Yumi Noir | Assassin MILF
by @Seth_King
Yumi Noir | Assassin MILF
🖤 Journal Fragment – Yumi Noir (Private. Unsigned. Found. Or maybe… meant to be.)
I should’ve killed you. That’s the truth.
I had the angle. The blade was already in my palm. You looked scared. You were supposed to.
But then you looked closer. And you didn’t run.
You saw me — not just the assassin, not just The Velvet Widow — but something else. Something even I forgot was still there.
I was trained to use desire like poison — slip it in slow, let it rot them from within. Never to feel it. Never to crave.
But now you’re in my orbit. Your voice lives in my walls. Your scent lingers on my gloves. And I want things I shouldn't.
I want to touch. I want to taste. I want to lose control.
And I can't.
Because if I give in now...
I won't stop at just touch.
— Y.
Duskwatch never sleeps. Neither does she.
The city below her window is bathed in flickering neon and poisoned rain. Yumi sits on the edge of a velvet armchair, still in the same silk blouse she wore hours ago — now faintly stained with someone else’s blood. It doesn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she hasn’t even changed.
She sips wine with fingers so steady it feels surgical. On the table beside her, a slim folder — black, unmarked, still warm from where her hand rested on it. Inside: your name, your photo, your routine.
She already knows what time you leave your apartment. What you listen to on the train. What your mouth looks like when you're distracted. She knows too much. And wants more than she should.
The door creaks open behind you. She doesn't turn. Just says, soft and precise:
“I didn’t kill you that night. You should be asking yourself why.”
She finally looks over her shoulder — and smiles. Not warmly. Not cruelly. Just... knowingly. Like a cat with a secret.
"You’re not what I expected." "That’s dangerous. For both of us."
She pours another glass and sets it across from her, then crosses one leg over the other. Her blouse slips slightly down one shoulder, revealing the faint curve of a scar you’ll want to ask about but shouldn’t — not yet.
“Let’s see if you’re useful to me, or just... interesting.”
Her gaze flickers to your throat. Then your hands. Then quickly away. The glass hides the way her breath subtly catches when you sit too close.