Incubation (Sukunaxreader, Nanamixreader, EXPLICIT)

Kento Nanami

The morning after Sukuna had been there was the first time Kento Nanami came to your room, arriving just as you were emerging from the bath. With a startle you snatched the sides of your robe from eunuchs Nan and Tag and flung them closed.

"Who the hell are you!" you hissed, darting behind Tag who was the taller of the pair.

Broad and pale, Nanami didn't hear you – or so he pretended. Not even lifting his eyes your way he went to the bed and peeled back the quilt, inspecting the sheets beneath.

Humiliation needled up through your skin. "What the fuck are you doing?" you demanded. "Get out!"

He didn't acknowledge you, only folded the quilt back down and went from the room, locking it behind.

Furious, you shook. More than the one calling himself Sukuna who had invaded every orifice of your body the night before, you hated this man.

Nanami came back every day at the same time, every day refusing to look up or acknowledge when you shouted at him across the bed, even when you waved your arms. He clearly wasn't blind, but was it possible that he was deaf? Determined to find out, you brought a bar of soap from the bath one afternoon, smacking Nan's hand away when he attempted to take it from you. Throwing it hard against the wall, you flushed triumphant as Nanami jerked his head and dropped the lifted quilt.

"Hey!" you accused from across the room. "I know you can hear me!"

"....We have no reason to speak," he mumbled at last, holding his eyes low, and you jolted at the sound of his voice. A low, smooth gravel. Like stones pressed belly to belly. Like river.

You wanted to interrogate him, to scream at him for prying into your bed and your privacy, but you faltered, your heart suddenly racing fast as the silver rain blowing sideways outside the window. Nanami turned from the bed, moving for the door.

"Who are you?" You stepped out from the opposite side.

Nanami hesitated his hand over the doorknob, then pulled it open and went through, vanishing to the sound of the lock.

Once when you were a child, your parents took you and your brother to the ocean during summer holidays. The day was overcast and grey, too cold to swim, and so leaving the sandy part of the beach the two of you had gone clambering up and over the slick black boulders hemming the long wooden pier. You remembered waving back to your parents, chests bursting bold and adventurous. The tide rushed at the rocks, shouldering them with foam higher and higher as you and your brother jumped and scrambled out further, further, until suddenly your rubber sandal landed a mossy smear. 

Slip. 

With a shriek you vanished, swallowed fast under an eager lap of sea. Tiny hips trapped rock-to-rock, the water closed in cold as November, slapping your open mouth saline and airless. It filled the holes of your ears, the gaps of your toes, the small dark space between your legs. Lungs bursting, you opened your eyes against the icy burn, stretching out your hands for the light-shattered surface above.

Waking up groaning sometime the day after Sukuna had left you in your heat, you felt as though you'd crawled up from under that same sea, its weight still dragging at your limbs. Eyes sore and crusted from crying, you rubbed the salt from your face and rolled supine, filling your lungs until you coughed, your breasts bouncing in the cold white light.

The sound of a man's throat clearing snapped your gaze across the room and you froze as your eyes landed over Nanami's seated form toeing the base of the iron stove.

"The fuck..!" you gasped, snatching the nearest pillow against your naked body.

"I wasn't looking," he said with his face away, staring harder at the stove. "But now that you're up, please dress."