
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7746763.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo/Dimple
  Character:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo, Dimple_(Mob_Psycho_100)
  Additional Tags:
      bara_dimple, mob's_crush_on_tsubomi_explored_and_devoured, Size
      Difference, sex_ed
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-12 Words: 2496
****** Birds and Bees ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Dimple gives Mob a thorough rundown of Sexual Education.
Notes
     for some very dear friends of mine.........u know who u are ;-)
See the end of the work for more notes
Her hand is soft and he feels unrestrained bliss.
...
Her lips are beckoning him, and he leans in close...
"Shigeo!"
Mob's eyes snap open with a start, and he's momentarily blinded by the spectral
glow of Dimple's blobby form in the darkness of his room. He's breathing hard
and he can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and his sleep-addled
brain desperately works to make sense of his current situation. "...Dimple?"
"Thank goodness, Shigeo! You were getting really worked up in your sleep.
Looked like you were having a nightmare, so I tried to wake you."
The ghosts of Tsubomi's touch lingers on his skin, and Mob brings his hands to
trace over them. Something hot is boiling in his gut and it reminds him of the
time Ritsu showed him how to pleasure himself. He angles his knees to rub them
together.
"Um, Dimple..."
"Hm? What's bothering you, Shigeo?"
"Do you know what it's like...to feel desire?"
Dimple quirks an eyebrow, not used to the boy being so talkative about his
feelings. "What's this all about?"
Mob struggles to find words that describe what he's feeling. "There's a...
sensation...right--" he moves his palm to rest a little above his pelvis, "--
here. I don't know what it means, Dimple."
The spirit gives him a once-over, then blanches at some revelation. "You...that
wasn't a nightmare, was it?"
Mob shuffles his feet together under the blankets. "No...I was with Tsubomi,
and..."
Dimple forcibly summons his hands to gesture for Mob to stop, clamping his eyes
shut in an exaggerated fashion. "Woah, woah! No need to go any further, I can
fill in the blanks."
"...you can?"
Dimple stretches his mouth into a thin line, seemingly uncertain about his next
words. "Well... yeah? Don't tell me you don't know about..." he pauses, sizing
Shigeo up and down before tentatively continuing, "...the...birds and the
bees?"
Mob looks down to the loosely clenched fists on his lap. "Well...I know of
them. I just don't know how to...do them." He lifts his head up to make eye
contact with Dimple, hesitantly determined. "Can you show me?"
Dimple's body wracks with spasms, voice taking on the characteristics of a
startled tank engine. "Shigeo, it's too soon for you to be thinking about this
kind of stuff! Let's just say I leave now, huh?"
Mob's face falls slightly as he watches Dimple float nervously toward the
window. He casts his gaze back down toward his fingers, anxiously intertwining
them with one another. "Dimple...I was just thinking about how...how, if I were
to get together with Tsubomi, and if she were to ask me to do this kind of
thing, I'd...I'd want to do her right." He clenches his fists together.
"Dimple, please."
Dimple is purposely avoiding eye contact with Mob as he chatters his teeth with
indecisiveness. Had he some fingernails, Mob thinks, he'd probably be chewing
them. "I dunno, Shigeo...that's a very intimate thing to do with somebody."
"You said once that spirits don't have sexual drives," Mob inputs. "So... it
wouldn't really matter."
Dimple draws his face up into a pout, obviously hurt by this assumption. "I
wouldn't say that."
Mob climbs out of bed and stands atop his sheets, opening out his palms for
Dimple to see. "Dimple, can you take my hands?"
The ghost gives him a suspicious look but ultimately reaches out his tiny
digits to rest in Mob's. The boy smiles at him. "I don't have anyone to ask
this of besides you, Dimple. It would be just as meaningful if you were a
person, but you're not a person. You're a...spirit, and I still like you. I
want you to do this for me. Can you?"
Dimple makes to take his hands away and cover up his face from embarrassment,
but Mob holds on tight. "Please, Dimple," he repeats.
Dimple makes a monstrously bashful noise before looking away. "I guess... if
you really want... I can try."
Mob lets go of the ghost's hands and smiles thankfully. "How do we start?"
Dimple, finally escaping from Mob's grip, scratches at his nonexistent chin.
"Uh, well... I suppose I should take my humanoid form..."
"Okay," Mob says.
"Okay," Dimple says. He lets out a breath through his nose and cracks his
knuckles. His form trembles and Mob watches with well-adjusted and tired eyes
as it grows exponentially in size, creating much more of an uproar than Mob was
expecting; he doesn't remember this transformation very well from the other
times he'd seen it. The room is rumbling. His hang-down lamp jangles as it
shakes from side-to-side, and Dimple lets out a surprised exclamation as his
back hits the ceiling. His growth stops and he takes the next couple seconds
examining the room, muscles rippling and toes flexing to get used to his new
height. His voice exerts much more intensity than it did before, taking on a
wiry undertone. "This is a lot less space than I expected we'd have."
"Can't you make yourself a little smaller?" Mob asks. Dimple is currently
standing at about eleven feet, leaning uncomfortably over Mob while his back
brushes the walls of the room. It's a bit... inconvenient.
Dimple hums in thought, a noise that echoes eerily in the dark room. "I could,
but I'm so used to this size it'd take more energy than it's worth to maintain
it. Sorry, kid."
"It's okay." Mob's still standing in his socks atop his bed sheets, warm gut-
feeling still present along with something much newer. "Do we...get intimate
now?"
Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Dimple snorts. "If you want." He
begins to slowly lower himself down onto the ground—presumably so he doesn't
knock something over—and pats his lap when he's settled with his feet splayed
out around Mob's bed. "Come here," he beckons with his deep, rolling voice.
Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, Mob climbs up onto his muscular
thighs and...sits. There's no genitalia visible, just a smooth perineum leading
up to a row of well-toned abs. Be it the sleep deprivation or intense curiosity
itself, he acts on the impulse to move his hands to them and touch without a
second thought. It has a velvety texture. Warm. It's not necessarily solid,
instead taking on the characteristics of a firm, viscous substance.
It's different.
By the time he's finished inspecting Dimple's body textures, the spirit is
fidgeting and keeping his eyes trained on anything but Mob. The boy reaches for
Dimple's (much bigger) hand, having to lean out of his lap in order to take
hold of it with his own. He clenches tightly and feels that churning sensation
down in his stomach again, making his voice a little breathy with
determination. "I'm ready."
Dimple hesitantly makes eye contact with him, ghost sweat dappling his ghost
skin. "You sure? You're sure you're sure?"
Mob clumsily twists around on the floor, large hand in hands, to look up at
him. He feels heat rush to his face as he answers, with a slight smile, "Yes."
Dimple shoots him a weary smile back, picking the boy up and returning him to
his lap. "Okay," then, with more confidence, "Okay, just rely on me! I've
watched this happen many times before, Shigeo. I'll show you the best ways to
go about sex."
Mob shifts himself into a more comfortable position, and then waits for
instructions. "What now?"
"I'm going to take off your shorts."
“Oh.”
Before he can voice any objections the ghost wiggles his fingers into the hem
of Mob's waistline, slipping the pajamas off with ease and carelessly throwing
them elsewhere in the room. His hands are smooth and they feel exquisite as
they slide down his thighs; Mob can feel an erection beginning to burgeon
beneath his underwear from the touch. He whines.
Dimple smiles more assuredly now, easily pinpointing the cause of Mob's plight
and moving his hands back in order to stroke his legs tenderly. His touch is so
soft, yet it leaves a slight residue of slime behind in its wake. Mob exhales
from the sensation.
"Does that feel good, Shigeo?"
"Y-yeah," he breathes.
"Good. I'm going to take your underwear off now."
"'kay."
And so he dips his fingers into Mob's briefs and yanks them down, once again
flinging them out of sight. Mob can't bring himself to wonder about that as the
warm, stale air between them tickles his erect penis and leaves him gasping for
air.
"Aah—"
"Now, you're the man in the relationship, Shigeo," Dimple starts. "She's gonna
want you to come down on her. Here," —he puts his wrist bones and fingertips
together to form a sort of canoe-shape with his hands— "This will act as make-
shift vagina. Do you know what to do from here?"
Mob can feel sweat beading on his forehead and a furious blush work its way to
his cheeks. It's very humid in the room and he takes in a gulp of sticky air.
"I—I don't think...I mean, maybe, I don't know—"
Dimple chuckles, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Shigeo, sometimes, I
swear...You've never seen a porno? Not once?"
Mob candidly shakes his head no, mouth clamped tight in fear of embarrassing
himself further. Dimple sighs, leaning back a little, keeping his hands
together but gesturing with them as a whole while he speaks.
"Here's the deal, Mob. Vaginal penetration is the way to go. You know what a
vagina is?"
Mob nods this time.
"Good. That's where you're going to put your...thing."
"My...thing?"
"Your meat stick. Anaconda. Skin flute. Look—the deal is, she's gonna want your
thing inside of her and you're gonna be the one to stick it inside. Make
sense?"
Mob, in his tired, tired state, desperately attempts to grasp hold of the
concepts being introduced to him, but it just feels like math class. At three
in the morning. "I...stick this?" He gestures to his penis and then to the gap
between Dimple's hands, "In there?"
"You got it."
"And that'll..." He trails off, unsure of how to continue.
"...make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world," Dimple finishes. "Trust
me, Mob, you just need a little lube and everything'll run as smooth as you can
imagine. Luckily, my skin acts as a natural lubricant so there won't be any
problems here. Whenever you're ready, we can start."
Dimple looks at him expectantly and Mob tries not to shake but fails
completely. It takes a few seconds to line himself up with Dimple's hands, but
the ghost adjusts accordingly to accommodate for his ineffective height. Mob
inhales, and then gingerly angles his pelvis down into Dimple's hands to slide
his way in. He coughs out a gasp at the sensation; it's slimy and wet, warm and
falteringly solid. As he slides himself in and out he moans surprisingly
loudly, making Dimple flinch.
"Woah, there, Tiger!" he murmurs, "People are still sleeping in this house!
Might wanna keep it down a little."
Mob clasps his hands over his mouth as he nods, leaning over Dimple's hands to
catch his breath from exertion. He can feel his knees wobble. His lungs are
struggling for air. Tears are pooling in his eyes, resting right on his burning
cheeks. He steels his face with determination. Break's over; time to get
serious.
He keeps going—for Tsubomi.
A strangled yelp finds its way through his fingers as Dimple draws in his
thighs to rest against Mob's, Mob feeling the back-and-forth movement as Dimple
rocks his hips in rhythm with his thrusts. "Nnrgh—!"
Dimple keeps going, incorporating his own hands into the movement as well.
"How's this, Shigeo?" He sounds a little strained, but relatively normal. He's
keeping his voice down, a gesture that's very much appreciated by Mob
considering the amount of sensory information rushing to his brain at the
moment. He peels his hands off his mouth to clasp the spirit's forearms,
letting loose a barrage of heavy pants and drool as he struggles to keep
himself upright.
"Nnnn—good." He's barely able to keep his tone on the same octave as pleasure
rolls through his body, craving some form of release. He hears his window
blinds clatter together and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hone in his
power in order to prevent a huge ruckus that would inevitably wake up the whole
household. What surprises him, though, is Dimple suddenly leaning forward to
lock their mouths together, forcing Mob to bend back uncomfortably as the
larger being slips his tongue through the curtain of saliva. Dimple's hands
part—one coming to rest at the small of Mob's back and the other encompassing
the boy's dick, continuing to stroke briskly and with purpose—in order to
repurpose their current position. The mouth swallowing his own is much, much
larger than expected, and the other's tongue gags him as he fights for air;
Dimple's teeth graze his cheeks and Mob struggles not to waste breath moaning
as loud as possible. His hands find themselves clutching Dimple's muscular,
slick chest, and had the other's hand not been supporting him he would have
collapsed on the floor from the onslaught of sensations wracking his body. He
whines, but it comes out as more of a gurgle behind Dimple's large, silky lips,
and it takes a slip of Dimple’s claws sinking into his back to draw out a quick
rush of pain to—
—it's too much. He comes, all over Dimple's hand and all over the floor of his
room. He wants to cry; he can't pinpoint the emotion that he's feeling,
but—it's good. His body is quaking and he's struggling to move his limbs
appropriately, relying on Dimple to keep him upright. "Nnnngh—"
The spirit takes his time disconnecting their mouths, first moving his hands to
gently bring Mob into an embrace. When his tongue finally slips out, painfully
slowly, Mob instantly coughs, already missing its warmth while he gasps for air
and allows his lungs to recover. His body feels like it's overheating, his head
is filled with cotton, and the only thing that registers is that Dimple's arms
feel safe and inviting. He lets himself melt into his arms while Dimple smiles
down fondly at him. “Sorry about the claws, Shigeo. Got a little excited there.
Are you okay?”
Mob nods, dismissive about the slight pain stinging his back. There’s a
silence, and Mob can feel Dimple move his head up to cast his eyes around the
room. He hums bemusedly. "I'm surprised there weren't more...psychic accidents
during that whole ordeal."
"M' Tired," he yawns as an explanation, closing his eyes and resting his head
against Dimple's chest.
"Goodnight, Shigeo."
"Goodnight, Dimple."
                                 ━━━━━━━━━━━━
In the morning, Mob finds himself nestled beneath his covers, shirt sticking to
his back with sweat and a tangy, unfamiliar scent clinging to his skin.
End Notes
     anyone thinking that bara dimple isnt the hottest dimple is a LIAR
     and a FAKE
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
