#sorry to cuck you on your birthday lucifer ilu

[denpa-dere]

house arrest 6

afab!mc x satan

description: NSFW. You are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? Satan has a hunch he may know how to fix things.

warnings: breeding kink with talk scents/scenting, pregnancy, afab reader with she/her pronouns, dubcon heavy (all actions depicted are intended to be consensual)

tags: @love-and-lore @violet-turning-violet @ourfinalisation @craftybara

|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) || Satan || Diavolo (mini) ||

Satan felt his phone buzz silently in his pocket. Then again. And again. Annoyed but roused from his book, he swiped up the device to see what was causing such a fuss. After a quick scan of his incoming messages, Satan deposited his DDD back in his pocket, packed up his book bag, and headed off towards home without a word. 

You were calling for him (well, texting) in a panic, desperate for escape before Lucifer returned from the usual business that kept him late at RAD. Satan was, of course, happy to oblige. 

Truth be told, by the time he had come around to fetch you, Satan still didn't have a plan. When you answered the door to welcome him, Belphie’s scent still clung to your skin. That much he didn't mind. The lingering presence of the youngest precluded the company of the eldest, which, combined with the gossip Satan had been dutifully following, proved that Lucifer had not been able to claim you first, after all. 

Or second. 

Or third. 

And that was fucking funny. 

You collapsed against him in the hall, nerves fried, shaking, suddenly feeling in far over your head. You babbled frantically about the day's events while Satan stroked your hair, cooing soft reassurances. Don't worry, you're safe, we'll figure this out together. 

Just trust me. 

As he ushered you along towards his room, the gears in his brain ground tirelessly, turning end over end against a thickly encroaching fog. Escape was unrealistic, doubly-so now that Barbatos had been introduced as a wild card.Who knows how long you really had before the other shoe dropped?

Felis catus, commonly referred to as the domestic housecat, is a small, carnivorous, multidimensional dwelling mammal of the family Falidae. 

A male cat is colloquially referred to as a Tom, a female a Queen. 

He locked the door behind him and placed a few quick protective wards to act as a barrier. It was shoddy workmanship coming from the fourth-born, but it would have to do. Satan wracked his memories, trying to pull what he'd studied to the front of his mind before it had a chance to slip away. 

Queens go into heat approximately every 3 weeks, each cycle lasting anywhere from a few days to two weeks.

You stood towards the center of the room and shifted your weight from foot to foot as your vision adjusted to the darkness, eyes flitting between endless stacks of books and cursed objects, some floating, some stationary, all dimly illuminated by low-burning candles. 

Satan followed closely behind you, slinging his arms around your shoulders and pulling your back against his chest. Confusion was beginning to set in. 

Queens can carry kittens from multiple Toms and will mate with all Toms in her pack during a heat. 

Satan was no expert on humans, but he was pretty sure that part didn't apply to you. 

He bowed his head low next to yours. You shivered when his lips caught your earlobe. 

“I'm going to get you pregnant, okay?” He rasped, at his wit's end. 

No one said you were chosen to represent humans because of your brilliance. 

You were face down before you had a chance to respond. He could have sworn he heard something that sounded a lot like ‘please’ muffled between the sheets. The demon shifted his weight, anchoring you down further to knead your breasts with both hands. He took his time, rolling your nipples between bony fingers and savored the way your yelps faded into whines. 

It made perfect sense, in his opinion. He hooked into your shorts and pulled so hard you heard stitches pop. From your position, you couldn't tell if he had shredded them or simply blown out the elastic waistband, but the result was the same; you were bare. You heard the clinking of what you assumed to be his belt buckle. A few moments and some rustling later, your guess was confirmed by the feeling of him prodding at your slit. 

There was no time for romance, Satan thought a little sadly, spitting into one of his hands. Time was of the essence. He slathered his cock in saliva before entering you in one swift motion. Tears burned your eyes as you were stretched to accommodate him. 

Pain quickly gave way to numbness, which gave way to pleasure. Your eyes rolled back, reduced to nothing but pathetic little ‘uh, uh, uh’s  by your lover. Those hapless noises only served to further fuel his ardor. This was supposed to be a rescue mission, the ragged remains of his conscience chimed, unhelpfully. He squashed it. It was too hard to make sense of anything else beyond your sweat-soaked bodies and the rhythmic clapping of flesh on flesh.

This would work. He would make it work. 

“Take it, take it, take it,” Satan hissed between gritted teeth. His fingers knotted cruelly in your hair, pulling your head back with unintentional force. You gasped for air. His other hand laid palm flat against the small of your back, pinning you to his mattress, steadying your body against his feverish little ruts. 

Your poor, neglected clit throbbed. You wiggled an arm between yourself and the bed, sliding a finger on either side of the sensitive bud, working it in small, gentle circles as best you could. He felt you clench around him and licked a fat stripe up the side of your neck in response. The noise that escaped your throat was absolutely filthy. 

Satan tilted your hips up, angling you just enough to brush up against that sweet spot that had you wailing. Your pussy pulsed and a warm, wet dribble of slick splashed against his thighs. 

“That's it, good girl, good girl,” He groaned into your ear, hips slamming against your ass. He could feel the coil in his stomach straining, ready to bust at any second- and when it did, he bit down on your neck, hard. 

Somewhere within the House of Lamentation, a door slammed.