dungonmastersandheartthrobs

[dungonmastersandheartthrobs]

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Me but also knowing i’m not dating Joseph Quinn either

every day i wake up and i am not dating joe keery

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good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

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umm i need reassurance that my presence is wanted but i can’t ask for reassurance because that’s really Embarrassing and it wouldn’t feel genuine if i asked for it

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Reblog if you support squishy bellies, have a squishy belly, or have the desire to summon satan

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Please ! I need to pay off student loans😭😭😭

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I just saw a post on the x reader tag complaining about smut writers and I just have to go off on a little rant.

That poster complains that if you can only read or write smut then you have a porn addiction which is an absurd and hyperbolic claim to make in itself but the vitriol that people have for those who have actual porn addictions is sad. Porn addiction is addiction. Addiction affects people’s life to the point where it is detrimental to that individual’s life to the point where it’s hardly functional. There are people with actual addictions struggling with that shit. Writing and reading smut on motherfucking tumblr.com isn’t a fucking addiction. No one’s hurting anyone. Not even you annoying fuckers who read posts that clearly aren’t meant for you.

People like this make it hard for writers on tumblr to write anything because purity culture and the morality police wants to dictate what people write as if the smut genre isn’t a whole industry in itself (literal smut novelists out there making money off this shit). Don’t fucking come into a smut tag if you are going to complain about smut, don’t complain about smut when a post boldly specifies smut and has all its warning. It’s so fucking weird to complain about something you do not wish to see only to voluntarily expose yourself to it. It’s giving miserable and i hope you find happiness.

I write what I want and I am a horny ass bitch and I don’t have to be ashamed of it because women can have agency over their own sexuality, on their own terms. Feel free to block me if you can’t handle that.

Rant done.

[dungonmastersandheartthrobs]

September 30th

October 1st

November 1st

December 1st

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I wouldn’t turn down any luck at this point

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

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🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂

babe wake up october 2024 just dropped

🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂🎃🍂

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IT’S SPOOKY SEASON !!!!

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Sometimes, Steve worries himself about the way he handled you in bed.

If you had to ask him, he'd say it isn't his fault. If anything, it is your fault for being irresistable, your soft body begging him to run his hands all over it, but still. Still, he can't help but worry about the way his hands behave when he loses himself in you.

He doesn't think about it when he's doing it, though. When he's kneading your flesh under his fingers, gripping your hips and love handles and waist, not knowing where to hold you first because every sliver of your skin calls for him.

When he has you on top and his hips piston up into your velvet heat, and he squeezes your hips hard enough that his hands leave small imprints on you. When you're on your stomach and his hands find the exact same place, and you're whimpering not only because his cock is reaching impossibly deep inside of you, but because he's gripping you so tight, and it hurts so good.

He thinks about the way he's careless with his mouth, sucking bruises into your delicate skin. How careless he is with his fingers when they grab and pinch your nipples, but that's easily forgotten when he sees your face contorted in pleasure as he looks up from your chest. He always takes the time to kiss them better.

He feels especially apologetic after he manhandles you, working your body as he fucks you, changing positions by just moving you as he wants. Flipping you into your stomach, caging you in with his body to keep you in place, strong arms unwielding. Rolling you into your back when he can't stand not seeing your pretty face, slamming you into the mattress.

"I'm sorry" is almost always slipping from his lips when he holds you afterwards, but he forgets it as soon as he sees your fucked out face, all half-lidded eyes and kiss bitten lips, looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon. He's not sorry, then.

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Eddie coded

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Why’d you have to go and make me all angsty this early 😭 but also DANM THATS fantastic

rockstar!eddie who only sees you when he’s in your city. doesn’t tell you when, doesn’t hit you up or anything— you really only know he’s coming because of the plethora of billboards and ads that pop up around the time of the performance.

and he doesn’t even really have to call you to let you know he’ll be coming over, you just know— as soon as eddie lands in your city, you’re his.

that’s how it is, that’s how it’s always been.

and you don’t exactly think you’re the only girl. the only one he flees to when he touches down in a new city— but you’re glad you’re his girl for this city. out of the millions of people he could’ve chose in your town, he chose you and that’s enough to get you to open your door for him post show, let him smoke all your shit and spend hours fucking you.

you don’t bother going to the shows— you did once, hated the scene of bitchy groupies that throw themselves at him and you never went again.

so he just comes to you.

probably doesn’t even bother taking a shower or wiping off all that sweat and liquor from another hectic show, just books it straight to you.

plays house with you for a day or two. calls you his girl, fucks you hard and rough and then slow and soft and then rough again. he says he missed you, doesn’t know how he lasted a year without your pussy, swears he’ll lose his mind if he goes that long without seeing you again. snaps a few photos of you. some cute and wholesome, naked and shying away from the lens with the sun beaming through your window. and the others are raunchy, dirty and gross. you split open on his cock, spread open for him. you on your knees for him, worshiping his cock. you cumming on his tongue. you with his necklace swaying between your tits, sweaty and bruised up neck on display.

he keeps them. tucks them in his pants. probably forgets they’re even there, honestly, only remembers them when they fall out in the next city as he’s pulling his pants back up after fucking some random girl.

feels his chest twist up, thinks about booking a flight to you because despite the fact that he’s a fucking player to his core, he really does have a soft spot for you. you really are his girl. his number one girl, best of them all.

doesn’t matter though. because even though you’re eddie’s girl, he still leaves you for another year. it’s just easier this way, really.

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can we please just have a reader who doesn’t forgive and forget and argues back because I’m sick of having to forgive stupid men against my will.

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[dungonmastersandheartthrobs]

stage tech eddie munson x actress reader

warnings: modern!college au, lots of making out

y’all can blame this brain rot i’m currently having on a conversation i had with @rebelfell about techie eddie that ended up spawning all of this… thanks sarah for indulging me xx. 😘

also big kisses to @taintandviolent and @uglypastels for giving this a look over for me <3

“hey— sweetheart. you’re gonna miss your cue.”

eddie all but mumbles against your lips as you pull him in even closer, your bodies wedged between the heavy stage curtains.

“don’t care,” you reply almost breathlessly, allowing your lips to trail over his neck.

you are no longer interested in listening for the inevitable call of ‘veronica?’ to leave barb’s microphone. the music begins to swell just as you are supposed to rush out on stage to finish off the opening number.

while robin was initially supposed to help you with your quick change, when you rushed off stage you were surprised (and delighted) to find eddie in her place instead. the male gave you a cheeky grin as he had your blazer and skirt combo draped over his arm.

but the way his eyes continued to linger a little too long on your half naked figure once you slipped your costume up over your head— would only spell out trouble for both of you.

which was how you ended up half-dressed, blue blazer dangling off your shoulder and your lips smashed against his own. his hands tug you inevitably closer, rings digging into the meat of your hips while he effectively steals the air from your lungs.

your fingers grip tightly onto the cotton of his black t-shirt, feeling the heat radiating from his chest beneath the worn fabric. your lips eagerly drag across the thick skin of his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto the pale skin there.

this had been building for weeks— it had all started when eddie had offered to help you with your scene work. the male almost too eager to have you in his lap, grinding on him while you belted out the lyrics to dead girl walking.

but he’d had his eye on you from the moment you walked into that first rehearsal, all bright eyed and giddy. the more he saw you blossom under the glow of the stage lights, the more he wanted to call you his. little did he know that you felt the same way, despite your initial reservations.

the cast and crew should never mix— that’s what you were always told.

however your eyes would always seek out his lanky figure in the light booth during rehearsals. and you’d ‘accidentally’ leave your prop package of red vines out for him to steal, just to have an excuse to go up to booth to see him. only for him to hold them hostage above your head, dimples on full display as you fought to get them back.

but when you had to kiss your on stage JD— all you could think about how much better his lips would feel slotted against yours. and eddie can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him after you receive some feedback that the passion between you and jonathan was less than stellar.

but that low burning jealousy would rear it’s ugly head when you steadily began to improve.

wanton hands would paw at each other hungrily, those once dull kisses becoming increasingly more passionate with each rehearsal. and that blissful expression that flitted over your features while you gazed into the warmth of jonathan’s eyes has eddie crumbling the pages of his script beneath his fists.

but if this sudden improvement was because you were picturing eddie during your scenes together, no one was the wiser.

the mutual pining between you was palpable and downright maddening, to everyone involved in the production. so if some of them began to scheme a little behind the scenes to bring you two together, neither of you were aware of this recent development.

but everything finally come to a head with the culmination of what your cast mates so lovingly called, hell week. with the stress of opening night looming over your head, and the ever mounting tension between you two— it didn’t take much for your remaining resolve to crumble.

so when he gave you that look, all bets were off.

when eddie desperately tugs your mouth back to his, any worries that you shouldn’t be getting involved with one of your crew members is thrown out the window with each heated press of his lips. you can taste the lingering cigarette on his tongue and you’re engulfed in the musky, spicy scent that is so distinctly eddie when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his palm.

you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t notice when the music stops abruptly and the burst of confused chatter erupts on the stage. eddie just pulls you in closer, eagerly swallowing the small whine that leaves your lips. the two of you only manage to pull apart when you hear nancy’s annoyed voice ringing out from behind the curtains.

“where the hell is veronica?”

you are a flurry of limbs and fabric as you struggle to pull on the rest of your costume, eddie’s rings accidentally getting caught in your hair during the process. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead in a silent apology before pushing you toward the bright lights of the stage.

you subtly wipe the gloss that was smeared across the corner of your mouth when you rush back out from behind the curtains. unaware that your blazer was buttoned incorrectly in your haste to finish dressing.

“sorry! costume malfunction! can we run it from the bridge?” you ask innocently.

nancy gives you a disapproving look from her stage manager’s seat, flipping the pages of her script back with a raised brow. you’re just thankful the director wasn’t here for this run through— or you’d have your ass chewed out for missing your big entrance.

“alright from the top of the bridge people, places!” she calls.

everyone utters a ‘thank you places’, while you duck back behind the curtain to get into position.

you can feel how flushed you are, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. whether that was from the way his lips were pressed against your own or the melting warmth of the stage lights, was hard to say. but you manage to catch his eye as he makes his way past you and the male can’t help but grin despite himself.

“don’t miss that cue again, sweet thing.” he teases, giving your ass a little pat before continuing on his way back towards the light booth.