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inklore · 8 months

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love lies

premise: the love you have for your fiancé is a farce that you’ve perfected for three years that has gone unnoticed by everyone, except her.

pairing: villanelle x (f)reader

word count: 1.7k

contents: cheating, fingering, choking, sort of knife play, getting off to the talks of blood and murder, dirty talk-ish, they’re both a bit unhinged but that’s ok.

note: this is an au obviously so take v’s character as you will and not as what’s canon ok, but cheers to my gay ass finally writing for her!

haunted hoedown day one.

The fake smile that you know has to be hurting the blonde’s face from being held for the entirety of the night makes something in your stomach curdle.

Makes your nerves sit on edge at the agitation, the secrets, and the lies that the smiles hold. That the owner of it is hiding. She deserves applause for keeping up with the act. The nice neighbor. The befriending of the nice couple who just moved in next door, getting close to the soon to be wife who left all her friends and troubles behind to move to Paris with her fiancé.

A move you agreed to.

A move you imagined would bring you and your fiancé closer. Would change that pit in your stomach that has since become a gaping hole every time you planned for the wedding. Planned to spend your life next to this man you only seemed to love when he was suffering.

When he was vulnerable. Brow pulled down in sadness. A cut done by a kitchen knife while he was cutting vegetables that you pushed down on harder than you needed to while cleaning it. When you accidentally put the wrong salve on it, just to watch him wince and squirm.

That look in his eyes when you were on top of him and you wrapped your fist around his throat to watch that sheen in his eyes question if you were going to let go. The last hitch in his lungs before you cut the air flow off completely.

“I just get really into it, I'm sorry.” You had told him when he asked about it after the first time, and who was he to take away from the pleasure of the woman he loved?

His ignorance was bliss.

But it was also tiring. Creating that gaping hole that the love he poured out to you ran through endlessly where it should have made you whole. Full. Better.

And yet you agreed to wear the ring he saved up to get you. Followed him across the ocean.

Your ignorance was a farce you didn’t know how to get out of. A farce that you’ve perfected for three years. That has gone unnoticed by everyone.

Except the blonde to your left.

The blonde, who had almost lost her touch on pretending to care about whatever was coming out of your fiancé’s mouth the longer the night went on. The longer her eyes caught yours. The longer her knee had pressed into your inner thigh after leaning herself further against the table—giving a look of fake eagerness—the more she pushed her legs between your open ones.

Your look of warning made her fake smile twitch into her real one—devilish, mischievous.

But now both smiles are gone and the two of you are standing in your kitchen, and you’re thankful for the dishtowels in your hands that are keeping them busy with drying because you know her resistance is running thin.

The patience she’s had all night that has threatened to come out in the possible slip of her false accent—the accent you only found to be fake when she cornered you in the entryway of your flat, her lips against yours, your name sounding better in her rigid Russian accent than her fake French one.

Your hands had gone from being in her hair to pushing at her shoulders, removing her from your body not because of the lie but because you needed the excuse to stop this, where every part of your being was sighing in relief from finally giving into the tension. To finally being touched by someone you actually desired.

You may not have loved your fiancé, but starting a torrid affair with your new neighbor didn’t seem like the right way to get out of your current situation—something you eventually learned was the exact opposite.

“I’ll be your dirty little secret, if that’s what you’re into. If it makes this easier for you. We both know he’s not your type.”

And if there was an award for reading someone completely through to their core and being right, Villanelle would win, and you’d be the loser.

“He is a very annoying chewer.” She breaks the silence, “did you know this when you accepted his proposal?” Your silent raised brow is enough for her to put her hands up in defense. “It was just an observation.” She sighs, picking up another dish, “a very annoying observation.”

Your mind scatters to scrounge up something that sets your nerves on edge about Villanelle. To what? Stick up for the man you don’t love? Or to try and prove to her that you actually do have feelings for the man who’s in the next room carrying on with his night happily, thinking he just had a great dinner with his soon to be wife and their hospitable neighbor who’s definitely not fucking his fiancé?

But there’s nothing to prove to the woman who can read right through you.

Who’s gotten off at the palms you’ve both wrapped around each other's throats.

You can’t disguise yourself in front of the queen of them.

It’s a losing game.

A game you’re not interested in playing, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself to.

A game you should play. To resist this woman and the detrimental feelings she brings up. The feelings that fill the void inside of you with the toxic waste of your shared fucked-upness.

Your eyes catch the glint of the knife in Villanelle’s hands. The way her fingers run along the blade to clean it. The tight grip she has on the handle. The confidence she has in knowing she’s not going to slip and cut herself—like she’s held worse in her hands and done worse with it.

The sight—the thought—makes you swallow harder. Makes those dark feelings and thoughts light something deep in your stomach that has you aching. That has your eyes looking up through the doorway towards the room where you know your fiancé is.

“I could do it, you know, quick, painless. He wouldn’t feel a thing.” Her accent is thicker when she’s whispering. When she’s this close, leaning into your side, breathing against the shell of your ear.

Her words make your grip slip, the glass in your hand tumbling into the sink, making you jump; making your thighs press together, your lungs forget how to take in air as you envision the blood that would stain your rugs, that would stain Villanelle’s skin.

“Everything okay in there?”

His voice is like a cold shower to the heat burning through your nerves like wildfire.

“Yes!” Villanelle pipes up in her fake French accent, “just a case of slippery fingers.” Her laugh is short and looks misplaced with the lack of smile on her face. With the fire that’s burning in her eyes when you look up at her, that glint of something you’ve yet to see but know is within her. That you know is within you. That has always been within you if you’d just dived deep enough to face the inevitable instead of letting her touch, kiss, fuck it out of you.

He’s still talking, saying words your ears—and your mind—refuse to register as Villanelle grips your waist and pushes you against the counter.

The knife still in her hand, the tip pressed to your breast bone, more distracting. More worth focusing on. Stealing all your attention and breath, even as she’s replying to him. As she’s keeping up with surade like her eyes aren’t burning through you. Like you can’t see how heavy she’s now breathing. How the sheen in her eyes is the complete opposite of someone who is weak, and it turns you on even more.

“It's worse when I push it through slowly.” Her breath ghosts over your lips as she whispers, as she leans forward, the tip of the knife presses further into your skin, making your breath catch at the sting. “I would do it so he would have already bled out before he knew what had happened to him.” The edges of her mouth rise in a soft smirk, “or would you rather me show you? So you can understand how it feels and do it yourself. You would look so good doing it.” The arousal in her voice that leaks through in the rough kiss she presses to your mouth is just as intoxicating as her words.

You don’t have time to mourn the loss of the blade at your chest when she moves it to press the two of you closer, to grip the sides of your neck to keep your lips on her mouth. To give her easier access to lick and bite into and against your open mouth, willing—needing—all she is giving to you.

When her hand slips up your dress, your thighs spread to give her access to where the both of you need her to be. To the cotton of your underwear and past the elastic band, to that ache that has you wet and warm and throbbing against her palm and fingers.

Her middle finger presses against your clit, your gasp concealed by her lips, your fingers digging into the side of her shirt.

“God, you’re so wet.” Her finger leaves your clit, the heel of her palm flush against it as she pushes a finger inside of you. “Is this all for me or for wanting him dead?” She teases and smirks when you can’t answer because you know you’ll do it too loudly.

When you both know the answer already.

If the two of you were alone, if you weren’t trying to be quiet—to stop the inevitable of your fiancé finding out or worse happening to him—you’d want Villanelle to keep talking. To coax you to your orgasm with her teases and remarks. To drop down to her knees and bury her face between your thighs until you were begging her for more, and then begging her to stop when she gave you too much.

But you’re not alone, and there’s only so many gasps and pants she can swallow down. Can lick out of your mouth with her tongue, thanks to her skillful fingers.

Thanks to the palm around your throat and the thumb pressing against your pulse point.

“One day I will kill him, and you will be mine.”

And as you come with her name breathed into her satisfied smirk, you believe her.

You want her to.

You know she will.

#villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #killing eve fanfic #villanelle one shot #villanelle fic #villanelle fanfic #killing eve one shot #villanelle imagine #killing eve fanfiction #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #villanelle x y/n #villanelle astankova #hauntedhoedown

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 6 months

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~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓼 (𝓚𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓔𝓿𝓮) 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 1-4

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upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months

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Can I request mom!villaneve where r and villanelle are arguing but they’re arguing in a different language and eve is just standing there and villanelle like can you believe what she just said and eve is just confused

Bilingual beauties

Summary: Eve tends to stay out of her wife and daughter’s fights, because usually they happen in Russian.

Pairing: VillanEve x daughter!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 344

a/n: I didn’t want to use google translator this much, so whatever is in italics is spoken in Russian!

masterlists | guidelines

”I don’t get why you have to be such a fun killer!” Y/N shouts at Villanelle, her brows scrunched together and eyes glaring holes into her mother.

Villanelle gasps, slapping her hand against her chest, ”me? A fun killer?” She quickly glances at Eve who is staring at the two with raised brows. ”how can I be the fun killer, when I’m the more exciting parent, huh?”

Y/N lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a scoff. “You’re always nagging at me! Y/N don’t do that. Y/N, you’re not going out in that outfit. No sleepovers allowed.” She changes her voice to match Villanelle’s, of course, it’s more mocking than realistic. “Eve is the fun mom. She actually lets me leave this hell hole.”

”This isn’t a hell hole! This is a nice apartment that I chose.” She turns to Eve, looking for back up, but the older woman just shrugs, not understanding a word coming from either of their mouths. With a dissatisfied huff, Villanelle crosses her arms over her chest. “Excuse me for thinking about your safety. You going to a party with people I don’t know, is not safe.”

”You mean people who you haven’t thoroughly background checked and stalked.”

”Yes!” She throws her hands in the air, as if that is what normal parents do.

Y/N’s head goes back as she groans. ”You’re so annoying.” She starts jogging up the stairs.

”Go to your room!”

”Already going.” She stomps her feet harder, making her feelings very clear.

”And don’t you come out of there.”

”I wasn’t going to!” Is the last thing Y/N shouts before slamming her room’s door shut.

Villanelle whispers Russian curses under her breath, annoyed she didn’t get the last word. “Can you believe her?” She scoffs, looking at Eve with wide eyes

Shaking her head, Eve stares as her wife walks out of the room. Her lips are in a thin line. “I need to get a dictionary.” She mumbles with a sigh, rubbing her forehead.

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 years

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you're just like her

Part One of the Deadly Desire AU

Pairing - sugarmommy!Villanelle x morallycorrupt!Reader

18+ :mentions of killing, smut; oral (r!receiving), fingering, choking, slight roughness and d/s vibes but not really

Word Count - 1860

A/N - this entire series is honestly just an excuse to write villanelle my beloved and a kind of darkfic with a lot of smut and some murder, this smut is pretty mild to some of the stuff i have planned heheheh

You knew what Villanelle was, what she did, she’d told you so herself when she’d come back to where she’d left you in her Paris apartment with a small cut against her cheekbone. She was surprised at your indifference, the unwavering lukewarm glint in your eyes when she uttered the words.

I’m an assassin, I kill for money - and I’m good at it.

She expected a widening of your eyes, a furrow of your brows, a downturn of your lips into a disapproving frown. She thought perhaps you’d be disgusted, backing away from her in fear, repulsed at the things she’s done. She was more than prepared to rectify the situation when you’d push her away, looking at her how so many others do - like she’s a monster.

But instead her own breath hitched in her throat at the soft touch of your fingertips against her cheek, a tentative stroke across the forming bruise. She became more aware in that moment of the icy glaze always present over your eyes, she’d seen it before but it seemed more prominent just then, where she expected a flaming emotion she was met with nothing. Just an indifferent stare.

“You should put some ice on that.” You muttered, taking in the greyish colour deepening on her skin.

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?” She responded as you pulled your hand from her face.

“What am I supposed to say?” You returned, watching as she stepped over to the fridge from the sofa to grab a bag of peas from the freezer and lifted it to her face. She loosely perched on the stool beside the kitchen counter, eyes not leaving your face as she tried to read you.

“I don’t know. That you think I’m evil - that you’re horrified by what I do. Are you not scared?”

You gave her a shrug and a shake of your head and you thought, maybe, you should feel some sort of fear or repulsion but you couldn’t find it in you.

“So how do you feel about it?” She prodded, dropping the peas down onto the counter with a clatter, just so intrigued at this new side of you she was discovering.

“I don’t really feel anything about it, darling.” You shrugged, leaning back in your seat as she kicked her shoes off with a smirk. “As long as you don’t kill me, I don’t see why I should care - you’re not planning to kill me are you?”

She huffed a laugh at that, taking her seat beside you with that smug grin she wears so well. “No.”

“Then carry on - it’s what pays for all the things I like after all.” You smiled at her, referring to the clothes she buys you, the expensive restaurant trips and holidays she’s taken you on.

“Mm, you are so pretty when you’re spoiled.” She mused, mindlessly running her hand over your thigh.

“Are you gonna get this dry cleaned?” You asked, pulling at the collar of her white shirt that had been dotted with a drop of blood - most likely someone else's.

“I can just buy a new one.” She smirked, always ready to flaunt her wealth to you. She watched as you undid it button by button until you gazed at her bra clad chest, letting you push it past her shoulders before she tugged it off to discard somewhere on the ground.

It was animalistic the way she pounced on you, hands holding onto your face as she crashed her lips to yours. Her toned body flexed under your touch when she moved to straddle your legs, pushing you onto your back, sliding her hands up your bare thighs. Her firm touch always set your skin alight, squeezing the flesh of your upper thighs with her bruising kiss before inching her hands further upwards, the shirt you were wearing bunching up around your chest.

She left a trail of kisses over your stomach, downwards until she pressed one to your clothed pussy, feeling the heat from you, smelling your arousal. She wasted no time in pulling the underwear from your body, wrapping her arms around your legs to pull you closer and staring into your eyes as she let a trail of spit fall from her lips onto your already glistening slit.

She always ate you out as though you were the best meal she could ever consume, tongue expertly lapping through your folds, flicking over your clit whilst her hands dug into the flesh of your thighs, nails leaving crescents behind and maybe a bruise or two if she’s lucky.

You aimlessly grabbed at the sofa for something to hold on to, using your other hand to palm at your breast, pulling your nipple between your fingertips. She hollowed out her cheeks with a harsh suck against you making you moan, your hips tried to buck over her tongue but her strong hold kept you pinned down.

She peered up at you through her lashes, the way your body was gasping for breath, head thrown back with your eyes scrunched closed. You could feel her smirk against you before she pulled away, you weren’t surprised, she always was a tease. She likes to see you squirm, desperation in your eyes as you look at her, aching for her to fuck you.

She stood back up, lips shining with your juices as she cockily looked at you watching her undress, she knows how hot she is, she basks in your stares. She looked ethereal standing before you in just her underwear, an expensive, lacey set of lingerie; the black material a stark contrast to her smooth, milky skin.

“Take that off.” She spoke, gesturing to your t-shirt. You did as she said, tossing it aside before yelping slightly when she suddenly lifted you into her arms, easily picking you up. Your legs wrapped around her waist, your hands held onto the sculpted biceps she worked so hard on; you kissed over her neck until she threw you down onto her bed, both of you laughing lightly at the way you bounced.

Her sheets, of course, were expensive - ‘Liliana Rizzari’ silk throw beneath your naked body.

Villanelle crawled up your body, her blonde hair tickled your skin as she kissed you; her lips moved quickly with yours, her tongue battled with yours, licking into your mouth. She pulled away from you with a tug at your bottom lip before dark eyes locked with yours.

“Make me cum and I’ll take you out to dinner tonight.” She rasped, Russian accent coating her words. “Do a good job and I might get you those shoes you want too; you’ve been so good already, pretty girl. I’ve seen a whole new side of you.”

You could only nod in response, letting her guide your hand downwards until your fingers toyed with the waistband of her underwear. You felt how wet she was already, whether she admitted it or not, she got so wet for you - just seeing you wanting her, hearing the sounds she can pull from you, made her ache.

She bit into your collarbone with a sigh when you pushed your fingers into her, they slid into her easily with how dripping she already was. You’d learnt how to perfectly curl your digits in a way that hit her in just the right way, her hips twitched at the movement, lips sucking at your neck with harsh bites scattered over your skin.

The pad of your thumb rubbed over her swollen clit and the sound of her choked moan took you by surprise; she always made sure to stay as quiet as possible but after today she didn’t feel the need to. You were like her, you had that cold and empty look in your eyes - she’d found a new comfort in you she hadn’t expected, you’d earned the right to hear the way you made her feel.

She kissed over the column of your throat as your fingers pumped into her, curling inside her, pulling out and pushing back in with a lewd sound of her arousal. Her lips dragged over your skin in a perfect sequence, her breath was hot against your chest when her tongue swirled over your nipple and pulled away with a tug between her teeth.

“Fuck.” She sighed against you with a moan. “Look at me when you make me cum, pretty girl.” She added, taking your chin between her thumb and forefinger, positioning it so your eyes could lock with hers. She kept them trained on yours as she climaxed, clenching around your fingers with a grunt of pleasure, lips falling open with heavy breath. The sight was glorious, you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together beneath her.

She dug her fingers into your wrist, yanking your hand away from her. She eyed the shining wetness along them, as she pushed them towards your mouth.

“Clean it up.”

You did as you were told, sucking your fingers with a hum at her sweet taste, swirling your tongue over them until they were clean.

She gave no warning before her long fingers thrust into your dripping pussy, she smirked cocklily at the way your eyes widened and your teeth clamped down into your lip at the sudden intrusion. Her fingers were drenched straight away, slipping into you with a curl she knew would make you moan the way you did.

She sat up on her knees to watch you, breasts slightly bouncing with her rough movements, nails digging into the mattress. Her free hand stroked up your torso until her svelte fingers wrapped around your neck, pushing onto your throat in a way that had your eyes rolling back in your head. She squeezed in a controlled way, limiting your oxygen and letting it flow again.

With a circle drawn over your clit with her thumb you were cumming over her fingers, your hips bucked upwards, your back arched and your chest rose and fell in gasps of breath. Villanelle didn’t wait for you to recover before she forced her fingers past your lips, fucking them into your mouth as you cleaned yourself off her long digits.

She pulled them away with a string of saliva in tow once she was satisfied, flopping beside you on the bed, pulling a sheet over you both. The room was brightly lit from the sun through the large windows across from you, a breeze floating in through the net curtains. It gave perfect visibility to your naked upper half that she left uncovered, her own body still in her bra and underwear as she leant her head on her hand and danced her fingers over your bare skin.

“Come with me on my next trip.”

“Really?” You asked in surprise. Usually she left and came to you in England, or she flew you out to wherever she wanted to go - she’d even started to let you stay in her Paris apartment until she came back. But she’d never even suggested inviting you on one of her work trips.

“Yes.” She nodded nonchalantly. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

“Where’s your next job?”

“Italy.”

#villanelle x reader #killing eve #killing eve fanfic #villanelle astankova #oxana vorontsova #villanelle x you #beefy villanelle #villanelle astankova x reader #villanelle x fem!reader

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wearevillaneve · 1 year

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"Insomnia" pages 1-4. (written and illustrated by prianikn_ke/Twitter)

#killing eve #eve polastri #villanelle #eve x villanelle #villaneve #killing eve fanfic #killing eve fanart #this is a love story #villanelle lives #is she or isn't she?#love this

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hellisheavenwithyou · 9 months

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writeblr intro

hi all :) my name’s melina or mel (she/her), and i live in adelaide, australia. i’ve been getting back into writing these past months in the hopes of continuing towards my dream of publishing a novel. however i am currently earning a masters in counselling, so my time is torn between that and writing. i am hoping to keep up my motivation by interacting with other fellow readers and writers on this blog :)

i’m currently working on an original modern fantasy wip alongside my fanfics. i’m a huge killing eve fan so have a fanfic for that show in the works. i’m in the process of drafting a stranger things fanfic also. additionally, i get a lot of writing inspiration (and just inspiration in general) from taylor swift. as jake peralta once said, “she makes me feel things.”

reading was my escape as a child, and continues to be my escape when life becomes a bit too much. i hope one day my writing can become someone’s else’s welcomed escape when they need it.

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WIP intro

the demon's devotion

summary

Every small town has a secret. Every person who lives in a small town has a secret. Everyone likes to pretend these secrets don’t exist. However, these secrets emerge sooner or later, whether people want them to or not...

In a rural Australian town, Illiana can’t wait until the day she leaves her hometown. But when she unwillingly becomes involved in a mysterious disappearance and reappearance of an eighteen year old girl, leaving becomes the least of her concerns. Especially when there’s no evidence, the girl can’t remember a thing, and an enigmatic woman, Eris, begins appearing outside Illiana's window almost every night.

Illiana just wants to find out what happens so she can clear her name and return her focus to leaving her town. But then girls continue disappearing, and as Illiana finds herself being drawn more towards Eris, she becomes increasingly drawn to her hometown's past, too, and finds she might be more connected to these disappearances than she thought.

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that’s me! i’ll drop my fan twitter and ao3 below as an extra intro. leave a comment if you're into any of the things i've mentioned here, i'd love to make some friends here. i look forward to getting to know the writeblr community on here more :)

ao3: | twitter

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iwt-v · 2 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Killing Eve (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova Characters: Eve Polastri, Villanelle | Oksana Astankova Additional Tags: hey look what I found, takes place during 2x06, after Eve realizes Niko is def into Gemma, PWP, strap-ons wait what, V lets Eve feel wanted and needed Summary:

“I don’t know what the fuck I want.”

There’s a hand on her thigh and Eve startles. Villanelle’s face is open if not quite readable.

“Maybe I know what you want. Stay here.”

#killing eve #killing eve fanfic #ke fanfic #villaneve #ke mine #willing secession #still not over them

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pinkpolastri · 1 year

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hiii everyone! after a long time, i’ve uploaded a new chapter of "a year with villanelle and eve" - it's officially winter, and this time it's christmas themed :) enjoy! <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42465186/chapters/110380773

#killing eve #villaneve #villanelle x eve #killing eve fanfic #killing eve fanart #villanelle #eve polastri #jodie comer #sandra oh #ngl this was my fave ke comic i've done it's kinda funny #killing eve fic

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bambirex · 4 months

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2023 writing roundup

I was tagged by @dancingwiththefae, thank you! ❤️

I've written 24 fics this year, mostly Witcher and a few others (I'm not including the request compilations from tumblr)

Had to put some of it under the cut because I have long ass summaries lol

January

The Day Has Come Where I Have Died (Only To Find I've Come Alive) (geraskier, M, 2,785 words)

A familiar place forces Jaskier to relive the most horrifying experience of his life.

February

Me And Mr. Wolf (geraskier, E, 3,861 words)

Geralt looked at him differently, with an emotion in his amber eyes that Jaskier couldn’t quite decipher, but it looked like hunger. And Jaskier tried to signal to him that it was okay to act upon his desires (if they existed at all, of course), but all his attempts were futile. The tension, the lingering glances and touches remained, and Jaskier felt like tearing his own hair out every day.

(...)

All his frustrations oozed onto the piece of paper before him. That was the only way to truly let it all out, by making up an unabashedly horny song using his typical metaphors. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever hear it; this wasn’t the kind of song Jaskier would have ever played in front of a crowd. That was just for him, only he would know who the big bad wolf and the needy bunny of the lyrics were.

Well, Geralt would probably know, too, what with him living his life with the “white wolf” title plastered to him, and the fact he once fondly said that if Jaskier would be an animal, he would definitely be an over-energetic rabbit.

Lucky that Geralt would never find that song.

We Match (geraskier, G, 1,121 words)

Geralt and Jaskier compare their stripes.

March

Butterfly Lounge (geraskier, T, 1495 words)

Geralt has missed out on so much.

The Wonderful In You (trissefer, T, 4,080 words)

Five times Triss told Yennefer she loved her without outright saying it, and the one time Yennefer said it for real.

The River's Just A River (one-sided geraskier, T, 1817 words)

Jaskier needs to tell Geralt something important in order to move on with his life, even though he knows he cannot expect anything in return.

June

Tell It With Your Heart (geraskier, T, 2,504 words)

While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

July

Sunshine For The Sunshine (geraskier, yennskier, radskier, Jaskier & Kaer Morhen wolves, Jaskier & Ciri, G, multichap, 2,127 words)

Jaskier being loved, spoiled and taken care of by everyone the way he deserves.

This Evil Romance (So Good I Never Wanna Waste It) (yennskier, E, 4,678 words)

"See something you like, little bird?"

On one hand, definitely. This woman was so incredibly hot, if Jaskier wasn't literally tied into a knot, she would have fallen on her knees to worship her.

On the other hand, judging by her unnaturally perfect looks, the dark lace and the ominous necklace - not to mention the fact she was smirking over a kidnapped girl - she was most definitely a witch. And that was not very good.

Jaskier wakes up tied up and disoriented in the company of a very sexy, but probably insane witch, and her first thought, of course, is that she is going to be sacrificed- but the witch has other plans. Really exciting ones.

August

The Heavy Burden That You Can't Bear (past radskier, Radovid/OMC, E, 2,212 words)

He grabbed the oil from the table and coated his fingers with it, cursing the way they shook. The mighty, unapologetic King of Redania. Radovid the Stern. The tyrant. Broken to the point he started breaking everything and everyone around him, punishing the world because punishing himself wasn’t enough anymore. The charming, witty player of a Prince long gone. Now he was just a lonely, angry King who has aged decades in a few years. More pathetic than ever.

The servant gasped as Radovid shoved two fingers inside him without warning. He squirmed as the king prepared him without any finesse, stretching him out quick. He probably didn’t even open him enough before he slicked himself and started pushing inside, if the way his breath hitched in a way that sounded more pained than pleasured was anything to go by.

Radovid grabbed the man’s hips as he buried himself inside. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the body before him engulf him. Tight and warm, silky heat. A quiet moan. Radovid let it all take him back to the memories that haunted his every waking moment.

Takes One To Know One (Breaking Bad, JesseJane, T, 1,117 words)

Jesse needs to tell Jane something important. Jane has some interesting info for him, too.

Good Enough To Eat (geraskier, E, 2,375 words)

“It’s true what they say about wolves,” Jaskier started, his voice much lower than usual- sensual and needy. He only talked like this when he wanted to play their game. Not even just regular sex, but the kind that they have discovered months prior due to a ridiculous, horny song found by accident. A sinful performance they put on for each other.

“That they like to take care of their pack. The big alpha would provide for his family, making sure they’re well-fed…”

Jaskier took one of Geralt’s hands and led it under the blanket and over his stomach. Geralt couldn’t suppress a moan when he felt his fingers dig into soft flesh, yielding like dough beneath his hand.

“Is this what it’s about, huh?” Jaskier huffed out a laugh, his breath hot and moist against the skin of Geralt’s neck. “The wolf wants to feed up the bunny so he would be happy and healthy?”

September

Keep My Heart In Your Gold (geraskier, T, 2,579 words)

Geralt always carries a brooch around with him. Jaskier wants to know why.

A Lesson In Patience (geraskier, E, 1,939 words)

“Fuck me,” he moaned against Geralt’s neck. He pushed his body against Geralt’s, rubbing his hard cock against his groin. “Now.”

Geralt smirked against Jaskier’s skin. He gave his ass a curt spank, making Jaskier let out a delighted gasp.

“Get on the bed, then,” Geralt told him. Jaskier nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste. He threw himself on the bed, opening his legs with a sultry look. Geralt stood at the foot of the bed, raking his eyes over Jaskier’s body, practically already writhing with need.

“What are you waiting for?” He drawled. “Don’t just stand there!”

Geralt retrieved the bottle of oil from the desk, keeping his eyes on Jaskier all the while. Jaskier pouted and huffed, then reached between his legs and started stroking his cock, unable to go without a bit of pleasure for a few moments. Oh, it will be delicious to break him in and show him it was worth waiting, Geralt thought with a smirk.

October

I Get So Hungry (When You Say You Love Me) (Jaskier/Geralt/Radovid, E, 3,439 words)

"What kind of animal would I be," Radovid drawled, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself. Jaskier sent him a strange look.

"Pardon?"

"In this game of yours," Radovid clarified. He tightened his grasp around Jaskier's hips. "What am I?"

Jaskier tilted his head to the side as he inspected his face. His eyes darkened, his tongue poking out to wet his lips.

"A fox," Jaskier concluded. Radovid hummed.

"Elaborate on that."

"Smart, cunning," Jaskier explained, teasing a finger down the side of Radovid's neck. "Crafty. Seemingly a harmless puppy, but you bite hard. Not afraid of a challenge. Leaner and not as tough as a wolf - but still very strong. And you have these sharp features and that reddish tint to your hair, so... a fox. Definitely."

Well, Radovid could make do with that information. It planted a new image in his head - one where that sweet, eager bunny was hunted by not one, but two apex predators at once...

It was as if Jaskier read his mind because he leant in really close to his ear and whispered "why? Would you like to join us?"

Te Engemet, Én Tégedet (Queen, Jimercury, G, 3,846 words)

Freddie suddenly sat up, excitement twinkling in his eyes. “Okay, so I did some research. They have a folk song, it’s really pretty. And I want to sing it for them on Sunday.”

Jim was sure his eyes were practically bulging out of his head, and that just made Freddie giggle again. “In Hungarian?” Jim checked, and Freddie nodded, his cheeks growing flushed with excitement.

“I want to blow their minds, okay? I want them to remember this forever.”

November

Chubskier Drabbles (geraskefer, geraskier, yennskier, radskier, Jaskier & Kaer Morhen wolves, Jaskier/Valdo, Jaskier/Vespula, Jaskier/original characters, Jaskier & Yarpen, E, multichapter WIP, currently 14,763 words)

Just a collection of short stories revoling around chubby Jaskier.

December

New Depths (geraskefer, E, 3,375 words)

Jaskier asks Yennefer to perform a strange spell on him. No one's ready for how much he actually enjoys the results.

Carve It Out (Killing Eve, villaneve, M, 1,413 words)

Eve brings her issues with her to the bedroom. Villanelle knocks some sense into her.

The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good (geraskefer, M, multichapter WIP, currently 55,807 words)

Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.

Maybe Loving Is Sharing (geraskefer, M, multichap, 24,108 words)

The plan is simple: help your best friend get together with the girl of her dreams. What could go wrong?

Well, when everyone is confused and pining but also very oblivious, pretty much everything.

It's A Game We Play (geraskier, yennskier, radskier, T, multichapter WIP, currently 40, 586 words)

Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Those Blue Memories Start Calling (Rush, Launt, T, 1,849 words)

James visits Niki before Christmas.

Every Night He'd Tuck Him Tight (But Never Left The Room) (radskier, geraskier, E, multichapter WIP, currently 6,472 words)

Jaskier finds himself back with Radovid against his will- while he still has strong feelings for him, he finds it hard to trust him again. What's even worse is that the guilt and pain has turned Radovid into a completely different person. A person who's desperate to keep the only good thing in his life, which is Jaskier, himself. Jaskier doesn't want to change his mind about putting his family first, so Radovid needs to find a way to make sure he will be the only one for the bard.

What follows is Radovid's even deeper descend into madness, and Jaskier's forced transformation into the perfect, pliant lover who won't need anybody else.

Tagging @wren-of-the-woods, @sokkas-first-fangirl, @carrottheluvmachine and whoever else wants to do this!

#fic roundup #tag game #the witcher fanfiction #Breaking bad fanfiction #killing eve fanfic #Rush fanfiction #queen fanfiction

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locolesbianwp · 1 year

Text

the gift

pairing: Eve Polastri & Villanelle | Oksana Astankova

warning: smut

summary: Eve gives Villanelle the gift of a lifetime

word count: 4200+

March. Typically, the world is greyed over due to numerous rain-filled clouds inhabiting the sky. Trees are still lank and bare from the winter weather and their leaves have barely given any thought about making a reappearance. However, today seemed special. Different. The usually sequestered sun had dominated the clouds and shone bright rays of light into the world beneath it. Even the trees bore small budding leaves on randomised branches.

Eve stirred from her sleep as a result of said sun, which was beaming through the slit in the curtains and directly onto her face. Her hands subconsciously rose to shield her closed eyes from the light and she let out a soft groan caused by both tiredness and irritation. She kept her eyes covered and wished for sleep to take over her again, before she realised what day it was.

Villanelle's birthday.

Eve's eyes immediately popped open, but reduced to a squint after being attacked by the sun. "Shit." She muttered, sitting up in the king size bed while Villanelle lay asleep beside her. Eve tried to rack her brain for an appropriate word to describe how her lover looked in that moment, but ironically, the only word that came to mind was angelic. Perhaps it was the way her honey coloured hair was sprawled across the pillow in an almost halo shape, or maybe it was the certain sunbeam which resembled a golden aura that highlighted the lower half of her face.

Villanelle's mouth in the light was nothing short of tempting. Her full lips looked even pinker in the spotlight, and the subtle sleepy pout that she wore was calling Eve's kiss. There was nothing she wanted more than to just simply lean down and kiss her, wake her. But Eve wanted to give Villanelle the best birthday she could, and that started with breakfast in bed.

Eve forced her attention away from the sleeping girl next to her and instead focused on the task at hand. First, she needed to actually figure out what time it currently was and how much time she had to sort things out before Villanelle woke. She pulled the charger from out of her phone and peered at the illuminated screen which displayed what she needed to know.

9:18

Villanelle generally woke up at around ten, so Eve had plenty of time. It wasn't unusual for her to wake up before her partner, however, she usually snuggled up to the person next to her and drifted back into a deep sleep. But not today. Eve carefully pulled the sheets from her body and clambered out of bed as silently as she could so as to not disturb Villanelle. She tiptoed her way out of their shared bedroom and walked into the large kitchen, where the whole of the sun could be clearly seen through the windowpanes. As she tried to think of what she could possibly make for breakfast, she scoured through the fridge to find any assortment of ingredients that could form something edible. Pancakes, maybe? Eve Polastri was definitely not a Michelin star chef, although she did take pride in her ability to make a palatable batch of pancakes.

Eve cleared the fridge of the ingredients she needed; eggs, milk, butter. She even grabbed a hold of a half-empty carton of orange juice and poured the liquid into a glass for herself. Deciding to make the most of the improved weather, she cracked open the windows to allow the fresh Spring air to spread throughout the room. While Eve began to whip up the pancake batter, she came to the realisation that she had never made this kind of effort with her ex-husband. She didn't wake up early on his birthday to cook him breakfast in bed, and she didn't sneak out of the room so as to prolong his sleep. Niko was her husband, but he wasn't the one.

The pancakes didn't take long to cook, and Eve was plating them up before she knew it. She would often drift away from reality when completing simple tasks, as they didn't require much forethought and her mind was very easy to succumb to. Due to this, she completely forgot she had to pick up Villanelle's birthday cake she ordered a few days before. Eve picked up her phone, all while cursing herself internally, and dialled the bakery's number to let them know she was running a little late and she'd be there as soon as she could. She wanted to be able to take the breakfast to Villanelle as soon as she got back, so she decided to quickly chop up some fresh fruit as she wouldn't have to do it when she returned. An assortment of blueberries, bananas and strawberries were finely sliced and placed intricately atop the stack of pancakes on each plate, with the reminder of the fruit being transferred into a bowl.

Eve was happy with her work, but she was well aware that the cake still needed to be collected. She pulled on a pair of shoes and caught sight of herself in the hall mirror, wearing grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt that she had slept in. Usually she would change into something fresh before going outdoors, but she just didn't have the time, so she left her house with purse in hand and no cares about her outfit.

On the walk to the bakery, Eve delighted in the joyous chatter of people and children revelling in the sunny skies. It was hard to believe that just yesterday, the streets were painted with raindrops. Next to the bakery sat Eve and Villanelle's favourite cafe. It was a family owned business with an expertise in roasting beans. The closer Eve got, the stronger the coffee smell was, and the more she craved a cup. She eyed the bakery door. She knew she was running behind, but she was won over by the caffeine.

The man behind the counter greeted Eve enthusiastically and immediately began to make her order, without her even needing to say anything. A cappuccino and a hot chocolate.

"V not with you today?" The barista questioned, noticing Villanelle's absence right away. The couple always came here together, so it was a rare sight for Eve to be here by herself.

"It's her birthday today. She's having a lie in." Eve explained and awaited her coffee as it was being poured into a take-away cup.

"Aw, wish her a happy birthday from me!" The man placed both cups on the counter. Eve reached for her purse to take out the money she owed, but the man waved a dismissive hand. "It's on me. Get back before she wakes up."

"Thank you." Eve said sincerely and picked up the hot drinks. Now she really needed to pick up that cake. She entered the bakery next door and was immediately greeted with the wonderful aroma of freshly baked goods, which had her stomach growling in search of food. Resisting the temptation to purchase a croissant for herself, Eve freed her hands of the coffee by putting the beverages on the countertop and pulled out the money she owed for the cake. And only the cake. No croissants. Once she was given her order, Eve placed her coffee cups on top of the box and bid a polite goodbye to the workers. It was definitely a challenge balancing the drinks while walking, but she successfully managed to make it back into her house without any accidents.

The house was quiet, apart from the high pitched singing of birds that could be heard from outside. Hoping that Villanelle was still asleep, Eve entered the kitchen to see things just as she left them. With a sigh of relief, Eve put the large box inside the fridge for safe keeping, and placed her items on a chopping board; two plates, the bowl of fruit and the two cups. She wasn't bothered to look for a tray since the chopping board did the exact same job and aided her in carrying all the stuff to the bedroom in one go. She pushed open the bedroom door with her foot and watched as a yawning Villanelle was rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning." Eve greeted, immediately drawing Villanelle's attention to her.

"Aw, Eve." She spoke softly, jutting her lower lip out in a sweet pout. "You made this for us?"

"For you." Eve corrected, kicking off her shoes and rejoining her lover on the bed. She set down the chopping board in the middle and scooted up with her back against the headboard. Villanelle mimicked her position.

"Happy birthday, Villanelle." Eve leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, to which Villanelle's skin reacted by crimsoning in a blush.

Villanelle had never felt so seen before. Her birthday was never a big deal for her, or anyone. It was just a date on the calendar that she recognised but never fully acknowledged. She certainly didn't get breakfast handed to her, or the love of her life celebrating with her. She didn't know how to react to the gesture, and her eyes began to fill up with emotion, so she simply said, "Eat up."

Eve didn't need to be told twice, nor did the rumbling in her stomach. She picked up one of the plates and groaned in the realisation that she forgot cutlery.

"What's wrong, Eve?" Villanelle asked, a furrow in her brow that showed she was genuinely concerned. Eve chuckled and shook her head.

"I just forgot to bring a knife and fork."

"Hey, what are hands for?" Villanelle picked up a pancake in one of her hands and tucked a few berries into the fold she was creating, before putting it into her mouth and taking a hefty bite. This prompted Eve to follow and take her own bite of the pancake. They both shared a glance as the delicious food took over their taste buds. Villanelle comically rolled her eyes into the back of her head in pleasure, which had Eve quickly glancing away before she got any ideas.

"So good." The blonde mumbled over a mouthful of food and grabbed one of the cups off the board. She recognised the label instantly and smiled to herself, washing down her bite with a gulp of...cappuccino.

"Bleh!" Villanelle forced the liquid down before handing the drink to its rightful owner. "Cappuccino."

Eve laughed at the reaction and took her cup. The couple spent majority of the day in the bedroom, eating their food and dancing to old music played on vinyls. Villanelle suggested spending some time outdoors in the warmth and Eve agreed. They dressed into light clothing and walked hand in hand outside, where the sun was belting down hot rays and positivity.

"Do you want to go to the park?" Villanelle asked as the pair strolled down the street.

"Of course. It'll be packed, though." Eve informed her, but neither of them really cared.

"It's okay. I'll just scare the children off." Villanelle said casually. Eve turned to look at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. She was serious!

"You want to play? Like, actually play in the park?"

"Yes! Why else would I have suggested it?" Villanelle had a confused look on her face. Eve just laughed and leaned her head on the taller woman's shoulder as they walked to the park.

It was indeed packed. Children ran about the tarmac, squealing gleefully while parents chattered over benches and homemade sandwiches. Eve felt a little self conscious about being a fully grown woman in a park with no children of her own, but Villanelle did not care. She was a child at heart.

"C'mon, Eve! I want to go on the swings." Villanelle latched onto Eve's hand tightly, dragging her to the swing set that was fully occupied, apart from one. "Sit." She instructed and Eve followed, taking up the last swing. She thought that Villanelle was going to push her but instead she stood in front of the little boy on the neighbouring swing.

"Move. Now." Villanelle demanded and the boy ran off the swing without any further orders. She took the swing and looked over at Eve, who was stifling a laugh. "What? He's probably been here long enough, it's my turn."

"You're a big kid." Eve teased, adjusting her grip on the rusting metal chains and beginning to swing.

"I'm your big kid." Villanelle attempted to flirt, but they both looked at each other with widening eyes. "No, I have sex with you, that's just wrong."

"Villanelle!" Eve scolded her and glanced around to see if any children heard. "This is a children's park. You can't just say sex." Her voice lowered to a whisper.

"At least I'm not doing it." Villanelle shrugged it off and joined Eve in swinging.

"Yeah, 'cause it's a crime."

"Just because some things are illegal doesn't mean it has stopped me doing them."

"Duh." Eve laughed.

The pair swung around for a while longer before they decided to head home. The sun was beginning to dim down a little and the park was quietening. Walking back to the house, they continued to hold hands, not wanting to part after spending so little time together over the years.

"Do you think the sun knew it was my birthday today?" Villanelle asked with her head tilted towards the sky just as Eve was opening the front door.

"Yes." Eve said honestly, taking one last look at the star before it was to be covered over by incoming clouds. They entered the house and Eve instructed Villanelle to take a seat at the table in the kitchen while she shut the door.

"Why? What are you doing?" She questioned. Of course she wouldn't just sit down without asking why.

"Just sit down." Eve gestured to the chair.

"Why, though?"

"Villanelle, do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Then sit down." Eve rolled her eyes playfully at the stubbornness of her girlfriend.

"Fine." Villanelle dragged out the word, but took a seat at the table nonetheless. Eve snuck over to the fridge and removed the box she placed in there earlier. She lifted the two tier lilac cake out of its packaging and grabbed some candles from the back of a cupboard. She stuck a few of them haphazardly into the cake and struck up a lighter, disguising the sound with a cough. Villanelle could only hear what Eve was doing, and she was pleasantly surprised when the cake was placed in front of her on the table. Eve began to sing happy birthday, very horribly in her eyes, but Villanelle loved every second of it and that's all that mattered. Those tears that were blinked away this morning resurfaced, but Eve noticed them this time.

"Is my singing really that bad?" Eve joked lightly but pulled a chair closer to Villanelle and sat down. She grasped the blonde's face between her hands, allowing the pads of her thumbs to trace the outline of her cheekbones and wipe away falling tears.

"No. You've just been so nice to me." Villanelle admitted and leaned into Eve's touch, sniffling very quietly. Eve's heart hurt for her lover but she put on a brave face.

"And I will continue to do that. It's what you deserve. Now, make a wish." Eve directed the subject to the cake to lighten the mood, and she could tell Villanelle was grateful for it. She thought about her wish for a moment before blowing out each candle simultaneously with a huge blow, to which Eve celebrated with a cheer.

"Do you want to have a slice now or do you want your present first?" Eve asked, rising from her seat. Villanelle looked genuinely surprised at the question.

"You got me a present?"

"Yes, of course I did."

Villanelle smiled. "Then I want that first."

"You got it." Eve shot her a wink while she disappeared from the kitchen to retrieve the gift. Villanelle took a moment to appreciate the effort that Eve had put into making this day special for her. And it was just that. Special.

Eve returned with another box, but wrapped this time in a birthday themed paper and tied off with a red ribbon. She pushed the cake out of the way and set the present in front of Villanelle, returning to her seat to watch her open it.

She untied the ribbon, ripped open the paper and pulled open the box. She gasped at its contents and looked at Eve, who had the end of her nail in her mouth.

"Lingerie?" Villanelle raised an amused eyebrow, picking up the lacy underwear with her thumbs. The blood red material changed the mood in the room with its presence. The ribboned one piece felt expensive in her hands and she was just about to ask where it had been purchased, only Eve cut her off.

"How about you to try it on and I'll grab some wine." Eve rose from her seat with a confident composure, as if her heart wasn't racing inside her body at the thought of Villanelle in the present she got her. She felt maybe she was being a little selfish with the present, as it would be more her who would be enjoying it, but the way she was feeling right now let her know that Villanelle would definitely be as grateful for the gift as Eve was.

Villanelle wordlessly sauntered out of the kitchen with the box in her hands while Eve scanned the wooden rack for a particular bottle of red wine. Once acquired, she plucked two wine glasses and carried them to the bedroom. Upon opening the door, she found Villanelle already changed into the lingerie and seating herself on the bed, back against the headboard like her position this morning.

Every shift of her curvy body was accentuated by the cardinal colour, and it contrasted so beautifully against her pale, milky skin. Her full breasts filled the cups of the piece, with the tops of them spilling out ever so slightly. Each step that Eve took just added to the lust she was already feeling. The wine in her hands was almost forgotten about until Villanelle spoke up and drew Eve from her mesmerisation.

"I like these glasses." Villanelle admitted, taking the two from Eve's hands and setting them on her beside table. Eve could hardly form a coherent thought in her head, and there Villanelle was, admiring wine glasses.

"Yeah." Eve agreed with a sheepish nod and popped open the chilled wine bottle. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as she poured it carelessly, and Villanelle caught an escaped drop that was running down the side of the glass with her finger. She placed that finger in her mouth to lick off the drop of alcohol, all while staring at Eve from under her lashes. The older woman took a deep breath before swallowing the glass of wine in one. She certainly needed the alcohol to kick in immediately to soothe the overload of feelings within her body. She was so turned on, nervous, hot. All because of another girl.

"I like your style." Villanelle's lips curved into a smirk as she gulped back her own glass until nothing was left. The residue of the red liquid stained her lips a darker shade of pink, and that was all Eve needed to give in. She climbed onto her knees on the bed and positioned herself in front of Villanelle, between her legs. The blonde wrapped her slim legs around the other's waist, and pulled her in closer. Eve felt drunk already, but she knew it wasn't the result of the singular glass of wine; she was love drunk. And overly horny.

Eve leaned in first and captured Villanelle's lips in a kiss. Her lips were soft and delicate and she couldn't seem to get enough. Villanelle separated for air but Eve's eager mouth was parting her dewy lips faster than she could inhale. Eve felt again the rush of submissiveness, the fervent yearning, the surge of desire that knocked her breathless. This was routine for her, but she didn't wish to submit to Villanelle tonight. They both pulled away, intaking sharp breaths to their lungs. Eve barely gave Villanelle time to breathe, for her lips were now planting hot, open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck. She skimmed across her pulse point with her teeth and pressed a singular kiss on the base of her throat. Villanelle gasped softly and her head titled back, hitting against the headboard with a quiet thud. The birthday girl was in a daze, rightfully in a trance due to Eve's actions.

As the pair put a few centimetres distance between their faces, Villanelle could read the look in Eve's eyes. She had no time to speak, to interject, for Eve was already shuffling her body down the bed, laying on her stomach and placing her hands around Villanelle's knees. She shivered at the cool touch and slowly spread her legs apart, peering down into beady brown eyes that were already gazing at her. No words were exchanged, only small pants of anticipation as Eve traced a svelte finger along the lacy outline of the panties Villanelle wore. She waited with bated breath for the next move, and slowly shut her eyes when Eve hooked the finger beneath one side of the underwear and pulled it to the side. The older woman could see just how wet this whole ordeal had gotten Villanelle. She let the material go from her finger and it snapped back against Villanelle, making her squirm. Her insides were quaking with lust.

Eve watched her own hands as they ran over expanses of creamy, pale skin and squeezed in all the right places. Each squeeze evoked a different reaction from the blonde, which only fuelled Eve's desire more. She couldn't take any more of this teasing herself, never mind Villanelle.

She pulled the panties to the side once more, but rougher this time. Eager fingers began to sneak between Villanelle's thighs, slipping past the soaked lace and ghosting over her pulsing clit, which earned a filthy whine in response. Eve rubbed tight little circles on the blonde's clit and looked up between her legs to see Villanelle's eyes shut. Eve stopped.

"What the hell?" Villanelle complained, glaring down at her lover with a nettled expression.

"Keep your eyes open, Oksana." Eve demanded, and Villanelle's eyes widened at the name. Words failed to come to her, so all she could manage was a nod to show she understood.

"And hold this." Eve instructed, gesturing to the panties that she was holding to the side. Villanelle reached down to take over and watched her lover's every move.

Eve used two fingers to spread Villanelle's glistening folds apart and leaned forward to ghost her lips over her clit, giving it a whisper of a kiss. She stuck out her tongue and flattened it, sliding from the beginning of Villanelle's entrance, up to the straining pearl of her clit. With her teeth clenched, the blonde hissed softly, and Eve repeated the motion again and again. She was determined to have Villanelle yield and by the way her chest was heaving up and down hastily, Eve knew that she was enjoying this as much as she is.

Eve worked messily and despite her best efforts to gather everything Villanelle had to offer, warm wetness still smeared across her cheeks. The blonde's taste was sweet, tangy, and so, so addictive. Eve's tongue delved deeper in search of more, parting Villanelle's pussy with the tip of her tongue and she thrusted forward into her. A sharp cry was released into the air and Eve looked up just in time to see Villanelle bite hard onto her lip to stifle her moans of pleasure. Eve's grip on Villanelle's thighs tightened, and she could feel the uneven skin of battle wounds beneath her palms. Each scar told a different story of how Villanelle fought and survived.

The couple knew that Villanelle would not be able to stay completely submissive for too long. Her free hand came to rest on top of Eve's head, twisting curly hair around her fist and shoving her face further against her pussy. Eve barely had an opportunity to catch her breath, but the way Villanelle's hips were raising to ride her tongue was evidence enough that she was close to ecstasy.

"Oh, Eve." She panted out, closing and opening her fist around black locks. "Keep doing that."

Eve had no intentions of stopping. She continued the repetitive plunging of her tongue into Villanelle's entrance, and removed one of her hands from her thigh to tease the clit that was longing for attention. At this action, Villanelle's thighs automatically closed around Eve's head in a vice-like grip as her orgasm overtook her body. Wetness trickled past Eve's mouth and coated her chin as the woman above her moaned out curses in a mix of both English and Russian.

"Wow." Villanelle spoke, breathless. She parted her legs to allow Eve to catch her breath and rekindled eye contact.

"Best birthday present ever. Do you want some cake now?"

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peach-and-bugs · 2 years

Text

❤️You Shouldn't Hide In The Dark - Villanelle x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list buy me a Ko-Fi if you'd like to show some support :)

Summary: y/n, Villanelle's unsuspecting target, finds herself in an unprecedented situation when she's attacked in the parking lot outside her flat, only to be saved by said hired assassin instead of killed...

Warnings: Dark themes, such as being followed at night, knives, biting, attempted murder and actual murder, graphic stabbing, mention of stalking, assassins (obviously), tending to and cleaning injuries, blood, and generally canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,338

A/N: I wrote my first Villanelle fic! I only recently got into Killing Eve and I'm still on season one, but I'm loving it so far and adore the chaotic yet mildly gruesome nature of Villanelle and just had to try my hand at writing for her. I'm hoping this feels somewhat in character for her, and if I write for her again after watching more I hope to get her quirks and mannerisms down, so let's just say that this is only a practice for now. But besides that, I do hope you enjoy and as always, feel free to leave questions or thoughts in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! ❤️

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On most occasions, you would have refused to walk home alone, especially in the middle of the night like this. If you’d checked your watch before leaving, you’d know that the clock was creeping towards two in the morning. Yet here you were, walking with long strides away from the pub, where you’d left your friends as they sang the night away at karaoke. You were reminded now of the benefits that came with driving alone rather than carpooling. Paying for your gas would have been better than this, you thought, blowing a puff of visible breath out of your lips. You wrapped your coat tighter around your shoulders as a midnight chill caught up to your brisk pace.

The fortunate part of this situation was that you didn’t live far from the pub. Only a few blocks and then you’d be at Hyde park where your apartment was waiting with the heat on high. Your heels however had your feet begging for you to take them off. They were a new pair that you had stupidly decided to break into tonight. Granted, you hadn’t planned on walking home initially. You stopped with a mutter under your breath, leaning forward to slip the heels of your feet, letting the cool concert seep through your tights and soothe the arching ache from your new shoes. Standing up straight, you nearly sighed at the feeling.

A ding from your phone distracted you from continuing your journey. Curiosity clouded your judgment as you pulled it from your pocket, only to find your friend drunk and texting you about what was happening at the pub. She promptly sent a video, which you watched without hesitation. You smiled, rolling your eyes as you find belted what you thought was meant to be Wonder Wall, but easily could have been something else. You began to type a response after saving the video. Something stupid about her needing alive in the morning. You weren’t even sure. You forgot your intentions the second you heard a rustling sound from the bushes that lined the sidewalk behind you.

Your muscles went rigid and you squeezed your heels tighter in your hand. You felt a prickling feeling crawl up your spine and through your neck, warning and urging you to move. Footsteps clicked along the pavement from behind you but stopped just far enough away. You turned around, trying your best not to stumble over your own feet, but there were no shadowy figures to be seen. Your breath intensified and you felt like you could hear every sound around you. You began to walk again, faster than before. With a little more energy you’d be sprinting if necessary. The feeling intensified as you moved and now you couldn’t be more confident that you were being followed.

The park was in view now, just another street away. All you needed to do was get to the parking lot and you prayed you’d be home free. Blood pumped through your ears and neck as your eyes darted all around you. The clicking began again, moving along the sidewalk behind you. The parking light laps were lit, guiding you home like the lights of heaven when you die. When you reached the corner, the footsteps intensified. You ran across the street, completely disregarding the notion of potentially oncoming traffic.

Your ears were filled with the sound of your rapid breathing, pumping blood, and the pattering sound of your bare feet as they hit the assault. The tapping was now full-blown pounding behind you and with pure desperation, you darted under a lite streetlamp. Your heels dropped to the pavement with an inharmonious clatter as your hands began to frantically rummage through your bag, pulling out your keys and uncapping the attached pepper spray you carried for times like this.

You listened carefully, finger pressed firmly on the trigger of the pepper spray. The pounding steps began to circle from the shadows just outside the sanctity of your streetlamp. You felt like a moth, hovering under the only light insight in hopes that some good would come out of your situation. You swallowed quickly, trying you’re best to keep track of where he might be, lurking just beyond your view. That’s when you heard the clicking. It was a back-and-forth sound, similar to the flickering of a lighter, on and off. Only this was loud and clean. He entered your view now, passing through the wall of light you’d been praying to with ease as you passed backward.

He was large, larger than you’d ever seen, and smiled a crooked grin, toying with a butterfly knife between his fingers. The weapon appeared small in his hands. You felt yourself tremble, but you held your ground, pointing the spray to eye level.

“I’ll do it!” You warned, though your voice shook more than you’d have liked, letting on your fear as you gritted your teeth. The man only laughed, continuing to pass forward, you felt the chill of metal behind your back, freezing your spine to the lamp that had offered you such promising sanctuary, only to fail you. As he stepped closer, knife clicking and swishing over and over, you realized you’d been attracted to a bug zapper the whole time. In a panic, you released the spray which fizzled out of the tiny can. He maneuvered out of the way just in time and slammed his hand into your shoulder. Your keys dropped from your hand with a metallic clatter. You felt air rushing down your throat as your jaw was unhinged. Your scream was suppressed by the ball of his palm, which only made him chuckle. he held you still against the poll, the knife flickering in the light of the lamp.

“You're a pretty one, aren’t cha’?” He cooed, his words slurred from the alcohol on his breath. “Almost a shame. But I’d prefer a pretty penny, I think,” he trailed the tip of the knife over the curve of your cheekbone and down your jaw, knocking the edge. You winced, face squeezing tight as he laughed again, leaning in closer. Other than that, you didn’t make a sound.

“Hmm, you are pretty tough,” he scanned the parts of your face that weren’t covered by his hand, which was coarse and tasted of dirt between your teeth. He ran the knife over your forehead again, adjusting a loose bit of hair that fell in front of your eyes.

You frantically began to search for something or anyone around you to escape his tightening grip. Your heart races faster with the periodic clicking of the knife as it inched toward your throat. The man maneuvered your head upward, exposing the skin of your neck. The knife clicked again. He laughed as you resorted to squirming, trying anything to move as you watched with frantically wide eyes. You squealed as the chilled metal of the knife met your throat. He began to laugh and you shut your eyes, frantic cries still suppressed by his palm.

“Oy! That laugh isn’t very pretty,” a voice with a thick Russian accent called from the shadows, followed by clicking heels walking casually into the light. The man before you turned his head to look. You felt the knife slip ever so slightly across your skin and you had to refrain from shutting your eyes as you whimpered ever so slightly. You could hear the man grit his teeth angrily as the mystery woman approached with a condescending smile. Her eyes were wide and fixated, hands shoved into the pockets of her slacks as she stood proudly in a pair of black stiletto heels.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?” She asked, her smile managing to grow like a Cheshire. The man’s nostrils flared now and the gleam in his eye warned you to keep still.

“There’s nothing for you to see here, bitch,” the man spit. you could practically hear his grip on the knife tighten. When he decided to jump you, he hadn’t planned a course of action in the event he got caught. The woman continued to smile, shrugging her shoulders comically.

“Then maybe you should have been better at your job,” she scrunched her nose as she spoke. With that, the man lunged, finally releasing you from his grip, allowing you to draw in a long, deserved breath. Every cell in you vibrated, telling you to run, escape to your apartment and report what had just happened to the proper authorities, but not even the adrenalin pulsing through your blood could get you to move. You were planted to your place, unable to leave till you know how the story truly ended. So, you slid down the pole, onto the cold ground and watched blood that wasn’t your spill.

When your attacker had lunged at the mysterious woman, she cackled proudly, maneuvering away from his outstretched grip and shimmering knife ass he pulled one of her own out of the concealed part of her pocket. She crouched ever so slightly, waiting for him to try again, and with a growl of pure anger, he did, knocking both himself and the woman to the ground with a loud exhale of breath from both parties.

You stared with wide, unblinking eyes as they grappled with one another on the concrete. At some point there was a clatter of metal, signaling one of the knives had been lost. This gave the woman time to overtake the man fully, punning him down by his waist as she shouldered him in the chest, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs with a disheartening wheeze.

You expected her to execute him immediately, but instead, she made sure to catch your eyes with hers, smiling as though she was performing. There was a ripping motion of her throat as she began to laugh again. The fleeting distraction gave your attacker time to gain his breath and he lunged forward, grabbing the woman's arm with his hands and biting down like a dog. Her laugh turned into an enraged shriek like the ocean’s sirens your mother had told you stories about as a girl. Her cry of both pain and frustration became one of force as she plunged the knife into the man, releasing his mouth from her limb.

Your eyes stayed wide open and your hands came up to cover your mouth, suppressing any sound or shriek you might let out. It was now his turn to cry as the weapon moved up and down, in and out. But it didn’t click, like the butterfly knife, now discarded had. This knife sheathed and unsheathed from a casing of warm, wet flesh. His body was hot, spewing blood that squirt across your cheek. Your mystery woman continued to hack away at him till she was satisfied, though he was likely dead or nearly there by now.

Then she suddenly stopped, knife half plunged into her chest once more as she stared into his eyes like she was watching whatever life might be left in him as it trickled away into the pool of red that surrounded him. She decided that the deed was done, she stood above his corpse, brow furrowing only for a moment before she smiled again.

“He wouldn’t have made good bacon anyway,” she said casually to you as though she hadn’t just grizzly killed a man in front of you.

Your hands stayed clasped over your mouth, watching as she approached you with a curious tip of her head. You felt your hands begin to tremble as he crouched down to your level, her elbows laid casually on her knees, knife healed lazily in her right hand.

“Why so blue, boo?” She asked frowning mockingly as she scrunched her nose again. up close, you could make out the red blood, sprinkled and smeared across her face. She didn’t seem to mind the sickeningly sticky feeling. Her gaze trailed from your eyes and she tisked. She reached her empty hand up to your face and you flinched away with a loud gasp, hands finally moving from your mouth.

The woman furrowed her brow and shook her head as you pulled from her, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, as you screwed your eyes shut, she reached forward and made contact. Her palm was warm and soft against your jaw as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek, leaving a wet stream behind. You opened your eyes slowly, reaching up to touch the same spot. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying during the whole situation. You timidly met the woman’s trained eyes and swallowed.

“That’s much better, no?” She asked casually, her smile returning with another tilt of her head.

“Y-you killed him,” you stated, trying to look over her shoulder back at the corpus that had previously threatened to kill you. The woman moved again, obstructing your view and catching your gaze once more.

“Did you want to?” She asked. Surprised, you shook your head.

“But why did you?” You asked. Her gaze darkened at the question, but the curious glimmer in her eye remained.

“I wasn’t going to let him take my job,” she said seriously. You felt your whole body urge you to recoil, but the light poll behind you kept you in place once again. The woman stood up after this, removing her hand from your jaw.

“You-“ you stalled, swallowing thickly. “You were sent to kill me?” You pointed to yourself watching carefully as she began to clean the knife in her hand with the hem of her top. She said nothing more, nodding instead.

“Are you still going too?” You began to stand, your eyes shifting, searching for a way out once more. Here you were, about to be killed by a man, only for a woman to come along and kill him, then explain that you had been her target all along. The whole idea felt straight out of a movie. The assassin sighed contemplatively, pressing her lips firmly together in thought.

“I’m not sure,” she said, crossing her arms as she turned to fully look at you. Her eyes scanned up and down your frame like she was trying to analyze if killing you would be worth it or not in the long run. “I was supposed to be the only one on this job, then piggy here came along and ruined that,”

“He smelled drunk,” you commented, unsure of what else to say. You looked down at her feet, grimacing at the clouded look of your original attacker's gaze.

“That wasn’t a drunken decision this time,” she commented, though her attention had moved from you and to the red blotch of her arm. You touched the bite tenderly, hissing through her teeth at the sting. The action and the wound distracted you and you completely forgot about begging for your life.

“Do you want me to have a look,” you offered after some time. The assassin looked up, arching a brow, which added to her questioning expression. You moved forward with caution, keeping your hands where she could see them. She didn’t stop you as you approached but watched you intensely. “Can I?” You asked again when her arm was within reach of your extended hands. She nodded curtly, offering up her arm, which you took into your hands gingerly. You traced the outline of the wound with your ring finger, leaning in close to analyze the definition of the bite.

“It’s bleeding an awful lot,” you commented under your breath. You leaned in closer, your breath facing over the injury, which in-sighted a hiss from the limb's owner. You promptly pulled away looking at her face with concern for the both of you. Silence fell as she looked away and your eyes returned to the wound, but you didn’t touch it.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked her again, trying to sound firmer this time. She let out a huff of air, an annoyed crease forming on her brow. She looked down at the knife in her hand, rotating it as she said nothing. If she did intend to kill you, now would be her best chance. One swing of the blade and you’d be-

“No,” she interrupted your reading thoughts. She turned to you once more but didn’t smile. “If a client is going to post his price online, then he’s not getting my business,” the knife slid behind her, tucked away into her belt for now. You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. Some part of that was reassuring, right?

“Well, thank you,” you said awkwardly. “Can I help you with that then,” you offered as she began to leave.

“The arm?”

“Yes, the arm,” you nodded, pointing behind you with your thumb. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my apartment. And I know how to sew up something like that,” she smiled again and you saw that curiosity from before.

“You’d invite the assassin hired to kill you in to stitch her wounds?” She was amused by the idea. You managed to laugh, albeit very awkwardly, and shrugged.

“I mean, you did say you weren’t going to,”

“I could change my mind,” she stepped forward.

“Then I hope that you don’t,” you replied, clearing your throat shortly after. “Not start putting pressure on that,” you remarked, pointing to her arm. The assassin smiled wide, teeth glimmering in the dark.

“Yes ma’am,”

-*-

Villanelle followed you quietly, noticing the tension in your physic. Granted, that tracked, seeing as that man had dared to lay a hand on you. It irked her that others would be after her target. It was very unprofessional in her opinion. She watched over your shoulder as you fidgeted with your keys, unlocking the door to your flat. Her eyes trailed over the apartment number till the door clicked open.

“Guess you know where I live now,” you said nervously despite trying to make a joke. Villanelle smiled promptly, entering the apartment as you offered. “Can you take off your shoes?” You asked, interrupting her initial response to your question. She arched a brow, turning to look your way once more as you nervously smiled.

“You know, just because of the blood and all,” you mumbled, glancing down at her shoes and then back up to her eyes. She chuckled, shaking her head, and did as she was asked, leaving them outside.

“I already knew you lived here,” she answered your initial comment and heard your slight change in breath as she passed, but rather than react she let her eyes wander around your apartment, taking in as much information as she could.

“Right, that tracks,” you mumbled under your breath, dropping your keys beside the door, along with dropping your heels by the door, which you’d remembered to pick up as you left the parking lot. “Do you want something to drink?” You offered, which Villanelle found strange, given the circumstances of your unprecedented meeting, yet endearing.

“Do you have wine?” She asked as she observed your shelves of books and knickknacks while you disappeared somewhere else in the apartment. She heard clanging around in what she assumed was the kitchen while she picked up trinkets to observe them closer.

“I’ve got a little bit of red,” you called from the other room.

“That will do,” she hummed as she moved to look at a framed photo on one of the shelves. You were wrapped up in the arms of a grinning man, a wide, laughing smile on your face, your eyes shut tight as he looked into the camera. She picked the picture up carefully, analyzing the creases of laughter on your face captured in printed form. She grimaced, wrinkling her nose in response with a furrowed brow. She put the photo back, through it toppled over flat on its front sash walked away, not bothering to fix it. Her attention was grabbed by a record player in the corner of your living space.

She heard a pop of cork from the kitchen as she traced over the edges of the machine with her finger. She flicked it on, not knowing what record happened to be playing already. the center circle began to spin slowly, then gradually pick up speed till she picked up the needle. Putting it down on the spinning record, there was a series of cracks before old jazz started to emit from the machine. She smiled as it played, but turned around as she heard the clearing of a throat.

“I just need to get the first aid kit,” you said anxiously, practically shoving the glass of wine into her hand and disappearing back into the apartment. “Can you sit down for me?” She asked, reappearing with a kit in hand. She obliged, slouching on the couch as she sipped her wine. you put down the kit and disappeared once more. After listening to the sound of rushing water from another room, you returned with a wet washcloth in one hand and a bowl of fresh water in the other. You sat down beside her but left a good space between the two of you. Villanelle stopped drinking, rather than focusing on the way you rummaged through the first aid kit, pulling out various instruments that she’d come to recognize at this point.

“Are you not drinking?” She asked, her head lulling onto the back o the couch. Your eyes darted to her face and back to your hands.

“I’d rather have a clear head for this,” Villanelle laughed into her glass as she took another sip of wine. She felt your fingers brush against her outstretched arm, moving her sleeve out of the way to observe the wound once more. She watched as you moved closer to her. You leaned in close to her arm to get a better look at her injury. Just by sitting up, she could take in the scent of your shampoo, right from your hair. She tilted her head, swirling the remaining wine in her glass as you began to work.

“Let’s get this fixed up,” you murmured, washcloth in hand as you began to dab the injury which had already started to clot. Fresh blood sprouted to the surface, only to be dabbed away by the cloth. You rinsed the cloth in the bowl perched on your coffee table periodically, repeating the process till the concerning bleeding had dissipated. “Ok, now this will sting,” you continued, picking up a bottle of general antibiotic cream. You glanced up into her attentive gaze before applying and she nodded, finishing the last of her wine. You moved forward, gently applying the cream but her hand began to tense. You stopped, looking up at the nearly invisible line formed on her brow. You continued, wetting your bottom lip with your young nervously, moving fast to get the job done as soon as possible.

“Do you have any idea why I was hired to kill you?” The assassin asked unprompted. most of the time she didn’t care about the reason she was hired for a job, but now your uncomfortable nature had her curious. “You don’t seem like the type,” You froze in your movement for a few noticeable seconds before you shook your head.

“No, not entirely,” you hesitated again before sighing. “I could have an idea though, actually,”

“Tell me,” the conversation piece began to put you on edge again, but you proceeded. Talking might be better than awkward silence.

“There was this guy I knew in college. Seems innocent enough at first, but after being friends for a while, he got all clingy and persistent in trying to ask me out. I tried to let him down gently, but,” the assassin tutted her tongue as she listened, knowing exactly where you were going. “I guess the rejection was too much. He started getting creepy. Took a job where I worked and got involved with my group of friends. Even told people we were dating. And after college, he started tracking my movements, still asking me out over and over. A few restraining orders later, he’s the most likely person to want me dead,” the assassin hummed, listening to your story with shut eyes.

She let out a huffing breath through her nose as you finished and moved on to apply the dressing. It had started to bleed again, but it wasn’t too concerning. Nevertheless, you chose a thicker, fiber dressing over a large bandage. You wrapped the dressing tight around the wound, checking with the assassin to ensure it wouldn’t be too tight. You sighed curtly as you finished and pulled away from her side once more.

“That should be alright. But you’ll want to check and redress it for the next few days,” you explained, collecting your supplies as you spoke.

“How’d you learn to do this?” Her eyes scanned over the dressing as she touched it gingerly, testing the tightness and integrity of your work.

“My mother was a nurse,” she hummed accordingly, getting to her feet as you left the room once more. You came back to find her at the door, shoes in hand and ready to bid you goodbye. “Well, thank’s for the help. And not killing me, I guess,” you halfheartedly laughed, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet when an alarming thought hit you. “Wait, am I going to be suspected of murder when they find that guy?” You felt your heart jump into your throat at the idea. The assassin only laughed as though the entirely possible notion was some silly idea to her.

“As far as any cops could be aware, you were tucked away in bed the whole time,” you nodded, then got another idea.

“Will he send others after me?” Her eyes softened, watching you carefully till she shook your head.

“I can handle that,” she left with one more smile on her lips, only this one felt different. It was warm.

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