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    Summary

    Reigen didn’t even question when Mob pressed up against him, an unimaginable hard heat pressing against his leg. He didn’t even question why it was buzzing, vibrating with psychic energy. He couldn’t even think. And it was Mob after all, the last thing he would question.

    He didn’t even question when he bent his head down before him, closing his eyes, feeling a million sparklers filling his mouth, like he had shotgunned a whole bag of popping candy in one go. All he knew was it was warm, and thick and Mob.

    And Mob didn’t usually have a dick.

    [for MRMfest psychic dick time]

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