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In my mines and their’s preferably! 😭 and put a rush order on it

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.

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“We’re in a fanfic drought” Tell the writers you like their work.

“All Tumblr ever does is write oneshots now” Tell the writers that you’d love to see them write longer things.

“Nobody updates their fics anymore” Tell the writers you love the fic and want to see more of it.

Tell the writers.

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Y/n: Is your dick big enough for the way you act ?

Simon: Come and see.

*Later*

Y/n: *flustered* He can keep acting this way.

Simon: :)

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Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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Virginia Woolf, from her novel titled "The Waves," originally published in 1931

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24/7/365 fuckery stays on my mind.

Have we thought about any of the 141 or any of these dudes meeting someone who actually hates that they are military? Like on some

"You lick enough boots for the government. Why would you want to lick mine? Go away."

I feel they all have some cognitive dissonance about why they do what they do. Because the reality is that half the shit they do is because a politician is mad that they aren't getting their cut off the top and are getting played.

Idk 🤷🏾‍♀️ I'm just yapping ignore me. Because it's a trope I really like. Like these fucks need to face their mortality and realize they are the problem and solution.

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Another poll yall!

You know damn well why Simon isn't a choice lol we know he can't drive or fly or operate a vehicle safely. Why would he be able to parallel park? 🤣

As always reblog for larger sample size plz 😌

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I've been thinking about this for a while, but could you write a drabble or something about Simon's reaction to you trying to sleep on the couch after a fight?

Would he be mad and fight with you more or drag you to bed or silently let you sleep on the couch??

lmk × ×

It’s rare the two of you fight.

Argue? Sure.

Purposefully annoy each other? Definitely. Simon loves crawling under your skin just so he can watch you ride your frustrations out on his cock. He can’t help it, you’re cute.

But fighting? Petty comments, growling harsh words at each other, suffocating tension, silent treatment, and stubborn avoidance? You and Simon don’t do that.

Simon admits, he’s not exactly the easiest person to date, but you’re incredibly patient with him, even when he’s not communicating the way you need him to.

He’s a work in progress.

So, when you walk out of the shower, tugging on one of his oversized shirts, he thinks you’ll crawl into bed next to him like always. Instead, you grab your pillow, an extra blanket, and leave the room. Riley follows behind you, his own dog betraying him.

You have to be teasing, trying to teach him some lesson, remind him what it feels like to sleep in an empty bed if he doesn’t straighten up. He should be the one out there, sleeping in the dog house.

He lets you lay out there for exactly 12 minutes.

When he scoops you up, you pretend you’re asleep. Even when he lays you down on your side of the bed and slides in, you keep up the act.

“Oy,” He grumbles, pinching your cheek lightly, “I know you’re awake, dove.”

A breath of a smile twitches at the corners of your lips, but you turn your face into the pillow. No problem, he hoists you in his lap easy enough, pressed against the bed frame, and rests his hands on your spread thighs.

“Why the bloody hell you sleepin’ out there?”

You scowl at him, “Don’t wanna sleep with you.”

“No?” He tilts his head, smoothing his palms under your, his, shirt, “Why not, pretty girl?”

“Mad at you.”

He huffs a laugh, “Wearin’ my shirt, but don’t wan’ sleep with me?”

You start to peel the shirt off begrudgingly, but he swats your hands away, holding you in place with his thumb on your chin.

“ ‘nough of that. What kinda man d’ya think I am? Letting my bird sleep on a bloody sofa.” He says, “Send me out there.”

“But your feet hang off the edge.” You frown and it tightens his chest, even when you’re mad you’re thinking of his comfort.

He’d wake up with a hunched back and cramped legs if it made you happy.

“Exactly, ‘ts why we both belong right here.” He pats the mattress, scooting back down the bed to lay down, holding you against his chest. He presses his lips against the crown of your head, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

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men will do literally anything other than engaging in pro-social community-oriented behavior and then get online and complain about how masculinity is vilified and men aren't allowed to be heroes anymore

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random thought but

draco is SUCH a sophisticated boyfriend, no doubt using his money to impress you...

also he's the type to constantly tease you about every little thing you do, and when you finally break, he's there to comfort you and apologize by buying you an entire flower shop or something

۶ৎ say that again, princess

Pairing: draco malfoy x reader Word Count: 852 words Summary: Draco Malfoy is a rich, refined menace—always teasing, always smug, and always five steps ahead with a credit limit that could end wars. When his teasing finally goes too far and leaves you hurt, he apologizes just as he does everything else—with class. Warnings: fem!reader; female-centric nicknames (princessl); teasing; suggestive tension; emotional overwhelm; Draco being an expensive menace; not proofread; let me know if i missed any! A/N: i love this and i had to write this.

♫ suburban legends by taylor swift.

Draco Malfoy had the audacity to be that boyfriend.

The tailored-coat, glass-of-scotch, private-box-at-the-Quidditch-stadium boyfriend. The I’ll have my tailor deliver it in two sizes, just in case boyfriend. The I noticed your perfume was running low so I bought the company boyfriend.

He kissed your fingers in public. Opened doors with casual grace. Had opinions about cutlery. You were convinced he’d made a Horcrux in every bottle of vintage wine he owned.

And Merlin, he loved to tease.

“Did you just gasp at a chandelier?”

“It’s just the way you eat strawberries—very... committed, my love.”

“Darling, are you flirting with the spaniel at the next table or is that just your resting face?”

You didn’t even mean to be sensitive about it. But the teasing never let up. Not mean. Not cruel. But constant. Sharp and smug and golden-tongued.

So when it happened—when you finally cracked—it took both of you by surprise.

It started after the last Malfoy Charity Gala. He’d spent the whole evening with his hand on the small of your back, murmuring clever little jabs in your ear while sipping champagne like the devil personified.

You’d smiled politely when he joked about your nervous laugh. Laughed tightly when he teased the way you stumbled over your words around his friends. Brushed it off when he smirked, “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” after you misquoted some Ministry headline.

You held it together all the way back to his penthouse.

Until you didn’t.

You were halfway through unzipping your gown when you snapped, voice sharper than you meant:

“Do you ever shut up and just let me exist without commentary?”

Draco froze, mid-loosened tie, watching you from across the room. “Excuse me?”

You blinked. Then immediately hated the way your throat tightened.

You dropped your dress and turned from him, standing in your slip with your arms crossed. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“No.” His voice was quiet now. Controlled. “Say it again.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m tired, Draco.”

“Of me?”

You didn’t answer. Which, of course, was its own answer.

He exhaled, long and low, then crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. “That wasn’t teasing,” he said softly, standing just behind you. “That last one. That was me being a bit of a prick.”

“Draco—”

“Don’t.” He touched your shoulder, then your waist, gently pulling you around to face him. His expression had shifted completely—gone was the smugness, replaced with a guilt you weren’t used to seeing from him. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”

You tried to deflect. “It’s fine—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted. “I’m used to being cruel and charming in equal measure, and you let me get away with too much because you’re... soft with me.” His hand slid down to yours. “I forget you’re still getting used to this world.”

You blinked. “This world?”

He gestured vaguely around the penthouse. The crystal and marble. The towering skyline outside. “All of this. Me.”

“You’re not a burden, Draco. You’re not an inconvenience that takes getting used to.”

“No,” he agreed, “I’m an arrogant bastard with more money than sense who flirts by antagonizing.”

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself. “You said it, not me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, stepping closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll do better.”

You nodded, letting yourself lean into him—into the familiar scent of his cologne, the soft wool of his shirt.

“And tomorrow,” he added, “we’re going shopping.”

You groaned. “If this is your way of fixing everything with diamonds—”

“No,” he said, voice smug again—but softer this time. “Not diamonds.”

The next day, you woke up to two very unexpected things:

A tray of breakfast with exactly how you like your eggs and tea.

A pair of designer flats in your size and a note: Wear these. We’re walking.

You groggily threw on the most comfortable outfit you could find and the shoes, and found Draco downstairs, waiting beside the fireplace in a turtleneck and coat that probably cost more than your rent. He grinned like a man with a secret.

“We’re not Apparating?” you asked, suspicious.

“Nope,” he said. “Too dramatic.”

He took your hand.

And walked you six blocks to a flower shop.

Correction: a flower shop with a SOLD sign on the door… and a bouquet in the window labeled “Reserved for the Girl Who Deserves Everything.”

You turned slowly. “Draco.”

He looked very proud of himself.

“You bought me... an entire shop.”

“Well, I bought it for you. That’s different.”

You gaped.

“Don’t worry,” he added, smirking, “You don’t have to run it. But you do get to take whatever you want. And I had them name a rose after you. The blush ones with the gold-tipped petals. Your favorite.”

You stared at him, jaw slack.

“Too much?” he asked, mock-thoughtful. “I debated a bookstore too, but I figured one act of emotional damage control at a time.”

You let out a laugh that ended in a sob and launched yourself into his arms.

“Gods, I hate you,” you mumbled into his coat.

He chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“And I love you.”

“Also fair.”

taglist !

@belovedenzo

© dracosprettygirl.tumblr 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated & motivating!

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Megan Thee Stallion: In Her Words (2024)

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Is it true? | Part 1

Word count: 870

Warnings: 18+, Yelling, destructive behavior, suggestive behavior, swearing, symptoms of panic

Part two soon! Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygato @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard @identity2212 @daydreamerwoah @lily-bug3 @sage-burrow @squeak1981 @shinebright2000

You’re stuck in a loop. Reading through old messages and swiping through photos. Tears begin to well in your eyes, you look to the ceiling and try to breathe. He wouldn’t. Would he? You gather your breath as you stand, your phone tossed back into the couch where you had been for a few hours at least, now surely lost within the cushions. 

Looking to the clock you see that he wouldn’t be home for another hour or so and decide to take a shower, maybe feeling clean on the outside could soothe the mess inside. While in the shower you hear the front door chime as he enters, he had insisted on installing a security system for while he was away. You peak your head out of the shower, the bathroom full of steam-your fragrance a tidal wave to anyone who entered. 

You hear the stairs creak as he made his way up, then a thud- his bag being left by the closet, the same spot as it had always been for as long as you could remember. You wrap up your shower and taking care of your hair and teeth, you make your way out to the bedroom. He’s turned on his side away from the door, a small snore coming from the pile of man beneath the blankets. You climb into bed, the house dark and cool as your mind tears at you with questions and possibilities you didn’t know you were ready to uncover. 

You can’t resist the urge to confirm that what you had seen earlier was real, turning on your side slowly you grab you phone and click on the small icon, ‘Messages’

A string of different conversations pop up, ones from relatives and others from random sites, and one at the top from an unknown messenger. You click it open again, your heart still shaking as you read the text. 

‘I wasn't planning on reaching out, but I figured you should know behind closed doors, your 'boyfriend' is real different...very hands-on.'

The screen goes dim with how long you’ve read it over and over, it just doesn’t make sense. You feel a headache approaching as your mind spirals and instead plug in your phone and lay back down to sleep. You would ask him about it tomorrow.

Dawn breaks through the windows as the birds begin to chirp just outside. You wake to an empty bed, something you’ve unfortunately had to adjust to with how much time he’s spent at work recently. You look over to your phone and sigh, choosing to instead get ready for the day. You put the bed back together and make your way downstairs, the house just as quiet as it had been last night. 

Most of the day was spent cleaning, doing the housewife duties that were a lifestyle to you now. Folding laundry, and putting more dirty laundry in the machine, putting away the dishes and sweeping the floors, it was all a nice distraction. After lunch time had rolled around you went upstairs, against the dread you could feel in your heels as you climbed each step, you knew you had to confront him eventually. 

You pick up your phone to the same day-to-day notifications and alerts, scrolling down your heart sinks a little further.

‘Unknown messenger: 1 Image’ 

You feel all sorts of emotions pile up, and burn down into a rage. Your finger clicks the image before you can take a second to think of reasons not to. The image is of him, tall and focused in the doorway of a room. He’s leant up on the door frame, listening to whoever was talking. 

*Ding* – Unknown Messenger: ‘Guess he’s pretty good at keeping a secret, huh?’

You start to chuckle, in a hysterical and concerning way. Locking the phone you set it down next to you as you fall back on the bed. Your hands sprawled out to the side of you, the ceiling fan cooling your physical heat to the situation. You didn’t feel like crying over it, and you didn’t feel like throwing a tantrum, but no matter what you felt, you knew you needed answers. 

After what had felt like days of waiting, the front door jingles as he opens it. You’re sat on the couch just inside the door, watching him from over the back. He goes to head upstairs, pivoting to make his way over to you once he sees you on the couch. Making his way over with a ‘Hello love’ he bends over to kiss the top of your head, pausing as you pull away from his reach.

‘What’s the matter? You alright?’ His voice sounded gentle, his eyes looking you over for any indication as of why you would have rejected his touch. 

You swallow hard as you take a breath, we’re you really about to have this conversation? You look up to him, his eyes tired with a twinkle of worry, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other patiently waiting a response. Your voice felt fragile, as if the words weren’t meant to be passed from one to another, but did not break as you looked up to him.

‘We need to talk.’

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— Nikita Gill

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Unpopular opinion,

Too many men are written as “dom daddy” types in fics.

Like be for real, that man would be honored to be your floor mat.

He���s not giving orders, he’s taking them.

Stop being afraid, put on your big boots, and step on that man.

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unedited. wrote this while taking a break from finishing his fic bc I forget just how rich Sylus is.

It's rare, but occasionally Sylus gets you mad. And the victim of your rage isn't him... but his bank account — specifically, the black card he's given you to use.

"Serves him right. I hope you go broke," you bitterly muttered, purchasing whatever comes to sight.

Usually, you're adamant about not using his money, specifically this card, despite his constant reminder to use it without guilt.

But when he finally comes home, days without warning or contacting you, with his clothes covered in blood and face full of exhaustion, that breaks the camel's back for you.

The result —

A new dining set, this time plated with gold. -$5k.

A new set of diamonds and pearls. -$9k.

A new Camaleonda sofa set. -$25k.

A Hästens bed set that you'll be using alone. -$150,000k.

So when Sylus gets a phone call asking if these purchases were fraudulent or if he would want to lock his card in case it was stolen, he chuckles while he taps his finger on his desk, smirking.

cute. so so cute.

He informs the banker on the other line, “No, run those purchases through."

"But sir, are you sure...? Whoever this is, they've also purchased 100 kitty plushies?"

Unfazed, Sylus responded, "That’s just my future wife throwing a tantrum. She’s cute, no?”

"I-I see."

How adorable and naive were you to think this would ever bother him — no, it excited him even more whenever you decided to challenge him, especially when you didn't allow him to touch you ever since he's gotten back.

And before he ends the call, he orders, "Send me a list of what she purchases, and make a transfer into that account so she could spend more."

Not too long after, you receive a text from him.

From: Don't You Dare Get Weak And Call Him First 🔪

I expedited that bed, Kitten. But why don't we put it to good use and give your new plushies a good show, Sweetie? Tonight.

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POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

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Is it just me or am I the only one who’s kind of tired of Smut with no plot?? Like I don’t know I just want like an enemies to lovers or just a plot with smut I need something to think about for a week.😭