#PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE HEEED THE TAGS

[prettyboykatsuki]

naku weed | ayato kamisato.

✭ tags ; extremely dark content ahead, mother/son incest, noncon, penetration, oral(f!recieving), age gaps, 18+. pls do not read if u are squicked.

✭ wc ; 2.3k (horrified)

✭ a/n ; i needed to get this out of my system rip. i am choosing to blame @/saintshigaraki. AND CREDIT TO lamb for ayatocest worms in the first place

✭ synopsis ; naku weed. flower. naku. verb. translated to 'to cry'. ayato loves you more than any man ever could.

You never remarried when their father died.

Your marriage within the Kamisato clan had been of convivence. It's an old story. You were young and beautiful and Mr. Kamisato was kind and diligent. Of all the men who tried to court you, he had been the only one polite enough to ask you questions about what you wanted.

The answer wasn't much. Your only dream of course was to get out of that stuffy place you'd been born into. To feel the sun in your face and the wind in your hair. What desires did you have but peace?

Young and impatient - you married within the year. Your marriage to your husband was awkward and clumsy. But you loved each other. Despite all of his responsibilities, you spent more time together than you thought you were worth. He was kind and caring. You were impassive and easily embarrassed.

You were expected to provide an heir. Ayato felt like a blessing from the archons in that way. His father was always strict with him while he was raised.

Despite your grievances with showing your husband affection, showing Ayato that sort of love didn't trouble you. He was a bright boy. Cunning and clever but thoughtful and strong. A perfect heir who depended on you for warmth and comfort and sympathy.

(Looking back, perhaps it was your fault. You had always felt that something in Ayato was...off. He was a good, kind boy - mostly. Maybe denial was only a given. What mother could turn her back on her son?)

Ayato was a good child. He rarely got into physical altercations. Behaved perfectly. Was well-educated and charming and polite. Perhaps the only thing was the way he was fond of you. Even up to his teenage years where that kind of motherly affection was supposed to be embarassing - Ayato had accepted graciously. Hugs and kisses.

(When he was at the age to attend galas overseas, Ayato would often offer you a hand to dance. His usual desires for affection and touch didn't go unnoticed, nor did the way his hand rested too low on your back.)

When Ayaka was born, no longer did he hold the pretense of being a young boy. His love for his younger sister is something you could never admonish him for even now. He adored her so wholly and always made time for her to play.

Ayaka brought more responsibility to you as a mother, but you didn't mind. Such a brilliant little girl she was, eager to learn etiquette and how to brush her hair up into pretty styles like you did.

When Ayato was 18, his father passed in the blink of an eye. A storm had breached their boat. No survivors. It left you alone with two children, a widow amongst it all. After the initial devastation, the loss, the heartache—you were left only with Ayato.

You had never intended for the boy to take on so much responsibility. He was still young, after all. You should be strong. But truthfully, you only had their father. You cut-ties with your family long ago. In your devastation, Ayato comforted you. Told you he'd take care of fathers role in due time and that he'd take care of the family.

("Please rest easy, Mother." He hums, voice courageous and melancholy "I always intended to follow this path.")

The first time you found Ayato's desires out had been only a year later. He was 19 at the time, half your age. He'd requested you to his chambers for comfort. At the start, he was stone cold sober. A bottle of sake sat on yumemiru wood table, Ayato deep in thought by the fire place.

("Come drink with me, mother."

"You're not old enough to drink." You tsk. Ayato gives you a coy smile.

"If I'm old enough to become the commissioner, surely this much is fine."

You're unable to counter his point. He looks pouty. You sigh.

"Just a bit then.")

For the first time in your life, your son opened up to you completely. Though it wasn't the emotional sort of whining. Still ultimately reserved. He'd told you quite a bit. And you were happy that he could depend on you.

When the conversation fell on you, and your life - and your marriage to his father, you had no problem in telling him. Loosened up by the warmth of liquor.

("Your father was a good man," You say, wistful. Ayato's face darkens, if only a little. It's barely noticeable.

"I envy him." He says back. You frown.

"You did? What for?"

Ayato looks up at you.

"He had what I wanted most.")

You had asked about it then. Though deep down you were afraid of the answer, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to know. It was then that Ayato had cut in. He asked if you were lonely since his father passed.

A fear struck into your heart then. You confessed only a little. How could you be lonely when they ere around, you had said. A half-answer Ayato sees right through.

("You know that's not what I mean," Ayato says, voice so low you hardly catch it "Without a husband, Mother. Has it been lonely?"

Your breath hitches.)

The first time Ayato forces himself on you, it's like this. Your only son. Your clan heir. Your clever, cunning, brilliant boy. You could never turn your back him. Even so, the deliberate way in which he embraces you makes you stumble. How he approaches you that way is too well-practiced and too wanting. You are too afraid to ask when it started.

Ayato tells you, anyways.

("I've coveted you my whole life," Ayato mumbles. You push him away. You try too - but you've forgotten he is no longer a boy. He is a man like this and like many men - he is stronger than you.

You are pinned underneath him in earnest, his tongue licking a stripe up your neck - feather light kisses where your jaw meets your neck.

"Since I was born. Even when I lost my innocence to that girl," He confesses, though you don't think it's meant to be a secret "I was picturing you the whole time."

"Ayato," You whisper. Softly, hoarsely "Please stop this."

"I don't want too," He tells you so blatantly it startles you. He tips your head back, thumb on your chin. The way he kisses you is intimate and devoted and well-practiced. Disgust washes through at how good it feels "I've only every wanted this."

You believe him. It's horrible how much you believe him. Ayato touches you like a man who desires you. Your own son, flesh and blood, has forced your legs apart. It's been a long time since anyone touched you at all. The growing wetness and dull ache of desire in your body fills you with a sense of dread that almost makes you sick.

But, Ayato touches you like a man who loves you. You cannot deny this much no matter how much you'd like too. His tongue trails down your neck from your pulse to the valley of your breasts - his fingers grasping the soft swell of flesh with admiration. A strike of lightning passes you, like the Electro Archon herself permits this.

"I've loved these since I was young," Ayato whispers in some sense of self satisfaction. "Mother, you're truly more beautiful than any one woman I've ever laid eyes on.")

That night, Ayato doesn't do much more than rut himself against you to cum and fall asleep next to you. He kisses your temple and tells you he will move through this gently - so you don't have to worry too much. You want to be assured by his words. But the only thing you hear from it is the promise of next time.

When you say this much, that this cannot happen again, Ayato gives you a look of amusement. Kisses your knuckles and whispers against your skin that no man other than him will ever enter your chambers. He does this because he loves you, more than anyone.

("I resent father for touching you, despite knowing that is why you've given birth to me. I do not know if I was blessed or cursed to be your son."

His expression betrays his words. If his face is anything at all to go by, Ayato does not regret being born your son even a little.)

As time passes, his touching of you grows more persistent. Though, he's never violent nor threatening, he is possessive and shameless. He only reserves himself in front of Ayaka.

But the house maids and the butlers and Thoma all seem to know of Ayato's desires towards you. Some pity you, some seem disgusted. Most seem pleased that the commissioner is in a good mood when you are around and do not bother asking questions.

The first time Ayato takes you is on his 20th birthday. He requested you to his room. He even bought you nightwear to put on for him. By then, you're unable to refuse him. He'll take it out on his sub-ordinates if you do.

You wore it for him, bashful and shameful. He is still your son and he requests little from you other than this. In some twisted way, it often feels like this is all you can do. He's pristine and diligent and kind. In that way he's so much like his father.

("It suits you," He says, like he was predicting it. You swallow a sob as a wave of awareness graces you "Wedding lingerie, custom order. You're beautiful." )

That night he takes his time like he's always wanted you. You lay there so helpless to him. He has smooth hands and moles in all the places you remember. He takes to touching you delicately - too delicately for a woman your age.

He treats you like you are a young girl, a newly-wed couple and the feeling that overwhelms you is not one you can put a name to. He is not unkind. He pulls you apart with frustrating patience, relishing each and every inch of you. You're not sure where he learned this.

The comparison haunts you but even his father did not treat you like that. Maybe that is a given. Ayato is your son after all. A man could not compare to a sons love for his mother. Even if the thought makes your stomach churn, the way he treated you is not something to take lightly.

You felt pleasure from him. He licked and bit and nipped at all parts of you. Kissed down your navel with a thumb brushing over your stretchmarks (each part of you is his) and dug into the plush of your thighs. A womans body, he mumbled, taken by you.

He even licked you. It'd been a first for you. He was delighted to learn this. He tongued at your clit and sucked at you so diligently. He's always made you cum with his fingers and his hands before then. But that night was different, a special and cherished occasion for him.

And despite it all, you are in no place to deny him of joy. He has the world on his shoulders. When Ayato fucked you like two lovers, not mother and son - you only thought to brace yourself.

("Easy," He whispers. His voice is on the precipice of broken. You can feel him entering you, an awful intrusion. A reunion of it's own sort. "That's it. Good girl."

To be called girl, haunts you. But you can feel him. His cock. Hard velvet over steel and burning. He's thick and long, much bigger than anything you've ever taken before. Ayato holds onto your hips, fingers digging carefully into you. Your legs rest on his shoulders, knees pressed into yourself as Ayato folds you in half.

You whimper. It's been two years since you've experienced this, maybe more. When you look up at him, he's the splitting image of his father. He's grown up to be so handsome, it troubles you. He could have anyone if he chose it.

Why you? You want to ask, so much it's impossible to swallow. Ayato must sense your apprehension. Even as his cock penetrates you so deeply and so slowly - a shallow thrust like he's digging your insides out - you cannot bear it. You whimper and Ayato kisses you tenderly. Strong hands go to fiddle with your clit as a wave of desire clings to your ribs. Sticky, sensual arousal makes home in your heart. It feels good.

"Mother," He whispers, so lovingly you cannot turn away "This is the most blessed night of my life.")

It feels like so long ago now. Ten years is but a blip in time, and Ayato is yet to grow out of this. He still seeks you almost nightly. Your little girl is all grown up and clueless - only stopping to comment about how close you two are.

Your excuse is always that you were young when you had him, to which Ayaka doesn't question. By all means and all measures, Ayato has not let go of you. In the ten years that have passed, he has only gotten worse.

He's thirty, now. And you're well-past your prime, yet he cannot stop himself from leering at you. The guilt and shame still live inside of you, but lately you are uncertain there is a point.

You sit with your two children having tear in the mid-day. Sunlight pours through the cracks of the window. Ayaka rests her palm on her cheek.

"Nii-san," Ayaka asks, a curiosity in her voice "Won't you ever get married?"

You still. Ayato glances at you, then laughs.

"I don't have any plans to. Who will take care of our mother?"

You don't say a word. Ayaka hums.

"You've never been interested in anyone?"

Ayato thinks on it.

"Mm. A woman much older than me, once. A widow."

"Really?" Ayaka exclaims. He pauses to glance at you, then laughs over his tea.

"Really."