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Burn, the Paper Angel	By : c0p13r Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 4568 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘Naruto’ and make no money. The idea was my Beta’s, but the tone is mine.

Chapter List
- 1-Descent
- 1
“There’s a place in France
Where the naked ladies dance
There’s a hole in the wall
Where the men can see it all”
- elementary school
Paper Angel in Hellfire
~~~
He could hear them. Enough voices in the rain, crying out for the same thing… He needn’t be a god to hear the anguish of a village in ruin and decay. No money; even if the Akatsuki bled into the economy, it was not enough.
Pain sat atop his perch, staring out into the jagged valley of gnarled skyscrapers. His home, and it was rotten, despite all his efforts. Yahiko had died with the hope that Nagato would mend what was torn. Nagato could not, but Pain could. Pain was a god, feared and worshipped as he rained mercy upon his people, his faithful. But he surrounded himself with demons, underhanded and wretched dregs who believed in nothing but the benefit of carnage and betrayal.
“Orochimaru has deserted us,” he said quietly to his one angel. She stood on the balcony below him, shielded from his rain. She looked skyward and listened. “And with him, he has stolen a great amount of our funds and equipment.”
“He will be dealt with,” Konan promised him.
Pain tilted his chin down; half of a nod. “He was Sasori’s partner, and Sasori wishes to kill the traitor himself. Let him handle the matter. Our concern, Konan, lies before us as always.”
The angel shared Pain’s appreciation of the view; a cancer, but life struggling to succeed within. It symbolized hope.
“I ask much of you, Konan,” Pain admitted, and steadily came to his feet. He looked up to the rain-filled sky and felt nothing. “And now I must ask more. For Amegakure, for the people who still suffer, we must give them means to keep going. The plan of the Akatsuki will not succeed if our village succumbs and dies.”
Konan waited. Not long, for Pain joined her on the platform. “What do you ask of me?”
His ringed eyes stared at her. “We call on the devil.”
~~~On the outskirts of the Waterfall Village~~~
Sklch!! Rrrp! Slch…
The punishment dealt, Kakuzu stepped back, his tendrils retreating to beneath his stitches. He looked at the meaty red stain that was once a man. He thought of Sasori briefly; a work of art from Kakuzu’s unforgiving fists. The body had been mutilated… but the face was intact. The face was important. The face was what paid.
The heart? The muscle that’d stopped beating seconds after Kakuzu’s tendrils ripped it from behind ribs? Worthless… he tossed the bloody lump aside. “Time to head to the collection office,” he grumbled. The face was important, but he knew better than to take just the head. A bounty of such size was thoroughly looked over so no ninjutsu could pull the wool over the undertaker’s eyes. He’d fashion the pulp’s robes into a bag; let the payer sort out the mess.
He reached down to start the messy work, but stopped. The familiar buzz at the back of his skull; annoyance and a delay of pay. Still, he had to deal with it. He looked skyward to an invisible entity. “What is it?”
You killed another partnerPain said in his mind.
“He was a nuisance,” Kakuzu justified himself, disregarding the cadaver as anything more than a meaty cash cow. “But he was in the Bingo Book. He serves the Akatsuki better like this.”
A country away, Pain scowled. The demon was difficult to control, better to leave him on his own, call on him only when necessary. Now, unfortunately, was necessary.
“You are needed,” Pain told the debt collector.
“Needed?” Kakuzu bent down, unfazed as he fixed his former partner in his black and bloody robes. “Why does God need his treasurer?”
“Orochimaru has defected.”
News, but Kakuzu seemed unconcerned. He tied the body’s robes and hoisted it onto his shoulders like a travel bag. It leaked red, and a finger was lost; Kakuzu picked it up and put it into his pocket, ensuring a complete deliverance. “It’s Sasori’s problem. And I won’t pair up with someone who’ll complain about my job.” The job of a treasurer and bounty hunter, as well as business at the collection office, had a lot of waiting, and Sasori often let the others know of his hatred of waiting.
“Sasori will take care of him,” Pain responded, “but there is a problem with Orochimaru’s desertion; a problem that concerns the finances of the Akatsuki.”
Kakuzu gave immediate pause, and again trained his eyes upward like he could see Pain. “What about them?”
“Come to Amegakure after turning our comrade to profit. Konan will explain the situation to you.”
And that was all. Pain’s influence buzzed out, and Kakuzu was left alone to contemplate. His already-wretched eyes narrowed, a fury beginning to burn within. “Orochimaru,” he growled, thinking of the snakelike man who valued knowledge instead of cash. “What did you do?”
~~~Several days and a big payout later~~~
Kakuzu didn’t care for Amegakure. He didn’t care for anywhere. He marched the rainy streets like a wraith, ignoring the passersby who glanced warily at this dark foreigner. He’d kill them, but there was no advantage to it, no gain. Maybe he saw some spark of kinship with these Rain dwellers. The brothels were plentiful here, and with his trained eye, he saw more than a few drop spots to collect Bingo Book bounties. He respected Amegakure for that much, at least. They knew what was necessary to survive.
Maybe it was Konoha, the land of bleeding heart, that he despised most…
He wasn’t here to detour and check out the trade. There was only one meeting spot that the Akatsuki were allowed when treading upon God’s territory.
An abandoned building not far from where God’s spire stood. Run-down and rancid; it smelled of foulness. It was a place the downtrodden would congregate to escape the rain for just one merciful night. But now, this construct belonged to a demon… and his angel hostess.
He stepped into the box of a building, and saw Konan standing there, her back to him, contemplating the rain outside. Was it any different than any other day? Kakuzu overlooked her far-off stare.
“Orochimaru defected. What does that concern me? He was Sasori’s partner; therefore Sasori is the one who should be punished.”
“Sasori is handling the situation,” Konan said, setting the topic away. Sasori and Orochimaru were not the main matter; not when it came to Kakuzu. “Orochimaru did not simply defect; he took a sizeable amount from our treasury.”
Kakuzu was not often caught off guard, but it showed right away in his eyes that he was not expecting this.
“What…?”
“Enough to fund the construction of a small country; the newly-established Otogakure.”
Kakuzu had heard of it in his hunt for money, but being a fledgling village, there’d yet to be any money made over there. Even if the ruler was a former Akatsuki, Kakuzu would’ve hardly given any mind to it. Hunt down the traitor? Who’d pay him? Akatsuki? It should have been a simple matter to just send one of their own to kill Orochimaru, but Kakuzu would’ve preferred to stay out of it.
Until now…
“Where is he?” His voice was deep, grating with hatred and anger.
“It doesn’t matter. Sasori…”
“To hell with Sasoru!” roared Waterfall’s demon, slashing the air with a wave of his fist. “I’ll find that gutless snake, and I’ll squeeze every ounce of copper that he took from his very marrow.”
“It was a lot that Orochimaru took,” Konan conceded, “but hunting him down will not recoup our losses. For now, we defer to you to start rebuilding Akatsuki’s money matters. Your role is of the utmost importance now.”
Kakuzu was trembling with rage. “God does not tell me…”
“To help,” Konan interrupted before Kakuzu could spew his blasphemy, “Pain has extended me. I will serve as your partner in the meantime, until we are financially stable again.”
“You expect me to simply disregard the snake who’d dare tamper with my money? You expect me to work up a new collection? Even God does not provide me with enough bounties to build a hill that high.”
“That is why you’ll have me,” Konan assured him. “I will assist in your collections…”
Her voice cut off, and a flurry of papers filled the room following the unpredicted slash of Kakuzu’s fist. She remained motionless as the papers fluttered back to reform her figure.
Kakuzu stared challengingly at her, and he spoke lowly, “You said you are to be my partner.” He held up his fist, and his knuckles clenched. “And I meant to hit you.”
Konan did not flinch; she did not do anything but stand there. And when Kakuzu launched his fist again – black, this time – her face let blood instead of paper…
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Break
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The metal cot made rusty complaints to Kakuzu’s brutality, but the green-eyed demon was intent to test the merchandise allotted to him. Bodies racked up a profit to the right buyer, but there were particularities when it came to gender. Male bodies were most profitable when they’ve stopped breathing.
Women, as Konan was being taught, were another matter…
The angel at Pain’s side bit into the pillow Kakuzu’s hand forced her down in. She turned her head enough to breathe; deep breaths to calm her. She first tried to brace with her arms, and then realized, under Kakuzu’s bedroom tyranny, that her hands were better placed on her exposed posterior, opening the crevice that he laid in to.
He had been everything but gentle, and his touch was everywhere. She had seen terrible things in her life, as witness and victim both, yet the chilly shiver of fear escaped when the tendrils flared around him like the angry black flames of hellfire. He had prostrated her, and then claimed her. Cloth tore in his haste, though she had not prepared for him to be so direct and cruel. He had gone in her back hole readily, not responding to her initial protest of pain. He had just slammed her face back down, told her he was starting, and began fucking.
“Ah…! Ahh…!” Konan tried to loosen up and bear down on him, but it was not easy. The raw ride expended her endurance and bravado. She could fight back or dissolve into the object he wanted her to be. All the tragedy in her life had strengthened her against giving into the wicked. Resiliently, she mustered the strength to push back into him, plunging him deeper to stretch out more of her anal passage.
Kakuzu did not overlook this show of wanton defiance and power. He needed a yielding soul, one he could rein in at all times but cower at his wrath. He also did not overlook the distinct lack of blood each time his dick pulled from her asshole. A virgin hole normally bled.
He hooked his middle and index fingers in the side of her gasping mouth and pulled, turning her head to him to see his demon eyes glaring, stretching her lips to one side. Her voice was huskier as she took the beating of his pelvis. “This isn’t your first experience,” he murmured, expecting an immediate response.
Her response was defiant, snapping her teeth away from his fingers like she knew the punishment for biting. She wasn’t going to dredge up the haunting of Hanzo and his men for someone like Kakuzu. He knew her answer. She would not confess to him.
“Men would pay for their women to be silent,” the deep-throated voice hovered overhead. His pace stopped, though he was sure to bury in to the hilt. She hated that it made her want to moan; that strong pillar forcefully occupying her bowels. “However, our clients will prefer a looser tongue.” The calloused hand that had possessed the right cheek of her ass pulled away like creeping death; soothing and smooth, but menacingly. That hand moved up to his masked mouth, and a swift tug uncovered the mutilated orifice. The stitches of his grim smile held his jaw together as a flood of tendrils spewed forth, hanging drapes of live tentacles.
She could hear the rustle of them, but she would not look. Few things frightened an angel who had been submerged in Hell, but scum was unworthy to notice. Fine by him. Numb to most things, he felt a thrill taking by force.
The unnatural tongues of his mouth lashed out, catching Konan around the throat with enough slack for the tips to seek out her lips. She defied again, pulled away as long as she could before Kakuzu inevitably found refuge in her mouth; her gullet following.
Konan remembered the days when her home was crushed between the hammer and anvil of war. She starved in those days before Jiraiya-sensei appeared. She remembered once, when her cravings were maddening and food was scarcest, she upturned rocks and found a meal of worms in the rain-soaked mud.
Kakuzu’s tongues felt just as unpleasant, and tasted much worse, yet she could do naught but gulp, gag, and wait for his plundering to be over.
More tentacles blazed from the otherworldly man, sprouting from the segmented limbs and seizing every part of Konan that was mobile. “Put your pride elsewhere, angel,” he sneered, and then his coils reeled her face in to his. “You are earthbound.” It was not a kiss, though their mouths touched; hers gaping and full of black rattails, and his maw simply seemed incapable of kissing.
Brutality was his specialty, and when she was locked down, head forcibly turned to watch him – her eyes darted to her shapely ass and to the crevice that contained his vile lust – he took her again, harder, faster, more sure than before. She had submitted willfully, and unless she directly disobeyed and separated into paper butterflies – which meant the certain death of one of them – he now forced her submission. Rougher than before, and with her mouth open, it was harder, if not impossible to keep from groaning aloud; the sounds came out garbled and sometimes with an outpour of accumulated spit.
“You will obey,” Kakuzu huffed, his green irises upon her. He held a side of her ass in his hand; he took a breast in another, and squeezed and twisted until he left a bruise. “Not just me, but every man, woman or child who puts money in my hand!” He lost his deathly cool as he struck for the hardest throes of his intent. “You will be my whore, angel! Until the money Orochimaru stole is brought back to my cache! Until you’ve made back every coin! My money! My profit!” His roar could’ve made it to hell and heaven as he shook and punished the bed with Konan’s body. Rickety and worn; the bed collapsed to his whim, him towering over Konan as he flooded into her his backed-up reserves.
She felt it, gushing hotly into her; the proof that he was not only still a man, but alive as well. The heat of life, charging deeper into her bowels at full steam, jet after jet until she was packed with the stuff.
Men, when they had used her so selfishly, always reclined on her for a while. Hanzo’s men – after their leader was done and had his fill – would stay embedded until the last pearly drops made it to her womb, rectum or stomach. Then they would laugh and jest and hand her to the next. One night she had spent in their camp; one night was forever.
But Kakuzu merely grunted and took his spear from her with a swift plop! His cum came out of her, the besieged orifice not yet regaining its tightness. It bled white and showed the depths which Kakuzu had gone to, filled with creamy sin. The opening flexed, trying to expel as much of his presence as she could before she eventually closed up. She would not like sitting on a toilet later to jettison the rest of him. But aside from a stronger river coursing down to the folds of her sex and the purple forest surrounding, most was trapped within.
Kakuzu did not care one bit. He glanced briefly at her asshole and was actually satisfied to see that she had closed up. Good recovery; it meant less time wasted on her needing rest. He gave her a few, scant moments, but when she was up, sitting at a lean on her left arm, he tossed her her cloak of red clouds and black sky. “Wear it,” he commanded her. All but three tendrils had gone back inside of his arms; the three remaining slithered about her throat and held her like a leash. “The people should know their angel when she comes to town.”
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Burn, the Paper Angel