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reyalvr · 6 months ago

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SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

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KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t.

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face.

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up?

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?”

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.”

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you.

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him.

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his.

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate.

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on.

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.”

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.”

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-”

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson.

Shit. Strike two.

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him.

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag.

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself.

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance.

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours.

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three.

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours.

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger.

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence.

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you.

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up.

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place.

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat.

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices.

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd.

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system.

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.”

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.”

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone.

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on.

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something.

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.”

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously.

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board.

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely.

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words.

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off.

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan.

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him.

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything.

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.”

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door.

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.”

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in.

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while.

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.”

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features.

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation.

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.”

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine.

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

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mitskicain · 5 months ago

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navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

synopsis: the two of you head back to his place and you see why the boy has soooo many fans that are crazy about him

content warning: dry humping, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, denial, p in v, overstimulation

word count: 1.6k

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001: feral

Breaking news: famed baseball player of the Yomiura Giants, Ken Sato, fucks like a god. And my god, did you have to experience it to believe it.

After the exchange at the bar, the two of you headed back to his place on his bike, barely big enough for the two of you. It’ll fit, he insisted, handing you a helmet. You took your place in front of him, in between his legs—your chest to his back, and the two of you set off. But here’s the thing about riding a fast bike, zooming through the city, with the tiniest skirt and thong that you have on—everything vibrates, hard. When you realized, it was already too late to ask him to stop. You were going 90 miles an hour, desperate to get home as quickly as possible to bang it out. All you could do was bite your lip as you fought back the urge to moan and make a mess all over the front seat of a stranger that you barely knew. Eitherway, you squirmed, unknowingly grinding against the leather, trying to focus on getting yourself off when you heard a guttural groan escape from the figure behind you. You froze, realizing the all-too-familiar feeling of something hard poking your back.

“Don’t stop,” he beckons, hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you down against the seat so you couldn’t escape. “Keep getting yourself off. It turns me on, hearing you moan like that.”

You smile smugly, enjoying the effect you had on him, and start to, almost performatively, continue where you left off, drawing out your moans and grinding against him. His grip around you tightens, and you lean backwards, almost writhing. One hand gripping the front of the seat for balance, the other reaching up around his neck, pulling him downwards, so he could see you and your perverse performance. You didn’t really care that you were out in public, technically the two of you were going so fast it must’ve seemed like a blur towards the passersbys, who would’ve just heard the faintest hint of moaning underneath all that engine revving.

Unfortunately, your teasing couldn’t last forever, as you finally arrived at his place. Grinning up at him, you expected something grand, like him grabbing you and taking you then and there, but he had gotten off his seat and headed for the door without as much as giving you a second thought. Shocked, confused, and a little bit hurt—you followed after him, walking through the garage door towards the illuminated living room, which almost seemed to glow amber. However, before you had time to admire the gorgeous exterior, you found yourself shoved against the wall, his hands by your head. Your heart pounded in your chest, unsure of whether to feel afraid or excited.

“Had fun, huh?” He says, almost growling. You could make out the taut of his jaw and how his eyes were a fierce intensity of frustration and something else—more carnal—hunger. “Making a mess, teasing me—so impatient.”

His hand darts underneath your skirt, sliding in between your folds. You bite your lip, the pads of his fingers are rough against your skin, but they’re also so big, and so warm. He pulls them out, parting his fingers to showcase the sticky mess in between your thighs. A blush creeps up to your cheeks at his display of your arousal; partially embarrassed, you look away, to which he grabs your chin roughly, redirecting you towards his uncompromising gaze.

“No, look at me.” He barks, “where was that confident little slut that was hitting on me in the bar, huh?”

God.

He moves down towards your ear, his warm breath tickling the skin of your neck.

“You wanted to know how hard I bite right?” He whispers, his voice having this abrasive, impatient edge. “You’ll find out soon enough. Come here.”

And in one swift motion, he slings you across his shoulder like you weigh nothing, heading to the bedroom. You laugh nervously, part in excitement, and part in fear for what’s to come. You had never met someone as eager as he was, practically stomping on the gas pedal. You let out a surprised squeak when you are roughly thrown onto the mattress. With barely a moment to adjust, you feel him flip you over onto your stomach.

“Hands and knees,” he commands, pulling your hips closer to him. “Now.”

You do as he says, feeling his hands part you slightly, the cool air of the night and his hot breath against your core. You press your face into the sheets of his bed in anticipation.

“God,” he sounds, “do you have any idea how hard it was to not fuck you then and there in the middle of the street?”

He runs a finger down your heat, rubbing circles around your clit. You roll your eyes back and moan into the mattress, your voice coming out muffled.

“No,” he says, his large hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you up against him. His other hand wraps around your hip, reaching down to resume his actions. “Don’t hide, come here—you wanted this right?”

He quickens the pace of his fingers, causing you to arch your back against him, pressing yourself against his throbbing erection. He groans again, almost painfully, and starts to grind himself against your ass.

“Hey, come on, answer me,” his hand lightly slaps your face, “you wanted this right? Practically asking for it, staring me down with those fuck me eyes.”

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in pleasure. His fingers find their way into your mouth, finger-fucking both your holes, eliciting the lewdest moans from you. His grinding grows more and more desperate, almost throwing you off balance had it not been his grip around you keeping you in place, unable to resist or escape.

“Use your words,” he snarks, “use your words, baby, I believe in you.”

You let out another moan.

“Y-yes,” you manage to stutter out, drool dribbling around his fingers and down your chin.

“What was that?” He says, his voice teasing, breath hot against your ear. “I didn’t catch that—can you tell me again, pretty girl?”

You were so close, practically on the edge, your hips grinding against the palm of his hand, desperately chasing release.

“Yes!” Crying out as best as you can, mouth still full, “I wanted this, I asked for it.”

“Good,” he coos in your ear, “good girl.”

The praise made your insides clench and tighten around his finger, producing a perversely wet squelch. You knew from the noise that you were already a dripping mess down there, arousal coating his hand dripping down your thighs.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out from inside of you, and you gasp at the sudden loss of sensation. You look back and whimper, having been so close.

“Poor baby,” he speaks softly, “feeling empty?”

You nod your head. He smiles a devilish grin. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fill you up with something else.”

He moves to nip and suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, positioning himself in between your thighs, slowly rocking back and forth—thighfucking you. You lean back against him, relishing in the pleasure of it all; your arm reaching up craning around his neck, bringing his ear down near your mouth.

“You sound so good, baby,” he moans, “soooo good.”

His hand moves from your neck, down your chest, and roughly squeezes your breast. You gasp, grinding against him more, frustrated at the teasing. You needed him in you. Badly.

“Please,” you sound out, voice dripping with need, “please put it in.”

He’s slightly shocked at your eagerness, but quickly brushes it off and smiles.

“Yeah?” He teases, “you want me that bad?”

You nod desperately. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

You feel the head of his cock press up against the swollen slit of your entrance, and in one swift motion, he pushes himself inside of you, your slickness once again making a lewd squelch. You throw your head back, finally getting the pressure you’ve been craving, letting your hips fuck into him roughly.

“Fuck,” he curses, “god, you feel so good baby.”

He pulls out slightly, before thrusting back into you, the entirety of his length pressing up against your g-spot, pushing you over the edge—legs shaking and squirting, doubled over.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, “you came just from that?”

Your lie almost motionless, trying to catch your breath, limp against the mattress. God, that was the best orgasm you’ve had in months. You’ll spend forever trying to chase that same high.

“Oh sweetheart,” he coos, kissing along the trail of your spine, “I’m far from done.”

He flips you over onto your back, spreading apart your thighs and pushing himself into you again. Your back arches instinctually, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking all of him.

“My gorgeous girl,” he hums, hand roughly gripping your face, forcing you to look at him. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on this cock.”

His thumb slides into your mouth again, making a mess of your face. His hips stutter into you, and you are helpless—overtaken by pleasure, rolling your eyes back, getting absolutely fucked stupid by him.

“Good girl,” he keeps saying, “good girl, good girl. Taking me so well.”

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve climaxed, or how many hours this has gone on for. The seconds blurred into how many minutes in how many hours you didn’t know. All you know is that Kenji Sato fucks like a god, fucks you so good—possibly the best you’ve ever had.

“Don’t think,” he whispers in your ear, arms tightly wrapped around you, thrusting sloppily. “You don’t have to use that pretty brain of yours—don’t think—just cum. Cum for me, baby.”

And cum you did. Over and over again.

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author’s note: GODDDD ME WHEN ME WHEN ME WHEN 💥💳💥💳💥💳 (I say this like I’m not in voluntary celibacy) hehe I hope you guys liked this 🤭🤭🤭 I’ll be honest smut is still something that’s kind of tricky for me to write but overall I’m kind of proud of this ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥 I think I kinda cooked 🗣️🗣️💥💥 all in all, I will say that I took a lot of inspiration from Lady K and the Sick Man (iykyk) 👀👀🫦🫦🫦 and uh- yeah, expect more freaky scenes like these in the story because that’s like, the initial basis of their relationship HEHE until the next update 🫵🫵💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic

#Spotify #ultraman #ultraman: rising #kenji sato #Ken sato #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato smut #Ken sato x reader #ken sato x y/n #Ken sato x you #Ken sato smut #mitskicain #mitskicain’s works

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