I Knocked Up Satan S Daughter A: Demonic Romantic

"Bring me the baby shower registry by Friday," he growled. "And it better not have any of that pastel, woodland-creature nonsense. I want black lace, obsidian rattles, and a onesie that says 'Daddy's Little Apollyon.'"

So here I am. Thirty-two years old. Unemployed. About to become the father of the Antichrist's half-sibling. Lilith is currently in the other room, eating pickles dipped in Nutella, crying because she saw a commercial for a puppy. Her halo—which she swears she stole from a cherub in a bar fight—keeps flickering on and off. I Knocked Up Satan S Daughter A Demonic Romantic

Two drinks later, the dark wasn't so scary. Four drinks later, her tail—yes, tail —was wrapped around my calf under the table. I figured it was a costume. A very committed goth thing. "Bring me the baby shower registry by Friday," he growled