luci

i bet on losing dogs

[the-viper]

luci. she/her. 20s. mdni.

hello! welcome to the underworld.

uni student. dc comics lover. brazilian. lesbian. superman!sophia truther. honestly, i just love dc, taylor swift, and katseye. i write dubcon, nsfw, bdsm, etc — except underage, pee, and scat. requests in portuguese are more than welcome too.

right now i'm working on some of my own fics, so requests may take some time.

[the-viper]

do u plan to write again soon?

hii anon! yes! i’ve just been kinda busy with college, but i’ll write again soon.

[the-viper]

i pick my poison and it's you

cw: pollen sex. oral sex. nfsw. not revised.

──── ⵌ superman!sophia. batman!reader

your lungs burned as you ran. each step was a gigantic effort to keep the air moving in and out.

anyone who saw you from afar would think you were a shadow, moving with agility across the damp rooftops. the hollow sound of your boots against the concrete was your only companion in that chase. you jumped over water tanks, dodged chimneys, and moved at the same speed as the wind—or even faster. your legs were burning, searing from the extreme force demanded of them. you bitterly regretted not taking the batmobile, but you knew it was necessary: you needed to arrive by surprise and catch poison ivy before she released the pollen.

you forced one last jump, sliding across the rooftop’s edge. the momentum carried you into an unobstructed view. and that's when you saw her.

almost a block ahead, the metallic landscape of gotham had been replaced by a grotesque urban forest. bright green vines and tendrils devoured the façade of a building, the creepers twisting like tentacles under the moonlight. it was a scene of vegetal chaos, and at its center, elegantly floating with the vines themselves as support, was her: poison ivy.

in her hands, held with reverent care, was the plant that was the source of all the trouble. if its toxins were released, all would be lost; the entire city would descend into a sexual frenzy.

you had to stop her.

you paused at the rooftop’s edge. the hundred meters separating you from ivy was an abyss of risk. she was facing away from you. a false step, even the slightest sound, could draw her attention. with an uncommon calm, you crouched down and one hand went to the control panel on your wrist to activate the thermal vision in your cowl. ivy was calm, centered… dangerous.

but the danger was not just in her, but also in the flower, which pulsed almost like a heart, as if it were alive and breathing.

of all the aberrations you had witnessed in that city, that was certainly the strangest.

your hand moved to the grapple gun. the tactic was always the same, but the risk, in this case, was colossal. if she noticed the grapple attack, she could use the vegetation to intercept the cable and throw you into the chaos below.

you took a deep breath, ignoring the burning pain in your legs. it was a gamble, but your only chance. the precision had to be absolute.

with a quick, nearly inaudible movement, you raised your left wrist and fired the grapple gun. the shot was precise, anchoring onto the rooftop ledge above and slightly behind ivy’s position. the steel cable whizzed, and you launched yourself across the open space between the buildings, flying low over the confusion of vines.

you didn't aim at ivy, but at the source of the danger. mid-flight, you drew and threw a serrated batarang, programmed to cut.

programmed to sever the plant at the root.

the batarang crossed the distance with surgical precision. but it was too late. before the batarang even got close to the flower, ivy turned towards you, shooting her roots at your body. and it was in that moment that a blue blur streaked across the sky, with a speed that made your hair whip with the wind. one moment you were falling, and the next, strong arms held you.

“hold on, bat,” sophia said in your ear as she descended to place you on the ground.

“we need to get that plant out of her hands,” you warned, your head exploding, desperately trying to think of an emergency plan. the failure of the batarang had been a hard blow.

your eyes fixed on ivy, who was floating in the center of her vegetal chaos. she merely smiled, a savage, victorious grin. the roots she had launched at you whipped back, wrapping around herself and the plant.

“too late, my darlings,” her voice echoed, deep and sweet, in a tone that needed no amplification. “the party is about to begin.”

with a movement that looked more like a bow than an attack, she raised the crimson lotus above her head. its dark red petals, pulsing like a heart, snapped open with a disturbing, loud pop.

in that instant, the flower released a bright, golden mist that expanded with the speed of a bomb, mixing with the wind and the cold gotham air.

you took a step back, but it was useless. the pollen was not an ordinary gas; it was a toxin that permeated the air. the sweet, heavy scent hit your nostrils, bypassing the basic filters of your cowl, and, in cold panic, you felt the substance penetrate your suit and your lungs.

beside you, sophia’s reaction was immediate and much more violent. she stumbled, her hands covering the lower half of her face as if the substance had hit her with the force of a physical punch.

“w-what is this?!” she managed to gasp, her voice losing its superhuman strength.

you looked at her, at her perfect, confused face, and then you felt it. the burning in your lungs turned into a sudden, deep heat rising through your body. your mind, previously focused on tactics, began to dissolve into hot, forbidden thoughts.

ivy watched the two of you, savoring the scene. a smile was plastered across her face.

this was worse than you imagined. within seconds, the heat was already rising through your entire body, forming a puddle at your thighs. your nipples were already rigid, and your pussy pulsed with lust in a way that forced you to cross your legs to get minimum friction between them.

the entire city had been affected by the pollen; men and women were grabbing each other in the middle of the street, inside cars, in homes, anywhere. you tried to find a solution to that problem, but your mind only thought about the urge you felt to be fucked, on all fours, missionary style, in any position possible. you needed to be filled and desired as never before.

a pressure built in your stomach. each second was worse than the last. you needed to get home soon, needed relief. maybe a cold shower would help.

sophia next to you seemed worse. she was sweating as she gave herself light pinches on her arm. her pants were already marked by her erection, and a bead of pre-cum was forming. your mouth watered at that sight. obviously, sophia had already sparked a certain attraction in you, but nothing this strong.

every fiber of your body burned with flames and desire, a desperate need to touch her filled you. she was so big… the strong muscles of her arm and abdomen… the hard cock inside her pants. you imagined provoking every inch of her, her pushing you harder, making you deepthroat… god, it was too much for you.

“no… this isn’t real,” you muttered, your head shaking in denial.

“hey, bat, is everything alright?” she asked, her hands moving to her pants to hide her already visible erection.

“y-yes, it’s just hot in here, right?” if you stayed by her side for one more second, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself. “we need to think of a solution, there has to be an antidote.”

“i talked to lara, you remember her, right? scientist and all… she said the effect lasts about 5 hours to be completely metabolized by the human and kryptonian body.”

“too long, my god… this city is going to be filled with pregnant women.”

sophia fixed her eyes on you. she was lightly biting her lips. her eyes burned with desire as she analyzed your body from top to bottom, her hands lightly touching her erection, a silent touch that made her groan softly at the sensation of being touched.

“well, all that’s left is to wait for the time to pass, right?” she said, moving closer to you. “we can solve this problem, together.”

“i am not sleeping with you.”

“come on, bat. we don’t have a choice. if you don't relieve this, you’ll get more and more aroused… and i’m so sore.” with that, she took her hands away from her pants, showing how marked and needy she was. her cock was so hard and swollen it barely fit inside the fabric. any more and the material would rip with the size.

“i’ll meet you on the rooftop,” you warned, turning away. even after climbing the side stairs, she was already standing in front of a chimney. she was stroking her erect penis quickly. you could see the veins pulsing and the pre-cum glistening on the glans.

“p-please, bat… i need you so bad, i can’t take it anymore.”

the scene was so sensual and hot that it made your pussy clench. if it was so painful for you, then for sophia it must have been a thousand times worse. with that thought, you knelt in front of her. a smile played on your lips as you stared at her hungrily, barely able to wait to taste her, to savor every inch of that member and have her fall apart in your mouth.

“we are never talking about this again, understood? what happens here… dies here.”

“understood, i promise… please.”

with that, you stuck your tongue out and licked her rosy tip. the taste was sweet and mixed well with your saliva. sophia moaned softly, her head arching back and resting on the concrete. she gripped your hair with some force, pulling your head closer, which obeyed. she was large. you had to adjust to fit her inside your throat without choking. the member took over your entire mouth, and the air had to escape through your nostrils. saliva ran between your breasts, dripping onto the ground and your pants.

the movements started slow. your head moved back and forth, slowly at first, but gradually the speed increased. your hands went to her hips for better support. the concrete hurt your knees, but this was so delicious you didn't care. it would just be a memory of what you had done.

sophia gripped you harder, driving your head deeper. you coughed, trying to swallow not only the saliva but all the fluid coming from inside her. each thrust was fast and precise, and in minutes she was already letting go in your mouth, drenching you completely. there was no way to swallow it all.

you stood up and immediately started taking off your bottom pieces, unable to last another second without being filled. your mind conjured various scenarios with the woman in front of you, making you even more excited. you then walked to the edge of the rooftop and rested your arms at your sides. your legs opened very slowly so sophia could savor that moment, and then she approached you, using her hands to cup your waist. you were so wet it was running down your leg. she slid inside you easily. the walls of your vagina squeezed her. the sensation of being tightened was too much for her. your pussy tried to adjust to her sheer size. it was as if she were ripping you apart from the inside. a distressed cry left your lips. it seemed that the pain only made that moment more enjoyable.

“harder-r, superman,” you pleaded, already lost in pleasure. you held onto her as if she were an anchor. with your legs firmly wrapped around the other woman's waist, she thrusted deep, and with every movement, you felt the pressure on your g-spot.

it was obscene and so pleasurable at the same time. below them, people were too busy trying to relieve themselves of the pollen to even notice the scene. no one looked up. no one noticed that, on that damp, forgotten rooftop, the two most famous vigilantes in the world were entangled.

the batwoman of gotham, the symbol of discretion and terror, was being fucked, deeply and openly, by the woman of steel of metropolis, the hero of hope. it was a profanation so intense and desperate that only the chaos of gotham could contain it.

“fuck!” sophia swore, feeling every fiber ache. a familiar tingling sensation grew inside her.

you were close too. sweat ran down your temples and mixed with sophia’s cum. your bodies were sticky and clung to each other, as if you were merging into one.

“i’m going to come, don’t stop, please, i’m so close!”

a violent tremor seized your entire body, and for a fraction of a second, your vision darkened into a pulsating blackness. pleasure filled you entirely, like an electric shock. and while you were still caught in the spasm, a hot, viscous jet from sophia squirted inside you. the liquid ran down your thighs and loudly dripped onto the cold concrete of the rooftop. you gasped, inert, hanging onto her.

but it still wasn't enough; you needed more. your eyes met sophia’s, and in the same instant, you felt her grow hard again inside you.

the night was just beginning.

[the-viper]

the way you write… i’m obsessed

hehe thank you so much!! :)

[the-viper]

big enough to fill you up

cw: nfsw. slight bdsm. use of religious entities. depiction of power dynamics. light consensual choking. begging. fingering. oral sex. ──── ⵌ fallen angel!megan human!reader. pt 2. pt 1 is here.

megan had once been a symbol of purity, of devotion to the sacred. for centuries, she served a greater cause: she helped countless humans achieve evolution, she was there for each of them in their births and deaths. she had lived since the moment god said, 'let there be light,' and, if she had not fallen from eden, she would be there until eternal darkness took over the universe.

there was something subtle in the art of love that she still did not understand. she had spent so much time devoted to divine service that feeling this attraction for you, a mere human, was something entirely new and devastating.

every touch on your body, every wet kiss bestowed upon your collarbone, made her think that, perhaps, sin was the most delicious thing she had ever experienced.

she was obsessed with the idea of corrupting you, of doing the same thing you had done to her. she wanted to destroy you and then rebuild you, to show you what true ruin was. she wanted to make you sin and then beg god for forgiveness on your knees. if she had fallen for being a heretic, then a heretic she would become. if she was going to hell because of it, then she would make sure to take you with her.

she was profane, dirty, a born sinner.

and you seemed so pure and innocent.

she wanted to shatter that, to devour all that purity, to consume everything that had once been light, like a black hole.

in truth, you weren't entirely pure: you had already had sexual relations and didn't usually frequent churches, though you had grown up attending one. still, you prayed occasionally because you believed in angels and wanted to maintain a good relationship with them.

this was the cruelest irony: the human megan wished to corrupt held a simple faith in the very celestial order that had destroyed her. you prayed to the beings of light who had expelled and abandoned her; you sought a connection with the purity she had stained.

it wasn't enough that you sinned; you needed to believe in her more than in heaven.

the pleasure of having you would only be complete when your faith in her former brethren was replaced by blind devotion to her, the broken angel.

taking you from heaven to hell would be her last and greatest act of love.

and she did this with pleasure, every time she slid her hands under your body, feeling you moan her name in her ear. having you so vulnerable in bed made her delirious. she had spent so many years just watching you that being able to touch you, truly as she wanted, was everything she had ever dreamed of.

your skin was so soft and got so marked when she distributed slaps across your surface, when she lightly choked you until she saw you breathless, when you smiled slightly during the act, lost in the pleasure she provided.

megan wore only an embroidered thong. she dispensed with the bra because she hated the feeling of confinement. in paradise, this garment was unnecessary, as the angels saw nothing with double intentions: for her pre-fall self, a naked body was sacred and divine, never a symbol of sexuality.

angels, in essence, were merely light molded into silhouettes, without name or gender distinction.

now bound to earth and to flesh, megan wore the female body, even if that idea did not make much sense to her, as she did not identify as one. she felt that gender was a form of societal distinction, a social construct that she was forced to wear every day.

megan lingered over every part of your body, descending across your abdomen to the space between your legs, kissing the side of your thigh. the coldness of her saliva made your hairs stand on end.

she toyed with the edge of your thong, she loved hearing you beg for her, more and more. she loved that the only sound leaving your mouth was broken moans. ah, and surely, she craved it even more when your hands twisted in the bedsheets and gripped the fabric with such silent fury that her knuckles went stiff and white like marble.

in that moment, it was not merely carnal. it was not only skin against skin or pleasure. it was worship.

megan no longer bowed to god—but she bowed to you.

and this is what she did when she knelt between your legs and removed your thong with hands trembling with desire. excitement accumulated between your folds, and the heat of her breath over your clitoris only made your body burn even more with desire.

megan observed the familiar and tempting sight exposed before her—the rosy skin of your entrance, the sparse pubic hair growing around it, and your already slick vulva.

it was too much for her; her mouth filled with saliva as she remembered how delicious the sensation of tasting you was.

as she lowered her head closer, the scent of your arousal flooded her lungs, and she let out a low moan. she placed her tongue inside your intimacy slowly. it was not the first time, but she still wanted to taste you, wanted to memorize it and turn it into an addiction. it was so sweet that she was certain she would never tire of that flavor.

you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasure the fallen angel’s skillful tongue provided. she sucked with eagerness, as if famished, exploring every corner of your source of pleasure.

with one hand, you grabbed her hair, pulling her even closer. your hips moved slowly, instinctively, finding the rhythm that stimulated you so intensely.

“please, megan… i need more,” you pleaded, already lost in thought.

she knew what she needed to do. you were already so slick that her fingers entered with agility, sliding inside. your walls, so tight, crushed the fingers of the fallen angel.

the movements began slowly, to get you accustomed to being filled, and soon the thrusts increased, going deeper and deeper.

you moaned shamelessly, and those sounds were music to megan’s ears. she wanted to draw every sound out of you, to test every position, the possible and the impossible, to break your limits.

now, she finally understood why sex was so important to humans.

for her, sex was not an act, but a religion of skin, sweat, and breath, where she was the priestess and you, her sole and absolute faith.

“i’m going to cum,” you moaned amidst the tears streaming down your face. and, in that instant, a jet shot out of your body, your hands trembled and your head bent back forcefully. your breathing came out slowly; it seemed your lungs were compressed, and you needed to give everything to expel the air.

and there, as she brought to her mouth every finger that had been inside you, an absolute certainty settled in her mind: falling from paradise for you had been completely worth it.

[the-viper]

big enough to hold your love

cw: gore (blood, cuts, bruises). religious themes. ──── ⵌ fallen angel!megan human!reader pt 1

the wind blew fiercely as megan fell. her wings disintegrated in the air, as dark as fire soot. a searing pain burned her back, as if with embers, and blood trickled from the spot where the most beautiful pair of white wings in heaven had once been.

the wind cut her skin so deeply that she had to bite her lips hard to repress a groan of pain. every muscle ached, including her heart.

hatred and grief mingled within her, spreading like slow poison through her veins, corrupting everything that still remained of the light. every thought was an open wound, every emotion, a memory of what she had lost.

for a brief second, she remembered the stars, which before dying shone with greater intensity, consuming everything they were until nothing was left but warmth and emptiness. this was all that would remain of her, after centuries serving the light and the balance of the world.

it was visceral.

fire, dust, and ashes were her only companions in a fall that seemed to last for eternities.

megan squeezed her eyes shut; each breath was a painful effort. fear grew inside her, heavy and real, unlike anything she had ever known. her muscles contracted involuntarily, making her back burn even more. every second brought her closer to the ground, and this time, there was nothing she could do to prevent the impact.

she tried to grasp at something but there was nothing that could save her in that moment. no prayer could make god forgive her.

and when her thin, bloodied body collided with the concrete, there was no bang — but a broken sigh, as if the sky itself mourned her loss.

to burn in flames hurt. to be expelled from paradise did too.

she was alive, but at what cost? she stayed for hours amidst the rubble; the hardness of the stones bruised her body further. her head throbbed from the impact, and every muscle ached and bled. on her back, a dark scab had formed — it stung with the smallest movement, marking the place where her wings once belonged.

her face was covered in wounds; her lips, split by the force of the wind. her torn clothes barely covered her body, and her dark hair, once soft and shimmering, was now dry, heavy, and completely disheveled. she was chaos — inside and out. and for hours, she did not move — as if the simple act of existing were a burden, a mistake. the sun slowly set on the horizon, casting warm hues across the sky, while the wind messed up her hair and brought the distant sound of the living earth around her.

the world had not stopped because an angel had fallen from heaven.

and this haunted her deeply. so many years dedicated to heaven, to humans, all for this, to be exiled as if she were nothing, as if she held no importance. it was unfair; she cursed them with all her rage. hot tears streamed down her face, leaving streaks on skin that had once been touched by the divine. and as she wept, it seemed the sky also pitied and cried with her.

“have mercy on me, o god…” she murmured, but the words sounded hollow, lost in the heavy air of the earth. “my god… why have you forsaken me?” she asked, her broken voice mixing with the dust and the blood. no answer — only silence, heavy and eternal. only the echo of an unheeded plea.

her mind was a jumble of questions she would never have answers to, questions that perhaps had been the reason for her fall. like lucifer, who had risen and then fallen, megan too had plummeted — not out of vanity, but out of love. she had disobeyed divine laws, committed a heresy, and now paid the price for her own decisions.

the sky was dark when she decided to rise. every movement dragged the weight of the universe along with her body: the weight of the flesh, the bones, and existence itself. the ground was damp, and the rough touch of the stones made her shudder. the cold wind penetrated her torn clothes, raising the hairs on her arms. everything was a strange and new sensation for her. she had never felt cold, nor hunger, nor pain. and, in a funny way, she had experienced all of it in less than twelve hours of exile.

she pressed her lips together, tasting the tension of the newly discovered muscles on her face. first, she tried to move her knees. the joint protested with a sharp twinge, a terrible but fascinating novelty. there was a stiffness she had never known in the lightness of the ether, an inertia that fought against her will. she put her hands on the hard ground and, with a husky grunt she barely recognized as her own, pushed up. she lost her balance, stumbled, the world spun for an instant, and then, she was standing. erect. a fallen angel mixed with the mud and the darkness of the earth.

shame burned like embers on her face. the weight of the fall and the condemnation made her back curve. she walked for hours until she found a quiet church in the city center. the church walls were gray, erected by thick columns that supported the weight of its construction. beams of light entered through the slits of the enormous colored stained-glass windows and illuminated the entire environment.

upon entering, the religious people eyed her sidelong. she knew her appearance was terrible: there were wounds all over her skin. her hair was disheveled and the fabric that was once white barely covered her body, now covered in mud and dust. she was as broken as the stained-glass windows that surrounded her. none of them dared to approach, perhaps out of fear or repulsion. she then sat on one of the farthest benches and observed everything around her. some men and women prayed with their heads bowed, others were already kneeling and praying with such a clamor that tears ran down their eyes.

a priest walked toward the altar, and the silent movement indicated that the mass was about to begin. the sound of the choir, coming from a small side tribune, filled the space with soft songs: celestial melodies, familiar to her soul, but strange to her new human ears. the environment was calm, but the discomfort within her was constant. every image on the walls — of angels, saints, and even the creator himself, sovereign above all others — made her heart ache. it was a reminder of everything she had lost…

all because she had sinned.

because she had desired the one thing she could never have.

you.

among all the obligations an angel should have, protecting and caring for humans was the most sacred of all. the weight of this duty was greater than any human mind could comprehend. angels did not love by choice; they loved because it was an inherent part of who they were. it was a love that was not born of desire, but of divine order: pure, serene, and unwavering. in it, there was no vanity, nor search for reward, only the fundamental purpose of their existence. it was love in its purest and most absolute state, so sacred that no human word would be able to describe it.

and megan's mission was to observe, to maintain the balance between love and duty. and she observed them, witnessing the complete cycle of existence: when they cried from sadness or happiness, she witnessed their births and their deaths. she was there for whatever they needed, for that was her function; to protect what was most sacred, beyond her own existence. from the moment god said, "let there be light," until the moment of eternal darkness, she was meant to be there.

but all of that changed the moment she laid eyes on you. if she had a heart to beat, the entire structure of her essence would have trembled, because what she felt was not the divine and serene love that was permitted to her. it was a greater, more violent force that overshadowed her sacred duty as an angel. her divine functions became a mere shadow before that new, forbidden, and inexplicable attraction.

it was completely wrong, angels should not feel emotions this way; in fact, they do not feel the same way as other beings, precisely because they have never truly been "alive." emotions are essentially human inventions. they feel hate, love, happiness, sadness, and this is what keeps them close to one another. all these things are part of society because they are a form of communication and connection. this is what makes them human. and this is what differentiated them from angels.

angels are pure consciousness, not life. they know, but they do not feel.

megan had never been alive before. everything she knew about humans and what moved them was only through what she observed. perhaps it was this longing, this desire that grew increasingly within her, a desire to feel and not just observe, that was the beginning of her demise.

megan should have seen you as she saw all the others: just another human to be cared for, another soul needing help for evolution, for spiritual growth. the angel knew she should not get too close; her curiosity directly conflicted with her duties, opening a rupture between the celestial purpose and human desire. it was a catastrophic failure, something that should not exist, nor even have arisen.

she tried to stay distant, tried to observe you as the other angels did, as a simple duty. her essence was this: to care, to watch over, to protect… but she simply could not. that was bigger than the angel herself, a difficult weight to carry. she pleaded with her eyes to her brethren, asking herself if something was wrong with her, if she was truly sinning. she felt dirty, abnormal. for a moment, she saw no difference between herself and the first fallen angel.

if he had fallen out of pride and rebellion, was she so different? she had become a sinner like all the others, she did not deserve her rank, nor her name. there was no longer a barrier between the celestial creature and humans; she was as soiled as they were.

“you observe too much, megan,” michael said one day, without even turning his face.

the archangel, known as the people's defender, was one of the supreme princes among the angels. it was he who led the fight against satan's army, with an authority that represented his leadership. michael was everything megan would never be; he was a born leader, but above all, he served the divine order with obedience.

“observing is our duty. i am only doing what i was commanded.”

michael’s eyes then met hers, serene and firm.

“fulfilling duty is one thing, my sister. feeling is another.”

she knew he was right. but she didn't know how to stop. it was like a virus that had intoxicated her, a poison. every fiber of her being was impure.

“and what if there is no difference? our function is this, to observe and care for them, we do it because we love humans for having been his creation, just as he loves. at what point can this not be surpassed? what line determines how much we should love them?” she questioned herself, and something within her burned; it was not just a need to know, but a fear that if she asked too much, she would move away from heaven and her essence.

“their love is earthly, child. it is a flame that consumes,” he said with all his wisdom, taking a step toward her. “ours is light. it is eternal.”

it was wrong, and she knew it. she saw herself so much as a reflection of lucifer. she wondered if michael also thought that when he looked at her. if he saw the same impurity in her, the same desire to want more than she could have.

“be careful, megan. there are questions that heaven does not answer without exacting a price.” the archangel finished, his eyes lowered and sad.

the moment this destruction came is unknown. it might have been when she began to question, in the same way eve did when she ate the apple from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil given by the serpent. or because she stopped fulfilling her other duties to be by your side every second. she knew she was no longer pure, that every fiber of her being had transformed into sin, had been corrupted by desire. she was dirty, she was a sinner, she did not deserve to be in paradise. but still, she was not ready for the fall.

the angel still remembered the cold marble floor beneath her feet, the eyes of her brethren on her, sad and disappointed. silence weighed heavily in the heavens in a way that it rained on earth. she stood in the center, head bowed, waiting for the punishment she would suffer.

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned.”

perhaps megan fell even before she was exiled. there was no longer a place for her in eden. the veil of flesh was already beginning to form before the wind of the earth even touched her face. if she longed so much for a human, then she would become one.

with this irony, the sentence came: simple and devastating.

“god loves you, but not enough to save you.”

and with that, she was exiled from paradise, never to return.

megan left the church before the mass actually began. she neither knelt nor prayed, because she refused to bow before the one who had expelled her. anger burned in her heart as she walked in hurried steps through the city streets. she didn't even know where she was; her mind was a sea of confusion.

couples passed her by and all she saw were blurs, colored spots under the city lights. lights that bothered her eyes, for she was too sensitive to the brightness. she walked for a few hours until she found a hotel by the side of the road. she knew she couldn't go in, for she had no money. she slept right there, leaning against the cold, hard wall of the hotel.

the following days were a confusing succession of cold, hunger, and the incessant noise of humanity. the angel, accustomed to silent eternity, now lived under the dictatorship of time and basic necessities. she ate when some good-hearted person donated food. the only bath she took was the rain, and she drank water from puddles. sometimes, she looked up at the sky and wondered if anyone was still watching her. she no longer prayed for forgiveness — she just wanted to know if she was still remembered.

although her world had turned upside down overnight, she was gradually getting used to the new life. the world was much more colorful when viewed from below. to be able to live and feel instead of just observing was unique to her.

she rose by herself, with what remained of her strength. she was given a chance to start over: she would be a receptionist at the very hotel that had been her dwelling. she would have a room for herself and money to buy her basic necessities. she spent a good part of her time attending to guests and making reservations on a thing that was new to the angel; humans called it a “computer.” she was like a child discovering the world, and, little by little, her life took shape; little by little, she stopped surviving and started living, truly, as she had always wished.

and it was there, between the monotonous clatter of the computer keys and the faint aroma of reheated coffee, that megan’s world collapsed again.

she knew it was you even before she turned around. the sound of your voice echoed through the walls; the sound of your laughter was like sweet wine to her. memories surfaced, the reason for her fall was right before her eyes.

you were even more fascinating seen up close. every curve of your body seemed to have been drawn; thick, rosy lips, long eyelashes, dark hair that cascaded over your shoulders. so mortally beautiful that she was sure of one thing:

she would fall from paradise again just to have the chance to touch you.

[the-viper]

i absolutely loved that siren! dani fic, do you plan to write more?

oooh thank you so much!! and i doo, I'm currently working on a megan!fallen angel one :)

[the-viper]

you've got the devil in your eyes

cw: violence. death. dubcon. nsfw. blood. monsterfucking. psychological manipulation. drowning imagery. horror elements. ──── ⵌ siren!daniela. hunter!reader. word count: 4.1K

the sky was beautiful that afternoon, a cloudless blue. in the distance, you listened to the sound of waves breaking, white foam covering the ocean. you paused for a moment to feel it, the wind whispering in your ears, as if telling a secret, as if it waited for the right time to awaken.

you loved this life, you loved feeling the cold breeze hit your face, the constant sway of the boat beneath your feet, the blue immensity that stretched across the horizon and beyond. the salty scent of the sea that invaded your nostrils and burned your skin. your mother used to wait for the day you would tire of this life, seek a job in the city, and settle down. but you knew, a feeling that burned and overflowed within your core, the ocean was your home, and always would be. spending more time sailing on the waters than on solid ground was what made you get up every morning.

it was the reason you were alive.

the abyss, the boat on which you sailed, was a gift from your father. it was neither the newest nor remotely the safest, but it was the inheritance of a lineage of hunters before you. every creaking piece of wood, every worn rope, carried the weight of the battles these men faced. it was the legacy of a lineage of hunters that now weighed on your shoulders.

your father had taught you everything you knew about the sea and the dangers it hid. since childhood, you heard stories about creatures living in the depths, where light never touched. they were nicknamed sirens, ethereal creatures on the inside and cruel and ruthless on the outside. with long, shimmering tails, scales that looked like liquid glass, and a voice that seemed to make the entire world bow to hear the sounds, and it was that very sound, sweet and fatal, that hypnotized men and women and dragged them to the bottom of the ocean. and after… all that remained was silence.

that same silence filled the environment. you and your crew knew that moments of relaxation were rare. you were in treacherous territory; hunting sirens was no easy task. they were clever, sea monsters that acted with speed. one minute of inattention and everything could change.

the sun was already hiding on the horizon when you decided to look for a safe zone to rest. waves gently tapped the hulls, and the smell of sea spray mixed with the oil from the lanterns.

your crew consisted of five women; you had sailed together for so long that they moved in sync, as if they were a single soul split into different bodies. they were a family shaped by a single common love — the sea. on that deck, there was more than just teammates — there was sisterhood. each one knew she could count on the others, that none would be left behind. years of sailing together had forged a silent bond, a sisterhood crafted by the sea and the need to survive.

megan was humming softly while coiling the lights; the sound of her voice mixed with the murmurs of the waves breaking. sophia, who was only a year younger than you, was distractedly sharpening her hunting knife, the reflection of the setting sun on the metal. yoonchae watched everything in silence, rarely speaking, but when she did, everyone stopped to listen. lara was laughing at something only she found funny, her light laughter ricocheting across the immensity of the sea. beside you, manon, your co-captain and life partner, was untying ropes with her usual precision, her eyes attentive to every detail of the boat and the crew.

there was something about manon that anchored you, as if she were part of your existence. you had known each other for so long that a nod, a movement, was enough for her to understand what you needed; words became unnecessary when you were together. she was your balance, the lighthouse that guided you when the sea seemed to swallow everything. between you, there were no secrets, no promises, only the certainty that you would give your lives for each other. and, that afternoon, that certainty felt stronger than ever.

when the boat slowed, the anchor plunged into the waters with a dull clang, and the deck’s rocking became gentle. the other girls began to retreat, laughing softly, while manon remained by your side, watching the sun disappear on the horizon.

“another day surviving the sea,” she murmured. a tired smile played on her lips.

you simply agreed, leaning your head on her shoulder, as you often did. the warmth of manon’s body enveloped you, bringing a familiar feeling of security and belonging, as if nothing could hurt you while she was by your side. the whole world seemed to fit inside you both, and for a brief moment, you truly believed the sea would be gentle that day.

and like a premonition, or a dark work of fate. the air suddenly changed, the boat lightly shook, and a silence so dense it hurt your ears settled in. the sound of the waves seemed distorted, loaded with a strange force that made your heart pound. the danger was not just invisible, it was tangible; you could feel it in your bones, on your skin, reverberating through your body. and then, before you could react, a thud echoed at the stern of the abyss, so loud the sound seemed to rip the air. the deck trembled under your feet, and before you could understand what was happening, you and manon were thrown forward. the impact was dry, the air escaped your lungs, but before you could fall completely, you felt manon’s firm hands pulling you. together, you slid across the wooden floor, the sound of boots and the rocking of the boat mixing with the roar of the waves.

“hold on!” she yelled, her voice almost swallowed by the noise.

in seconds, chaos erupted. the girls rushed out of the cabins, their hurried steps echoing on the deck. sophia was yelling something about the anchor, megan was trying to reach the helm, and lara was already leaning over the side trying to see what had hit the hull.

the smell of smoke and salt began to spread. the sea, previously calm, now rose in denser, darker waves.

manon looked at you, her face partially illuminated by the light of the lanterns still swinging from the hooks.

“that came from under the water,” she whispered. “something is down there.”

sophia knelt by the edge, her hunting knife already unsheathed and gleaming in the gloom, trying to sense the pulse of the water. "we have a breach, captain! on the port flank, almost at the waterline, and it wasn't a coral." her voice was tense, but professional. yoonchae, silent as ever, was already at the hatch, quickly descending to assess the flooding below. megan, pale-faced, struggled to turn the helm, trying to steer the abyss away from wherever the attack had come from, but the ship felt heavy, almost stuck. lara was pulling canvas buckets, instinctively moving to where the water might start to pour in.

"impact weapons on deck! manon, help me with the harpoons!" you growled, fear being overridden by adrenaline and training. this wasn't rough sea, nor a treacherous rock. it was hunting. the bloodline in your veins screamed the truth. manon released the mechanism of the first harpoon, the dark steel tip reflecting the unstable lantern light. she looked at you, a silent understanding exchanged: this time, the enemy was prepared. the ship shook again, a lateral jolt that knocked over some boxes and made the ropes swing wildly. what whatever was down there was testing the structure, circling.

the silence that followed was suffocating. no one dared to move. the air felt too heavy to breathe, and the sound of your own heart beating was all you could hear. for an instant, you thought you might have imagined it — until you felt the first impact. a dry snap traveled through the hull, followed by a low drag, like nails scraping wood. something huge circled the abyss, slow, calculated. megan held her breath, sophia raised her knife, and even manon, always firm, squeezed your hand tightly.

it could only be one thing. and as confirmation, the song began, that sweet and deadly sound, which had already carried thousands of souls into the darkness. the sound seemed to be born from the seabed and rise through the body, vibrating in your bones and raising every bit of skin it touched.

the sky that was orange was now closing into a deep gray. a dense fog swallowed the boat centimeter by centimeter. it was impossible to see anything.

your heart pounded. your eyes widened in pure panic. the fear spread through your body, a chill that didn't come from the water, but from within. each breath was short, heavy. the air seemed to have been sucked from your lungs. a splash echoed in the water. you and manon turned at the same time.

the first of the sirens emerged, slowly rising like an omen. her skin was scaly, a silver tone that oscillated between blue and green. long hair fell in cascades over her shoulders, moving like living currents within the water. from her parted lips came a song too sweet to be human. the sound seeped into the cracks of the wood, into the ship's ropes, into the skin. it vibrated in the bones. it entered the ears and coiled in the mind, hot and cold at the same time. it was impossible to distinguish words, but the meaning was clear: come.

“cover your ears!” you roared, your voice tearing the air.

the girls obeyed instantly, bringing their hands to their heads and pressing their ears tightly.

like a school of fish, more and more were emerging, soon the boat was surrounded on all sides. the voices mixed into a hypnotic chorus—sweet, dissonant, inescapable.

it was so hard not to listen. the song cut through everything — the sound of the waves, the clattering of the lights, even your own thoughts. you tried to concentrate, to sing something inside your own head, but the melody seeped through the cracks of your mind, too sweet to be ignored. you faced them, trying to convey some authority, but something in their translucent eyes said they were one step ahead, always watching, always waiting.

“you are brave, aren't you, darling.” one of them said, arching her body over the boat and leaning on the sides. “actually, everyone is… but eventually they yield, they always yield.” “humans… always so… weak,” another mocked.

and they laughed. their laughter sounded like broken bells, echoing across the night sea.

“don’t listen to her,” manon said, in a low voice, but you knew that inside she was also desperate.

your mind seemed paralyzed, and you knew you needed to act quickly. it was your responsibility as captain; you needed to defend your crew.

but before you could move a muscle, everything around fell into a profound stillness. the chorus suddenly ceased, as if the air itself had been sucked away, leaving only the overwhelming feeling that something even more dangerous was approaching.

it was in that quietness that she appeared.

daniela rose from the bottom of the ocean like a forgotten deity, so powerful that she made anyone bow before her. every gesture was measured, every movement carried grace and danger at the same time. her dark hair fell in heavy waves, forming a void around her. her eyes, as dark as the night sky, burned with intensity. she was living fire. she was beautiful… so beautiful she would make zeus condemn mortals just to have her. that would make him create a domain where not even his brother, hades, or death could touch her.

the other sirens moved away, lowering their heads, their laughter dying on their lips. daniela’s face curved into a somber, devilish smile. there was no pity there, only a future queen ready to claim her throne.

for a second, the world seemed to compress, the noises disappeared, leaving only the feeling that you were facing something immensely dangerous and irresistible. like a magnet, daniela’s eyes fixed on yours. as dark as an abyss. she tilted her head, observing you with a lethal curiosity.

sophia took a step forward, weapon in hand, but hesitated; her eyes lost focus. you felt your heart race. daniela hadn't said a word yet, but her presence was like a silent tide, pulling everything closer — including you. she moved with a supernatural lightness towards you.

“don’t look at her,” someone whispered behind you, but already it was too late. her eyes were so mesmerizing that they made your mind go numb, as if you were surrounded by a dense fog, clouding your vision and drawing you closer. and for the first time, she spoke, her voice so melodic it could cut the universe in half.

“you have the courage to face me, hunter?”

you tried to step back, but your body didn't respond. your legs seemed glued to the floor, while fear and fascination grew inside you, intoxicating you. daniela stopped before you. the salty scent of her skin, mixed with something sweet, impossible to name, invaded your nostrils, until it was impossible to distinguish where your breath ended and hers began.

“are you afraid of me, hunter?” she asked once more, in a low voice, her tongue movements slow and sensual.

seconds dragged, and the song returned to echo across the ocean — but it was no longer the same sound. there was something sweet in it now, something that seeped into the mind like mist, intoxicating and impossible to resist. then, the metallic sound of a weapon falling broke the air, and a chill ran down your spine. as you turned, horror pierced you like a blade: one by one the girls let their weapons drop, their faces softening, their eyes becoming opaque, empty. manon still tried to resist, teeth clenched, a frown set on her features, but the tremor in her hands betrayed that even she was beginning to yield.

they were being controlled. daniela was messing with their minds. you had never seen anything like it before. it was like watching your worst nightmare right in front of your eyes.

“stop it,” you pleaded, desperate. hot tears streamed down your cheeks, tracing saline paths on your skin already burned by the wind. daniela just watched, serene. when she spoke, her voice was low, melodic, and yet impossible to disobey:

“come with me then, surrender yourself to me, hunter, and i will spare your friends.”

shock ran through your body like a sword. your legs almost buckled when the information reached your brain. she wanted you. she would take you to the bottom of the sea, and you would never see the sunlight again.

all your dreams would end there. every memory, every shared laugh, every unsaid promise… everything dissolved like foam between your fingers. the world you knew, the life you could have, your girls, manon… everything slipped away, silent and cruel, as if the ocean itself had decided there was no place for you on any shore.

but you could still save your crew. if you weren't so selfish. and you weren't.

fear consumed you and constricted the walls of your lungs. there was a knot in your throat that burned more than the salt. you knew what you needed to do, but everything in you screamed not to. your body begged for life, your heart begged for time. your eyes burned as you looked at manon — she was still fighting, even broken, even without strength. the tears came silently, mixing with the salt and the pain. each drop was a farewell — to the laughter, to the sound of the deck under your feet. fear and love for the crew merged until nothing was left but surrender. the despair didn't come from dying, but from knowing that, by doing so, you would leave behind everything you were, everything you loved.

you heard manon struggling; even amidst the pain, she tried to stop you. but there was no salvation. you had never dealt with such a powerful siren before. for a second, amidst the despair, a sad smile appeared on your lips. your heart pounding, your lungs burning, the feeling that every second could be your last, all this mixed with the certainty that there was nowhere to run. daniela was so close you could feel her breath, the icy touch of her hands about to drag you down. every movement you made was observed, every rise and fall of your breath, every fear and apprehension. and in that gesture, there was the promise that nothing else mattered but what she wanted. you held the edge of the boat tightly, your fingers trembling, trying to convince yourself that there was still something you could do. but your body no longer obeyed. daniela’s song was everywhere — in the waves hitting the hull, in the wind cutting your skin, inside your head.

a shiver ran down your neck. perhaps dying wasn't the end. perhaps, in her hands, there was something beyond the void. you took a deep breath, the taste of salt and despair on your tongue.

“it’s alright…”, you whispered, but your voice came out trembling, almost soundless. it wasn't acceptance, it was the price of love. it was surrender. a whisper amidst sobs, like one who gives up because the fate of their family was worth more than their own life, and there was nothing left to offer to fate but yourself.

daniela’s eyes focused on you again. there was fascination in them, a dangerous, intense curiosity. she had never killed a woman before; none of the hearts in her collection belonged to one. but upon seeing the commotion of the other sirens and seeing you for the first time, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt: yours would be the last. your heart would seal her crown.

you took the first step toward her, still uncertain of what you would do. she waited for you, motionless, like a hunter observing prey. your heart accelerated, and the world around seemed to shrink. you sat on the edge of the boat, your feet touching the cold water. it was sad to think that these would be your last moments of life, before what had always been your great love swallowed you whole.

daniela approached, her fingers resting on the sides of the boat. she tilted her head, observing you with that almost cruel calm. you were so close you could feel her warm breath dissolving into the salty air.

she wanted to give you something. not pity, nor compassion — daniela didn't know those words. she wanted to give you something that would last beyond the pain, something that would make you remember her even when your lungs filled with air.

a kiss.

sirens didn't know gestures of affection or intimacy; for them, affection was weakness. they owed loyalty only to the queen of the sea, and that was the limit of any human emotion they could feel. any other feeling — care, love, devotion — was irrelevant, disposable. daniela, however, seemed to want to experience something different, to touch you in a way no other siren would dare.

the kiss sealed the agreement between you, slow and intoxicating. her lips were soft and salty. her tongue was rough and long, contrasting with yours. a sob caught in your throat as she pulled you closer, the freezing sensation of the water welcoming you.

daniela caressed your face, her icy hands causing a strange and pleasant sensation on your warm skin. all of it bordered on the absurd. it made you sick. “stop overthinking, hunter,” she whispered in your ear. sharp teeth gliding across your neck, the metallic, hot taste of your blood on her tongue was delicious, the best she had ever tasted. you were so lost in the sensations that you could barely stop her. you would let her do whatever she wanted.

the siren's fingers explored your body, she slid her hands over every curve, every piece of skin was being covered by her. your nipples were already hard from the contact with the cold water, and this caught the future queen's attention. she slowly pulled down your shirt, as if wanting to imprint every second of that moment into her memory. when your breasts were exposed, she eagerly took them into her mouth, sucking the left side with such vigor that it hurt. your head curved backward and rested on the boat's edge. when the left side became sensitive and red, she moved to the other, giving light nips and circling the nipple with her warm, rough tongue.

the siren's hands went to the waistband of your pants and entered your panties, you moaned softly at the minimal contact. she started with slow movements, as if exploring your entrance. it was hot and seemed to pulse, daniela, driven by genuine interest, resolved to insert a finger. your vagina was tight, the walls avidly swallowing every inch of her. soon, the back-and-forth movements began. you moaned, lost in pleasure. your vision was blurry, and all you saw were small colored dots. daniela lifted your leg a little more and resolved to introduce another finger, which entered like the 'pop' of a lollipop. she smiled seeing your expressions, the thrusts became increasingly faster, and your internal muscles expanded to accommodate her.

you moaned uncontrollably, nails scratching daniela’s back, drops of blood painting the dark blue of the sea. a tremor ran through your body, the feeling of closeness was so intense that you squeezed your eyes shut. the orgasm broke inside you like shards, your back arched, your head thrown back forcefully.

you tried to recover your breath slowly, but the air felt thin, dense. the sensation of pleasure faded, leaving behind only the cold awareness of what had happened: the siren had dominated and consumed you there, on the brink of death, stealing your will and resistance. there was no longer a fight, only the echo of your own body betraying you. daniela watched, the dark smile returning to her lips, now stained. her gaze, previously one of fascination, was one of final satisfaction. you brought your hand to your lips, tasting the salt and the blood. every second was one less on your clock. there was nothing left to negotiate, nothing to protect besides what was on the deck. it was time to fulfill the agreement. the end of everything. it was time to completely surrender, body and soul, to the sea… and to her. you turned and looked once more at your crew — your girls — with affection in your eyes; every moment alongside them had been marked by laughter and companionship. they were still out of it; probably, when the spell ended, they wouldn't know what happened, only notice your absence.

daniela pulled you by the hands, and you let her. you kept your eyes fixed on the girls, even as the sea salt stung them. your lungs burned as you descended deeper and deeper. it was suffocating and painful. overwhelmed by despair and terrible fear, your eyes went to hers — ruthless and serene. it was as if she could see every thought, every repressed fear and desire. she held you firmly, not out of fear of you escaping, but as a form of comfort. daniela was not only taking your body to the seabed, but your essence, and you knew, without needing to hear it, that those she selected never returned.

darkness began to fill your vision, the pressure of the water pulled you further and further away from the light. the last conscious thought you had was of her presence and the impact of her touch.

and then, the darkness came — complete, silent, and strangely serene. the pressure of the water crushed the last gasp of air, and the hunter finally yielded. every silent beat of your heart was, in that instant, the final item daniela needed. one more conquest, one more piece that made her unbeatable, and you, lost between fear and fascination, had your chest torn open to become eternal in the memory of the siren who governed everything she touched.