Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11076369.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Suzuki_Shou/Suzuki_Touichirou
  Character:
      Suzuki_Shou, Suzuki_Touichirou
  Additional Tags:
      Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Father/Son_Incest, Minor_Violence, Anal
      Fingering, Anal_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-02 Words: 3042
****** Fuck Ups ******
by goretier
Summary
     Really, it's Touichirou's fault.
Notes
     I have around 15,000 words of attempts for this fic, here's 3,000
     words of it.
     They live in a western style house I guess, slakjdflsa;fjdls;
Shou stood under the doorframe leading into his father’s bedroom. It had been
five months since he’d last seen him, and this time his dad had returned with
feathery silver hairs at his temples betraying the passage of time just as
blatantly as the extra two inches Shou was stretched with. All his jeans had
been flooding until two days ago, before the text message came in announcing
his father’s spontaneous return, and Shou decided that the last thing he needed
was to appear childlike to his father in any way – besides, he’d had his eyes
on today’s particular set of ripped jeans for quite some time.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Shou said, watching his dad’s large,
clean hands magic his tie into place. Shou could never tell if his fingers
moved his ties with his powers or not, he always did it so quickly. Today his
tie was red, many times darker than Shou’s hair.
“I’ve only been in for two hours.” His dad said, not sparing him a glance as he
tightened it against his throat.
The conversation stagnated, like air in a damp room, and when Touichirou passed
his hands down his chest over his tie and the lapels of his suit jacket and
turned away towards to his luggage, Shou pressed against the doorframe after
him, hanging onto it like a child clinging to coattails. He didn’t cross the
threshold.
“And you’re leaving again?” He accused, petulance creeping into his voice,
grating against even his own ears as he snapped his mouth shut and let his
cheeks burn. He should be past this; he was nearly 13 now. No more of that baby
stuff.
“Today is Monday. I have business to attend to.” Touichirou said, his voice
even, mature, in control, calm. His eyes, however, spoke another story. It dug
into Shou’s stomach as he curled his fingers into the wood and narrowed his
eyes at the grain of it, fighting a stinging pain in his eyes. Baby stuff.
“Are you staying?” Shou asked the doorframe, digging his teeth into his bottom
lip. This was difficult. He didn’t even know why. “I mean, will you be back
tonight?”
“Why?” Touichirou asked, shuffling the bags by his feet with his telekinesis –
Shou sucked in a breath and watched. He stood with a broad stance and his
shoulders filled in his suit like every stitch of it was made with his vast
power in mind. Clothing and combs and a toothbrush and a bottle of shampoo
floated lazily in the air before reorganizing themselves in his bags. Some
shirts lined up by the closet patiently as others left their hangers to join
the shuffle above the cases. In only a minute, he was packed again.
“I don’t know!” The boy said, turning his face to the side, looking out into
the hallway even though he heard his dad pick up his bag – only one, this time,
though his stomach was still queasy.
“If you don’t know I can’t help you.”
“I just thought, that maybe we…”
Something ugly choked Shou’s throat shut when his dad’s phone rang. Touichirou
wasted no time answering, and Shou melted to the side with his face pressed
against the wall as his dad walked out of his room and to down the hall towards
the front door.
He felt small.
--
Shou was already thirteen when his dad returned – by one week and three days
exactly. This time he heard him come in, and the rush of it pulled some strange
emotion up his throat until he felt like he was sick. It was midday on a
Sunday, kind of rainy. He had been playing video games, stretched out on his
bed with his socked feet in the air, contemplating lunch.
He was used to people sweeping in and out of the house; maids, cooks, butlers,
lackeys and subordinates and plumbers, gardeners, tutors. This time, though,
there was the unmistakable sound of luggage in the hall – just one bag.
Shou held his breath as his father approached his room, counting his footsteps.
His dad’s strides were so much longer than his own. His footprints were bigger
– well, his shoes were. Shou had stood next to the pair left by the back door
one week and three days ago, his phone in his hand as he waited for a text to
arrive that wouldn’t come in.
Touichirou passed his closed door like it was a linen closet. Perhaps, Shou
thought as he bit his bottom lip, he thought he was out with friends.
Shou stayed in his room for the rest of the day, no longer hungry. Touichirou
left early the next morning – he had heard the car.
--
Tuesday afternoon, two weeks later, Shou arrived home from school and kicked
his shoes off by the door, tossed his bag by the island in the kitchen, and
pounced on the fridge like a man who hadn’t seen food in years.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A calm, even voice came. It stopped Shou’s
heart like a hand had closed around it, but he managed to keep the panic out of
his motions as he turned around and saw his father looking at him from the
kitchen table.
Touichirou was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, newspaper in hand,
mug of coffee cooling on the table in front of him. Maybe Shou was dreaming.
“I’m... Eating?” Shou said, blinking at him, fear giving way to confusion as he
flexed his grip on the door. Not even a note to warn him. Not even a greeting.
“No, you’re not.” Touichirou said, incredulous, final, snapping the fridge
closed from across the room with his powers, burning Shou’s fingers with the
friction from the door as it dragged shut despite his grip. “We’ll be having
dinner soon. Don’t you have homework?”
Shou closed his fingers into his palm and stumbled a step back from the
refrigerator. He watched his father take a sip of his coffee at the kitchen
table like he’d been there for hours. He was wearing a regular dark grey shirt
and some sweatpants. Shou couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him without
a pair of cufflinks.
“Are you kidding me?” Shou said, shock coloring his tone. The fire in his
father’s eyes as they snapped to his face and burned into his own sealed Shou’s
mouth into a thin line, and he gathered his backpack and fled to his room. He
had to think.
Two hours later he was summoned by text to the dining room, and he sat beside
his father as they ate together in silence until Shou’s nausea prompted his
father to speak.
“Don’t waste your food.” He said, curling his upper lip at his son as he picked
up his glass of wine.
“This is stupid,” Shou spat, clenching his fingers in the tablecloth, “What
even are you doing?”
Touichirou put his glass down and stared at him. Shou bubbled in anger.  
“I can’t eat dinner with my son?”
“What the hell, dad?” Shou said, meeting his eyes, shoulders bristling. “You
can’t just suddenly appear and then act like you’re in charge of me like that,
what are you on?” Derision lifted Shou’s upper lip into a snarl, mimicking his
father’s earlier expression. In the moment, though, Touichirou was looking down
his nose at him like he was still just some kid.
“I don’t know what you’re upset about.” He said coolly, folding his napkin, and
setting it down by his plate. “It’s not like I don’t provide for you.”
“That’s not the point!” Shou seethed, seeing red as his father took his eyes
off his face and instead looked up towards the ceiling. Like it was his fault
for ruining dinner. For making such a fuss about nothing.
“Enlighten me.” Touichirou said as he pushed his chair back, not even finished
with his meal. He had come to dinner in a suit.
“You missed my birthday, first of all.” Shou spat, climbing up on his knees in
his seat as his father crossed behind him, looking bored and uninterested.
“You’re what, twelve now?” Touichirou said, pausing to his right, digging into
his back pocket with one hand as he looked at his watch with the other. “I’m
late to town.”
Touichirou pulled out his wallet and pulled out the cash he had inside, and
dropped it down on Shou’s plate.
“I’ll be back tonight.” He said as he turned and walked out of the room. “Get
to bed on time.”
Shou threw up in the bathroom before Touichirou even got in the car.
--
Touichirou returned at two in the morning, and Shou watched him stumble out of
his car and catch himself against the railing leading up to the front door. The
driver called something to him but he waved him off, and the car grumbled down
the gravel driveway as he marched up the stairs as best he could.
“Shou!” Touichirou called, just as he got inside. All of Shou’s insides
constricted, and he pressed a hand to his mouth. Even from the second floor he
could hear him, as if he had shouted right beside his ear. The army of maids
and cooks and lackeys that usually populated the house at night along with him
usually left when the master of the house was home, and carefully, Shou pressed
his socked feet into the floor in all the soundless spots until he reached his
door and turned the lock.
His father’s strides were just as long, just as sure, just as heavy as usual,
but this time he stopped outside his door. Shou breathed out shallowly, a hand
still pressed to his mouth, and leaned against the door.
A soft thud sounded high up on the wood, and Shou’s breath froze in his chest.
On the other side of the door, Touichirou closed his eyes and breathed out
slowly from his nose, heated forehead against cool wood, trying to steady the
world as it spun around his head.
Touichirou stepped away from the door a beat later and walked into his own
room.
--
The next morning, Shou unlocked his door and stepped outside into the hallway.
It was Wednesday; his backpack was secure on his shoulders, and he held onto it
with two hands as he darted down the hall and down the stairs towards the door.
No breakfast today, just leave, go, get out, hurry.
“Shou.” Touichirou said, standing in the parlor, eyes burning the back of his
head. “Let me drive you to school.”
--
The car was cold. Shou squeezed his thighs together, and his fingers wrestled
the top strap of his backpack mercilessly as he fixed his eyes out the window.
The windshield seemed so large, as did the console. No music was playing, his
dad was silent.
When Touichirou was making a turn, Shou darted his eyes over to look at him.
His button down was crisp and white, cufflinks glinting. His tie was red, the
same one he’d seen him in all those months ago. His hair had more grey in it
than he had remembered.
His hands were big, but they rested on the wheel easily. He drove so smoothly
it was kind of like floating; Shou imagined his father picking up the car with
his telekinesis, bouncing above traffic like a cork in water, keeping his one
hand on the shift and the other on the top of the wheel like he was bored, like
steering was a bother. Touichirou was so strong, in so many different ways. He
could have taken his door down last night, fuck the lock. He could have been in
his room. What would he have done?
When they stopped around the corner from Shou’s school, he finally noticed that
he’d been staring for at least half the ride. Shou’s ears burned and he whipped
his head to the side, jamming his fingers into the seat belt buckle to free him
as he all but kicked the car door open. He had nothing to say as he mashed down
the anger boiling in his throat, threatening to spill out in another mess as
his father looked on in disapproval – just what he needed.  
Before he made his escape, one of his father’s large hands slid around the back
of Shou’s neck. Touichirou threaded his fingers through his hair. They felt
warm after the icebox of the car, especially with the way they sent sparks down
his spine when he tugged, just slightly, to free his hands. A choked gasp
tumbled from Shou’s shocked mouth as all his limbs melted to jelly. His father
hadn’t touched him in years.
Shou fell out of the car more than anything, wrenching himself away from his
dad’s hand, and the back of his head tingled with pleasure until lunch time. He
bit his tongue until it bled in the bathroom, locked in a stall, and wondered
what had gone wrong with him as he looked down at the lump in the front of his
jeans.
--
Touichirou left before he returned home. It was for the best, Shou thought, as
he tossed his backpack to the kitchen island. He wasn’t hungry – he couldn’t
think about eating. His stomach was still rolling, his thoughts were still a
mess and his skin was burning.
He paused by the bathroom, considered putting his fingers down his throat, and
actually felt his stomach jerk when he thought about his father’s fingers
instead.
Shou didn’t go to school the next day.
--
Touichirou returned two months later, but by then, Shou had himself sorted out.
He was nasty, bratty, derisive, scornful; he considered it a victory every time
Touichirou clenched his teeth together, he was triumphant every time his cool
eyes flashed dangerously.
So, when at the end of the night, Touichirou had his fingers buried in the hair
at the back of his skull tight enough to pull it out, Shou was fancying himself
to be probably the most clever son of a bitch to ever get the best of his
father.
“What is wrong with you?” Touichirou snarled, slamming his son’s head against
the hallway wall, his other hand tight on his wrists as he held his hands
behind his back. Shou thrashed, pushed back, fought with his teeth bared and
his eyes glinting as he felt the burn against his face smart his eyes.
“What, pops, you can’t take it?” Shou asked, pushing his hips back against his
dads, a thrill going down his spine in the act, safe in the knowledge that his
dad had no idea what was going on under the surface as his skin burned wherever
his father’s hands traveled. “I know you just love coming home to bully your
kid, I’m sure all your employees really look up to you.”
“I didn’t raise you to act like this.” Touichirou ground out between his teeth,
pressing his hips into his sons, forcing him back against the wall. Another
victory.
Shou laughed, short, spiteful. “No, you didn’t.” He said, meeting his father’s
eyes. “You didn’t raise me at all, actually.”
Touichirou was unimpressed, and the hand at the back of his head ripped out of
his hair to press down over his mouth.
“Children should be seen, not heard.” He said, falling back on his outdated
ideals, pulling a shiver down Shou’s back before he opened his mouth and laid
his hot wet tongue against his palm before biting down on him viciously.
“Fuck!” Touichirou spat, taking his hand away and shoving at Shou as he backed
up. Finally Shou’s knees gave out and he buckled against the wall, breathing
out heavily, wiping the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand.
He watched his father look at his hand in disgust before turning that same
expression at him, and Shou sneered back at him as his dad turned his back and
walked to the door.
Shou pretended his dad had stuck his fingers down his throat later that night
when he jerked off in his room, holding back nothing as he pulled at his own
hair and called his father’s name in the middle of the night with his window
open.
Touichirou sat in the car outside with the windows down, staring at the lump in
the front of his pants, and wondered where he had gone wrong.
--
The truce had been hard fought for, on both sides. Shou panted out through his
open, wet mouth loudly around his dad’s fingers, and pressed back violently
against his other hand. Touichirou was clinical, cold, distant in his actions,
but Shou could hear the emotion in the way he breathed out as he stretched his
ass open wide.
When his dad spat into his hole Shou bit down hard enough for him to tear his
fingers out from his mouth and get a rough, wet grip on his jaw, and he
swallowed a moan when he felt his father's day-old stubble grind against his
own cheek. The smell of his cologne went straight to his dick as it pulsed
between his legs, even pressed up against the cabinets like this.
“Watch your teeth, brat.” Touichirou said, digging his fingers further into his
jaw, lifting his hand in Shou’s ass to pick his hips up just that much more,
until the boy was straining on his tip toes against the counter.
“Fuck you.” Shou spat, scrambling his hands to dig his fingers into the marble.
He could feel the smirk against his cheek just for a second before his father
pulled back. Shou couldn’t keep the gasp in his chest, though, when in the next
moment his father laid his cock between his cheeks, wet and heavy, and pushed
his fingers into his hair at the back of his skull.
“Try not to wake up the whole neighborhood.” He said, a bored tone gracing his
voice, as he slid the head of his cock down far enough to catch his son’s open,
wet hole. “I’d hate to explain this.”
He pushed in, and Shou shouted his name at the top of his lungs just to get his
father’s fingers back in his mouth, where they belonged.
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