more nanami content with top male reader pls 😩😩
You've got it, Captain!
Nanami Kento was a man on the run.
It was an inescapable hell of his own making. The ghosts of his youth and his failures were a perpetual monster clinging onto his shoulders, curses designated just for him. Kento did not make a habit of being a coward, but he could not afford staying in a place like this.
So, he ran.
He ran, and ran, and ran and he kept on running until Time became a loose construct that could not suspend him; until Space became a volatile concept that could not keep him afloat. The Universe was at a constant state of expansion, and Kento ran as if he was trying to see how far it would go.
('It expands a pretty damn long way,' was what Kento would answer if he were asked that question. But no one did, no one was ever given the chance to. Kento always ran before they could stop him just long enough to ask.)
So, it must be some big cosmic joke that Kento found himself landed back here once again, at the centre of your gravity, pulled in and desperately trying to pull away from the boundaries of your magnetic field. You were his best friend, his favourite What If, his greatest Could Have Been.
You were not supposed to be here, buried hilt deep inside of him and moaning out his name as if it was a prayer worth worship over.
His nails dug into the skin on your back, threatening to break through and into the flesh, but you didn't seem to mind. Your mouth was still on his skin, teeth painting yearning all over the canvas of his skin in shades of purples and blues.
Fuck, he hadn't done missionary in so long. Hell, he hadn't even had anyone like this in a long time. He was always too cautious, too hesitant of what he would reveal. But it was you—you with your charming smile and bright eyes—and if Kento couldn't trust you with himself, then he couldn't trust anyone; not even himself.
Kento should be self-conscious. He had changed across the years since he had left you—gotten better; gotten worse. He was not the boy you knew, then. He had grown out of it, grown into it, grown up into something else entirely.
But you smiled at him the same, held him the same, and he could not find it in himself to grieve the boy he used to be.
Kento had become Schrödinger's Cat, trapped in his youth and in his present. You kissed him the same, but you fucked him different. You cradled his face the same, but your cock dragged against his walls. You liked him the same, but you loved him different.
Kento's back arched, feeling the tip of your cock hit his prostate, and he found he didn't mind it at all. He didn't mind it a single bit as long as you kept painting stars in the dark abyss behind his eyes. He didn't mind it a single bit as long as you kept fucking him as if he was a man precious, a man loved. He didn't mind it a single fucking bit as long as you would just—
"Kento." Your voice was ragged, fucked out, high off endorphins and adrenaline and sex and him. "Fuck, Kento, you feel so good."
And Kento couldn't say a damn thing back, because you were inside him, fucking him good, making him shake, and for a moment, Kento wasn't running anymore. He wasn't running, and he was neither here or there, but he was still in your arms. He still had you.
"Come on," he grunted. His arms tightened around you, forcing your body closer against him. "I wanna feel you."
He felt your breath fan against his skin, soft and incredulous, but you indulged. Your pace picked up, hands wandering from his hips up his chest over to cradle his jaw. Your mouth met his in a sloppy kiss—all tongue and teeth—while your hips snap against him harder.
Kento could barely think, pre-occupied by the feeling of your cock fucking against him, hard and rough, damnation and salvation all at once. You didn't seem to mind, though; tongue fucking into his mouth in rhythm with the way your hips moved.
Kento was not a religious man, but he would believe in the existence of god just for a moment; just for you, just because of you.
Kento didn't believe that he could be saved, but he would like to be for a split-second. He wanted to be divine, wanted to be beautiful all over again, if only so that you would not have to stain yourself with his filth. So that he could have you, over and over again, and there would be no sin in the act of it.
"Kento," you murmured against his skin, as if you still couldn't believe he was quite real. He let out an ugly sound at the way you spoke his name; half a sob, half a whimper. "Kento. God, Kento. You're finally here. I've missed you."
But for now—
For now, perhaps, he could have you. For however short the while, for however mortal the moment is.
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On the topic of Raphael and him "being bad in bed".
Okay I'm only ever going to talk about this at length once and then never again. I've been avoiding talking about it until now because bringing it up always just seems to keep this topic in circles and it becomes an endless pit of nothing.
First of all, I know most of the time (like maybe 70% of the time) it's for the lolz. I get it. Hell, Raphael fans will be the FIRST to quip about this.
BUT
For those taking it seriously one way or another... It becomes such old hat VERY fast.
Those who use it as a jab towards Raphael havers are... Kinda dumb. Because it's like... Okay, and? You act as if somehow negates the entirety of his character somehow just because "HAR HAR HANDSOME DEVIL MAN IS BAD AT SEX" and it's so... vapid and boring? Also it seems a lot of people keep thinking "bad at sex" = JUST that he finishes too fast and nothing else but they seem to forget that the player character came up with that insult on the spot (rather than seeing it as a commentary about his pure selfishness and where it stems from). Haarlep is also a bias source. There's a semblance of resentment from them AND they're a damn incubus. EVERYONE'S terrible in bed in comparison (have you seen Tav? Little shit just lays there like a sack of potatoes during the Haarlep scene). This isn't me saying "Oh it means Raphael is terrific in bed because Haarlep's word cannot be trusted". HELL, no. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm saying "okay... What can I glean from that set of information?"
I feel like this goes for Raphael havers too who have this conversation. I feel like many tend to fall into this trap of odd desparity when they realise that "oh no our magnificent hot man is bad at sex" and somehow treat it as if it's forever a caveat and somehow negates the ENTIRETY of Raphael as a complex character. My first reaction when I got this information during House of Hope was laughing and then going "mmm that's so interesting and adds such a great layer to this already amazing character. Where else can I take this to". In fact, House of Hope as a quest does SO much in adding all these tidbits that make Raphael not just another boring, all knowing, god like, ineffible character. It made me love and appreciate his character even MORE. instead of going in circles and lamenting in how this is somehow "the worst thing ever", I think it's way more fun to explore it and delve into where the root of his narcissism and self esteem issues come from. The dichotomy and complexes of his character. There's SO much to talk about there and yet we're still just stuck on "haha devil man is a bottom and bad in bed" (which is another ridiculous thing btw because people seem to misconstrue bottoms as JUST being submissive. Y'all need to be more open minded 😂).
Apologies if this came off as ranty/condescending maybe. But it's coming from someone who's just minding her own business but have to see a variation of that line CONSTANTLY in the notes/tags on my art/gif posts and as I said... It gets so old REALLY fast. Like please be more imaginative than this, I beg of you. 😭
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