The crescent moon cruises over the darkness of the world like a curved blade cleaving through the night. Cities shone bright, stealing the light of ancient stars, deciding that their luminous glow was far better than that of the heavenly creations.

In an empire of skyscrapers and nightlife, countless sounds muddled together creating a symphony of discord blaring for all the world to hear, hushing all soft voices. Dens of vices flourished with the night, hoping that the shadows could keep their secrets hidden. Above it all, a pair of solemn eyes gazed through the window, watching as the world shifted with every motion. 

(Y/n) absentmindedly traced the soft lines on Dimitri's chest, feeling his firm muscles beneath her fingertips. She lay naked against his body, their limbs entangled with each other. She could hear the soft beating of his heart and feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was quiet; Dimitri tried to get some sleep while she remained deprived of the Sandman's blessings. 

Everything about her is sore, bruises and bite marks decorate her flesh, symbols of his possession. Sweat and cum clung to her body, especially between her legs. Her insides felt full of his seeds; her guts were still feeling the aftershock of countless orgasms. They couldn't bother with cleaning up, that would be for tomorrow's troubles. They were both too tired to move an inch but she suspected that Dimitri simply wanted to keep her scent longer on his body. He is disgustingly romantic in that sense. 

Since she already had her pleasure, it was Dimitri's turn to dominate. He did not even hold back, especially now that he has motivation. 

Dimitri informed her that he would be gone for a few days, a week at most. He told her that he was going on a mission in Sweden, but he did not specify in any detail, and (Y/n) saw it fit not to ask any questions. Because of this, her assassin decided that he would make love to her as much as he could so that his body would not forget the feeling of being inside her. 

He has been doing it for an entire week, every night, for at least two hours. (Y/n) commends his virility and vigor. Never has she met a man as insatiable as him. She was always left worn and exhausted but extremely satisfied. 

Dimitri fucks hard. Very, very, very hard. But before he even takes pleasure for himself, he ensures that she is sufficiently pleasured first. He seems to have an obsessive taste for her... juices because he does it every time with no fail. She finds it slightly peculiar but not entirely unwelcome. He's talented after all. 

(Y/n) breathed out in exhaustion. Her body was tired, but her mind was buzzing with countless thoughts that prevented her from resting. It was frustrating. She thought that Dimitri had fucked out all thoughts from her mind but now they came flooding in like a storm. She wanted to silence the voices: the doubts, the worries, the warnings but they were too loud. 

Their life is too peaceful... almost like the calm before the storm. She wonders if she's strong enough to brave through disaster or if she'll break the moment it strikes. Maybe, maybe not. 

"I sense your distress. What's wrong?" Dimitri asked, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. 

"Nothing, I just can't sleep. Too many thoughts are in my head all at once. But you should rest."

"I would once I'm assured that you'll be fine. Talk to me. Maybe if we talk about things you'll fall asleep soon enough." Dimitri caressed her hair, the feeling was quite pleasant and intimate. 

"No, it's stupid. We should just go to bed."

"No, I want to know what's bothering you. Please tell me." She sighed, knowing his persistence would never cease until he knew what he wanted to know. 

"Every funeral I talk with people and listen to their stories. Everyone has so many stories to tell and I would listen. Yesterday, I talked with an old lady who said that she regrets every single decision she made and that she hated the woman she became. It made me think, "What if when I'm older I also hate the person I turn out to be?"

"Truth be told, I made so many wrong decisions and took so many risks that ended up backfiring. The college program I'm taking is not even the one that I initially wanted but it's now what I got. I wonder if the little girl who dreamed of what she'll become is... proud of who I am right now or if she would be disappointed. I wonder if I'll like the woman I'll be in the future."

"What do you want to do?" he asked, his voice deep and sleepy, but he listened to her anyway. 

"To fall in love," she began, hiding her face in his chest. "I... I want to fall in love. I want to fall in love with life, with myself, and with what I do. I want to feel pain, sorrow, joy, and passion. I want to live a full life and never regret a single thing but I have so much hate, so much pain, so much envy that I feel like I'm rotting inside.

(Y/n) sank deeper in his embrace which Dimitri reciprocated. "I won't pretend that I understand, but as for me, I love the woman that you are, and I will love the woman you will be. Your feelings are valid, darling."

"Thanks," she mumbled. 

It was surprising how Dimitri was so mature and so willing to talk about her emotions. He acknowledged her feelings and comforted her to the best of his abilities. He can be cold and detached but never when it comes to her. He never ignores her and brushes aside her opinions. It was rare for men to be this open to these kinds of topics. Despite his cold demeanor, it was endearing to find that he can also be compassionate. 

"Is that everything? Do you want to tell me more?" he asked, brushing her hair and placing a kiss on her head. 

"Yeah, but I kinda wanna ask you about something," (Y/n) stared into his eyes, hesitant. His eyes were the color of the sky as the storm prepared to fall over the open seas. It was both terrifying and enigmatic, making her feel small and powerless. She wanted to look away but it was difficult. His eyes show resilience like the lashing waves of the sea relentlessly rising and flowing. The depth in them was like the distant horizon, infinite and unreachable. 

Dimitri's poker face is intimidating no matter how long she looks at him. He's the kind of man with a "resting bitch face" that will make you think twice before saying anything in his presence in fear of him using it against you. Honestly, it was impressive how he could look both hostile and handsome at the same time. 

"Go ahead."

"Dimitri, what does it feel like to kill people?" 

"Why do you want to know? Wanna do it?" Dimitri questioned, directing her with a playful grin. 

"I don't know... Maybe... Maybe not. Only if necessary," she replied, caressing the broad area of his pecks. Her fingers glided softly over his skin, tracing circular patterns on his chest in repetitive loops. Dimitri hummed with approval, loving the warmth of her naked body and the feeling of her touch. 

"For me, I feel nothing. At least not anymore. I only kill those who fight, those who deserve it, and those corrupt. For them, I don't need to feel anything. What's the point of it anyway? Guilt? That won't keep me alive nor will it set things right. I just do what needs to be done." Dimitri fiddled with her hair, his fingers tangled with her locks while he took occasional whiffs of her head. Her scent was utterly intoxicating like a drug he could never get enough of. 

"When did you start killing?"

"You mean my first kill?"

"Yes."

She knew she shouldn't be asking these questions, but all her sensibilities were thrown out with the wind by her tired mind. She just wanted to think about something else. She needs a diversion to distract her mind from the depths of its own abyss. Plus, it doesn't matter what questions she asks; Dimitri loves her too much to be sensitive about intrusive questions. 

"It happened when I was 13," Dimitri shifted his position to wrap both arms around her and lean his head against hers. "Malcolm thought that I needed to wake up to the ways of the world, to learn to protect myself and be feared. He was always a target of assassination so he thought that I would be the same being his son. He said that I needed to be stronger. To have guts."

"He made me kill a traitor to his organization. He placed a gun in my hand and told me to kill the man. I was innocent then, still wanting the love of my father and his approval so I did it. I killed someone."

(Y/n) could imagine a younger version of Dimitri, his tiny hands holding a gun, shaking as he pointed it at a begging man. His fingers must have shook as he placed them on the trigger. The recoil must have hurt his young arms, the loud sound must have startled his ears, and the sight... She doesn't want to imagine what it must have felt like for a boy to watch a man die.  

"I didn't understand what I did; I just know that he fell and he won't get back up again. His blood splashed on my face, I could almost taste the iron in it. My father was happy, he said he was proud of me. He told me I was a man worthy of the Morozov name... It made me happy. Killing a man made me happy because it made my father love me."

(Y/n) could see a vision of little Dimitri smiling at his father with a tainted look in his eyes, his mind barely clinging to sanity as sin-stained his fingertips. Thirteen is too young to be a killer. It's still barely past the cusps of childhood. How can a father do that to his own son? How can he take his innocence with no remorse?

"Two years later, he showed me what the Morozov enterprise does. I felt something then... The man I killed wasn't innocent but the people Malcolm exploited were... They were children, women, and men who couldn't protect themselves. It was horrifying."

Dimitri pulled her closer, burying his face in the crown of her head. He seems to seek comfort from the peace that she brings. It was flattering to know that she was his haven. It made her feel special to be someone's sanctuary. 

"I told Dedushka what Malcolm was doing, but he already knew... He couldn't do anything to stop it. The only thing he could do was to stop him from bringing me to that kind of world."

"My family is a shitty one. Malcolm only married my mother so he could take over her family's crime syndicate. I chose to be an assassin to kill people like my father and make things better, I hope."

Dimitri's eyes finally met hers. "Killing someone can haunt you. I've seen it with my men. So if you want someone dead, tell me, and I will do it for you. I will be your executioner, (Y/n). So never taint yourself. Promise me."

Dimitri held her hand; his large hand was so much bigger than hers, allowing him to easily wrap around her fists. He placed kisses on her knuckles, each one loving and gentle. 

"I promise."

"Good. Now let's sleep. Our bodies need to rest." Dimitri kissed her forehead wishing that his affections could lull her to sleep. It took some time, but (Y/n) finally found the realm of dreams, and Dimitri couldn't be any happier. The serenity of her face was enough to encourage him to join her in her slumber.

"Goodnight, curious kitten."

🌹

"She loved me, she loves me not, she loves me... She loves me, not... Again. Stupid flower telling stupid lies." Chelsea yelled as she chucked the stem into the trash and grabbed another spider lily to deflower. Her slender fingers pinched the petals before yanking them away, stripping the flower of its beauty. The petals littered the floor like droplets of fresh blood pooling beneath her feet. 

"(Y/n) doesn't really love Dimitri Morozov. She loves me, she's just using him, nothing more. He's just a prop for her theater play. Chelsea is the one she loves. Chelsea is (Y/n)'s darling and stupid Dimitri is just a toy." she sang, insanity dripping from every word. 

Beneath her, a man screamed through the ball she had gagged him with. His body was bare save for a pair of boxers, his skin was exposed, littered with hundreds of wounds that bleed bright red. His eyes were filled with terror and hopelessness, a testament to the horrors he endured. 

He begged her to release him, to have some mercy for his pitiful state but she never relented. She relished in his suffering and enjoyed the pain that blooms on his face with each torture she inflicted. This woman, despite her youthful and innocent appearance, was a sadistic devil.

"I'm so bored of waiting. I just want to play games again with (Y/n). Why does she have to play hard to get? I even have to play along by being mean to her." Chelsea moaned out dramatically, twirling her blade with no sense of caution. 

He cowered, fearing for his life. He and his friends found her in the club dancing like a mesmerizing fairy. She was petite and delicate-looking, and they thought she was an easy target. He and his friends agreed to roofie her drink and then take turns raping her. When they brought her to a second location, she surprised them by incapacitating them one by one and torturing them for her entertainment. 

His other friends are already dead. This woman gets off with death and torture. He even watched as she rode the corpse of his friend while she stabbed through his chest repeatedly.  

"I miss being scolded by (Y/n). I miss getting pegged and slapped and violated the way only she could, y'know." she sighed, bringing the blade down to his thigh, eliciting screams of pain from mouth. "She promised me she loves me. Surely being with Dimitri is still a means to an end. She won't develop feelings for him. See, I'm loyal to (Y/n). I'll only love her. She only loves me right? Right?"

She twisted the knife on his thighs forcing him to nod desperately. "See, you agree. Even a little pig knows something so obvious."

Chelsea smiled at him as she ran her blade to his throat letting his warm blood gush out of his open wound. It splashed on her cheek and she licked the tiny drop with seductive delicacy. 

The man spasmed, peeing and shitting his pants like a baby. She relished the chaotic mess that a painful death always brings. The way their eyes roll at the back of their head like they're experiencing the greatest orgasm of their life, the loud screams from their throat as they fight the god of death to cling to their mortal bodies, and the aroma of fresh warm blood. 

For her, violent deaths are always so mesmerizing. But it will never be enough, it will never reach the pleasure of being tortured by (Y/n) and being her plaything. She needs to be a very bad girl. She needs to give (Y/n) many reasons to punish her. 

Chelsea rose and walked to the window, gazing at the crescent moon. "I think I should give (Y/n) a reminder of who loves her.”