#villanelle astankova x reader
Text
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
530 notes
·
View notes
Text
peace and quiet
pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader
tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)
a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.
The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.
As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.
Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?
The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.
"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.
You refrain from groaning.
"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.
She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.
It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.
Not in this line of work.
It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—
And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.
Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.
"Hey! I was having fun!"
You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.
"I wasn't."
Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.
You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.
In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—
Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.
Oh.
Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.
"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"
You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.
This wasn't real. None of this could be real.
"I know how you look at me."
The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?
"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.
James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.
She’s begging you to keep her entertained.
Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.
You chuckle. “Good girl.”
Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.
"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.
"Is this all for me?"
"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.
Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.
"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.
"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.
Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.
Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.
Thank god for the dark.
A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.
"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."
Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.
"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.
By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.
Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.
James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.
Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.
You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.
"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.
"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."
"I was about to cum!"
You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.
"I guess you'll just have to wait then."
#villanelle#villanelle x reader#villanelle x you#villanelle smut#villanelle imagine#oksana astankova#oksana astankova x reader#killing eve#lesbian#wlw#lgbtq#smut#fanfiction#fanfic
209 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
321 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnight Stalker
Summary: a sad Villanelle sneaks into your bed in the middle of the night.
(Little disclaimer: English is not my native language, but I try my best, I promise x.)
.
.
On any given night, while you are sleeping peacefully in your bed, a strange noise wakes you up. At first, you think it was just your imagination and close your eyes again, until, all of sudden, a hot breath hits the back of your neck and someone wraps their arms around your waist...
.
.
You sit up immediately and turn on the nightstand light.
Next, a cry of surprise escapes your lips.
‘‘What are you doing here?!’’
Villanelle is there, lying next to you; looking directly into your eyes with a scowl on her face; as if you were the one bothering her!
‘‘Why are you being so dramatic? You should be glad to see me,’’ she rolls her eyes and sighs. ‘‘I didn't come to kill you, Y/n. At least, not yet.’’
You look her up and down: she's wearing a dark gray two-piece suit. Although it does not seem that she hides any weapons under it, you can never tell with that woman.
‘‘I'll ask again. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?’’
Villanelle rolls her eyes again as she sits up right in front of you. Her face dangerously close to yours. Actually, she seems very tired, almost like she's...sad?
‘‘What? Can't a girl spend a night with her best friend?’’
You sigh and rub your sleepy eyes. Next, you speak in the most assertive way you can manage at this point, trying to keep your composure so as not to make her angry.
‘‘Villanelle, I've told you a million times. We are not friends. We are... nothing. And you can't break into my home in the middle of the night just like that!’’
She looks around the bedroom, as if your little scolding was boring her to death.
Her voice is slightly drier as she speaks again.
‘‘Oh please, Y/n. Don't be such a killjoy. I could have come to kill you instead, wouldn't that be worse?’’
Before she gets you a chance to response, she is already wrapping her arms around your shoulders and makes you lie down again. She snuggles with you, like a baby. You have her blonde hair in your face now. All of this is too surreal to be true.
...
‘‘Villanelle... what are you doing?’’
‘‘I know, so cute, isn't it? This is called cuddling. People do it when they're in love, or at least, when they're close. You know, for besties like us.’’ She teases with a hint of playfulness in her voice.
You spend the next few minutes very still, staring at the ceiling, with her body against yours.
...
‘‘...Villanelle?’’
‘‘Hmm?’’
‘‘You... okay? I mean, you look...’’ you clear your throat, ‘‘well... you look a bit tired.’’
There is an awkward silence.
Villanelle takes a deep breath before speaking again.
‘‘I'm all but fine, actually. Tired, confused, frustrated...’’ She raises her head off your chest to stare at you. Hers gaze remains as dead and distant as always.
‘‘And... I have a really strong urge to kiss you, right now.’’
There it is: Villanelle and her ability to leave people speechless with her ‘out of place’ comments.
You look down at her face as if to say ‘are you serious?’, to which she responds by nodding very slowly with a mocking pity face.
‘‘Oh, I see. And... you see yourself able to control it?’’ This time it is you who teases her.
‘‘Nop. I don’t think so.’’
And, in a flash, you have her on you, kissing you. At first, it is gently but, feeling not resistance from you, she increases the intensity. She holds your head strongly as she pulls you even closer to her.
The feeling of her tongue in your mouth is more than enough to snap you out of your trance; so after a few seconds, you push her away abruptly.
A little flash of annoyance creeps over her face.
‘‘Come on, Y/n, you obviously like it! You must have felt something. Don't lie to yourself. Just admit you want more.’’ She whispers in a seductive tone of voice, bringing her mouth closer to yours.
‘‘Villanelle, no offense, but right now you're just the crazy stalker who just broke into my home in the middle of the night... You understand how weird this all is?’’
She rolls her eyes and pulls back. She definitely is thinking you're being a pain in the ass right now.
‘‘And you’re the boring one who didn't call the police or shoot me, or anything. You just stayed in your bed, shaking in fear and letting me do whatever I want with you.’’
She enjoys watching your startled face at her words, because, worst of all is that she's right...
What the hell were you thinking?
You jump out of your bed instantly and gesture for her to leave.
‘‘Get out of my home. Now’’ You try to speak with confidence, but everything is so ridiculous that you barely sound convincing to yourself.
The smirk on her face goes wider.
‘‘What, so suddenly you find your voice?’’ She mocks.
‘‘I’m serious, Villanelle. You have 10 seconds to get your ass out of my bed or I’ll call the police.’’
Although you start counting out loud, she stays right where she was, looking straight into your eyes with her annoying smug smirk.
‘‘Go ahead, I'm waiting...’’
You glare at her, skeptical. What the hell is she up to now?
‘‘I just want to know if you'll actually do it or not. So...’’ She encourages you with a wave of her hand.
Her eyes gleam with excitement when she sees how you don't move a muscle.
‘‘And I thought I was the weirdo here...’’ She keeps trying to provoke you.
At last, you step up towards the phone, waiting for her to do something to stop you; but she doesn't.
You grab it and start dialing the number, but not before giving Villanelle a last warning look.
She keeps watching you from your bed, impassive. She is trying to see if you actually have the guts to go through with it.
'Your last chance', you whisper to her with the phone already in your ear. But she doesn't move, she doesn't speak. Her eyes tell you all that there is to say: 'go ahead'.
.
.
.
Finally, you end up hanging up the phone with a frustrated grunt. She gets away with it, as usual.
Villanelle's face lights up with wicked excitement as you put the phone back where it was.
‘‘Ha! I knew it! I knew you like me so much!’’
You roll your eyes at her.
‘‘Look, you want to stay? Fine; stay. But you have to promise me that you'll be good.’’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘‘Define ‘good’ ’’
‘‘Don’t kill me in my sleep.’’
Villanelle nods, as if she was really considering all this as something serious.
‘‘I can promise no killing... for now. Deal?’’ She smiles like a happy little girl.
You look her up and down once more.
‘‘First, show me that you don't have any hidden weapons.’’
She gives you a mock offended face as, reluctantly, gets out of your bed and opens her jacket for you; showing no hidden weapons under it.
‘‘... Happy?’’
You ignore her and start frisking her from head to toe, to which she responds with a snort.
‘‘Do I have to ... you know, remove my clothes too?’’ She scoffs, but her mischievous mood quickly fades when sees how you keep frisking her in silent.
‘‘Y/n, believe me; if I wanted you dead, you'd be already dead.’’
You keep ignoring her.
Once you’ve made sure she doesn't have any hidden weapons, you go back to your bed, quietly.
Villanelle stands there for a second, then she takes off her jacket and lays down next to you, just like before, with a small, playful smirk on her face.
‘‘I won't kill you, I swear.’’ She whispers in your ear as wraps your waist, holding you close.
She waits for a moment to see if you’ll continue speaking, then speaks up herself again.
‘‘Isn't this nice? No killing, no guns, no knives... nothing dirty at all. Just us, the bed and nothing else.’’
‘‘Oh yes, quite a fairy tale... Now, sleep!’’
‘‘I’m trying...’’ she rests her head on your chest and closes her eyes. ‘‘Your heartbeat is ... loud.’’
At last, it seems like she starts to nod off.
‘‘It's like a drum...’’
Her voice is soft and sleepy, barely above a whisper now. You're not sure if she's even talking to you specifically anymore.
‘‘...Can you feel my heartbeat too? Hmmm...
My heart's beating just for you...’’
#villanelle#villanelle x reader#villanelle one shot#villanelle imagine#villanelle imagines#killing eve#killing eve x reader#killing eve imagine#jodie comer#oksana#oksana astankova
330 notes
·
View notes
Text
Date Night & Murder
Pairing: Villanelle x Reader
Word Count: 691
Summary: What a date night between two assassins looks like
“Oh come on,” you hear your girlfriend, Villanelle, say. Crimson liquid seeps out of your latest victim and onto the floor. It stains her new boots. “I just bought these.”
“I’ll buy you another pair baby,” you say, soothing her over for now. You look around the now dead man’s apartment, making sure you left no evidence.
“Oh please you owe me more than just a pair of boots. I’d like three…and maybe some drinks.”
“Fine,” you agree, not wanting to argue with the blonde woman. You double check everything before making your way to the fire escape. You climb down, making sure Villanelle is right behind you.
“Now come on, we need to go so we can change before the movie. I want to have the best seats,” Villanelle says once the two of you are on the ground.
“Of course you do. You only want the best. The best food, the best clothes, the best wine,” you ramble on, teasing her.
“I think you’re forgetting the most important one baby. I wanted the best girl and now I’ve got her.”
You can feel your heart melt for the woman.
“We’ll I can definitely say you got her and you got her forever.”
The two of you quickly walk back to your shared apartment. After quickly showering and changing, the two of you walk hand in hand out the door and towards the theater.
The walk there is rather peaceful, which surprises you considering who you're walking with.
"Ok you get the snacks and I'll get the tickets," your girlfriend says as you walk through the doors.
"Ok," you agree. You wait in line for the food and decide on a large popcorn and two soft drinks for the two of you. Just as you finish paying, your girlfriend walks up to you with the tickets in her hand. She takes the popcorn and her drink from you and hands you your ticket. You look down at your ticket and a look of confusion sets across your face.
“Oksana. You said this was going to be an action adventure movie. What about Minions: The Rise of Gru screams action?”
“Are you kidding me Y/n? Minions is full of action. And don’t act like you don’t wanna see it. I’ve seen you watching the commercials,” she retorts back.
While she’s not wrong, this isn’t the movie you were expecting to watch during date night. Not to get you wrong but being in a theater with a bunch of children doesn’t exactly scream date. But as long as you’re with V you’re happy.
The two of you walk hand in hand into the theater and take your seats, only after V not so politely asks two children to move. She really was serious about getting the best seats.
The two of you sit down just as the commercials start. You glance over at Villanelle and she is enthralled by the screen. It brings a smile to your face. After the hard life she's had, she deserves a little happiness.
The two of you munch on popcorn as you watch the screen. You laugh at the funny parts and (as ashamed as you are to admit this) you cry at the sad parts too. The movie ends all too soon as the credits start to roll and the lights turn on.
You move to stand up, but your girlfriend pulls you back down.
"That's it?" she questions.
"Yeah it's over baby."
"But I don't want it to be over," she pouts.
"We can always go see it again," you tell her.
"I guess that will work," she says. "But I want to come back and see it first thing tomorrow."
"Whatever you want baby," you say, trying to convince her to leave. She finally gets up and the two of you walk back to your shared apartment.
After you get home and into bed you look at the beautiful blonde next to you.
"What are you staring at baby?"
"You. You know I love you V, right?"
"I know baby. I love you too," she says. She pulls you closer into her and the two of you fall asleep just like that.
#killing eve#villanelle x reader#oksana astankova#oksana astankova x reader#jodie comer#jodie comer x reader#villanelle x you#killing eve fic#killing eve fanfiction#villanelle fluff
51 notes
·
View notes
Note
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.
#killing eve#killing eve fanfiction#killing eve imagine#killing eve fanfic#villaneve#villaneve x daughter!reader#villaneve x reader#villaneve x fem!reader#villaneve x female!reader#villaneve x female reader#moms!villaneve#mom!villanelle#mom!eve polastri#villanelle#eve polastri#villanelle x eve polastri#oksana astankova#villanelle imagine#villanelle x fem!reader#eve polastri imagine#eve polastri x fem!reader#villanelle x daughter!reader#eve polastri x daughter!reader#villanelle x reader#eve polastri x reader#fluff#villaneve imagine#villanelle x y/n#eve polastri x y/n#villanelle x you
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
hannigram x villaneve crossover fics bc hell yes!
mlm/wlw solidarity if you know what i mean 🤭
《☆☆☆》
》 Summertime in Marseille - (12k)(Mature)
Murder wives across the pond?
The London area manhunt for pay to play assassin Oksana Astankova continues tonight after the gruesome discovery of the bodies of two M16 agents and the unsettling disappearance of a third. The missing agent Eve Polastri’s checkered history with the femme fatale stirs up a sense of deja-vu to a case stateside involving the (still unsolved) disappearance of a certain disgraced psychiatrist turned psychopath and his companion Will Graham. Both pairs vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a couple of corpses in the hands of, debatetly inept, law enforcement. Longtime readers will remember the debacle on the rumors of the relationship between Lecter and Graham. Fresh faces should expect much of the same insight when it comes to Astankova and Polastri.
-Freddie Lounds [Tattlecrime.com]
Or: Villanelle takes Eve to visit an old friend.
》 Wintertime in the Atlantic - (10k)(Mature)
Dear Hannibal and Will,
[Eve warned me I really shouldn’t write Hannibal and Will but I don’t think you two are stupid enough to let other people read your mail and the consequences are on you if you are.]
A recent client has gifted me four first class tickets for a cruise to Australia on the 11th of December! The ship leaves from Lisbon which is a wonderful coincidence since Eve tells me that’s where you’re currently living. We never got the opportunity to repay you two for helping us during our time of need back in Marseille. My fiancé and I would be delighted if you would accompany us. The tickets are attached!
-xoxo Villanelle
Or: Eve and Villanelle meet up with the Lecter-Graham’s once again.
》 Rhapsody in Brashness - (4k)(Mature)
“We understand,” says Hannibal. The vibrations of his voice rumble against her the way that thunder does through storm clouds. “You are unique, as I am. And she insinuated herself into you, as Will insinuated himself into me. The blind, pearly rootlets of human connection have burrowed themselves too deeply into the fertile soil of your soul to be killed, now, no matter how many times you hack away at the verdant growth which springs anew into the air, again and again. The intricate underground web of them merely spreads implacably further and deeper and will continue to do so until they smother you, or until you allow the leaves to fully unfurl into the light.”
“But she stabbed me,” Villanelle exclaims petulantly.
》 A Cannibal, A Dog Lover, and an Assassin Walk Into A Bar - (1.7k)(G)
Hannibal and Will wanted a quick getaway to Rome, but end up with a little more adventure than they anticipated.
》 Murder Pals in Alaska - (1.5k)(Mature)
Eve and Villanelle make their home in Alaska and befriend Will and Hannibal.
》 Cannibal vs. Assassin: The Showdown - (5k)(Mature)
“Obviously, they do kill people based on those dance moves alone,” Hannibal tittered, but quietly enough as to not attract attention.
Will stifled a laugh.
“That is not a reason to ruin their night though,” Hannibal decided, following Will through the crowd.
》 Taste and Temptation - (18k)(G)
Eve and Villanelle have gone off on their own, traveling and getting to know each other better. Hannibal and Will have too. Both couples happen to have dark pasts and trouble with the law, but that hasn't really put a damper on their vacations. The four of them happen to meet at an opera in Florence but when they keep running into each other, they have to wonder if their meetings are coincidence or something that could put their travels in danger.
Villaneve meets Hannigram on the run.
(NOTE: unfinished but still worth the read!)
》 The Professionals Series - (12k)(T)
A Hannibal/Killing Eve crossover AU where Hannibal and Villanelle are best buds.
Theoretically set after "The Wrath of the Lamb" and "God, I'm Tired" for parts I and II and after "You're Mine" for part III.
#been missing my faves a whole lot recently#so i decided to provide these recs for you all to devour#also they put killing eve on netflix !!!#hannibal#nbc hannibal#hannigram#will graham#hannibal lecter#murder husbands#hannibal fanfiction#hannigram fanfiction#killing eve#villaneve#eve polastri#villanelle#murder wives#killing eve fanfiction#ao3#fic rec
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
“wow, you really are pathetic, aren’t you?” with villanelle when the reader is on their knees dhskshdk i’m so gay
prompt: “wow, you’re really pathetic, aren’t you?”
warnings: nipple clamp use, smacking, hair pulling, degradation, dom!villanelle, sub!r, cursing, 18+ readers please!
a/n: blurb requests are close
-
You could feel yourself pool between your thighs, your underwear getting soaked by the second as Villanelle continued to tug as the small chain across your chest, pulling at your peaked nipples.
“Hmm, so pretty on your knees, might keep you here all night” Villanelle cooed, standing infront of you as you whimpered at the thought of staying in position for so long. Your knees burned at the rough carpet beneath you as you shifted slightly.
Going to say something, Villanelle smacked your face to the side as you moaned softly, turning your head back. Hissing as Villanelle gripped your head and tugged your head back, she leaned down with a soft smirk on her face. “You only speak when I ask you to, understand?” She said, her hand gripping your head tighter as you whimpered, nodding your head.
“Yes, ma’am” you said, trying to close your thighs to get some friction. Villanelle’s gaze shifted to your action as she chuckled, letting go of your hair before kicking your thighs more apart.
“Wow” Villanelle breathed out, leaning down and tugging at the chain roughly, pulling a loud yelp and hiss from you as you closed your eyes. “You’re really pathetic, aren’t you? Can’t even stay still” Villanelle shook her head, stepping to the side and grabbing the rope, swinging it infront of you.
“Guess I have to tie you up, teach you a lesson”
-
feedback is appreciated
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
in love with villanelle from killing eve, so imma be taking some requests; send some if you'd like ❤️
#killing eve#ke spoilers#killing eve spoilers#ke s4#eve polastri#killing eve season 4#villanelle#oksana astankova#villanelle x reader
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Villanelle x Reader #1
Words: 1,351
Warnings: none?
Notes:
First time writing for Villanelle! I wrote this a long time ago during a writers block and just decided to upload it yesterday. Sorry for grammar errors.
———
It wasn’t healthy. It couldn’t be, because not a bit of you trusted her, but every bit of you loved her. It’s not fair—how easily she drags you into her, how easily she consumes you, how easily you love her.
It’s not fair, but as you’ve come to find out; life isn’t fair.
Life isn’t fair because Villanelle is giving you the most devastated look she’s ever given you, asking you to trust her, asking you if you already do, and you have to stare at her and wonder if the tears brimming her eyes are real when you shake your head no.
“What?” Villanelle croaks out, mistified. Her voice is hardly audible when a loud boom produced by lightning strikes outside, but you hear it clear as day.
She has no right to look like you’ve shattered her heart into pieces. She has shattered yours countless times without even realizing—without even trying.
Villanelle’s jaw clenches, and she furrows her eyebrows, huffing when a tear slips now her cheek and lifting a hand to wipe it off, only to stare down at the moisture on her finger for a long couple of moments.
The confused laugh that forces its way out of your throat is completely humorless. “What, Oksana, did you really expect me to say yes?”
She grimaces like you’ve just slapped her and shuffles away from you on the bed like she’s trying to not get hurt again.
You have to close your eyes against the hotness in your eyes because Villanelle doesn’t deserve tears. All you can really think about is how unfair the world is. “Sometimes i’m still surprised at the fact that you haven’t killed me yet.”
“I couldn’t kill you,” Villanelle whispers immediately, her accent stronger than it usually is, “it would kill me.”
You shake your head, reminding yourself that Villanelle manipulates people—it’s what she does. She manipulates, and she hurts, and she doesn’t even feel remorse afterwards. For fucks sake, Villanelle can’t even understand love. Not really. Not the way you want it.
But Oksana looks overwhelmed, and confused, and you can’t help but want to comfort her. You won’t though, because she has hurt you in irreversible ways and if she can really feel this—if this is the one time Villanelle can feel something—then she deserves some pain back. “I can’t even trust you not to get yourself killed,” you mumble, “or not to hurt the people I love. I can’t trust that anything you say to me is real.”
Villanelle just looks angry now. She stands up hurriedly. “I’ve brought you everything you could want, i’ve complimented you, i’ve made you feel worthy,” she hisses out, “and yet you can’t trust me?”
“No…”
“Why?! I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone unless necessary, I've done everything you’ve asked!” Villanelle is stalking towards you angrily now, and gesturing wildly, but when she notices how you’re wincing as her voice gets louder, and how you’re backing away slowly, she immediately freezes up, looking utterly defeated.
“Why can’t you trust me?” Oksana asks. “I love you. Why can’t you trust me?”
“Because,” you force out, tears slipping down your cheeks, “You don’t even understand feelings, even if you had them, you clearly don’t understand normal.” She crouches down in front of you. “You would just hurt me, whether you knew you were doing it or not.”
“Stop implying I don’t feel love,” Villanelle asks, the fury coming back onto her face—but less directed at you and more herself.
“You don’t. At most what you feel for me is obsession.”
“No,” Oksana rejects quietly, “if there’s one thing in life I'm sure of regarding feelings, it’s that I love you.”
How you wish you could believe her.
“What is love to you then, what do you feel for me?” You ask, deciding to humor her. You don’t expect the answer she gives you, let alone the emotion in her voice.
“When i’m with you it feels like i’m seeing the world in color for the first time,” Oksana breathes out, “everything is so overwhelming. The feelings that come along with—it’s terrifying. Feeling so much of everything.”
Your heart practically stops when she meets your eyes, cupping your cheek. “That’s how I know it’s love. The fact that I want to be with you anyways, even though you hurt me so much.” Oksana admits, and some part of you just knows she’s telling the truth in that instant.
You’ve been in denial of it, but it’s obvious she’s telling the truth. She could have killed you so many times. She would have if she didn’t love you, because Villanelle doesn’t force herself into things she doesn’t want to do, and she won’t let anyone other than you (or Konstantin) even persuade her into doing what you want.
You’ve been more trouble than you’re worth, if she didn’t feel the way she does about you she would have realized that and killed you.
“I’ve manipulated you before,” Villanelle admits, “I can’t really help it. But you’ve manipulated me too. You’ve used my love countless times to get me to do what you want.”
Your eyes soften towards her. Villanelle looks young when she’s liked this; confused and desperate to understand. To be loved. “Did that bother you?” You ask. “When I did that?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding her head and looking bitter. “But i’ll do what you want, always.”
“No, Villanelle,” you mumble, putting your hand over hers on your cheek, “when you kill...when I think about you doing it, or see it, it makes me resent you. So I tell you to stop, for me,” she looks away, “but if you don’t do what I want then I won’t be angry at you. Regarding other things.”
“Do you love me?” Villanelle asks suddenly, her voice wobbly and choked up, because she hates how much she loves you sometimes, too.
“Yes, of course I do,” you whisper.
“And yet you don’t trust me?”
You pull your hand away from hers and stand up, moving towards the window and leaving her kneeled on the ground. “Do you trust me, Oksana. Truly?”
She opens her mouth and then closes it right after, the look of confusion back on her face, along with frustration. Villanelle takes several long moments to think before giving you her answer. She wants to be honest. (She read honesty is good for relationships.) “No,” Vil admits between gritted teeth.
You wait for her to say something else while you look out at the moon and the thunderstorm outside.
“I don’t trust you not to leave me, or not to hurt me. Emotionally.” Villanelle admits reluctantly. “But really, that’s nothing in comparison to all the ways you don’t trust me.”
She sounds bitter when she says that, the hurt and anger she had turning into tiredness in an instant.
“I trust you, Oksana.” You say, voice filled with admiration. “Villanelle on the other hand...she isn’t someone I can trust, yet.”
And Villanelle seems to understand. “But someday you’ll be able to?” She asks, needing to know.
You hesitate before nodding. “Yes. Someday.”
It’s enough for Villanelle because she looks incredibly relieved when you say that. “If you had said that from the beginning you wouldn’t have made me feel like you were about to break my heart.”
“I am,” you huff, rushing to explain yourself when you see her panicked face, “I’m about to tell you i’m thinking about getting a dog.”
Villanelle scowls at that, walking over to you so she can grab your hand and pull you back into bed to cuddle (and to help her lingering sadness dissipate) “dogs are gross. You’re not getting one.”
“Now i’m getting one.”
“No you’re not.”
“Good thing you can’t tell me what to do,” you muse, trying to hide your smile.
Villanelle simply rolls her eyes dramatically. “I’ll eat it if you get one.”
“No you won’t.”
“No I won’t,” Villanelle agrees, hugging you, “because dogs are disgusting animals.”
“You’ll love it,” you chuckle.
“I’m done with loving anything else for a very long time.”
#villanelle#villanelle x reader#villanelle imagine#oksana astankova#killing eve imagine#killing eve#female reader#x fem!reader#fem reader#imagine#x y/n#x you
429 notes
·
View notes
Text
Villanelle
Fictional Character
Played by: Jodie Comer
TV Show: Killing Eve
Photo Credit: IG @killingeve
"She is...flamboyant, and attention seeking, and instinctive, spoilt, easily bored...but no, she's not sloppy".
Photo Credit: IG @killingeve
Villanelle is multilingual, changing from one accent to the next, highly skilled, ruthless and charming, unpredictable and funny with her hilarious facial expressions.
The epicurean assassin has a penchant for always being fashionably dressed to kill quite literally and giving the best gifts that are both beautiful while they are haunting.
She enjoys and relishes her job as she watches life drain from the eyes of her victims. She is impulsive and brings a certain flare to her kills. She loves attention. She is not keen on orders or teams.
There is a childlike playfulness to her that lures one to make the deadly mistake of underestimating her, only realising when it is too late. She has an avalanche of weapons at her disposal but, the most deadly of those is her. She is the weapon, a facsimile of emotions with different masks to match. A predator hunting, always observing her potential victims, marking out their weaknesses and waiting for the right moment to pounce on them. Dead bodies are like a beautiful work of art to her, I know that's really dark.
We are left questioning our morals and asking ourselves, why we love her so much.
But then, she is so much more...
#killing eve#villanelle#vilanelle#vilaneve#villanelle x reader#villaneve#villanelle x eve#oksana astankova#writing#acting#directing#dark humor#killing eve season 1#dressed to kill#bbc killing eve#unloved#female assassin#baddass#badassery#badass female characters#badass female lead#this is so boring#konstantin vasiliev#jodie comer#dailytvwomen#tvandfilm#eve x villanelle
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
Requests information
I have started getting quite a few requests so I thought I’d make a little info post with guidelines etc (i would appreciate it if you could read this just so things are simpler for everyone :) )
Some general fic info: i try to write reader as ambiguous as possible, i.e no specifics on race or appearance; she/her is generally used but can be amended to gender neutral, unless stated otherwise there won’t be any specifics with regards to reader’s appearance but the age is always 18+
Fandoms I write for:
Marvel (any female character)
Criminal Minds (emily, jj, tara, penelope)
Abbott Elementary (melissa, ava)
Law and Order: SVU (olivia)
Supergirl (kara)
Killing Eve
Ted Lasso (rebecca)
What I write:
Reader insert fics with female characters, fem!reader, gn!reader
Pairings x reader ; poly ships
The only non reader insert ship I’m really interested in writing is Villaneve but I can write others based on individual requests
Smut
Fluff
Angst; hurt/comfort etc
Darkfics
Sub!reader (i don’t really like writing dom!reader but i might make some exceptions)
Specifics on content I will write:
Smut; kinks; daddy/mommy, dom/sub, blood, knife play, degradation, praise, CNC, humiliation, dacryphilia, slapping/marking/roughness etc, lactation, breeding… (there aren’t many i won’t write so chances are it’ll be okay, if it’s not i will say)
Angst; happy or no happy endings, death, mental health, vent fics etc (i can only truly write these from personal experience so if it is an issue i am not familiar with i likely won't do it justice)
Darkfics; kidnapping, spiking, torture, violence, murder, blood, dub con - non con is not off limits but it will be based on the specifics of a request etc
Pairings; i am comfortable writing things such as: stepcest, teacher/student, age gaps (all members would be 18+), power imbalances, pervy!characters, cheating fics etc
requests can be sent HERE or via dm
All i ask is that people are respectful and you allow time for me to fulfil requests. My ask box will be open always for anything at all, this just could mean that I will have a backlog of requests, i will complete them but I apologise if they take a while :)
#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#emily prentiss x reader#kate bishop x reader#carol danvers x reader#joyce byers x reader#robin buckley x reader#villanelle astankova x reader#wednesday addams x reader#larissa weems x reader#marvel#Wednesday#stranger things#criminal minds#killing eve
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Villanelle headcanons: Nightmares
(I do not know what I’m doing)
whenever the two of you spent the night together, there was a high chance than either you, or Villanelle (or sometimes both) would have really bad dreams
understandable, for her because of the job she’s doing, and for you because of how much you worried about her
you weren’t officially a thing, but you were just so drawn to each other and used every possible moment to spend together, the chemistry between the two of you was through the roof
so, when you have terrible dreams about something happening to the blonde, you usually wake up breathing heavily with a hand pressed to your chest
it instantly wakes up Villanelle, if she was sleeping and not just watching you in the first place
and right away she knows what is wrong so she reaches out as softly as she can and puts either her hand on your cheek, or arm, or starts rubbing your back
“my sweet sweet girl, none of that would ever happen.”
you would still be trying to catch your breath and staring into the distance, reliving the dream in your mind
she slides her hand down your arm and squeezes your hand, while moving the hair out of your face with the other one
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she would give you her famous smirk
and you’d just nod shakingly and kind of lean on her
Villanelle then wraps her arm around you, and maybe hold your hand or touch your leg, or maybe hair, with the other one
“I-I’m just... I can’t lose you, V. What we have is - it’s something... something else.”
“And that’s exactly the reason why I will always come back to you, Y/N”
by that point your breathing would be calmer
and then you would snuggle up with your head in her lap while she's sitting against the pillows
Villanelle is still stroking your hair or back or anything she could get her hands on
"can you do the accents?"
she cannot EVER resist your pout so of course she is going to do the accents!
she would tell you about all the places she wants to go with you, changing her accent accordingly to the country
soon enough you start falling back asleep, bur Villanelle stays awake just in case
when she has nightmares, the approach is slightly different, she doesn't like you to touch her right away
her mesmerising eyes would be wide and alert with fear, but not about something happening to her - she just worries about you more than she lets you know
sometimes, if the dream is extra violent she ends up jumping out of bed (which gave you heart attacks the first couple of times)
you know better than to push her so you just talk her through it
"focus on my voice Villanelle. I'm here and I'm fine and I am with you. We're safe. It was nothing but a dream."
after getting over her initial shock, she timidly reaches out to you, still kind of afraid you're just an illusion which will disappear
maybe she nudges your hand with her pinky finger while looking down at the ground
when that happens, you know it’s okay to make physical contact with her, but you continue talking nevertheless
“I know you will always do your best to protect me, every time. And I know you will always come back to me, just like I will do it for you.”
by the way she looks at you, you know she trusts you 100%
and then you softly push her to lie back down on the bed
you’re beside her combing through her hair with your fingers
when she looks up at you, she is no longer afraid. it was just a stupid dream, and there you are, next to each other
after Villanelle’s nigthmares, neither of you usually go back to sleep
before you know it, the sun is rising and the blonde is looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher, as pale rays of sun cascade down her skin
you don’t know what the two of you are
but you know, whatever it is, that it’s worth keeping
#i have no idea#villanelle#villanelle x reader#villanelle x you#villanelle imagine#villanelle headcanons#killing eve#killing eve imagine#killing eve headcanons#jodie comer#jodie comer x reader#jodie comer imagine#killing eve imagines#oksana astankova#eve polastri#my writing#Oksana astankova x reader#Oksana astankova imagine
400 notes
·
View notes
Text
She saved me - VILLANELLE
Villanelle x OC!Female
Trigger warning: Drunk, passing out, men surrounding vulnerable woman (safe to read, nothing violent occurs).
Hope you enjoy!
————————
The blonde assassin sat in her expensive blue and red floral dress, watching the crowds gather around the man playing guitar outside of the French bakery.
Villanelle siped her coffee and took a verocious bite out of the circular pastry. “Ugh.” She spat it out onto the plate just as a waiter walked by.
“Is everything alright, Mademoiselle?” The twenty-something year old waiter asked with a thick French accent, looking down at the chewed, spit covered pastry lumped onto her plate.
Villanelle looked up at him in disgust. “That was cinnamon.”
“Yes, our cinnamon swirls are made with the finest cinnamon in-“
“I hate cinnamon.” Villanelle interrupted, picking up her boutique shopping bags and storming off in a huff.
Villanelle headed down a dark alleyway, a short cut to her hotel. As the alley lit up and exposed the street at the other end, Villanelle turned the corner. Immodestly, she collided with a stranger, her bags flying into the air and landing a few feet away.
“Perfect.” She whispered to herself, feeling a cold liquid drip down her front, and her damp clothes stick to her. Her hand was in her pocket, ready to take out her small blade, then the stranger pulled herself up from the ground.
“Oh, my god. I am so sorry!” The young woman pulled herself up from the wall and held a lidless coffee cup in hand.
Villanelle frowned, there was wine on her dress but the women was holding a coffee cup. She watched the stranger stumble and realised it took her a while to get up. And she was awfully quiet on impact. Villanelle left the blade where it was and began gathering her clothes, deciding that it wasn’t worth it.
As she stuffed her brown Gucci scarf into her bag, Villanelle saw the women attempt to help, she reached down to pick up a bag and stumbled. Falling back down onto the pavement. “Sorry, M’not help. Three heels. Drain.”
Villanelle looked over at the two heels on the drain and rolled her eyes. She picked them up and began heading on her way, leaving behind the drunken state that ruined her sweater.
But as she walked across the street, she saw three young men head towards the alley way. She heard whistling and yelling and couldn’t help but take a closer look. There was something in her gut telling her to go back, to check on the intoxicated woman.
Villanelle has barely crossed the street when she saw the men gather around, kneeling on the ground. “Hey! Hey! Get away from her!” She yelled, dropping her bags and raving down the alley. Immediately the men took off, realising that her yelling would draw attention.
Pressing her fingers to the woman’s neck, She sighed when she felt a slow and steady pulse. “Shit.” She cursed.
The taxi driver helped Villanelle carry the women into her hotel lobby where the security approached. Villanelle turned to the taxi driver and handed him a tip. “Thank you so much for your help. Stacey just can’t handle her French wines.” She out on her poshest English accent and the man chuckled before leaving. The hotel security guard overheard her and guided her to the elevator.
—————
She opened her eyes and her vision was blurred. She blinked a few times before her eyes focused on the window just across from her. The night sky was lit up with stars and the Eiffel Tower a bright yellow glow, against a navy background.
She sat up and realised that she wasn’t in her hotel room. This one is far fancier. Had she gotten that drunk at lunch?
“Harriet?” She called, hoping that her best friend that she was on vacation with would answer. Instead, she was met with silence. Throwing her legs over the end of the bed, she found her legs clad in pink silk pyjamas. She looked down as saw her top half matched. She lifted her left arm and found the letter ‘V’ sewn into the wrist with champagne coloured thread.
She frowned and stood up, feeling like she had a bookcase on her head she nearly fainted. She groaned feeling the dreaded hangover take over, but nevertheless, she wandered out of the bedroom.
“Harriet?” She asked, stepping into the hall. She looked up from the ground and saw a grand living room spread out in front of her. Crisp white walls and gold accents. A huge flat screen tv and grey velvet sofas. The place was a palace.
“Who’s suite am I in?” She whispered to herself. “Oh my god!” She clasped a hand over her mouth as she realised that in her drunken state, she might have hooked up with someone.
The door to her left opened and a tall, tan blonde woman walked out, wearing a white bathrobe and fluffy white slippers. “You’re awake.” She smiled.
“Hi. I. I don’t. I don’t know what’s happening.” She stuttered, feeling anxious, scared and vulnerable all at the same time.
“What’s your name?” The blonde asked, padding over to the sofa in her soft slippers.
“Florence.” The girl’s voice faltered as she spoke, her throat croaky and dry.
“Florence.” The woman nodded. “Sit down, I’ll get you some water.”
The woman wondered into the kitchen while Florence slowly walked into the living room. The room was square with two grey double doors on the right hand side. On the left hand side was one grey door for the bathroom, and opposite the hallway she had just walked out of was a fireplace with a large tv. In the middle of the room was a white fluffy rug on top of the marble floor. Two sofas opposite each other with a glass table in between. It was lavish and expensive, it smells of fresh roses and coffee and the only sound audible being the traffic of cars outside.
Florence sank into the unbelievably soft sofa as the stranger walked in from the kitchen, two bottles of water in hand. She placed them on the table and took one for herself, gesturing for Florence to take one.
Usually, she wouldn’t take from strangers. However her mouth and throat felt like sandpaper. She removed the security seal and unscrewed the lid. The cold water felt heavenly against tongue and the relief on her throat was orgasmic. “Thank you.” She breathed as she finished the bottle.
The woman nodded with an amused smile. “You’re welcome.”
Florence noted the Russian accent and felt even more foreign. “I’m sorry but do you know how I got here?”
The woman nodded. “You barged into me in town. Spilled wine all over my expensive dress and passed out in the alley. Men tried to bother you so I brought you here.”
Florence felt sick from the information being spat at her. “Crap, crap. I am so stupid. I’m so sorry. Please, send me your dry cleaning bill, I’ll fix it for you. Or buy you a new one.”
“It was by The Vampire’s Wife.” The women stated dryly.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” Florence nodded confidently. “I’ll call the boutique, please tell me what was the name of the piece I trashed?”
————————
Villanelle frowned. She expected this woman to be nothing more than cheap trash and yet, here she was offering to purchase a one thousand dollar dress? Now the assassin was intrigued, even more so than she was.
“Forget it. But please, let me ask you some questions.”
Florence nodded and Villanelle sat up, twisting the towel from her head and letting her freshly washed hair drip onto her bathrobe to dry naturally.
“Where are you from and what are you doing here?”
“I’m from London but I’m on vacation here with friends. It’s my birthday tomorrow so.” The woman shrugged.
“How old are you tomorrow?” V asked, wondering if she had accidentally kidnapped a minor.
“I’ll be 24.”
Villanelle sighed in relief. “And what’s your job?”
“I’m a writer. You?”
Villanelle chuckled. “I’m a perfume designer.”
“Aw that’s so cool!” Florence exclaimed excitedly, a big fan of perfume and all things girly. “Can I ask you some questions?”
Villanelle nods, she supposed that was fair.
“What’s your name? And why did you help me?” Florence’s mind was going a hundred miles a minute. She felt ill, and wasn’t sure if she should be leaving and trying to find Harriet, or if she should take this woman out and buy her a replacement sweater. And pyjamas, since she was now dressed in hers. Either way, she needed answers.
“Villanelle. And I felt bad for you.” Villanelle shrugged.
Florence’s face lit up with a smile and chuckled at how blunt Villanelle was. “You don’t sugar coat it do you.”
Villanelle shrugged, feeling comfortable around this stranger. “Sugar coatting is for babies. Are you baby?”
“I could be.” Florence joked.
Villanelle’s eyes widened before Florence shook her head and and said, “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I should leave.”
Florence stood up and looked around. Villanelle stood up too, and watched her move.
“Do you have my phone?” Florence asked. “Did I have it when I stumbled into you?”
Villanelle shook her head and shrugged. “You came with a coffee cup.“
“Can I borrow your phone please? I just need to call my friend and let her know I’m safe.”
With that sentence, Villanelle’s eyes darkened. She slowly walked towards the girl, smirking evilly as her hand reached into her pocket.
Florence’s heart quickened as Villanelle stalked towards her. Florence took a step back and gulped. “I am safe right?”
Villanelle’s smirk dropped and she began laughing wickedly. “Hahaha! I got you! Haha I scared you didn’t I? Hahaha”
Florence’s shoulders dropped and her heart sank. “Oh..my god. Oh my god. You totally had me there.”
Villanelle took her phone out of her pocket and brought up the number pad. “Here. Call your friend.”
“Thank you so much.” Florence gratefully took hold of the phone, but Villanelle didn’t let go.
“By the way,” Villanelle started, leaning in closer to Florence’s face. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now, baby.”
#villanelle#villanelle imagine#villanelle x reader#villanelle x oc#villanelle fanfic#killing eve#killing eve imagine#killing eve fanfic#jodie comer#jodie comer imagine#lesbian fanfic#gxg#baddass female characters#original character#fanfiction#fanfic#imagine#oksana astankova
256 notes
·
View notes
Text
Relax | Villanelle | Killing Eve
A/N I wrote this for my friend and decided to post it! It was kinda rushed so I apologise but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
For some reason I would also really like @roxeterawr to read this??? Idk I just feel like she'd like it y'know ;)
Warnings - Smut: Dom!Villanelle, Sub!Reader, Mild Choking 18+
Word Count - 975
[GIF does not belong to me]
"Please..." You muttered against the blonde's lips, her dominant hand snaking around your neck as the other moved behind you, clicking the door to her apartment open. She chuckled slightly at your plea, circling her thumb against the exposed plain of your neck as she pushed you into her abode, biting at her lip as she did so, lust pooling within the darkened forests of her iris'.
The apartment was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the now setting sun lowering beneath the horizon - her rays casting a hazy, flaxen glow across the sparsley decorated walls - however you saw the way Villanelle's eyes sparkled as clear as day: the pure, unadulterated desire she conveyed as she gazed at you, up and down, drinking in your innocence.
You moaned gently as she took your neck in her grip once more, placing her lips against your jaw and nipping slightly, purring against your skin as you lolled your head back, granting her easier access.
"My prey..." Villanelle whispered, giggling to herself as she dragged her tongue along your collar before suckling gently at your honeyed skin, illiciting a quietly desperate mewl from your lips. "Follow me, My Kitten..."
Obeying her command, Villanelle took your hand, leading you into the bedroom you knew only too well. Your eyes danced across the walls as she removed your dress, taking in the softening glow of the suns rays shimmering against the makeup strewn vanity and the oiled Renaissance painting hung neatly in its ornate golden frame. Villanelle's fingers grazed your shoulders as she ran the tips beneath your spaghetti strap, pulling them from your arms with the utmost concentration - her eyes overflowing with anticipation, tongue peaking out from between her lips.
She placed a succession of delicate kisses against your collar bone, placing her fingers once again on your arms before meeting your eyes beneath hooded lids, lashes batting her porcelaine skin seductively. You gazed at her, envious of her confidence, in awe of her beauty as she shimmied you from your dress, letting it drop to the floor before resuming her parade of kisses across your chest and down to your stomach.
"Relax..." She spoke simply, holding her arm out to the bed for you to take your place as she slid the doors to her bedroom closed. Spinning on her heel, Villanelle gazed at you once more, a playfully predatory smirk softening her features before she bit at her bottom lip, eyes widening in quickening desire.
"Now..." She began, kicking her boots off as she moved toward you, trailing her finger along the covers beside your legs. "...Which accent will make you come tonight?" Your breath hitched in your throat at her question, your heart-rate speeding up gradually as Villanelle now lay alongside you - grazing your arms with her fingertips, raising gooseflesh beneath her digits.
"How about the easy-going surfer girl from the Gold Coast?" She purred, breath hot against your lobe as her accent changed seamlessly from Russian to Australian. "Hmm...?"
You whimpered slightly as Villanelle's fingers danced along the hem of your panties, tracing the lace lying flush against your skin as her teeth nibbled gently at your neck once more.
"How about daddy's princess from The Big Apple who gets everything she wants?" Again, her voice transitioned seamlessly - as though she'd lived thousands of lives and one by one they were each bubbling to the surface.
"Or what about the librarian from London Town? Kind, considerate... caring..." You couldn't help but moan as she dipped her digits beneath the fabric, her chilled fingertips working their way down your slit as her lips attacked your neck, leaving blush red bruises along the blank canvas below your ear.
"Or..." Villanelle muttered after a moment, now back to her native tongue, "...Perhaps you'd like the hardened killer from Moscow..." At this, your back arched against the crimson silk of her bed as she found your clit, delicately grazing the bundle of nerves with her middle finger.
"Villa-" You tried to speak, however her name had barely escaped your lips when she was on top of you, straddling your hips - one hand hovering over your clit, the other at your neck.
"Shh, shh, no talking, Baby Girl, no talking..." Villanelle's hand stayed at the base of your neck as her dominant went to work once more, circling neat figures of eight, building you to your high. It was when you began to whimper once more, back now raised high in the air, did Villanelle remove her hand from your neck and place her index and middle finger in your mouth. She chuckled, eyes wide, when you welcomed them, sucking eagerly as you bucked your hips toward her hand ever so slightly, grasping at every second of friction you could muster.
It would take just a second for you to come undone beneath her, and when Villanelle praised you - mocking your pathetic moans before she did so - you felt a simmering heat crashing through your body, flooding your veins and raising gooseflesh on your arms. A smug smirk curved her lips as she chuckled, watching you writhe beneath her, proud of herself as you lay, leg trembling slightly, breast heaving in defeat.
"Good girly..." Villanelle adored, bringing her fingers to her lips and tasting her victory, eyebrows raised and eyes widening as she did so, humming in delight.
You lay breathless, chest heavily raising up and down as Villanelle lay beside you, interlocking your fingers and tilting her head to meet yours. You mustered a chuckle when you saw her smile, exhailing deeply before gazing at the ceiling above, heat radiating from your body, thoughts blurry with the thrill of your high. Bringing you down, however, was Villanelle, who now had propped herself up on her elbows, a mischevious smirk occupying her lips.
"Round two?"
#killing eve#villanelle#jodie comer#oksana astankova#solopadawan#fanfic#wattpad#writing#fic#smut#villanelle x reader#sandra oh#eve polastri#bbc#villaneve#lesbian#lgbt#lgbtq+
268 notes
·
View notes
Text
gif // requester: @lotsoffandomimagines // request here
You leaned against the wall of the old church in the square, eyes on your target across the street. The target was shopping without a care in the world, picking up and examining the hand-made clothes laid out on the tables by the women who set up shop in the square, and he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being watched by an assassin.
Sighing, you looked down and checked the time, just as out of the corner of your eye, you realized a figure was standing by you. “Surprise,” a voice said. You recognized the accent of your rival immediately as you jumped, and the woman started laughing. “I scared you! You really should be more aware of your surroundings.”
“I’m working,” you said, turning to face Villanelle, who stood in a cocky stance, hands in her pockets as she sized you up.
“I’m working,” she repeated, mocking your own accent. “What, a friend can’t say hi?”
“You don’t have any friends,” you pointed out. “What do you want?” You knew she was toying with you, taking some delight in teasing and annoying you, and yet you could never find yourself able to tell her off, not really.
“Who’s the target?” she asked, leaning against the wall next to you, her voice low and husky as she drew closer, her head right next to yours. “Oh, is it him? I bet he’ll scream like a girl.”
You rolled your eyes. “He won’t. It’s going to be quick.”
“Boring. I could do it better.” She bumped you with her hip as she swayed and flashed you another cheeky smile. “What are you doing tonight after this?”
“Why?”
“Come over,” she said. “We can watch a movie, hmm?” She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “It’ll be fun. Stop being so grumpy.”
#killing eve#villanelle#villanelle x reader#oksana astankova#imagines#killing eve imagine#reader insert#i just watched last night's ep and now im#WOW#i love writing for v#she's SO fun#fav
154 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
vanroesburg
tired.
angrykingsublime
Untitled
pepe692
Sin título
dienchoke
EMU LOVER
ophelian-darling
𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝