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“If anyone ever jeers at you, I’ll rip out their intestines and feed them to my hounds.”
Awwwwww this is so cute what the fuck is wrong with me
“Call Meg to check on her if you must, but stay out of my trailer, or I’ll be gifting her a pair of still-pulsating clown hearts.” “Try our cocks instead. Meg will like that better. Don’t want to kick off your relationship with her thinking you’re a shitty gift giver.”
Deadbolts meant nothing when you traveled with a group of horny supernaturals with no sense of personal space.
"Unlock the door, fuck toy. It's our turn now."
“Get bent, fuck clowns.”
His brother started to laugh, his eyes lighting up with wicked glee. “Oh my God. She stabbed you. That’s so fucking hot.”
He was so handsome. So stylish. Even covered head to toe in the blood of my would-be rapist. Especially covered in his blood.
“Open up.” His jaw unhinged on her command, and she held the cock over his mouth, allowing the rope of his own cum—mixed with bright beads of blood—to dribble all over his lips, his chin, his tongue. “Good boy,” the demoness practically sing-songed. “Now swallow.” There were few sights that could bring an ancient manifestation of darkness like me to his knees. This was such a sight.
“Yeah, getting fucked by shadow tentacles was guess number two.”
“You sicken me.” “I sicken, Death?”
“You’re making this whole intimidation thing uncomfortable. You’re supposed to be pissing yourself with fear.”
With a sharpened halberd clutched in his hand, he looked pretty menacing. Though his faint scent of kale took away the edge a bit.
“Th–this is a weird thing to come to,” I panted.
💀💀💀💀💀
“This is Sinner’s Sideshow,” Daemon rumbled, the hunger in his eyes paired with that cocky smile sending me hurtling over the edge. “We all get off to weird shit around here.”
“There’s gonna be games, carnival rides, funnel cake, and murdering bad guys.” Diabolic smiles broke out on the twins’ faces. I was dying to see them in their clown paint again. “You had us at the murdering bad guys bit. Oh, and funnel cake. We love funnel cake.”
The list of our freaky kinks was pretty extensive, but watching our Harbinger of Justice stab a rapist up the ass with a sword while she made the biggest, baddest alpha in the troupe hold her snack? This had to be top three, easy.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Daisy. I’m not putting a severed penis in the deep fryer. It’s for Twinkies and funnel cake only.”
Maybe they’ll let me have their leftovers.” “Doubtful. You’d have to fight Daemon and Alistair for the scraps.” “Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that,” she said with a snicker. “Though it sounds like a
Human survival instincts were the voice of reason in my head. Yes. Run. Get away. They're going to eat you! My succubus thirst was louder, screaming, Um, why are you running? You know what those tongues are capable of. Turn around so that they can eat you!
“Oh, you better not be implying what I think you are. I have this little thing where I like to chop up rapists and feed them the body parts they don’t know how to keep to themselves. You could say it’s even a fetish. You want to get me going? Eat your own dick, Death. Better yet, choke on it.”
So, was I comfortable with it? No. And that’s exactly why I was so fucking into it. Jesus, I was fucked in the head.
Jesus Christ. Death was fucking hung.
“A hellhound is knotting your asshole.” The incubus cursed, and Daemon laughed. “That’s what you get for getting blood on my carpet, imp.” “Careful,” Raff snickered. “If that’s the punishment for dirtying up your floor, we’re going to be fucking in your trailer all the time.”
