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My bluesky
Hi bestie. π
Call me Emmy or unhinged - either or!
I like writing. Please be gentle with me cos Iβm unhinged 99% of the time.
I donβt take requests. But do send me ideas! Or just chat to me. I love a chat.
Reblogs and likes are so appreciated
Do not use my work anywhere without permission. I put my heart and soul into that shit, ya know?! If youβre inspired by something Iβve written please consider a tag, Iβd love to see it!
JJK side blog @x-blue-spring-x
Ongoing Planning stage Complete
β’ββββ βΎ KΓΆnig β½β ββββ’
KΓΆnig is obsessed with you <3
You let KΓΆnig touch your kitty for the first time <3
Popping KΓΆnigβs cherry <3
KΓΆnig lets slip he loves you <3
KΓΆnig likes your little claws <3
You slut KΓΆnig out <3
KΓΆnig trying to get over you <\3
You block KΓΆnig, so he sends you a love letter <\3
KΓΆnig has a dream about you <\3
KΓΆnig just wants a taste <3
Make up sex with KΓΆnig <3
KΓΆnig is a jealous boi <3
Three little words with KΓΆnig <3
Pegging <3
Mean KΓΆnig
Only!Fans KΓΆnig
Psycho Series <3
Monstrous Series
Virgin KΓΆnig Series
Colonel KΓΆnig / Cruel Intentions
Sugarbby Masterlist
DBF!KΓΆnig
Alt KΓΆnig
The Interrogation: one
Cringe: one | two
Ex Husband AU: one | two
CBF KΓΆnig
Pornstar KΓΆnig
β’ββββ βΎ Simon βGhostβ Riley β½β ββββ’
BoyRacer Si
Ghost has a crush on you <3
Ghost asks you to call him Si <3
You accidentally send Si a nude <3
Si kisses you for the first time <3
Si gets possessive <3
Stalker Si takes his obsession to the next level
Stalker Si breaks into your room to cuddle
Stalker Si makes you ride his face
Stalker Si decorates you
Simon and his cat: one | two
Siβs first love
Simon Riley bumps into his first love
Stepdad!Simon Riley AU
Photographer Ghost x Aspiring Model Reader
Virgin!Ghost
Sick <3 Series
γοΌ¬ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½γ series
North
β’ββββ βΎ Keegan P Russ β½β ββββ’
Keegan wants to ruin your friendship <3
Keegan makes his move <3
Keegan makes good on his promise <3
Keegan likes what you like <3
Keegan shows you how it should be done <3
β’ββββ βΎ Andre Nikto β½β ββββ’
Cringe with Nikto
VΡΡ ΡΠΈ (Nikto x Escort!Reader) series
Nikto and βILYβ
Husband Nikto
Howl
{ venus }
Pornstar!Nikto
Take. Any. Form
β’βββ βΎ Sebastian βSebβ Krueger β½β ββββ’
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would you be willing to add roach to your wonderful cast of characters?
Hey! Probably not as he doesnβt float my boat for whatever reason. I also have far too many fictional boyfriends already that I never give any time to fml
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He is a rare type of beauty; one that exists in myth alone. Something hidden deep in those irises most people cannot see or understand, a low siren song calling beneath the surface.
Like pressing your ear to the curl of a shell pulled from the depths of the ocean itself where it once lay half buried in the sand, yet the echoes of that life never fully leave. Tiny patterns where the water has woven threads of the past into his present.
For he carries hurt, you sense it on him. A finely honed perfume, that particular piece of heartbreak that softens him. Perhaps it would not be recognisable to anyone but yourself, though it lingers as incense does in a half smile that plays upon his lips and a fear well concealed.
Too well concealed. Even his blood is blue tinged. Gripped by a chill never shaken from bones so weary of carrying it all, of hiding pieces of himself until he no longer recognised the man reflected in each shallow rock pool.
Once he prayed at the church of love. Begged upon his knees for it choose him. Become him in all of its glorious and untameable beauty. Just like the navy waves that wrap around the cliffs at high tide, unforgivingly carving through rock formations made before the steps of time grew around them. Only the foam and surf that sprang joyfully through salt air bore witness to his suffering.
The gods they heard him. Words spoken under his lowered breath until they sounded cursed. Lost to the wind where they lived on, gathering strength. Never forgotten once felt. Little does he know, but he is chosen in ways he could never imagine - personifies the wonder and mystery of fathoms in a single glance.
He moves through you in currents, always afraid to stay yet bound to return all the same. He sees the moon in you and is drawn to it.
That shock of dark hair falling across his brow. Hands that touch, spill torrents of unsaid things against your skin. Eyes so perfectly blue you cannot look away. A mirror that reflects all the desire youβve longed for - each and every moment inside their gaze sacred.
When he enters a room, the ages of each shared lifetime together become merged into something similar to fate. Rushing inside your ears while your heart beats courageously inside your chest, aching to fall for him. To leap from the edge into the mysterious waters churning beneath.
Shadows under his lower lash line that speak of torment. He defends those he loves fiercely and offers himself as the sacrifice. A scorpion who knows he might be crushed by the weight of his adversary, yet stings regardless. Poises himself to strike before a blow comes in advance.
Long fingers play with your own, for you are devout and so is he. He watches always from the shadows, gaze fixed on you until you look in his direction. When his lips meet yours they are hesitant. Each night spent upon his knees in futile adulation have left marks not easy to heal, bruised they remain, that hollow pain that speaks of rupture but not repair.
He is born of the sea, bones built with all the ire of every storm life has sent his way and he has weathered. A presence far more powerful than any surge of the waves that crash around his feet. Hypnotic, so glitteringly perfect you cannot help but stare further into the horizon.
Masked DJ with the body of a fucking god everyone has been lusting after until one night youβre out living your best life and he plays a set. Sweat dripping down those massive arms, few droplets caught on the trail of dark hair over his stomach. Heβs killing it and you simultaneously. Crowd is pulsing. Vibes are vibing.
Somehow you end up backstage of course because youβve caught his attention. Said attention is rather too much to handle ya know?
Nikto who never cries, hasnβt shed a single opaline tear since he was a child.
When his body was used to sharpen knives he didnβt weep. When the torture grew worse, violence spiralling into a wicked hurricane around him, no water gathered around those crystal cut feline blues.
Even in his most desperate agonies, when he wasnβt sure where the pain ended and he began, Nikto never allowed himself the slightest sob. No harsh or wracking noise left his body. No brine stung the dark lashes lining his eyes, though blood gathered beneath the thin skin of his sockets, split into tendrils across his pupils.
He never came close to it. It was always lethal silence instead, apart from the screams occasionally heard by him as if they had come from someone else.
βAre you okay my love?β
Sat on the sofa, pressed close to his side, a low huff reaches your ears. The noise travels around his barrel chest as an earthquake does within the mountains. The arm holding you tightly bunches, the muscles rigid suddenly. Fight or flight.
You try and glance up at him, a sweet smelling candle burning low, as the light of the chick flick playing on the TV dances around the room. But Nikto quietly turns your chin back towards the screen with two rough fingers.
Itβs not the film. Itβs the perfection of life itself now, unveiled to him when formerly comfort was an entire mystery, one to rival the seven wonders of the world. Something other people understood, while he remained in the cold, observing it from afar with a hardened soul. There was safety within that, familiarity that felt like a warm hearthstone.
But heβs here. With you in the little sitting room you have made together. Youβre warm and comfortable, food in your belly and his. Thereβs no fear left, every hateful side he possessed has been converted to shimmering happiness, addicted to the feeling of contentment that only rises in his throat around you.
Nikto lets you believe the movie made him cry for the first time in decades. Because that alone is preferable to revealing the truth.
The truth is a harsh mistress. One heβs spent a lifetime avoiding.
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Pondering a cold war AU with an irresistible young soviet army officer Nikto stationed in 1960s East Berlin.
You're the daughter of a high-ranking soviet general who is stationed in the heart of the cold war in East Berlin. Sheltered and spoiled you're your father's greatest treasure. Representative duties are part of his deployment here as well, so regularly dinner parties with diplomats, politicians and other esteemed guests are held at the beautiful house you had been given when your family followed your father here from Russia.
The silverware is polished and your mother wears her best dress and a whole can of hairspray in her updo when a dinner is hosted for honoured officers of the division your father is responsible for. Soldiers in sharp full dress uniforms far from home and sent here to defend the iron curtain, their boots polished to a shine and their spines straight when they snap a salute to your father upon arrival.
You're used to those men in their olive green attire with those shiny gold buttons and the red rimmed caps. But one of them sticks out tonight.
A promising young officer your father informs when you're introduced, who joined his division just a few months ago after a glorious review from his previous deployment, ordered to defend the Motherland where his skills are most needed.
You shake his hand and he inclines his head politely, but the pair of sharp and glacial blue eyes is fixed on you, his hand enveloping yours just a second longer than would be appropriate before your father cheerfully calls for the first round of vodka of the night.
It doesn't need more for you to fall head over heels for him right there.
Your mother notices your stolen glances throughout the dinner and remarks with a tiny knowing smirk what a handsome young man this particular soldier is and how pleased your father would certainly be with a son-in-law like this. He's proven to be so helpful to the General since his arrival, an honourable comrade through and through. There will surely be more occasions to get to know him a bit more.
After the dinner though, the young officer doesn't immediately return to the barracks outside of the city with the others. His duty isn't fulfilled yet for today.
Changed into civilian clothing he meets up with another man in a small pub in the nearby small town. The locals are tipsy enough at this hour to pay no mind to the two strangers settling on a table in the corner with a beer.
He has visited the Generals house tonight, as it was arranged, met the wife and the daughter. Infiltrating the family further shouldn't be a problem as well as gaining the Generals full trust.
The other man nods thoughtfully and scribbles something into his notepad.
His new order is clear now:
Become an important asset to the General and gain the daughter's favour. Find a way to search the house for intel and gather compromising information from the daughter and the wife.
And if you find prove of the suspected ties to the western agressor, namely the Americans, or any treasonous activities by the General β act accordingly.
The safety of the Motherland and all its brother states relies on you, comrade. Uncover the traitor.
---
@xoxunhinged that's your fault so please would you write this research-heavy fic for me thank you
Like I do not know the flames. Know them in all their charred and acrid beauty. As if I havenβt felt the scoring of hot earth on the soles of my feet before. Smelt the potency of everything I know and love burn to ash around me. Held my own palms to the leaping ribbons of heat until they blistered, inhaled smoke until it choked me, curling thin, deathly tendrils inside my chest.
Fire exposes, excoriates until there is nothing left of the decorations of humanity that encompass us. I saw you wither in its wake. I watched your lust transform under a savage blaze you had invited right into our midst. Turning cool, afraid. All your colours evaporating in its devastating wake while you looked at me with fear creeping under your patina of confidence.
It is not known to you as it is to me. Familiar, in the desperation of chaotic destruction I am among friends. One of us will leave the inferno unscathed. But it will not be you. I am now built from it, made to withstand the rapid suction of all oxygen from the air to feed the monster. I have fed you? Have I not.
You walked me into fire hand in hand. Never knowing, oblivious.
I am the one who threw the match into dry kindling.
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