking deeper with each press past his twitching muscle. He struggles
to bite back a sound when it starts to move in in thick squelching noises. With
each demanding push there's a jolt and tear before his body warms to it, to the
rigid length swelling inside of him with each insistent thrust. Ritsu's cock
bobs between his legs as Reigen's extra limbs roughly shove him forward on the
cushions before drawing him back. He gasps and arches helplessly as the length
inside him undulates wildly, hot and throbbing against his walls.
Reigen's hands are clasped tight at Ritsu's waist, just above his soaked
skirts, and when he moans it's a loud and human sound that shakes Ritsu to his
bones.
The room is full of wet sounds, from the slap of tentacles slithering in and
around Ritsu, to Ritsu's sobs as Reigen hammers into him, each thrust knocking
the wind out of his wrecked body. His face drags along the sofa, cheek smearing
against a spot of drool. It feels so strange, how good this all feels, even if
it's wrong, even if it's Reigen. Another tentacle cracks down on Ritsu's ass,
and this time the spank is over bare skin, and the white hot pain of it makes
Ritsu comes again almost instantly. It's dry and too much and not enough all at
once. It throbs through every part of him and Ritsu cries out weakly as he's
fucked through it, dick red and untouched.
Another tentacle curls across his chest, snaking coy around Ritsu's throat.
Ritsu bends his neck to it and it tightens like a taut rope, forcing the air
from him and curving his body into slack, submissive lines. When a tentacle
dives back to the warmth of his seizing throat, Ritsu keens to it, to Reigen
fucking him from both angles, using his body raw until he blacks out
completely.

===============================================================================

Before Ritsu opens his eyes, he can tell his head is resting in someone's lap.
It's a nostalgic feeling; the last time someone held him like this was when he
had a fever as a child. His mom had taken care of him then, and she had ran her
fingers through his hair that was damp with sweat. Mob was too young to help
with a sick little brother, so he just stood in the doorway of Ritsu's room,
watching.
It feels like he has a fever now too.
"Ah, Ritsu-kun." Reigen's stupid smarmy face looks down at him in concern. His
head is resting in Reigen's lap. Somewhere a drawer full of silverware ties
itself in knots. "You're awake." Ritsu tries to shoulder the other man away,
but his body is heavy. He weakly flexes his fingers, arms hanging uselessly at
his sides.
"What did you do to me?" Ritsu snarls, even though he is perfectly aware of
what the scam artist did to him, did on him and inside him, over and over until
Ritsu passed out.
"Why are you accusing me?" Reigen asks, sounding entirely too innocent for
someone Ritsu is going to happily send to prison. "Hey, Mob. Are you sure you
got rid of the spirit? He might still be hallucinating."
"Mn."
At his brother's voice, Ritsu forces himself to sit up. Every fiber of his
being is telling him to run and hide. Years of living alongside Mob, of
cultivating his own psychic abilities and overflowing love for his brother have
done nothing to dispel Ritsu's base fear at the thing that overtakes his
brother in his worst moments. The thing that makes Mob's voice sound like that.
"Hey, stay down." Reigen says to Ritsu. They're both looking at Mob, and Ritsu
feels a pang of guilt in his chest. His brother is shaking.
"You were hurt, Ritsu." Mob sounds like every syllable has to be wrenched out
of him. Shame thrums through Ritsu's veins for being frightened. "It hurt you."
Mob's too upset for Ritsu to feel victorious at Reigen being called an 'it';
Reigen, for whatever reason, doesn't look too offended.
"I'm all right," Ritsu says, although he's not entirely sure. He aches all
over, but it's not quite the pain he'd expect from a marathon session of
debauchery. If anything it's more like the ache he felt during cab ride back
from Claw, sleeping long and hard against his brother's shoulder, tired to the
tips of his fingers. But that was exhaustion from a fight, and what had
happened here in Reigen's office wasn't a fight, it was—
"See, his face is all red." Reigen lifts a finger to poke at Ritsu's flushed
cheek; Ritsu slaps it away. "What's wrong? Are you embarrassed?" Ritsu
sputters, tries vainly to pull away from his current position, slumped against
Reigen's arm that's wrapped around his shoulders. "Don't be. It was a pretty
brutal fight. You're lucky I was here." That has never been true. "Ah, Mob was
a big help too, exorcising the spirit and all," Reigen adds, wiping a hand over
his brow.
"A spirit," Ritsu echoes. He's scanning Reigen's for some kind of recognition,
some acknowledgement of the experience that felt so real. Or a wayward tentacle
peeking out from under Reigen's suit.
"You were very brave, trying to take it on before Mob and I arrived." Reigen
adjusts his tie. Ritsu eyes him suspiciously. He's talking his usual low-life
spiel, but nothing implies he's any slimier than usual. "I bet you had it on
the ropes before those hallucinations got the better of you."
"Hallucinations?" Now that Ritsu thinks about it, the whole ordeal had a
dreamlike quality to it; he was in a place without remembering how he got
there, the maid outfit (the culture festival had been weeks ago), the
probability Ritsu would ever enjoy being with Reigen. A hallucination makes
sense, given Ritsu's state; dizzy and winded but clothed in his school uniform
and dry. On the other hand, the office is in a bad shape; windows cracked,
papers strewn around, carpet torn up in patches. But frankly, any building that
wasn't immediately leveled by Mob's anger has gotten off easy.
Reigen nods eagerly. "Exactly. A beginner's mistake. I remember those days,
don't feel too bad about it." Ritsu bares his teeth at the patronizing.
"Brother, I'm all right," he says again, even if he's still not sure. He's able
to stand, legs wobbly, batting away Reigen's help. He makes a pointed effort
not the think about how Reigen lingers behind him or the need for something
curled around his throat. Maybe he'll test that tonight, alone on his futon,
one hand between his legs and the other at his neck.
For now, Ritsu holds out his hand to Mob. "Let's go home."
Chapter End Notes
     chapter three is for threesomes
     find me @mobchuu on twitter!
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Reigen has a tried and true system for when he wakes up hungover; it mostly
involves staying in bed until at least noon. He's too old to drag his ass to
early morning obligations with a splitting migraine, pushing through it is a
young man's game. Luckily, that's where being your own boss has its perks.
Spirits and Such keeps later hours to accommodate the busy schedule of your
average working citizen (and the occasional school-aged employee.) It's a
coincidence that it allows Reigen to catch up on much needed sleep after a hard
night drinking. That way Reigen can recover from a foggy head and bad taste in
his mouth leisurely, with his blankets pulled to his chin.
That's all well and good, except this time he's not in his bed. Reigen eases
his eyes open, gradually taking in his surroundings. He's not home at all, he's
at the office. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember drinking at
all. Even if the crowd at the bar is a bunch of forgettable losers, they're not
so bad Reigen would drink until he blacked out. He ought to remember going to
get a few drinks. He can't even recall closing up. Slumped in his office chair,
Reigen casts a slow glance around the office. What time is it?
It must be after school, Mob is here. He squints through the half-darkened
room. Mob's brought Ritsu along too some reason, which normally wouldn't be bad
(two legitimate espers to one fraud is a good trade off), but he's not thrilled
to have witnesses to this hungover mess.
Not remembering how he got like this is weird, but that's a problem for Future
Reigen. Present Reigen, the one here with a more rumpled suit than usual, that
Reigen needs to power through this hangover to set a good example for the kids.
He pushes himself to his feet and immediately loses his balance. Reigen lurches
into his desk and sends his lamp wobbling uncertainly. He reaches out to steady
himself, hands braced along the edge.
All right. That was weird.
How drunk am I? he wonders. The boys are staring at him now. Ritsu says
something to Mob, but it's too quiet. It sounds muted, like old walkie-talkies
with busted frequencies. They're wearing strange, unfamiliar looks. Even Mob,
unreadable as always, looks different. Suspicious.
Oh well, Reigen sighs. Kids have to learn to put their heroes to bed
eventually.
Reigen takes a few steadying breaths before he tries to straighten himself up a
second time. The ground seems to roll under him, the room spinning. Reigen
clings to the desk, his pulse starting to race. He's drank himself into
blackout stupors before, sure, but getting so plastered he can't walk properly
the next day? No, that's not normal, even for Reigen's worst benders.
This situation has gone from vaguely concerning to moderately terrifying. Why
can't he stand straight? Maybe there's something's wrong with his legs. Reigen
looks down and— no, that doesn't make sense. His vision must be doubling.
Because if his treacherous eyesight is to be believed, there's a few more legs
there than there ought to be. Reigen fixes his lower half with a firm stare,
like he can will his vision to stop swimming. But the more he stares the less
it makes sense. Reigen reaches down, because surely tactile sensations will
jump his mind back to reality. One leg, two leg, three leg, four—
Okay, this is just ridiculous.
Reigen tries to calm the panic rising in his throat. So. Current evidence
suggests this might not be just a hangover, but that something is really wrong
with him, physically. Maybe he's sick. Maybe it's supernatural. Oh! Wait, yes,
that makes a thousand times more sense. This is definitely a supernatural
thing. Of course. It was stupid to have assumed it was anything else.
Reigen heaves a sigh of relief. Then it's lucky Mob's here to dispel this crazy
hallucination. See, this is exactly why it's good to have a legitimate psychic
on the payroll when you're running a supernatural grift.
His student is still watching him. Reigen opens his mouth to explain the
current predicament as best he can, but nothing comes out. He can form the
words clearly in his head ("Mob-Get-Rid-Of-This-Shit-Right-Now-Thanks") but
somehow he can't manage the extra legwork of giving his voice to it. This is
getting to be both terrifying and annoying.
Fine, if he can't say it with words, he'll have to demonstrate it. Just use
these new appendages to claw over to Mob and show him. Mob's a smart kid, he'll
pick up on what Reigen needs from the context clues.
Or, at least Ritsu will understand what Reigen's getting at.
Holding himself upright against the surface of the desk, Reigen tries to move
around the furniture as carefully as possible. He even makes it a couple steps
(slithers?) without incident. There. That's not so bad. Maybe he could start to
get a hang of this half octopus thing. Reigen eases his palms from the desk-
careful, always careful- before he trips over those too many legs. He hits the
floor hard, his fingers squishing into the moistness of the carpet. It feels
soggy under his palms. Did he spill something? He ran into the desk enough damn
times, maybe a glass got overturned. Reigen lifts a hand to his face, fingers
sticky and sweet smelling. He tries to wipe it off on his chest, but it's all
over his suit too. Why is everything so wet? Wet and strangely gooey.
With slowly dawning dread, Reigen's gaze drifts to his new limbs. They slide
frictionless against the carpet, steadily getting damper underneath him from
the dripping appendages. They're long and narrow at the tip but grow thicker as
they come closer to his torso and pelvis. They're somewhere between blue and
grey, like the color of a suit he tried to wash too many times. They don't have
any joints, which makes it easy for them to coil lazily around him. They're new
and unexpected, of course, but Reigen is distantly aware of them as a part of
his body too. He felt them try and get purchase on the floor when he tried to
walk earlier. He feels them now, twisting below his waist. They're slick and
smooth on one side, while underneath are ridged with small, circular suckers
that catch on the carpet. Reigen can sense every thread of the cheap fabric,
every sensation feels razor sharp against them, bizarrely clear through the
haze in his mind.
Great. Now this fiasco was terrifying, annoying and kind of gross. If alcohol
had any part to play in this, he's definitely giving up booze for at least
month, maybe two.
Reigen had been so busy examining his new body parts he missed the brothers'
approach. Mob leans down, reaching for a tentacle. Reigen tries to shape his
mouth into something resembling words, tell Mob not to touch it, who knows what
this stuff is! Just exorcise it already! The best he manages is a undignified
croak.
A tentacle wraps gingerly around Mob's hand, suction cups latching onto the
tender skin of the underside of his wrist. Mob's pulse beats a steady rhythm,
the calming center of his student in the midst of all this strangeness. Under
Reigen's new touch, Mob is soft and inviting. Need hits Reigen deep in his gut
with a strange churning sensation. Mob doesn't look too bothered by it. More
like he's considering this change in Reigen. Appraising it. The tentacle
wanders farther along Mob's wrist, tip poking underneath his sleeve. He tries
to remember the last time he touched Mob. Nothing weird, he's not one those
people that can't get a date with someone their own age so they go after
teenagers. No, Reigen's perfectly capable of dating appropriately aged people.
Women! Appropriately aged women. Beautiful ones, even! The softness of Mob's
skin is just something he's noting by coincidence, the first tactile sensation
from his new appendages.
The dampness of the tentacle is starting to seep into the fabric of Mob's shirt
sleeve, the jacket. He should probably take those off before they get any
messier. Mob could take off his clothes and reveal an expanse of smooth skin
for Reigen to feel with these new limbs, to stretch over and cover with every
inch of his new body.
As if sensing Reigen's thoughts, Ritsu steps on a tentacle. Hard.
The tentacles around Mob pull away reflexively and Reigen scrambles backwards,
colliding with the desk. The movement upsets a stack of papers and Reigen spins
around, hurrying to right the mess. But his hands are slick with the strange
secretions and, stupidly helpful, several of the new tentacles work to try and
gather paperwork, spreading their wetness across the desk.
He hears footsteps closer.
Reigen gives up on cleaning up and snakes around the desk, collapsing back into
the safety of his chair. He has to put distance between himself and the
brothers. Something about their closeness is threatening, dangerous in a low
and disruptive way that Reigen feels at the base of his spine. The tentacle
that had been wrapped around Mob is now tingling to the tip. It's like dipping
his hand into a warm bath on the coldest day of the year before pulling it
away, that muscle deep ache to return to warmth. It's burned into the limb and
Reigen stares at it, furious with its betrayal.
Mob's standing in front of him. Reigen forces his mouth into what he hopes is a
grin. He shouldn't worry. Mob will fix this. Mob's a real psychic, not a fraud
like him. He'll set things right and Reigen can go home, where he'll take the
world's longest shower, and convince himself these weird feelings are just a
weird supernatural side effect. They're definitely not indicative of any new,
criminal urges he's been harboring for teenage boys. Because he's perfectly
capable of dating appropriately aged beautiful women.
Mob reaches down and takes a tentacle in his hand. It curls between his
fingers, exploring the creases and grooves of his skin. There's tiny calluses
on his palms; Mob has been doing weight training with the Body Improvement
Club, right? The calluses are so faint Reigen's not sure he'd be able to feel
them with just his hands. Other tentacles inch forward, tentatively lapping
around Mob. What other things about his student can these tentacles discover?
What new lines on Mob's body can Reigen map out with these things?
No, that's wrong. He really shouldn't think that kind of stuff. Reigen tries to
push away from Mob, move his chair closer to the wall, but instead the
tentacles latch onto his limbs, tugging Mob closer. Reigen wants to apologize
but words still won't form in his mouth. He struggles with the shapes of them.
His tongue is heavy.
If Reigen still had a normal set of legs Mob would be standing between them.
Instead he's standing in a mess of tendrils, twining around him. Reigen dimly
wonders what happened to his pants. Did he rip out of them when he sprouted
tentacles? The store where he bought most of his discount suits went out of
business years ago; it'll be hell replacing them. Then again, how's a guy with
a bunch of tentacles for legs going to wear suits anymore? I'll have to find a
tailor who sells in bulk, he thinks despairingly as Mob straddles his lap.
Several things happen at once. First, that Ritsu crosses the room in a few
brisk steps. At the same time, as Mob settles into his new seat, Reigen's new
limbs curl in like some deranged Venus fly trap, coaxing Mob flush to him. Mob
grinds his hips into Reigen's lap, and he's over-sensitive, overwarm and
Reigen's voice can only manage another pathetic noise.
Their bodies are pressed so close together the viscous secretions are soaking
the dark material of Mob's uniform. The tentacles lavish over Mob in a messy,
unruly fashion, pawing at his clothes. Maybe he should take his uniform off
before it gets ruined. No, Mob should keep his clothes on and also get out of
Reigen's lap, what is happening right now? As if waking up half-octopi or
whatever isn't weird enough, now he has Mob cuddled up to him and letting
tentacles touch wherever they please.
"Brother," Ritsu says and the word is loud and crystal clear.
Reigen jumps, but Mob loops his arms around his neck to keep from being bucked
free. Ritsu is an arm's length away— not that Ritsu needs to touch Reigen to
wring his neck. Psychic energy rolls off Ritsu in waves and Reigen desperately
tries to force his anxiety past his growing arousal.
"Let me help you," Ritsu says and yeah, no, that sounds a lot like a threat.
Reigen takes a few hurried gulps of air before his trachea collapses, before
Ritsu breaks every bone and grinds him into dust. Hey, he wants to shout. You
saw what happened. He crawled into mylap. This is barely my fault! He holds
himself in suspense for the crushing blow, for the last thing Reigen sees to be
Mob's coy smile.
Only it doesn't happen.
It takes Reigen a minute to realize he closed his eyes. When he peeks, Ritsu's
threatening psychic pulses aren't trying to pummel his fragile mortal body into
the ground; instead they're easing Mob out of his school jacket.
Reigen lets out the breath he was holding in a thin, anxious hiss. Ritsu
helping him? That's definitely one of the weirder things of the day.
"Thank you, Ritsu," Mob says demurely. Ritsu takes a seat at the edge of the
desk, watching Mob and his Master hungrily, working open his own jacket.
The tentacles, until now at attention and braced for attack, resume their
efforts to touch every inch of Mob, soaking his crisp white undershirt,
brushing uselessly over its buttons. They're as narrow as fingers at their
tips, but Reigen's still new to this whole consciously-commanded-tentacle
thing, so they're not so great at unbuttoning. Mob smiles thinly at his master,
sweet and helpful as his fingers work open his shirt.
Reigen's mouth still feels stuffed with cotton, but even if he could speak,
this situation defies explanation. Sprouting tentacles seems like the most
normal thing in the world compared to Mob crawling into his lap, slotting his
hips close, while his over-protective little brother Ritsu not only watches,
but actively assists in— whatever this is.
Whatever it is, Reigen can't bring himself to stop it. He can't even bring
himself to push Mob away. He has a bunch of new arm-leg things, he could easily
move Mob aside and stop this. It would be the right thing to do. As a teacher
and a man and a regular human who absolutely is not dealing with some kind of
cephalopod awakening in his nether regions. Reigen's been a pretty garbage
adult up until now, but not stopping this? That would end any chance he had at
being a decent person, let alone a person who's only guilty of minor fraud and
some light identity theft.
With Mob's shirt open, the tentacles make hurried work pulling it off his
shoulders and descending over Mob's pale, narrow chest. They alternate between
two sides; the velvety smooth side caressing him, while the other's suckers nip
playfully as they pass, leaving small circular outlines. One clutches too close
to a nipple and Mob lets out a pitiful whimper, back arching into a perfect
curve.
Oh.
Oh well. Who's ever heard of a halfway decent tentacle monster anyway?
Reigen crushes his mouth into Mob's, drinking up the soft moans as the
tentacles snake around them. Mob kisses back, childish and eager and Reigen's
fingers slip as he wraps his hands tight around his waist. There's a wet slap
of skin as the damp lengths explore Mob. Reigen's still keenly aware of their
progress, and he's overwhelmed with the pulsating need to touch Mob everywhere,
to coat every inch of him in this sticky claim. The tentacles drift lower,
wriggling past the waistband of Mob's pants—
Ritsu's shoulder connects with Reigen's face as he squeezes between them. The
younger Kageyama brother clamors beside Mob, seated in the mess of tentacles as
well, situating his hips near Reigen's. He looks fussy, as usual, but he's also
naked, which is new. He must've undressed while Reigen was occupied with Mob,
and in a rush of demanding impulses, Reigen lets the tendrils descend over
Ritsu too. They're wet like a tongue as they slither past Ritsu's slim waist,
and his thighs shake as the tentacles wind around him there, the slick heat
getting nearer and nearer to his exposed dick. Ritsu reaches between his legs-
to touch himself or cover up, Reigen's not sure- but a tentacle gets there
first. It wraps around the length of him, curling around Ritsu's cock until
it's covered completely by the smoother sides. Ritsu watches, transfixed as it
strokes him in sudden, overwhelming motions.
Mob had re-situated himself in Reigen's lap to better look at Ritsu, who
shivers when his brother reaches for him. When they come together, it's with
shy touches, small kitten kisses. They're almost chaste at first, hands
hovering anxiously over their bare chests. Reigen watches that anxiety unravel
as the brothers melt into each other, pink tongues darting past lips and
fingertips scrambling around the tentacles that rub insistently at them.
Reigen already knew he'd have to add 'tentacle junk' to his list of weird
fetishes. But now, watching brothers making out on his lap- That's a whole new
subgenre of videos he'll have to look into.
Ritsu breaks the kiss off with a shout when the tip of the tentacle pokes at
the slit of his cock. He jerks at the sensation, cock dripping as he collapses
against Mob, who watches him with bright eyes. His lips are red from kissing,
delicately parted. The silence of the office is punctuated only by Ritsu's
escalating moans, hips arching into the grip around him. He throbs under the
tentacles' smoothness. Others around his thighs make thick, squelching sounds
as they pop off the sensitive skin there.
Mob reaches out and a tentacle gladly slides across his palm, eager to be
stroked again. Instead, he guides it towards his mouth and it hits Reigen like
a punch to the face, what his student is about to do. Mob's tongue darts out in
a soft cursory lick at the tip, lapping at the strange secretions. Reigen's
heart pounds in his ears as Mob opens his mouth and presses his tongue flat,
letting the tentacle slide over it. He closes around it, lips making a tight
seal and sucking sweetly.
Just looking at him gives Reigen a pressure headache. His mouth is hot and
accommodating, massaging the tentacle's bumps and ridges with his tongue. Mob's
hair falls out of his face as he tilts his head back, opening himself to the
thickness that's sinking into that delirious heat. The more Mob takes, the more
Reigen can feel through this new limb, this hypersensitive sense of touch that
demands to be satisfied. He wants to feel all of Mob. Reigen shakes with the
effort of it, the strength it takes to contain himself from plunging into the
tightness of his throat, to feel Mob choke around him as he abuses those tight
muscles and chases this unbearable need for stimulation.
No, that would be wrong. His student can't be abused like that. Reigen fights
that rolling desire, leaning back in his chair. There has to be a different way
to sate this.
Another tentacle quickly resumes its earlier work, dipping under the back of
Mob's pants searchingly. Even with Ritsu splayed out nude in front of him,
there's still the sinful center of Reigen's chest that wants more of Mob in his
grasp. He wants more of Mob like he's getting from Ritsu, naked and writhing
like a slut.
Reigen closes a hand around the back of Mob's neck to pull him away. The
tendril leaves Mob's mouth hanging open, deliberately inviting. When Reigen
kisses that adorable mouth, he tastes the tentacles with the thrill of Mob's
tongue sinking against his. As they kiss, Mob moves his hips in slow,
luxuriously circles. His pants are soaked. Their dampness softens the coarse
material of the fabric, but Reigen feels everything too much on these new
limbs. With that new sensitivity, he can feel Mob under his clothes, hard and
yearning, rutting helplessly into the friction.
The tentacles force Mob's pants down easy; his narrow hips and small frame give
little resistance. Reigen's starting to get the hang of these new appendages,
how to control their movements to satiate the mounting desire for the tentacles
to touch, to be touched, to leave no part of these boys unmolested. His
thoughts are focused to a point as they work over Ritsu, angling the tentacle
to rub against his cock with the smoothness of one side before rubbing with the
ridged end. Ritsu's head lolls at his shoulders, shaking with mounting tension
as he grinds into the contact. With a ragged sob, Ritsu reaches for Mob when he
comes, and Mob leans into his brother's hand, mumbling something Reigen can't
hear, his hearing still muffled, his head thick with disorganized thoughts
beyond need.
Other tentacles creep across Mob's lap, twisting around his dick greedily. Mob
cries out at their attention, jerking up into the strokes before shrinking
back. His body moves by rocking with the tentacles twining around his cock,
overlapping against one another with that damp and agonising back and forth.
Ritsu's fingers scrambling to try and push away the tentacles that continue to
slither over his spent dick. Reigen narrows his thoughts so they work over the
boys in tandem, curling and writhing around them in unison. Mob's breathing
comes in hiccupping gasps while Ritsu grits his teeth, stubbornly quiet.
Reigen leans forward and presses his mouth to his student's trembling throat.
He feels too worked up from all of this, from the little noises Mob makes when
Reigen sucks a bruise there, and the gutted cry as Ritsu comes a second time.
What a spoiled kid, Reigen thinks. Coming twice before Mob does. It's not too
surprising; Mob spends all his time keeping himself reigned in tight,
withholding his primal urges. Ritsu's raging against everyone and everything,
deadly but only with a fraction of his older brother's powers. Ritsu can't be
contained after he came apart and that, that's what Reigen wants to see from
Mob. He scrapes his teeth against Mob's skin, prickling with bruises, and Mob
whines, melting into the incessant touching. He wants to see Mob fall apart,
over and over, helplessly happy and all because of Reigen. The tentacles
squeeze and Mob moans painfully when he comes, spilling hot over the tentacles
that refuse to pull away, milking him dry.
Reigen lifts his head and Mob's staring at him, wide eyed and exhausted,
flushed down his chest. Reigen wills the tentacles to ease up on the boys, who
have squirmed and heaved and panted themselves into straddling a knee each.
Reigen squints blearily at that. So he does still have legs. Were they always
like that? And why is he focusing on that, especially when Mob and Ritsu's
dicks, finally relieved of the incessant touching, are still half hard against
his thighs. It looks ridiculous. He's too old for this.
Suddenly, Mob's palm kneads against at his crotch. Reigen jumps. They're
definitely not old enough for this.
Reigen's hands move like they're fighting through tar, struggling to reach for
Mob's. His fingers close around the tiny white wrist and that pulse flutters
underneath the pads of his fingers. Mob's lashes are low on his face when he
brings his gaze from his gripped arm, up his chest, to Reigen's face. Reigen
immediately looks at a point over Mob's shoulder. He can feel Mob's heartbeat
again and it's steady, oddly calm considering how ragged his breathing was only
a second ago. Resolved. Determined maybe? Either way, it feels wrong to look
Mob in the face after jerking him off like that.
Ritsu, true to his overprotective sibling form, slaps Reigen's hand away.
Normally Reigen wouldn't mind that kind of thing. Ritsu's always had a weird
brother complex (weird even for the fact they were just swapping saliva in
front of him.) Reigen doesn't take that kind of bratty behavior personally.
Usually. Buy there's nothing usual about their current situation.
The tentacles along Ritsu's thighs redirect themselves, creeping to the boy's
backside. Already damp from their secretions, they swipe gooey fluid between
Ritsu's cheeks. He starts at the feeling and Reigen bites back a groan at the
way the entrance clenches. The tentacles are slick enough they provide their
own lubrication, but Ritsu's hole is tight against the tip, requiring a fair
amount of elbow grease and mental concentration to get past that ring of
muscle. Ritsu makes an ungainly squeak as it breaches him, shallow and thin as
first, lifting him to his tiptoes with each press upward. Reigen ignores it,
the hands trying to shove Reigen away as he works it into a punishing rhythm,
thrusting easier as Ritsu's body acclimates to the intrusion. The quiet,
undignified squeaks melt into weak, plaintive cries as the tentacle that's
fucking him, entering him thin but bunching in on itself as he pulls out,
stretching Ritsu obscenely wider with each thrust.
Mob's stare on them is hot like a burn. He wriggles his hips impatiently and
Reigen manages something between a croak and a laugh. He guides another
tentacle down Mob's back, gliding past the bones of his spine, dipping below
his waist. Mob angles his hips up, gasping as the tentacle slithers and lathes
its sticky fluid against his entrance as well. Reigen can't see it, but he
comprehends it from the way the tentacles move over that flushed hole. He's
aware of the way it resists him as he gingerly presses inside. It loosens with
each draw inward and Mob's arms fling around Reigen's shoulders as his teacher
grows bolder, urging the twitching tentacle deeper inside him, twisting,
curling, spreading. Precome leaks from the tip of Mob's cock in heavy drops,
spilling from the motion of each thrust.
With every swipe, he's learning new details about the bodies laid out in front
of him. Ritsu's younger but he's definitely developing faster. He's carving out
a different silhouette from Mob, taller and leaner. Even at Ritsu's age, he's
started to come into those muscles his older brother covets so much. He can
feel them in the curve of Ritsu's arms, in the taut muscle at the top of his
thigh as a tendril winds around it and forces Ritsu's legs farther apart.
But Mob's body. Mob's is so much different from his brother's. It's soft like
the girls from Reigen's school days. From the hurried embarrassing trysts of
Reigen's youth, where both sides didn't know what they were doing, but were at
least operating with the normal number of human limbs. Mob is smooth to every
gentle stroke Reigen lavishes on him. There's an almost leisurely drop of his
waist, from his narrow hips down to his skinny legs. A tentacle skirts around
the length of one of them, to the ticklish points behind his knee. Mob's voice
is all honey sweet sighs and hums. His body curves like a punctuation mark
along Reigen's boldest statement, along every confident proclamation. It suits
him. They suit each other. Reigen tries to work the limb kinder with Mob as it
accommodates to him in smooth, glorious fluidity.
"Master," Mob sighs happily against his neck. Meanwhile Ritsu hisses as a
second tentacle joins in, hand clenched around Reigen's shoulder to brace
himself as the tentacles writhe against his hot insides.
There's a distant understanding of how to operate these new appendages; not
unlike how dogs must be with their tails. Reigen narrows his focus, angles the
tentacles inward searching for a particular point— and both boys shout, a
perfect harmony of debauchery. Reigen hovers in that space, enjoying the
cacophony of delicious noises, the feel of small hands struggling and slipping
against his chest.
This will ruin him for regular sex. Which is dumb as hell, there's no way he's
going to have normal sex after this, not with his whole bottom half as some
weird octopus thing. Wait. Whole bottom half?
As exciting and wonderful as these new feelings are, it would be pretty messed
up if these tentacles were all he had for stimulation from now on. It doesn't
seem right, because as amazing as it feels to plunge them deep into the two
boys in front of him- it's not satisfying enough. He can tell there's something
more, a demanding impulse that throbs low in his stomach. Reigen tears his eyes
away from the brothers to check out what kind of equipment he's got going on
down there.
Hm.
Well. The good news is that whatever it is, it looks dick-like. Which is fine,
he can work with that. It's thicker down to the base, a lot thicker than his
cock ever was, so that's a plus. It's the same color as the tentacles and
narrow at the point, which twitches idly. The tentacle-dick-whatever sits
between his legs, dripping and straining for contact. As far as alien body
parts go, it's definitely not the worse thing he could have.
Reigen takes a moment to mourn his dick. It was an old friend and they had some
great times together. But now that he's seen what he's working with, the need
tugging at the corner of his mind has intensified. It cascades through his
veins with red hot desire. This isn't enough. He has to put this inside
something- someone- immediately.
So which one?
An expert debater, Reigen has at least a dozen reasons why Ritsu is the better
choice. Firstly, he seems more present in the situation; Ritsu's eyes are bold
and defiant as he stares back at Reigen, while Mob's gaze is uneven. It would
be worse to screw the person that's more out of it. Also, Mob's clearly getting
too worked up, which could do real damage to this body, this building, this
whole city if Reigen doesn't ease up on him. That limitless power of his
student's is too much of a loose canon. Reigen's office will already need to be
deep cleaned; he doesn't need to hire a contractor to replace busted door
frames and re-pane the windows if Mob blows the place apart too. This is as
much Mob stimulation as his security deposit can handle.
On top of that, he's pretty sure Ritsu is the only one who's moving his hips
like that, who's angling his ass to be fucked deeper. It makes perfect sense he
would be; Ritsu is a stubborn teenager, overcome with hormones. Mob's not so
simple and even if Reigen wanted to see Mob rutting like a bitch in heat (which
he pointedly doesn't, thanks), his student is too mature for something like
that.
Finally, although it might be one of the more selfish reasons, Reigen doesn't
have to see Ritsu everyday. It'll be a lot less awkward ruthlessly fucking
someone you don't work with.
Also, this will probably hurt, and seeing Mob like that would be kind of a
boner killer.
That settles it. Reigen gingerly withdraws a tentacle from Mob, careful the
suckers along its ridges don't rub too harshly on the way out. Mob quivers
around him, angling after the retreating limb. Once it's removed, Reigen
repositions himself, nudging Mob back to sit on his desk. His student goes
willingly, watching his Master with slow, obedient smiles. Reigen's so hard his
vision is starting to white out at the edges.
He moves Ritsu less gently, forcing him onto his back, legs hanging over the
edge of the desk. Still struggling to catch his breath, Ritsu watches the
tentacles coil around his legs, forcing them apart, almost painfully wide.
Ritsu's squirms at being put on lewd display, trembling as other tentacles lap
at his hole, puffy and gaping. The sensitive muscles clench and shudder as a
tentacles plunges inside again while Ritsu writhes, miserably undone.
Reigen crowds himself to Ritsu, lines up and hears Ritsu's damp voice break
when he says, "Don't, I can't—" Every nerve stands on end as he slides his cock
in alongside a tentacle. It wriggles, sending additional jolts of pleasure
beyond the pressure that engulfs Reigen. The tightness is so unbearable it's
almost scalding. Ritsu sobs as his body strains to the insistent press of
Reigen's hips. He's forcing the tentacle deeper into the muscles that spasm
around both limbs. It's amazing. He knew the kid was tight, but the strain of
forcing in two parts of him is out-fucking-standing. All of Ritsu's energy
seems to go into desperately accommodating being stuffed so completely. He
looks full to the point of nausea, so full every abused part of him goes weak
and open to the onslaught.
Reigen moves forward until their chests touch, Ritsu pinned to the desk while
he's fully seated in the boy's unwilling hole. Reigen takes a moment to
recollect himself. This thing between his legs is downright insatiable. Reigen
knows if he was feeling this around his dick normally he'd have come by now.
The unending need that's been building in the pit of his stomach should've
released ages ago. Instead his cock is throbbing against Ritsu's pulsing walls.
It's thicker than a normal cock and agile in a way a dick isn't. Its tip flicks
at Ritsu's insides until he twists underneath him, tears pouring down his
cheeks. Even when Reigen doesn't move his hips, it's torture.
Other tentacles surge under Ritsu's hips, angling them upward and supporting
his back so he's at a better angle for what Reigen's about to do. Ritsu's mouth
hangs mouth open, breathing in short, irregular gasps. You know, he doesn't
look half bad when he doesn't talk, Reigen reasons as he draws back and pumps
his hips forward meanly.
He'll split Ritsu in two, Reigen thinks, and is frightened by the ache of it,
of wanting to see that.
Mob leans over from his perch against the desk, a calm, steady anchor against
the furniture that's rocked with the violence behind Reigen's movements. He has
no idea how Mob looks so still and serene. It might be a psychic thing. Or it
might be part of Reigen's heady rush of desire for Mob, sitting prim and
practically untouched, watching Reigen demolish his rude little brother.
Reigen leans back to make room for Mob, letting the other boy drape over Ritsu.
Ritsu grimaces as Mob cards a hand gently through his hair, matted with sweat.
Ritsu tilts his face up towards him, mouthing meek, soundless pleads as Mob
wraps his fingers around his dick, sedulously jerking him off. Tentacles rush
to join them, working over every inch of the length that isn't covered by Mob's
palm. Ritsu rolls his hips into the motion, jostled by a particularly rough
thrust. He stares at Mob adoringly, face flushed and tear streaked.
Yeah. Reigen's never going to be satisfied with regular porn again.
He pounds into Ritsu relentlessly, letting his tentacle dick coil on its way
out and wrenching thick, needy cries from Ritsu as it drags against his walls.
He presses it back inside to the hilt, thick to the point of burning, watching
Ritsu thrash against its fullness. Their hips collide roughly together, and
Reigen knows he's gonna ache from this, but it's worth it, worth it to feel
Ritsu raw and impossibly tight around him.
When Ritsu comes, it's dry and cruel and the hands that were frantically
scrambling against Reigen's chest drop to his sides. Mob strokes him through
it, mumbling comforting things Reigen can't hear for the ringing in his ears.
Mob pulls his hand away and Ritsu's wrecked body goes limp, which is good, he's
easier to piston into without all that struggling and whimpering. From the
corner of his eye, Reigen sees Mob suck on his own sticky fingers, hard enough
to make Reigen's cock throb. His body feels more foreign than ever, a mess of
limbs and desperation, all frantic attempts to come inside the inviting heat of
Ritsu. He can see bruises from where he held him in place, spot the strange
suction cup markings along his upper thighs. Ritsu's chest rises and falls
underneath him at a staggered pace and his blown out pupils stare vacantly past
Reigen's shoulder. He's a lot cuter like this.
Coupled with the sensation of the tentacle fucking in and out of Ritsu, it's
not long before a rush of heat sweeps through Reigen. The tension that had been
growing in him, the insatiable need to be relieved, all at once bursts as he
comes into Ritsu, coating his insides in spurts.
Spent, Reigen eases the tentacle out of Ritsu first. But when he removes his
cock, it's not a relief, it's so much worse. It cascades over him the instant
he's out of him, that wanting, that pulsating desire for warmth, to be sheathed
deep into something. He hasn't been this hard for it since he was a teenager.
This weird new body isn't going to give him a second to rest.
He takes a steadying breath. He has to think about this. If it's worth it to
ruin what little professional relationship he has left with Mob by fucking him,
or to plunge his cock back into Ritsu. He imagines Ritsu, ragdoll limp as he
fucks him over and over again, filling him with his come until Ritsu wakes up,
tries to fight him off. That's really messed up. And it might not even work.
The only way to fix this might be to hold Mob down and take him too. Stuff him
with his dick and tentacles until Mob screams for it.
It's a hell of a decision. Luckily, Mob doesn't give him a choice.
Mob doesn't have far to go and moves lightning fast. The air is knocked from
Reigen's chest as he's slammed into his chair. Mob was on the other side of the
desk and now he's here, back in Reigen's lap. Tentacles flail as Mob's hands
slide between them, down Reigen's chest and between his legs. He takes his dick
into his fist like he did with the tentacle when this all started. The tip of
it, still oozing from the load it spent in his brother, coils between Mob's
fingers. Those calluses along his palm drag against its oversensitive,
throbbing length. Mob's knees against Reigen's thighs hold him in place. Maybe
Mob is developing some muscles, Reigen thinks deliriously. Or maybe, more
likely, Reigen just doesn't want to move away.
Reigen makes a low, animal noise into the kiss as Mob crushes their lips
together. He adjusts Reigen beneath him before it's happening, there's no going
back, Reigen has absolutely no say in it. The tip slides inside and Mob hugs
him close as he sinks onto his cock, and, oh, he's so much tighter than Ritsu.
Mob whines, "Master."
And then, like a bubble popping, Reigen wakes up.

===============================================================================

When he opens his eyes, he's still in his office. Of course he is, because it
would be waytoo nice for the universe to wake him up in the comfort of his own
bed where he could go about his usual hungover routine; sleeping until noon,
sipping water from under the covers, possibly rubbing one out to what easily is
the weirdest fantasy he's had in his entire life.
No, Reigen has to wake up in the office, like before, in his desk chair, like
before. Mob and Ritsu standing in close proximity, like before.
Reigen looks down fast to count his legs; one, two, thank god. His head swims
with the speed that he checked and he hides a dizzy groan behind one hand.
There's an upside to this; he's nowhere near the panicked level of arousal he
was at earlier. And from the look of his pants (intact thank you, no need to
blow his latest earnings on multi-legged suits), he's calmed down enough that
he's not tenting in full view of the Kageyama brothers.
Mob stands in patient attentiveness an arm's reach away. Ritsu looking huffy as
usual. They're silent, but at least they're dressed. Everything's a great deal
less wet this time around, which is promising, but Reigen doesn't want to hope
for too much.
"Mob." He has no earthly idea how to start what will be a very awkward
conversation. "Do you work today?"
"Master," Mob says breathlessly. "Are you all right?"
"He's fine." Ritsu has his arms crossed tight over his chest.
"There was a spirit here," Mob continues, wringing his hands. Reigen tries not
to think of those little hands digging into his shoulders, pressing tiny
bruises into his slick skin, voice hitching on a moan as tentacles kneaded at
his insides— "It had control over your body."
Cold sweat drips down Reigen's neck.
"It did?" He hopes he sounds halfway casual. "Did I do something?" The pause
lasts approximately three hundred years.
"No." Mob looks relieved.
"You made some weird noises," Ritsu adds, pointedly.
He can feel the heat rising to his ears. "No kidding?" That's all right. Weird
noises isn't the worst thing. Touching your teenage student and his little
brother with new, spidery long appendages is the worst thing. Imagining their
bodies curved over the end of his desk is the worst thing. Wanting to hold them
both down by their necks as he fucks them senseless is the worst thing.
"Yeah." Ritsu sniffs. "I'm surprised a 'master' like you couldn't exorcise it
yourself." As Mob hurriedly recounts what happened while Reigen was
unconscious, Reigen consoles himself with the image of hallucination Ritsu's
begging, voice high and needy.
He claps a hand proudly on his student's shoulder. "Good thing you two were
here," he says blithely, trying to shake off this creeping desire.
Chapter End Notes
     fourth and final chap will close out with reimob- with a twist
      
     find me @mobchuu on twitter!
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Reigen has closed and reopened the app dozens of times, but it still says the
same thing. He chews at the edge of his fingernail as the train pulls into the
station. He steps onto the platform, walking with the motion of the crowd.
The message feels like it's some kind of mistake, but no matter how many times
he rereads it, it stays the same.
Come to the office, it reads.
Which is completely messed up because Mob has never asked him to report to
work. Mob's more of a hands-off kind of boss, the kind that doesn't text so
much as ignore Reigen's messages repeatedly until Reigen has to steal his phone
and turn on the location tracker so Reigen knows where his master is at all
times. Mob's not so much a messaging kind of boss, as he is a boss who only
begrudgingly pays Reigen when Reigen provides an itemized list of the time he's
spent helping with Spirits and Such. Master is the kind of boss who makes sure
clients know Reigen's just a student ("Well, I'm a middle school student, sure,
but more importantly, I'm a student in the psychic arts," Reigen explains while
Mob says no, you're not—)
But no. No, see, today is totally different. Today Mob isn't trying to dodge
Reigen joining him on a job they only got because Reigen poured his entire
summer vacation into making Spirits and Such a website. No, today is the day
that Master reached out to him, and Reigen's on his way to the office as quick
as possible, to help with something cool probably, something only Master's most
trusted and talented protege could help with. The text is real, no matter how
many times Reigen stops in the middle of the sidewalk, closes his eyes and
pinches his arm to make sure he isn't dreaming. A real text from Master
Kageyama asking him to come to the office.
And it probably wasn't for Reigen to make some pesky door to door salesman
leave. Not again. This time it would be for something cool.
Reigen pauses outside the office building and takes a moment to let the
gravitas of the situation sink in. The sun has started to disappear behind the
horizon and the neon lights are beginning to eke around the street corners.
Mob's office still looks dark- which, normally, Reigen would assume meant Mob
went home early (Bad! That's no way to get the coveted late-afternoon-post-
work-but-pre-dinner-psychic-rush everyone knows about!) But no, Mob had
specifically asked Reigen to come to the office, so he must be there. The
lights being off… well, that doesn't mean anything, Reigen reasons, taking the
stairs two at a time. Maybe Mob's trying to save money on the electrical bill.
Which would mean Master is finally taking this monetizing psychic powers thing
seriously.
Reigen's skin feels electric. It's turning into a great day.
Slamming the office door open, the smells hits Reigen first. It's like a to-go
container of sweet and sour sauce at the very back the fridge you forgot about,
a weird rancidity that hangs heavy in the air when the fridge swings open. He
steps back at the suddenness of it, the darkness of the office.
"What's that smell?" Reigen asks and is immediately answered by the teeming
pile of shadows in a baggy suit seated behind Mob's desk. Reigen squints.
Shadows aren't supposed to smell right? And they're definitely not supposed to
wear people clothes, especially not clothes that looks a lot like that crummy
suit Mob's been wearing lately.
"Master!" Reigen realizes with a start, spotting the familiar face in the mess
of twisting, coiling shadows. That's definitely Mob slumped at his desk, body
moving in strange, unnatural ways. Belatedly, Reigen realizes they're not
shadows at all, but extensions of his teacher's body, stretching out in all
directions with long new limbs, crossing over one another and twisting like a
pack of snakes.
Reigen's mind races. Something really major must've happened to have possessed
Mob. Mob is already pretty powerful, and Reigen's never been able to see
possessions like this. If it's strong enough to take down his teacher and be
visible to an ordinary person, it goes beyond anything they've dealt with up
until now.
It's —
— really cool! There's no other way to describe it. Reigen can see it this
time, a real spirit manifestation possessing someone, changing his master's
body into some kind of sticky, serpentine monster. And sure, the point of
Reigen's employment with Spirits and Such had been to help his Master become a
good person who looks out for others and becomes more aware of people's
feelings and the world around him. But Reigen gets something out of it too,
obviously; he's charitable or whatever, but he's not Japan's youngest
philanthropist and Shonen Jump doesn't exactly buy itself. Most of the time
Reigen has to step up with his streetwise skills to help people in need for
non-psychic issues. Plus, at the rate he's going, Reigen knows he'll be a
licensed masseuse by high school and if that doesn't get him Valentines'
chocolate, he doesn't know what else will.
But when there's an actual spirit, Master handles it quick and Reigen never
even sees anything. It's a little disheartening, but Mob seems hopeful about
it, as hopeful as a guy with about three facial expressions can seem. He says
his brother didn't notice spiritual stuff until middle school, so there's still
time for Reigen's abilities to appear ("Although he was a little younger than
you are now—")
But this is a real spirit, a really real one standing right in front of him!
That Reigen can see! And sure, that spirit was possessing his employer, but
whatever, minor technicality. It totally doesn't detract from how cool this is.
Reigen whistles low through his teeth, flipping on the light so he can check
this shit out more closely. Mob looks like Mob, for the most part. Just a bit
wider and more purple, and a great deal slimier, dripping thick, viscous liquid
from spidery tentacles. Some spill over the edge of the desk, others winding
carefully around the edges of the computer. One knocked the phone off its
cradle and it hangs from its cord, secretion dripping down the plastic. Reigen
tracks its descent down the winding cord; it must've been knocked off a while
ago. He's good at noticing things like that. It's one of the gaps in Master's
abilities, so even if Reigen can't see ghosts, he can totally see those clues
Mob might've missed. Reigen would make a good detective, people say. Actually
Reigen is the one who says it, but he's hoping it will catch on.
So the clues point to Mob being like this for a couple hours maybe, oozing all
over the cheap faux leather of his seat.
"Geez," Reigen mutters. "How'd you get like this anyway?" Mob lifts his head
slowly, and his gaze- milky and uneven- meets with Reigen's. Mob smiles, thin
and empty and horrifically new. A chill crawls up Reigen's spine. He's not used
to that kind of look on Mob. Honestly, he's not used to any kinds of looks on
Master Kageyama; the guy is as expressive as a slab of concrete. But now he's
being downright creepy, even if he wasn't all multi-limbed and dripping.
Reigen gnaws on his lower lip, tentatively approaching the Master-Monster-Mob
thingy. The carpet makes slick, squelching noises as he walks.
"Good thing I'm here!" Reigen puffs his chest out confidently. Mob doesn't look
like he agrees. Or disagrees. He watches Reigen's approach and sits still, like
a lump on the other side of the desk. With a flourish, Reigen slaps his hands
down against the surface; they make a wet thud with the contact, and tentacles
twitch at the sound, starting to creep towards him.
Reigen forces his expression steady and doesn't pull away. This is his chance
to prove he's a capable exorcist like his master. He'll banish this spirit and
save Mob and totally get a raise. He doesn't have time to be frightened when
Mob's respect is on the line. Reigen bites hard on the inside of his cheek as a
tendril reaches for his hand, creeping over his knuckles with moist, sluglike
swipes. Reigen's skin tingles at the sensation and a warmth seeps from his
fingers to his arm, up into Reigen's chest. His breath comes faster as more
tentacles crawl across the desk towards Reigen. The tentacle around at his hand
moves upwards, winding around his wrist and under the sleeve of his uniform.
The air that hangs around his possessed teacher is humid, and with every
hurried gulp of air Reigen feels the oppressive weight of a powerful spirit
crawling up his limbs.
This is dumb, really dumb. If this thing got a jump on a guy as powerful as
Mob, there's no telling how dangerous it could it. It could really beat Reigen
up, or hold him down with all these weird tentacles that are slipping under his
uniform. It could totally split his clothes wide open, toss him on the ground
and crawl all over him, wrapping around every part of Reigen and—
Uh. Wait. He's getting sidetracked.
"I'll get that thing out of you," Reigen declares, absolutely confident and
completely terrified.
He forces his mouth to stay creased into a smile. Focus. Don't show the spirit
you're afraid of it. Confidence is key to getting rid of spirits. That's not
advice from Mob, per se, but Reigen feels like it's probably true. It's usually
a lot easier to be confident since Reigen's not able to see the spirits. But
this one he can see, within an arm's reach so the extended tentacle has no
problem touching Reigen, slopping warm fluid against his cheek. Reigen grimaces
as it slides across his chin, down his jaw, tickling his neck under his collar.
"That's it," Reigen says, and his voice is as firm as the wet, crumpled papers
on Mob's desk. "That's it… Student Slap Sneak attack!" he shouts and vaults
himself across the desk. His hands are locked into tight karate chops that he
frantically slams against every place he can reach: Mob's shoulders, his chest,
the top of his dumb looking bowl cut. The sound of blows connecting isn't very
satisfying; it's wet and soft, and with each strike Reigen's hands pull back
more of that gross goo. Suddenly, mid-strike Reigen's fingers slip and he's
falling from the already slick desk, falling—
Mob catches him. Reigen's hands hurriedly scramble to brace himself against his
chest, sticky and oozing. Reigen struggles to catch his breath, collapsed on
Mob's lap. The tendrils coil around him, curious, like they weren't just being
attacked with amateur karate moves. Reigen opens his mouth to say something
cool — something about how brute force always wins against the forces of evil —
when Mob's hands move. He slides his fingers under Reigen's chin, tilting his
head back to look Reigen in the eye.
That's weirdly direct for Master, Reigen thinks, and is promptly kissed.
Reigen's not sure if it's the kiss or the weird monster secretions that makes
his whole body tingle. His knees waver as Mob coaxes his mouth open, hot and
insistent as he draws Reigen closer. Reigen moves helplessly, hands trapped
between their bodies as his teacher's tongue slips into his mouth and this is
way weirder than everything else that's happened today: Master texting him,
Master getting possessed, Reigen being able to see spirits. He makes a weak,
keening sound into the kiss, at the rough press of Mob's tongue on his own.
This is weird, but not bad, really. Master is kinda handsome, cute in a
clueless way. Reigen would be lying to say he never thought about it, in those
moments when Mob dispelled a misbehaving spirit and was awash by a rush of
energy. His tie would flutter wildly because Master never took Reigen's advice
to buy a tie clip. And Reigen would stare and squint and hope that this time,
this time he'd see something, he'd be a part of his teacher's world in more
than just a clerical way. But there was nothing, always a big fat nothing no
matter how dangerous or powerful the ghost was supposed to be. Just Mob
standing in the center of it, looking unfazed and momentarily cool.
And then Mob would turn to Reigen to make sure he was okay, to offer a couple
noncommittal responses when Reigen would remind him to collect money for this
job. Mob never really looked like he was listening in those moments, just
watching Reigen, waiting for a reaction. Placed a hand on Reigen's shoulder;
the same hand that dispelled the spirit, that does the work of the most
powerful esper in Seasoning City. It'd coax an answer out of Reigen ("Yeah, of
course I'm fine! That wasn't scary at all!"), his throat tight, stomach coiled
in knots.
So yeah, Reigen's thought about it.
Mob kisses along the line of his jaw, down Reigen's throat. His adam's apple
bobs under Mob's lips, his hands working quickly to undo the top buttons of
Reigen's jacket. His master's mouth looks redder than normal. Reigen feels a
strong flush from his ears to his chest. I did that, he thinks wonderingly and
Mob ducks his head down lower, folding back the unbuttoned portions of Reigen's
shirt and kissing there too. Reigen's hands are huge and awkward, hovering over
his teacher's back as Mob closes his lips and sucks tight, bold marks before
moving to another spot. The small barrel of Reigen's chest rises and falls
rapidly, and even watching this all happen in slow motion, he's caught off
guard when Mob takes a nipple in his mouth. Reigen whimpers pitifully, hands
scrambling against Mob's shoulders as his tongue rolls over it, when it pebbles
between his lips.
Reigen's legs ache from the strange angles he's been bent in his teacher's lap,
where he landed after the failed attack. Reigen's mind is hazy. Attack? Yeah,
that's right. He'd tried to karate chop the spirit out of Master. That's
stupid, why would he wanna hurt Mob? Especially if he just wanted to kiss him.
Kiss him and touch him all over, one hand holding open Reigen's shirt as he
moves from one nipple to the next. With another hand at the small of Reigen's
back, holding him in place. Another curling around Reigen's thigh, warm and wet
through the fabric that's starting to get tight at the crotch. Another slipping
down Reigen's stomach, cascading over the exposed skin in thick swipes,
prodding the pointed end of the tentacle lower—
Tentacle! Reigen's eyes snap open. That's right! These aren't hands touching
Reigen; there's way too many of them. These are tentacles. It's a werido
tentacle monster possessing Mob and fiendishly trying to distract him with this
kissing and sucking.
Reigen quickly tries to detangle himself, but the tentacles move faster,
crossing over themselves and pulling tight around his limbs. Reigen jerks his
arms fitfully against the iron grip. The movement pushes Reigen's jacket and
shirt off his shoulders and every scrap of bared skin feels like it's absorbing
the wet warmth between him and his teacher.
Mob stares back at him blankly, like his mouth wasn't just all over Reigen,
teeth scraping around sensitive parts. Reigen shudders, burns with more than
just a blush. Maybe that's from the strange sticky fluid thats coating Reigen's
skin everywhere Mob touches, or the funny taste of him in Reigen's mouth. The
room is oppressively hot, but now all the spots Mob touched feel like they're
overheating. What the heck kinda monster was this anyway?
"Master, hang on a second," Reigen says. His voice seems strangely small.
He has to focus. He has to figure out how to get this spirit out of his
teacher. And if a direct attack didn't work, maybe careful reasoning is the way
to handle this. He doesn't remember Mob ever mentioning a kissing spirit
before, but they're probably not the kind you can disengage with brute force.
Reigen just has to think, which is a little hard given Mob's new appendages
roaming over him. These new additions to Mob's body are smooth, but there are
bumps towards the ends, and the tighter they wrap around Reigen's legs, the
more he feels the persistent press of their grooves through his clothes. The
ridged spots are like tiny suction cups popping on and off wherever they touch.
He shivers and struggles to swat them away, while the tentacles wind from
behind the curve of his knee, higher and higher up his leg.
"Whoa!" Reigen desperately tries to pry a roaming tendril from between his
legs. Being touched there, wet and heavy even through his pants, sets off a
panicked lurch in his stomach. "Hey. Cut it out." Other hands- not hands but
tentacles, weird new slimy limbs- tighten around Reigen painfully, and no
amount of their slipperiness lets him squirm away.
Mob lifts him easy, shoving Reigen's back flat against the desk so his legs
hang awkwardly over the edge. Reigen tries to snap them shut but Mob moves
between them, tentacles curl under the waistband of Reigen's pants, forcing
them down past his thighs.
Reigen gasps. It's a wet, embarrassing sound as his underwear is peeled down
and he grimaces as his dick is exposed to the hot air. Reigen's arms are pinned
to the desk, the tentacles rolling over his wrists, suctions leisurely latching
onto the skin as they pass. His legs kick uselessly; the tendrils coil forward
to restrain Reigen's legs as well, wrenching them uncomfortably apart. Their
secretions slide down the smooth slope of his inner thigh, pooling warm under
his ass. The heat of it lances through him and Reigen is on fire, he can't
breathe, he's totally going to pass out just from Mob touching him like this.
"Master," he says on a hitched breath.
The tentacles eagerly pry at so many places, coating Reigen in sticky fluid.
Miserably, Reigen's hips start to arch upward, his body involuntarily angling
towards the contact. This is bad. He knows what people do without clothes on,
he's seen the magazines, and while he doesn't know exactly what tentacles do in
this scenario, he knows what he wants. Reigen feels dizzy with it, imagining
one of these long limbs wrapping along his dick like a snake on a vine. This
impossibly hot fluid on his dick, in the slit of it and it wouldn't take long,
Master wouldn't have to do much to help him. Mob just needs to move the
tentacles a couple centimeters to bring Reigen over this impossible edge he's
barreling towards. But Mob's not doing that, he's touching him everywhere but
where Reigen wants, and Mob's just staring at him, like the creep he is. Reigen
whines, hips jerking impatiently while his master stares with too glassy eyes.
Mob steps towards the desk- no, step isn't the write word. Lurch? Glide? His
new look is human shaped but he doesn't seem to move like one. Reigen swallows
hard as Master exhales on a low, shuddering breath before dropping to his
knees.
"Oh." Reigen's heart slams into his chest. Oh, he knows what this is, this is
more than he was expecting, and even though he wants to be touched, this is
definitely too much. "Master, wait, no—" Reigen thrashes wildly away from Mob's
approach and the tentacles constrict at his thighs, around his wrists. There's
a dull ache of growing bruises where he's held, and when the tentacles press
into it, Reigen is mortified at how much harder that makes him.
The body heat from Mob is so stifling Reigen only dimly registers the weight of
Master's breath, the closeness, before Mob takes Reigen's cock into his mouth,
swallowed in one go. Reigen squeaks at the onslaught of its tight heat, all air
knocked out of his body, all fight stripped from his muscles. That's Master's
tongue, working ruthlessly against his dick and making thick, slurping noises.
Reigen wasn't even a little ready for this, how stupid good it feels and how
his body rocks into it, desperate for more.
Mob lifts his gaze. Reigen freezes at the force of his stare, full of something
that wasn't there before, when Mob had pinned him on the desk, or when he had
mouthed thick angry bruises into Reigen's chest. He looks hungry, Reigen
realizes, wonderingly, and comes with a shout.
It probably only lasts a couple seconds but it feels like hours. Nerves
burning, Reigen squeezes his eyes shut. He can't look at Master with full lips,
spit-wet and wrapped around his cock, still drinking him down. It looks too
good, it's too good. Who'd have thought Master would be good at something like
this? It doesn't make any sense, but nothing that's happened today makes any
sense. Reigen's body aches with it.
He twists fitfully when Mob continues, bobbing between Reigen's legs even
though Reigen already came, it's over, it hurts. Reigen groans, head lolling
against the desk helplessly. His vision is starting to turn watery and
unfocused, but he can see a tentacle close to his face, sliding across the
desktop. Reigen sobs- a thin, wrecked sound- as the tentacle inches forward,
its fluid is candy sweet as it swipes over his bottom lip. There's no violence
in it, its creep over Reigen's tongue, in some mimicry of Mob's mouth over
Reigen's dick, which is mutinously getting hard again under Master's unyielding
attention.
The tentacle in his mouth tastes like the scent hanging in the air, but
saltier. The fluid leaking from its slit drips down Reigen's throat, burning
into the pit of his stomach like a brand. A frighteningly intense warmth pools
there, stretches out through every gulp of air breath and Reigen's mouth opens
wider to take more, to drink the rest of Master down. It doesn't taste good, he
shouldn't want to do this. But so much of Reigen's body is reacting on
instinct, on these frantic, hurried desires that are making his dick throb
uncomfortably as Mob licks him clean. He ruts into Master's mouth shamelessly.
When Reigen tentatively closes his mouth around the tentacle, Mob moans loudly
around his dick. That's even weirder, Mob barely says anything most of the
time, now he's making these weird sexy sounds? Reigen swallows around the
tentacle in his mouth and Mob is loud, so loud as he pants against Reigen. Mob
digs fingers and tentacles into the smooth skin laid out in front of him.
Reigen tears his eyes away from that, tries to make himself deaf to Mob's
filthy noises. He narrows his focus to the tentacle in his mouth. Its underside
is ridged with suckers that press against Reigen's tongue as it forces his head
back. The added slickness of his mouth lets the tentacle move easy, lets it
sink lower, farther than Reigen thinks he can take. He gags at the force of it
hitting the back of his throat, and his body jerks on a reflex. But in that
moment, something stronger than tentacles holds Reigen's head in place; a
savage, invisible hand that ebbs through Reigen with its power. Drool and other
fluids dribble past Reigen's chin as he fights it. Mob's using his power
against other people, even though Mob knows he's not supposed to! They talked
about this. Reigen's a mess of painful, complicated emotions at that, because
he knows he ought to be angry. He shouldn't be hard again, and he definitely
shouldn't be arching his hips so he can hit Mob's throat too.
The tentacle fucks his throat slow, dragging against the tight muscles while
Reigen seizes and clenches around the intrusion. He can't move, can barely
breathe and his body is shaking so violently he's sure he's going to fall
apart, he's definitely going to die like this as he empties into Master's mouth
a second time with a choked sob. The tension around him releases- Mob must've
been holding him for that moment- and Reigen sags against the desk, coughing up
the tentacle in one rough, furious motion.
Mob pulls him up by his jacket and Reigen goes, ragdoll limp and back into his
master's lap. His clothing is still bunched at the ankles so it's a struggle
when Mob separates his legs, dips a tentacle past the small of Reigen's back.
He presses his face into the dip in his teacher's neck, hands balled into fists
in the front of Mob's sticky suit. It's a sudden, dumb, baby move to make.
Stupid, like he's trying to hide from the sloppy passes of a tentacle against
his ass, coiling at the edge of another stubborn ring of muscle. The tip of the
tentacle coaxes itself inside and even if Reigen had been prepared for it, he
yelps in surprise. It feels… It feels different than he thought it would. Not
that he's thought a lot about this kinda stuff, but considering how savage it
had been to get one of those down his throat, this motion seems oddly tender.
Reigen lifts his head to peer at Mob's face (hollow and feverish all at once.)
The tentacle inside of him draws out before it gets very far, inching inside in
gentle, incremental motions. It doesn't shove all the way to its thickest
point, it lingers shallowly, letting Reigen adjust to it while its wetness
coats his insides. It seems weirder than the violence of getting his throat
pounded, like Mob isn't sure how far he can take this.
Oh, so now he's following the rule I made for him, Reigen thinks with a fussy
scowl. So nowhe's not using his powers to hurt people.
Reigen hesitantly rubs at his sore throat. Yeah, well. Rules are made to be a
little broken.
Resolved, Reigen uses his hands against Mob's chest for leverage, angling his
hips to meet the slow press of the tentacle. The other tentacles curiously wind
around Reigen, like maybe they know what he's planning. Reigen manages a
nervous grin; that's encouraging at least. He takes a few, steadying breaths
and feels Mob's eyes burning into him, feels a strange animal purr under his
fingers.
The second he sinks onto the tentacle, Reigen immediately regrets it. It's way
too much, too thick and the other tendrils jerk in surprise as it pounds into
Reigen, red hot and awful. Mob's hands are on his shoulders— a familiar,
grounding gesture. Mob's done that before, it's a normal thing. Yeah, Master
putting his hands on his shoulders like that is normal, normal, and Reigen's
okay, he won't die from this, even if the pain is splitting him in half—
"Reigen."
Reigen gasps at Mob's voice; it sounds distorted, or maybe that's just because
he only hears it over the thrum of his blood in his ears and the wet, slopping
noise between their bodies. Master sounds different. Mob's voice never sounds
like anything, but now he sounds almost happy. Reigen shivers, chest heaving.
Master's happy Reigen's doing this. Mob's eyes still have that glassy, out-of-
it sheen, but he looks a little pleased with himself. Pleased with how ruined
he's made Reigen, or maybe pleased with what Reigen's doing. He likes it.
Another tentacle eases around a slim, bare hip, cascading past the crux of
Reigen's thighs. It slithers around Reigen's dick, startled soft but reacting
to the touch with a jolt. Reigen buckles and the tentacle inside him throbs
against the constricting muscles. It burns, burns like the fluid in his
stomach, like the tentacles latching onto his slickened skin. It's a good burn,
rough and satisfying like after he runs for the train. That rush of
accomplishment when you make it in time coupled with the bone deep exhaustion
that washes of Reigen in waves of pressure and pleasure. It feels so good.
More embarrassing sounds are slipping past his lips and Reigen quickly stuffs
fingers in his mouth to stifle them. He likes it too.
As the tentacle wiggles in deeper, the pain- a thick, clenching ache below his
belly- subsides slowly, like his body is acclimating to the intrusion. The
tentacle works into steady rhythm of thrusts until their bodies meet, Reigen's
sweat cold skin colliding with Mob's warmth. The tentacles over his dick jerks
him off punishingly rough, joined by others that coil around him, working his
cock over like no hand could. Reigen hiccups and bucks into the touch, coming
dry and without relief.
Reigen's arms fall to his sides, mouth hanging open uselessly, mumbling an
endless stream of inappropriate language and whimpering noises. His head lolls
between his shoulders as more tentacles curl around his hips, forcing the boy
to bounce on the tentacle that's inside him. Another laps at the muscle,
squirming into his ass, and Reigen cries out at the fullness of it, at the
overwhelming gut-punch intensity of being stuffed so horrifyingly full. His
shout is cut short by another tentacle surging past his lips, down into the
battered muscles of his throat.
He grinds back helplessly, breathing in ragged sobs as he's filled at both ends
and Mob is hissing, dangerously sweet, Reigen, Reigen, Reigen. Reigen thrills
to it, but dimly knows that's not his Master. It's the spirit, some weird
kissing sex demon and Reigen has to ride this out. He said he'd get the spirit
out of Mob, right? So he's gotta let this thing work him over and over until
it's satisfied, until it releases Reigen and his Master. And then finally,
finally Reigen will be the one who saved the day. Mob will be so proud of him
and so happy, happy like the way the spirit sounds now, fucking him
relentlessly, mouth buried against Reigen's chest and biting.
He'll drag this spirit out of Mob, Reigen thinks deliriously as a third,
thicker tentacle awfully begins to press inside.


===============================================================================


Reigen's eyes open slowly, adjusting to the low light. He pushes himself up on
his elbows, feeling the blanket draped over him slip from his shoulders. Reigen
stares blearily at it, at the couch under him and around the darkened office.
It's night. How long has he been sleeping? He remembers heading straight over
after school, and—
"Master!"
Mob's seated in a chair across from the sofa, chin pillowed in one hand. He
jumps at Reigen's hoarse shout, blinking slow and complacently back at his
student. Reigen feels his face heat up under that stare. What kinda guy does
what he did to Reigen and looks at him like it's no big deal! It might have
been the spirit that possessed him, but Mob has some nerve looking all innocent
like he didn't just try to split Reigen in two.
Wait. Did he?
Reigen yanks back the blanket to examine himself; clothed and unsticky. He
feels a little sweaty, but that may be cause the room's still a little warm.
The sweet smell seems to have passed, and the tentacles are nowhere to be seen.
Reigen eyes Mob suspiciously in case there are any errant new limbs lurking in
dark corners.
"What happened?" Reigen asks. His throat feels raw.
Mob's quiet for so long Reigen isn't sure if he's choosing his words or just
ignoring him. "There was a spirit," he settles on eventually. Reigen shifts
under the blanket, thinking irritably, Duh. "You're sick."
Reigen nods dumbly. That makes sense. He does feel sick; feverish hot and
muscle sore. He rubs the small of his back and lower, testing. He should
definitely be a lot sorer, considering…
"You should rest." Mob says, stepping forward and grabbing the blanket's edges.
As he lifts it back to cover Reigen's chest, Reigen's hands dart out. Master's
not possessed, but Reigen takes matters into his own hands, tugging his teacher
into a hurried kiss.
Maybe what Reigen imagined didn't really happen. But the sentiment is still
there, he thinks, fingers laced behind Mob's neck. He's sick, so he'll let
Master make him feel better.
Chapter End Notes
     the end! thanks for sticking with me for this tentacle epic; I've
     explored this from every angle imo so I will definitely moving onto
     other things. don't worry tho, I know where my toast is buttered and
     will def keep at the mp100 smut.
     thank you guys so much for reading and sorry for the wait!
     find me @mobchuu on twitter!
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