oona

i post from joseph quinn’s top pocket she/her, not a minor

[byjove]

Rest in Peace to Renee Good. ICE shooting an innocent 37 year old mother attempting to protect her neighbors is not an accident or an act of self defense, it is an act of terror designed to dissuade other people from stepping in, documenting ICE violence and reminding immigrants of their rights. Her son is now an orphan and the president of the United States is calling her a ‘professional agitator’ on social media.

[defendingwarrior-deactivated202]

EDDIE MUNSON in STRANGER THINGS | 4.01 Chapter One: The Hellfire Club

[josephquinnswife]

[jakzibi]

wish you were here

[foundtherightwords]

[kitty-c4t]

[budugu]

[agnosticblowjob]

[ceriseheaven]

give me two minutes & no hair tie needed, he's a gentleman he'll hold my hair

[josephquinnswife]

jesus christ

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

[kassy-djomunsononcam]

“Nothing’s impossible.”

[josephquinnswife]

why’s he so sus

[ladyc0ldbrew]

i just know eddie munson is GRIEVING over ozzy osbourne right now. my heart hurts from him.

[shoyohnt]

sorry for how I acted when there were multiple noises happening at the same time

[inseparabiles]

[josephquinnswife]

my fav overstimulated emperor ♥️

[manspreadingjoe]

Don’t look at me like that

[josephquinnswife]

GODDAYUM

[josephquinnswife]

rest in hell, prince of darkness ozzy osbourne.

i hope eddie munson gets to meet you now, he loves you.

pretty sure @har-rison-s created this gif, so credits to her!

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[josephquinnswife]

eddie looks so joseph here i can’t explain it

[josephquinnswife]

missing eddie munson hours 💔

[pankowcrumbs]

Play Me Like That X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

18+

The low, humming strum of Eddie’s guitar filled the bedroom, his fingers dancing across the strings like it was second nature. He sat cross-legged on my bed, his Hellfire Club shirt pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing slightly with every shift and movement. His rings glinted under the warm yellow light of my bedside lamp, catching like stars on his knuckles.

I should’ve been paying attention to the chords he was playing should’ve been listening to whatever song he was lost in but I wasn’t. Not really.

I was watching his hands.

God, his hands.

I bit the inside of my cheek, letting my eyes shamelessly wander. Long, ring-heavy fingers sliding along the frets with practised ease. Rough fingertips pressing down with precision. His forearms tightening ever so slightly, veins rising like rivers across his pale skin.

He adjusted his grip, and I had to press my thighs together.

“You always play that one when you're trying to focus,” I murmured, my voice low, almost lazy. “Is it working?”

Eddie glanced up, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Not really. You keep staring at me like I’m about to combust.”

“maybe you will" I said casually, eyes still glued to his hands. "Depending on how long you keep moving your fingers like that.”

He paused, giving me a mock-curious look. “Like what?”

I slowly sat up straighter on the floor, my back against the bed, and tilted my head. “Like they were made for sin.”

His brows lifted in amusement, the smirk tugging wider. “Oh yeah?”

I nodded, chin resting on my shoulder as I stared at him. “You’ve got no idea what that does to me. Watching your fingers slide over strings like that. All those veins popping when you clench.”

He flexed his hand instinctively probably didn’t even realise he was doing it and I let out the softest, breathiest little sound.

His smirk faltered.

“You’ve got hands that look like they were built for ruin,” I continued, voice silken now, practically a purr. “Rough and calloused. Big. Always adorned with those stupidly hot rings.”

Eddie blinked, clearly thrown. “Ruin, huh?”

“Mmhmm.” I licked my bottom lip. “I think about them a lot.”

He lowered the guitar slowly, placing it on the bed beside him like it was suddenly the least interesting thing in the room.

I didn’t stop.

“Like… what those hands would feel like tangled in my hair,” I murmured, eyes locked on his. “Wrapped around my throat just enough to make me shiver. Or sliding under my shirt, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.”

Eddie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I think about how those fingers would feel between my legs,” I added, voice dropping. “Cold rings against my skin, rough palms holding me open. You’d play me like one of your guitars, wouldn’t you?”

His jaw clenched, and I watched the muscle twitch there. Watched the pulse flicker in his throat.

He stood slowly, towering above me, eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. “Y/N…”

“I’m just saying,” I went on innocently, tilting my head as I leaned back on my elbows. “Your hands could do terrible things to a girl.”

His breath hitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he dropped to his knees in front of me.

Suddenly, the air between us thickened tightened. I could feel the gravity of him, the heat pouring off his skin. His hand reached out, cupping the side of my face, and I instinctively leaned into the touch.

“Keep talkin’ like that, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deeper now, rough like gravel. “See what happens.”

“I’m not scared,” I whispered, and I wasn’t.

He ran his thumb slowly across my bottom lip. “You should be.”

He leaned in and kissed me hard and hungry, like I’d pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to him with a wink. His other hand slid down my neck, thumb resting against my pulse, not quite squeezing but close enough to make my breath catch.

“You like this?” he murmured against my mouth, pressing just a little more.

I gasped, nodding, eyes fluttering.

“That’s it,” he growled, pulling me closer by the waist, sliding me into his lap without breaking the kiss. “Let me show you what these hands can really do.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, dragging slowly up my back, fingertips brushing my spine in a way that made my whole body arch into him. I felt everything every rough callous, every scrape of his rings.

He kissed me harder, then softer, then not at all just hovered, panting, our foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve wanted this,” he confessed, almost breathless. “You. Beneath me. Begging.”

“I’m not begging yet,” I whispered with a smirk.

His eyes blazed. “Oh, but you will.”

He picked me up not with ease, but with intent and laid me back on the bed, his hands never leaving me. He crawled over me slowly, kissing my jaw, down my neck, teeth grazing skin just enough to leave a trail of fire.

When his mouth found the hollow beneath my ear, I whimpered.

“There,” he muttered, lips curling against me. “That little sound…”

He ran both hands down my sides, then up under my shirt, pushing it up slowly until I raised my arms and let him pull it over my head. His mouth dropped open slightly, gaze devouring.

“You’re killin’ me,” he breathed.

I tugged on his belt. “Then do something about it.”

He did.

His hands were everywhere palms rough, fingers greedy. They slid up my thighs, cupped my chest, gripped my waist like he owned me. His rings were cold and sinful against my skin, making me shiver, twitch, arch.

When he slid one hand under the waistband of my knickers, he let out the lowest groan I’d ever heard from him.

“Already wet for me?” he teased.

“Been wet since you started playing that bloody guitar,” I whispered.

He grinned wicked and knowing then dipped his fingers lower, moving with expert precision. I moaned, thighs trembling, hands digging into the sheets as his mouth replaced his fingers on my chest.

He took his time.

Made me squirm.

Made me beg.

When I came, he was watching me his hand still between my thighs, his other around my throat, just tight enough to keep me in that perfect haze of pleasure.

“You’re dangerous,” I gasped, blinking up at him.

“So are you,” he said, and then kissed me again, deeper, darker.

Clothes were gone before I knew it thrown aside, careless. His mouth found every part of me, his hands worshipping and claiming and destroying all at once.

He hovered above me, breathing hard. “Tell me you want this.”

“I need this.”

That was all he needed.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of panting breaths, the creak of the bed, the softest whispers of my name on his lips as he finally, finally gave in.

And his hands?

They did everything I’d dreamed of.

We lay tangled in the sheets, the scent of sweat and skin and faint cologne thick in the air. My body still tingled in the best kind of way, every nerve alight with aftershocks.

Eddie’s fingers traced lazy patterns across my hip, his rings dragging softly behind.

“Told you your hands were sinful,” I murmured.

He laughed softly, kissing my shoulder. “You weren’t wrong.”

I turned to look at him. “I wasn’t just talking shit, y’know. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“I know,” he said. “I was just trying to be a gentleman.”

I raised a brow. “That was gentle?”

He grinned, wicked and sleepy. “You should see me when I stop holding back.”

My entire body lit up all over again.

Maybe I’d start talking about his hands again tomorrow.

[im-robins-bitch]

Eddie is really bad at flirting:

You mention your nose is cold and he leans in like he might kiss it and then huffs hot air on it instead.

He follows steves advice and puts on a rom-com, but it's so boring. He yawns, and you start thinking he’s going to do the move, but instead, he falls asleep and drools in your hair.

Takes you out for milkshakes, but forgets his wallet is chained to his everyday jeans (he wore his fancy ones just for you) so you have to pay for the drinks (you don’t mind) but he's mortified. 

Wants to hold your hand so bad, but can’t bring himself to do it. 

He just stares really hard, and you think you’ve made him mad.

Buys you flowers, but when he’s about to hand them over, a wasp flies over. He drops them and shrieks.

He misses on your first kiss and plants one on ur chin.

You ask him if he wants to share a blanket, and he rushes to get an extra one bc poor baby is so used to being seen as ‘gross’ he doesn't realise u wanna cuddle.

When you ask to ‘compare hand sizes’, he gets a ruler out to measure them that way

Then one day he puts on a horror movie, 

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he freezes up because he isn’t used to being touched :(

So you grab his hand and rub your thumb across his knuckles till he relaxes. 

When it gets scary, you bury your face in his shoulder 

He asks if you’re scared, you raise your head, and nod, so he wraps his arm around you

You’re cheesing so hard you can barely plant the kiss on his cheek for smiling

He turns just at that moment, and you end up kissing his lips. 

Now you’re both cheesing

“I really-really like you, Eddie,” You would mumble, half into his cheek. 

He’d be bright red at this point.”I really like you too, Sweetheart…Sorry, I’m not very good at this stuff”

“You’re perfect Eds”

[josephquinnswife]

loser eddie is my favorite eddie (head) canon

[josephquinnswife]

missing eddie munson hours 💔