𝓯𝓲𝔁 𝓸𝓷

multistan | writer

[domm1etae]

☆ masterlist ☆

sent to tempt me masterlist

🤍┆adult，사랑에 빠졌다 — she/her

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ entp/infp | 21

buy me a sweet treat ☕

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TAG LIST WILL BE AVAILABLE SOON!

REQUESTS are open through the ask button, but just know that sometimes it takes me longer to write, or i might not vibe with your idea, so i don’t write it at all (but that doesn’t happen often). mostly, i’m just a very slow writer with a lot of unfinished works, hahah

[powerhayakawaa]

when you're trying to find a good fanfic to read but your tumblr fyp is genuinly shit

[domm1etae]

the lesson after class

teacher!yunho x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

your law professor gives you an opportunity to improve your failed assignment — but earning that second chance might require more than just studying harder..

nsfw tags under

f/m, teacher x student, p in v, older yunho, public intercourse, doggy, dirty talk, hard sexy time, touching, suggestive talk, age difference, pet names, shameless,

author's note: i wrote this while procrastinating from studying law btw and i just couldnt get the thought of teacher yuyu of my mind heheheh

there it was again, lying on your desk like something heavy you didn’t want to touch but couldn’t ignore. the assignment you had spent nights working on, rereading again and again, fixing every sentence until it felt right. you had been proud of it when you handed it in. quietly proud, the kind that warms your chest when you imagine the praise that might follow.

now it was back in your hands.

covered in red ink.

circles, arrows, little notes in the margins.

and at the top, written clearly enough that there was no way to misread it:

failed.

for a moment you just stared at it. your eyes moved over the word again and again like it might change if you looked long enough.

failed.

a tight, uncomfortable feeling spread through your chest, the kind that makes it harder to breathe. frustration, embarrassment… and something softer underneath it.

sadness.

weren’t you his good student anymore?

weren’t you the one whose work he always praised, the one he would mention when he talked about “real potential”?

you swallowed slowly, your fingers tightening around the paper.

did he hate you now?

or worse… was he disappointed?

that thought hurt the most.

because he had never been like the other teachers. he was always encouraging, always patient, always finding something good to say even when your work needed improvement. he would lean over your desk, pointing out ideas you hadn’t even realized were there, telling you how close you were to something great.

he believed in you.

or at least… he used to.

and now the same professor who used to write little motivational comments at the bottom of your essays had covered your paper in corrections so thoroughly it almost looked like a different document entirely.

logically, you knew the notes were fair. they were written neatly, carefully, even kindly. there was no cruelty in them. no mocking tone. just clear explanations of what went wrong.

but logic didn’t help much when all you could imagine was the look on his face while he graded it.

that slight crease between his brows.

the quiet sigh.

the moment he realized your work wasn’t good enough.

your stomach twisted.

you needed his approval more than you wanted to admit. you needed the way he nodded when you spoke in class, the way he looked at your assignments like they mattered. you needed his guidance, his attention, the steady reassurance that you were doing well.

without it, everything felt… wrong.

when you finally dared to glance up from the paper, he was already continuing the lecture like nothing had happened. calm voice, steady rhythm, chalk moving across the board.

he didn’t look at you.

not once.

and that hurt more than the red ink.

you tried to focus on the lesson, really you did, but your mind kept drifting back to the paper in front of you. every note felt heavier the longer you stared at it.

you had to do something.

anything.

maybe you could stay after class and ask what you could fix. maybe you could just accept the grade and promise yourself you’d do better next time.

or maybe…

your thoughts paused there, uncomfortable.

maybe you could remind him why he liked you so much.

it wasn’t something you usually did. in fact, you prided yourself on never needing to rely on anything other than your work. the idea alone made your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

and yet…

you knew he favored you.

everyone could see it, even if they never said it out loud. he always called on you first, always lingered a little longer when helping you, always met your gaze when you spoke.

he praised your ideas with a warmth that felt almost personal.

and sometimes—just sometimes—his eyes wandered.

not often. not enough to be obvious.

but enough that you noticed.

a quick glance toward your thighs when you shifted in your chair. the brief hesitation before he looked away again, pretending nothing had happened.

you had always ignored it.

until now.

the bell finally rang, sharp and sudden, and the room filled with the usual chaos of chairs scraping and bags zipping. students poured out into the hallway in loud clusters, their voices echoing against the walls.

you stayed where you were.

your heart was beating faster now, a nervous rhythm that made your hands feel unsteady.

this was a terrible idea.

you knew it was.

this could go wrong in a hundred different ways. someone could walk in. he could misunderstand you. he could report you. you could end up humiliating yourself completely.

or worse… he could look at you differently forever.

still, your body was already moving before your mind could stop it.

step by step, you walked toward his desk.

the classroom was quiet now, the soft rustle of papers the only sound as he organized the assignments. when he looked up and saw you standing there, his expression shifted slightly.

surprise.

then curiosity.

your hands trembled a little as you held the failed assignment in front of you. you leaned forward just enough, trying to look as sincere as possible, as desperate as you actually felt.

your eyes searched his face.

pleading.

your lashes fluttered instinctively, and you hated yourself a little for knowing exactly what you were doing.

you could feel tears gathering at the edges of your eyes, not entirely fake.

his gaze narrowed slightly, skeptical.

he had probably expected you to stay after class. that much wasn’t unusual.

but the way you stood there… the way you looked at him…

that was new.

and bold.

your voice came out softer than you intended.

“i’ll do anything at all, professor,” you said quietly. “please. i swear i can do better.”

the words hung in the air between you.

and he soon realized you truly meant it, despite the conflict flashing across his face and his desperate attempt to keep —or at least appear to keep— his strong, unbreakable morals intact.

your blouse was somewhere under his desk now, your skirt pushed up to your waist, your underwear long gone — you had briefly seen him slide it into his briefcase like it was just another document to file away.

you could barely think about it.

speaking was out of the question. even breathing properly felt difficult.

the only thing keeping you upright was the blackboard in front of you, your fingers clutching a piece of white chalk as if it were the only thing tethering you to reality.

your hand trembled so badly that the chalk squeaked against the surface.

your bare chest brushed the cold board each time your body shifted, leaving faint smudges where your skin and sweat erased the neat legal notes professor jeong had written earlier in the lecture. the board had been full of definitions and references when class started.

now the words were slowly disappearing beneath your shaking attempts to write.

because he hadn’t stopped correcting you.

he was still behind you, still moving, his voice low and controlled even though the rhythm of his body made it hard for you to hear anything clearly.

thirty minutes ago he had been explaining contract liability.

now he was making you write it.

“is that really the correct standard for negligence, hm?” his voice murmured close to your ear.

your mind struggled to grasp the question.

negligence.

duty of care.

breach.

damages.

you had studied it. you knew you had.

but the thoughts wouldn’t stay still long enough to form a sentence.

“yes…?” you whispered weakly.

…maybe.

you couldn’t tell anymore.

a soft, helpless sound escaped you, halfway between a whine and a sob, tears slipping down your cheeks while you tried to keep writing something — anything — that resembled the rules you had memorized before the exam.

numbers. sections. case names.

your brain tried to focus on the legal doctrine.

but your body betrayed you every time he moved, your thoughts scattering completely.

his chest pressed firmly against your back, keeping you pinned between him and the board, one of his hands gripping your hip while the other guided your wrist whenever your writing became too messy.

he kept talking.

kept correcting you.

like this was just another lesson.

“come on, angel,” he murmured, the same patient tone he used during office hours. “you’re one of my best students. you know this. what establishes liability?”

your hand shook again.

you knew the answer.

you absolutely did.

but concentrating was nearly impossible when your body felt like it was melting into the board and your head felt light and distant.

chalk dust clung to your skin, your nipples brushing against the surface every time you moved, leaving pale marks across them.

your mind floated somewhere far away from the classroom.

he noticed immediately.

of course he did.

professor jeong had always been attentive.

so he covered your hand with his own, steadying your grip on the chalk.

“duty,” he said softly, guiding the first word.

the chalk scratched against the board.

“breach.”

another line.

“causation.”

you nodded weakly, tears still sliding down your cheeks while the words slowly appeared in crooked handwriting.

“damages.”

when you finished the last one he hummed quietly in approval.

“mhm. see? you knew it.”

his voice lowered further.

“my smart girl.”

your breath hitched.

the sound of chalk dragging across the board mixed with the quiet sounds you tried so hard to suppress.

“you nearly failed a paper on basic liability,” he continued, teasing gently. “should i believe that was an accident?”

he tilted your chin just enough to make you look back at him.

and the expression on your face made him pause.

your eyes were wet, your cheeks flushed, shame and determination tangled together as you tried desperately to speak.

“n-no… i didn’t— wasn’t… on purpose—”

the words broke apart the moment they left your mouth.

he sighed softly.

“tsk.”

one hand moved to your stomach, firm but steady, keeping you from collapsing forward.

“you already had my attention,” he murmured, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead. the tenderness of it contrasted sharply with the strength of his grip. “you always do.”

his thumb brushed over your lower lip.

“you hardly ever make mistakes like that.”

your head shook quickly.

“i promise… i’m smart… i just—”

your voice cracked again.

“—i am smart.”

he smiled faintly at that.

he liked when you said it yourself.

then his hands shifted, and before you could react he turned you around so your back pressed fully against the blackboard.

the chalk marks smeared across your skin as he lifted you easily by the backs of your thighs.

suddenly the room tilted.

your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

the board behind you erased itself with every movement of your body, the legal notes disappearing completely beneath streaks of chalk and sweat.

your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer without even thinking about it.

because what you wanted most wasn’t just the lesson.

it was his approval.

you needed to hear him say it again.

that you were smart.

that you hadn’t disappointed him.

that you were still his favorite student.

your lips parted to explain yourself, to apologize, to insist that you hadn’t failed the assignment on purpose just to get his attention.

you would never challenge him like that.

never.

but you didn’t manage to say a word.

he was already watching you carefully.

and the moment he saw the tears in your eyes, the way you tried to form an explanation and couldn’t finish it—

he understood.

you were still the same student he believed in.

that’s why this situation existed at all.

not because you were careless.

but because you mattered enough to correct.

his lips brushed yours in a slow, reassuring kiss that made your chest tighten with relief.

your arms tightened around his neck immediately.

he wasn’t angry.

he wasn’t disappointed.

but he also wasn’t finished teaching.

his breath warmed your ear as he spoke again.

“text your roommate you’ll be back late,” he said quietly, his voice still steady despite the tension running through both of you. “you were distracted in class today.”

his grip on your thighs adjusted slightly.

“since you’re already here… we might as well review the material properly, don’t you think?”

and it would take a while before you could focus clearly again — especially when your body felt like it might give out at any moment.

but you didn’t complain.

you had said you would do anything.

and you intended to prove just how serious you were about succeeding in his class.

[luvvchoo]

get home from work at 11pm , make some tea, scroll on tumblr for about an hour, find some good choso fanfics, read about 10 of them, goon, go to sleep at like 2 in the morning

[domm1etae]

hey my sweet darlings 💋

i’m wishing everyone a happy new year, may all of your dreams come true!

with love,

dommietae ~

[chososluv]

plug!choso is def tatted btw

[domm1etae]

under arrest

choi san x f!reader

oneshot | fluff

1.6k

At a crowded Halloween party, Y/N—dressed as a police officer—just wants another drink when she crosses paths with San, a charming stranger in a prisoner costume

The kitchen counter won’t be clean for long.

nsfw tags under

f/m, halloween, teasting, dirty talk, kissing, touching, suggestive talk

author's note: a little halloween sweet treat for my pumpkins 🎃 (posted nov 1st ‘cause i was out causing chaos last night hehe) anyways — HAPPY HALLOWEEN 💕

The Halloween party had long since crossed the line between “fun” and “barely contained chaos.” Music pounded through the walls, every bass beat shaking the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol, perfume, and plastic costume fabric. You had come with friends, promising yourself you’d only stay an hour. That was two drinks ago.

The crowd looked like a parade of fantasy clichés: angels spilling drinks on vampires, cowboys line-dancing with zombies, and—your personal favorite—three versions of Spider-Man posing for photos together. But among them, one figure caught your eye for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

He was leaning against the far wall, half-smiling at something someone had said. The orange prison jumpsuit should’ve looked ridiculous, but somehow it didn’t. It clung to his shoulders, the sleeves rolled just enough to show strong forearms marked with fake tattoos. The number on his chest was slightly crooked, and there was an easy confidence in the way he held himself—like he wasn’t pretending to be anything other than what he was.

You turned away before he could notice you staring. Or at least, you hoped he hadn’t.

You adjusted your hat, the little plastic badge pinned to your outfit flashing under the strobe light. “Officer Y/N,” it read. The irony wasn’t lost on you: a fake cop in a fake world, trying to act sober enough to order another drink.

“Back again?” the bartender asked, already reaching for the bottle.

“Hydration’s important,” you replied, smiling as he poured.

You were halfway through your drink when a voice behind you interrupted, smooth and warm even over the music.

“Well, if it isn’t the law herself.”

You turned, glass still in hand. The prisoner stood there, close enough for you to smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath. Up close, his eyes were darker than they’d seemed across the room—dark, but bright in a way that pulled you in before you could stop yourself.

“You’re a police officer?” he asked, clearly amused.

You raised an eyebrow. “Good observation. Want a medal?”

He laughed, and the sound went straight through you. “Then I guess you should arrest me.”

“Wow,” you said dryly. “How original. You use that one often?”

“First time,” he said, leaning on the bar next to you. “Though I could come up with something better if you give me a second chance.”

“You’d need more than one,” you muttered, sipping your drink.

He grinned, unbothered. “You’re tough. Guess that fits the costume.”

“And you’re too smooth for a guy in handcuffs.”

He looked down at the toy cuffs dangling from his wrist. “Maybe I like the challenge.”

You should have rolled your eyes and turned away. Instead, you found yourself smiling, the kind of smile you didn’t mean to let him see. There was something about him—equal parts confidence and mischief—that made it impossible to walk away.

He introduced himself eventually. San. The name suited him. You told him yours, though you weren’t sure if he’d remember it later.

The next two hours slipped away in fragments of conversation—teasing remarks, laughter that came too easily, the quick spark of eye contact that lasted a beat too long. You argued over which Halloween candy was superior. You made fun of each other’s costumes. He accused you of being a “corrupt officer,” and you told him he’d never survive a night in real jail.

Underneath the jokes, something else simmered. Every time his arm brushed yours, your heart stuttered. Every time you caught him looking at you—really looking—you felt your face heat despite the alcohol.

When the air inside became too thick, San tilted his head toward the door. “You want to get some fresh air?”

Outside, the night was cool and quiet, a relief after the chaos inside. Streetlights flickered across the pavement, and distant laughter drifted from the bar. You leaned against the wall, exhaling.

“Okay,” you said between small giggles, “fun fact—police officers are terrible at holding their liquor.”

He laughed, the sound softer this time. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to drive the getaway car.”

You grinned. “Please, you’d crash it in two seconds.”

“Maybe,” he said, taking a step closer, “but at least I’d have a good reason.”

You looked up, eyes meeting his. The closeness made your pulse jump. For a second neither of you spoke. The world felt smaller—just you, him, and the faint hum of music behind the walls.

You tried to cover the tension with humor. “So this is your plan, huh? Flirt your way out of a sentence?”

He smiled, that lazy, crooked smile that made it impossible to think straight. “Depends. Is it working?”

You laughed awkwardly, glancing down at your hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. But you’re smiling.”

Your breath caught. You wanted to say something clever, something that would break the spell—but the words wouldn’t come. The look in his eyes was steady, questioning, hopeful.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t graceful; it was a little too fast, a little too desperate. But somehow it was exactly right. You could taste the faint burn of whiskey, feel the warmth of his hands at your waist, his breath catching as he pressed closer. The world blurred—the music, the lights, everything—until there was only him.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, faces still inches apart. You could see the flush on his cheeks, the way his smile faltered into something shy and real.

He brushed his thumb against your chin, voice low. “Maybe we should… take this somewhere else, Mrs. Officer?”

You laughed, the sound quiet and a little shaky. “You really can’t drop that, can you?”

“Not when it gets me this close to you.”

For a long moment, you just looked at him—two strangers who somehow felt like something more. You could already picture it: the walk through the quiet streets, the laughter that would follow, the way his lips might find yours again before the night was over and way more...

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but right now it didn’t matter.

You smiled up at him, eyes bright. “Fine,” you whispered. “But only if I’m the one driving the getaway car.”

He grinned, offering his hand. “Deal.”

[domm1etae]

damn guys... i miss when i used to post daily here. now i check tumblr once a month 💔💔💔

[domm1etae]

I’m glad that my contribution made your day. Your works are amazing! I wanted to do something to help you out a little bit and I really hope things get better for you. I’ll always be here cheering you on, both with your writing and with your life.

PS I squealed at the gif you sent me (thank you for my bias 😂)

you’re literally the sweetest, thank you so so much again. your support means the world to me, really—it makes everything feel a bit lighter. i’m so happy my little gif made you squeal hehe (minki is my bias well so i knew i knew 🙂‍↕️).

thank you for cheering me on, both with my writing and life, it really keeps me going.

sending you the biggest hug ever 💗

[domm1etae]

morning treat

bf!san x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.2k

San wakes up hard and hungry — not for breaky tho, but for the sight of you humming in nothing but a tiny pink apron.

The kitchen counter won’t be clean for long.

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, morning sex, kitchen sex, unprotecte (wear protection kids!!), creampie, spanking, oral (f! receiving), breeding kink, tongue fucking, morning wood

San stirs awake with a shiver crawling down his spine.

A quiet groan leaves his lips as he squints into the too-bright morning light spilling through the window. It’s early — painfully early — but there’s no point fighting it when his body is wide awake, pulsing with that raw, aching hunger that won’t be ignored.

He rolls over, reaching for your side of the bed — only to find cool sheets and emptiness. San frowns, jaw tightening. Now? When all he wants is his girl warm and soft under him?

He pushes himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he listens. A faint clatter and a soft hum drift in from down the hall. He sighs, shaking his head with a dry laugh. You’re up and about already — of course you are.

San gets up, his cock already heavy and throbbing as he pads barefoot to the kitchen. One glance around the doorway and the sight in front of him just makes things worse.

You’re there — swaying gently at the counter in that tiny pink apron he got you last Christmas. He remembers buying it, thinking how perfectly sweet you’d look in it — but he didn’t expect you to wear it with nothing else underneath.

The apron barely reaches the tops of your thighs. The thin strap is tied in a bow above your ass, leaving your back bare, your hips rolling with every soft step you take. You’re humming a tune to yourself, so caught up in whisking batter and slicing fruit that you don’t even hear him come closer.

San drags his tongue across his bottom lip, hand flexing at his side. He can see the curve of your ass peek out when you shift — the way your thighs brush together when you rock up on your toes. So sweet. So clueless. So easy for him to ruin.

He crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and presses himself flush to your back. Your surprised gasp is soft — a quick squeak that melts into a breathless giggle when you feel his hands settle on your hips.

"Morning, baby," San murmurs, lips brushing over your shoulder as he inhales you — warm skin, sugar, vanilla, everything soft and perfect.

"San— you scared me," you laugh, your voice all airy and sweet as you lean your head to the side for him. "Couldn’t help it," he mutters, nose skimming along your neck, his hands gliding down to cup your ass. "Look at you. Walking around like this, acting innocent."

He grinds against you, letting you feel every inch of how hard he is. You squirm, biting your lip when his hips push forward, his cock pressing right where you’re warmest.

"I was just… making breakfast," you manage to say, breath stuttering when his fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Oh, trust me I am very much hungry," San growls, voice rough and low against your ear. "Not for pancakes though."

Before you can answer, he drags the apron up, baring your ass completely. One broad palm smooths over your skin, fingers squeezing, spreading you open just enough to see that you’re already glistening for him.

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, voice almost a groan. "So wet for me already."

You open your mouth to protest, but the sharp smack of his hand landing on your ass cuts you off. "Ah! San!" you yelp, your hips jolting forward against the counter.

He chuckles, dark and soft, before landing another slap, harder this time — the sting blooming under his touch. "Stay still," San orders. He sinks to his knees behind you, big hands pushing your thighs apart. He barely gives you time to whimper before he buries his face right between your legs.

Your body jerks when his tongue drags through your folds, hot and slick. He hums low in his throat, savoring the taste of you. You brace yourself on the counter, trying to steady your breathing as he works you over with lazy, greedy licks.

"S-San, oh—" Your knees wobble as his tongue circles your clit, then dips lower again to fuck into you. The wet sounds echo around the quiet kitchen — your broken gasps mixing with the faint clatter of the spoon you dropped somewhere beside you.

"Shit, you taste so sweet," San growls, voice muffled as he presses his mouth harder against you. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you still while he devours every drop of you, licking and sucking until your thighs are shaking.

"Please— please, San, I’m gonna—" you gasp, your nails digging into the countertop.

He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your soaked skin. "Not yet." His tone leaves no room for argument. He plants one last kiss on your pussy before standing again, towering over you as he flips you around to face him.

You let out a soft gasp as he lifts you onto the counter with zero effort. He steps closer, spreading your legs wide apart so you’re open just for him.

"Hold yourself for me," he commands, eyes dark and hungry. You whimper but do as you’re told — fingers trembling as you spread yourself for him.

San drags his palm over the head of his cock, lining himself up. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, voice dropping to a whisper. "Look at you. So pretty like this. All mine."

He pushes in with one smooth stroke that knocks the air out of your lungs. You cry out, head tipping back as he fills you to the hilt.

"Fuck," San breathes out, holding himself there for just a heartbeat — savoring the way your pussy clenches around him. "So tight for me. Every damn time."

Your words melt into broken moans when he pulls back and slams back in, setting a rough pace that makes the counter shudder under you. The slap of skin on skin mixes with your breathless cries, echoing through the warm kitchen.

"San— Sannie— oh, please—" "Yeah? You like that?" he pants, one hand gripping your thigh tight enough to leave marks while the other cups the back of your neck. "So fucking good for me. Take it."

Your orgasm builds fast, that hot, breathless pressure coiling tighter with every brutal thrust. You try to speak, but it’s just a string of needy whimpers.

"Say it," San demands, hips snapping into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Tell me."

"Please— please, I’m gonna cum— please, San, please—"

"Do it, baby. Cum for me."

You break apart with a sharp cry, your walls clamping around him as your orgasm hits hard and sudden. Your vision blurs, your body trembling as he fucks you through every wave.

San’s own groan rumbles low in his chest as he chases his high — thrusts going deeper, slower, until he spills inside you, filling you up to the brim with a final, harsh grind of his hips.

You slump back, chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in and kisses your sweaty forehead.

"Breakfast can wait," he murmurs against your skin, his lips curved in a lazy grin.

You laugh weakly, breathless and warm all over.

[domm1etae]

PLEASE IM BEGGING FOR EP 20 OF SENT TO TEMPT ME, YOU FED ME SO WELL IM BECOMING DESPERATE FOR EP 20💔💔💔 I WILL GET ON MY FOURS TO BEG IF I HAVE TO💔💔💔💔💔💔

hahaha thnx and yeah… i know it’s been a few months since 18 and 19 came out and all of y’all are waiting for more chapters but like i said yesterday, i gotta deal w my personal stuff first, then i can focus on STTM again

[domm1etae]

i need my beauty sleep so i’ll answer more of my inbox messages in the morning! my inbox is totally full!!! you guys filled it absolutely to the brim while i was gone hahah

[domm1etae]

could you write more san stuff? i really enjoyed todays oneshot with him

of course my love!! i will try to write some more sannie things ❤️

[domm1etae]

I think I messaged you a while ago asking if you use ko-fi (it was a while ago so I am not actually sure) but I sincerely hope that you still do.

heeeey!!! yes yes u did, sorry for the late replyyy...anyways

oh my god....

i’m actually crying, you have no idea how much this means to me. 40 euros is so much, are you insane?? i’m so so so grateful, i don’t even have the words 😭 thank you for being my first donor, you really made my whole day.

if you want to, please reach out to me via x or tumblr dms so i can thank you more personally 💗💗💗

[domm1etae]

PLEASE PLEASE CONTINUE THE YUNGI SENT TO TEMPT ME SERIESSS IM DESPERATE TO READ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IM SO SO SO SO SO DESPERATE TO SEE WHAT WILL HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM GOSH I EVEN SCREAMED AND GO SCOLDED PLEASE I LOVE UR SERIESSSS😣😣😣😣

hahaha thank u i love u, i’ll try to upload at least something before the end of this month, i really want to—sttm is my bby too. but like i mentioned in my post a few months back, i’m on a little hiatus bc of my mental health and other stuff, and i’m so so sorry that it’s keeping me from continuing this story… 🫂💗

[domm1etae]

Do you still use ko-fi? Is it any good?

haaay! sorry for the late reply. yeah, i still have kofi—not really use it though, since nobody’s ever donated and people generally don’t donate, so it’s kinda just there, not very useful (for me at least)

[domm1etae]

i wanted to answer my inbox messages this morning and would you look at that, it’s almost midnight hehehe anyways i’m answering right now