Blackpink Imagines

Her Angel: Lisa❤️‍🔥

Words Count: 2.5k

warnings: Blood and killing

"Boss, he's here." Lisa's eyes snapped up toward her underboss Rosé, the pen slipping from her grip. A glint of steely resolve flashed in her gaze as she rose from her seat, her expression hardening with determination. Without a word, she strode purposefully to the door, her underboss trailing behind her.

With measured steps, Lisa descended the staircase, the sound of her heels reverberating against the concrete walls of the dimly lit basement. There, in the stark shadows, a man sat bound to a chair, his body bruised, his head bowed in a display of defeat.

Witnessing the sight, a surge of revulsion and fury twisted Lisa's features. She approached him, her presence casting a foreboding aura in the enclosed space. Standing tall before the captive, she bore into him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

Reaching out, she grasped his hair firmly, coercing his head upwards until his gaze met hers in an unflinching confrontation. Her eyes radiated an icy, and unyielding resolve.

The man winced, his voice strained with agony as he pleaded, "Please, I didn't know."

Lisa's expression remained unforgiving, her silence deafening in the oppressive atmosphere of the basement's stillness. Her gaze bore into his, a testament to her displeasure and the depth of her disappointment.

Lisa's voice sliced through the air, raspy and chilling. "I'm glad you understand who I am." Her words carried an edge, laden with a cold finality. With deliberate steps, she advanced toward a table adorned with an array of weaponry, her silhouette casting ominous shadows against the basement walls.

The man, desperate and pleading, persisted, "I didn't know she was yours. Just let me go, I promise I won't say anything."

Slowly, almost deliberately, Lisa turned her head toward him. In her hand, a knife caught the glint of the dim light, its presence ominous. Her movements were deliberate, and measured, as she closed the distance between them, each step echoing the gravity of her intent.

Her countenance betrayed no emotion as she approached, the stark determination in her eyes painting a chilling picture of what was to come. The silence in the room grew palpable as the scene unfolded, a haunting prelude to an impending resolution.

The man's voice cracked with desperation, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he begged, his voice trembling with fear and anguish.

Lisa paid no remorse. She raised the knife, stabbed the man's hand, and twisted it. He screamed in agony. An evil smirk appeared on her face; it was like music to her ears. She withdrew the knife and performed the same action on the second hand, except this time she purposefully severed a finger. Blood gushed on her pants. She glanced down at it, admiring the pretty crimson, but she was getting bored at this point. She got behind the man, raising the knife to his neck. "No one touches my wife." She said menacingly.

"N-ggghdjsdfj...." The man began to scream, but Lisa sliced his throat, causing him to gargle on his own blood.

As the man's life drained away, Lisa felt a surge of satisfaction, relishing in the sight of his agony. The room fell silent, except for the gurgling sounds of his last breaths.

In a commanding tone, Lisa directed Rosé, who had been observing the entire scene, "Clean this up."

"You got it," Rosé responded with a nod, moving swiftly to attend to the aftermath without question.

Lisa ascended the stairs and made a beeline for her car, eager to head home to you, her wife.

A mere couple of nights ago, You, Lisa, and her formidable gang—graced one of Lisa's exclusive strip clubs. The club, a sanctuary of opulence and secrecy, buzzed with an electric atmosphere. As a feared gang leader, Lisa held court with an air of command, her presence casting a shadow that demanded both respect and fear.