#lilith devil

[dogmalilith]

Pomegranates Are a Sapphic Jewish Icon

I've never felt more like a Jewess who loves other women than when I'm gently carving open a pomegranate and coaxing out its seeds.

The connection between Judaism and pomegranates is an easy one to make. Pomegranates have 613 seeds is often associated with the 613 mitzvot. As such, pomegranates are frequently used as ornaments to decorate Torah scrolls and make their way onto Judaica like dreidels, menorahs and mezuzot. Moreover, pomegranates are mentioned in multiple ancient Jewish texts. The Torah lists the pomegranate as one of ancient Israel’s seven species, as well as including the fruit in a few other parashot. Pomegranates are even featured in a story from the Talmud and the Song of Songs.

I’ve never felt more like a woman who loves other women than when I’m gently carving open a pomegranate and coaxing out its seeds. Sure, the fact that the interior of a pomegranate evokes yonic imagery and its juice menstrual blood is part of it. But not all lesbians have vaginas or periods. For me, the pomegranate’s truer sapphic nature is the sensuousness of it all. The feeling of pomegranate juice rolling down your chin and arms, staining your fingers magenta; the soft crunch of seeds meeting teeth and the pomegranates’ flesh giving way when pulled apart; the sweetness of the fruit which makes you purse your lips ever so slightly.

Of course, this kind of deep erotic sensuality can also exist between men and women. In the Song of Songs, the author (purportedly King Solomon) writes, “Your lips are like a crimson thread; your mouth is lovely. Your brow behind your veil [gleams] like a pomegranate split open.” But to me, this is the exception that makes the rule. My experience of love and sex with men has always felt like two waves crashing together. Which, to be clear, isn’t a bad thing. But my experience of love and sex with women and other queer people is ineffably softer, lusher and juicier. Like a pomegranate waiting to be plucked.

More broadly, fruit symbology just belongs to queer folk. Tracing its origins back to at least the 19th century, “fruit” or “fruity” have long been pejorative ways to describe gay people and particularly gay men. Now, in a moment where LGTBQ+ folks are reclaiming slurs for themselves, it just feels right to embrace the sapphic fruitiness of the pomegranate. Plus, show me a Jewish lesbian who doesn’t have or isn’t planning to get a pomegranate tattoo. I’ll wait.

No matter how long the trend lasts, pomegranates will always be a symbol for sapphic Jewesses and Jewex everywhere.

[mthsmelo]

Sibling rivalry ⚔️

[amon-n]

[debora-goth]

[lichtbrenger]

In my defence: im ovulating

[diabolicphallus666]

Transforming Existence in SATAN & LILITH

HAIL LUST

HAIL DEPRAVITY

AGIOS O SATANAS

AVE HVHI SATHANAS

TASA REME LARIS SATAN

YID CHUS MUN NAG LAM SATAN

AVE LILITH

INVOCATIO LILITH

RENICH VIASA AVAGE LILITH LIRACH

[kakemakes]

And that's how Nero came to be :))

[forbiddentaako]

The devil's carnival Au collection 1/2

[wyxxiee]

Whatever shit of a deal he got himself into surely as fuck looks terrifying and traumatizing because are you telling me that SOMEONE stitched his smile on? OR he’s some sort of Voodoo Doll for someone to play on or control? 😧

[heavenlyraindrops]

Hello! can you see a girl reader who wants to be perfect in everything (in appearance, in weight and in work) and cries if someone bypasses her? characters: adam or lucifer :)

“ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ” ——> ᴀᴅᴀᴍ & ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ——> ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.2ᴋ | ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ

warnings: profanity, mentions of not eating (? Idk)

A/N: omds my first request! thanks anon, hope this is on par with what you were hoping for! Soz if I got anything wrong/ misinterpreted the request :(

——> Lucifer:

You smoothed your hands down your sides, eyes locking onto the reflection in the mirror and assessing the dress you were wearing. You were due to visit Charlie and the Hotel- she was holding some event- soon with your husband. 

But you knew you couldn’t. Not right then, in that state of mind. 

Your muscles ached with hours of stress and overworking yourself, the eye bags that carved shadows into your face from the lack of sleep hidden by your makeup. You loathed the way you looked- not because it was ugly, you were beautiful enough- but because it wasn’t perfect enough. 

You were worried you weren’t good enough for Lucifer. You were worried you weren’t as good as her. Lilith. 

Be anything, you’d think. Be anything you want. Just be better than her. 

You knew this sort of mindset wasn’t healthy, but you craved to be like her, to be better. Her figure, her looks, her success. Whenever you were with Lucifer, you felt like the shadow of her loomed over you, foreboding, ominous. And no amount of his kisses and affirmations could make it go away.

Of course, it wasn’t just Lilith- you were an obsessive perfectionist at heart. Your desire to be perfect already had its grip on you, but then you saw her and you realized that you weren’t at the top. You weren’t the best, as long as she was there. And it crushed you.

Sometimes you’d go without food. Sometimes you’d go without sleep. Sometimes Lucifer would kiss you and tell you he loved you and then your eyes would fall onto her portrait, gleaming in the shadows, and every ounce of warmth would rush out of your body.

Three knocks sounded on the bathroom door, and you flinched out of your haze of misery. 

“Angel?” His voice drifted in through the door. “You okay in there?”

No. No. Not now. Tears threatened to spill over. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. Of course my brain decided to make me have a breakdown now. Perfect timing. 

You opened your mouth, to speak, your chest clenching as you tried to keep your voice steady. “I…” you trailed off suddenly, clamping your lips together after hearing your own voice. “I’m fine.”

A beat for silence. “You’re not fine. Open the door.”

You did, hoping to god your face didn’t betray how you felt. His arms were crossed, sleeves rolled up and coat and hat off. You shrunk in on yourself as his frown deepened once he saw your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He said, gently, quietly, as if you would break. “You’ve been acting off lately.” His hand searched for yours to hold. Eyes soft and concerned. Your heart tore.

And then the dam broke. You slumped your tears rushing like a huge tidal wave, the storm behind your eyes pouring out and suffocating you. 

Within moments his arms surrounded your shaking shoulders, as you curled into his shoulder, your body racked with sobs. “Hush,” he soothed, stroking your hair away. His body was tense under his shirt, you noticed as you clutched the fabric, and you suddenly felt a jolt of nausea. You pushed him away. 

“Don’t look at me,” you sobbed, hiding your face in your hands as you curled in on yourself on the cold tiles. 

“Why?” Lucifer said, voice beseeching you to listen. He took hold of your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “[name], just talk to me.”

You sniffled, face burning as he cupped your face in his hands. “Cause I look hideous,” you muttered. His eyes swept over you, taking you in thoughtfully. 

“You don’t look hideous.”

“Yes I do,” you choked out, and he sighed, his breath skimming your nose. “I’m not good enough.” The words tumbled out of you as you struggled to rein them in, to control your tongue. “I need to be perfect, but-“

“Hey, hey,” he said, firmly, shushing you. “Who said you need to be perfect? Who said you aren’t already?”

You blinked at him. “Huh? I- no one-“

“Then shut up,” he muttered, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re already beautiful, understood? You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met. You don’t need to be any better.”

Your heart swelled, tears drying on your face as you took in the way he looked at you. You pulled him in for a kiss before quickly wiping your eyes. Mascara smeared on the side of your hand, and you cursed, stumbling up.

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you out of the bathroom. “Not now, darling,” he murmured, pulling you back into the bedroom. “Worry about that later.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “We’re probably late now and-“

“We’re not going,” he said, and held open his arms, legs pressed to the side of the bed. Without thinking, you immediately crawled into his arms. 

You closed your eyes, the steady beat of his heart calming you, the warmth radiating from his body engulfing you. His voice rumbled against your hair. “I love you, got that?”

“I love you too.”

——> Adam:

“Babe, you need to start fucking eating more.”

Your eyes locked with Adam’s behind you in the mirror as you ran your hands down your sides, tracing your figure. You hated it- so much, because you knew you weren’t good enough. Mediocre at best- and you couldn’t stand that. 

I’m a Winner. I need to be perfect. For Heaven, for myself. You met Adam’s eyes again. For Adam. 

He’d had two wives before you. What if you weren’t enough?

And on the other hand, there was Lute. God, you wanted to be her so bad. You’d always been number two to her, in your own mind at least, and it was slowly driving you insane. Her voice, her body, hair, skills, everything about her screamed unique, cool, original, individualistic- you could have gone on forever. And you, in comparison, were just… plain.

The mere thought clawed at you like a wild, desperate animal. Your husband’s eyes in the mirror held concern for you- concern that made your stomach churn. 

“I’m fine. Aren’t you going to eat dinner?”

He rolled his eyes. “The fuck’s the point of eating dinner alone when you’re right here?” 

You fought to keep your voice calm as his gaze pierced through you, your shoulders sinking. “I’m not hungry.” As if on cue, your stomach grumbled. 

He ran a hand through his brown hair, fluffing it up, exasperated. You flushed as he grabbed your waist, pulling you in, before his hand fell to your hip and squeezed. 

“Goddammit, [name], you think I don’t fucking know what you’re doing? It’s obvious you’re starving yourself.” He pressed a kiss to your neck and you pushed him away gently. 

“Starving is an overstatement,” you said weakly, and your stomach grumbled again. He pinched your cheek furiously. 

“What are you even gonna fuckin’ get outta this?”

You hugged your sides, a lump forming in your throat at the angry look on his face. “Are you mad at me?”

The furious expression etched across his face fell immediately? “Huh? What? No.” His face fell even more as you turned away, rubbing your eyes. “I���m just mad you think you need to stop eating for whatever reason-“

“Whatever reason?” You bit out. “Look at me, Adam! I’m not enough. I need to be perfect. I can’t-“

“You are perfect,” he said flatly. You froze, looking at him. Your own ragged breathing was the only thing you heard, apart from the ticking of the clock. He stared back. You knew he wasn’t good at comforting- so you also knew he wasn’t saying this for your own benefit. 

“I’m not,” you forced out the words, “I’m not good enough.” You gestured to him, then around you. “For you, for everyone. I’m not the best version of myself, I can’t-“

“For fucks sake,” he snapped, cupping your face in his hands and roughly pulling you in for a kiss, tongue immediately swiping over your lips. He pulled away, breath hot on your face.“If you weren’t good I wouldn’t have fuckin’ married you.”

The sincereness lining the rough edges of his tone set it in for you, and you kissed back before he pulled away, and he linked his arm with yours and dragged you into the kitchen, huffing. 

You flopped down onto the kitchen table where he left you before he returned with a plate of food, sitting opposite you. He propped himself up on his elbows and quirked an eyebrow. 

“Eat,” he said.

You did.

“Good?”

You nodded, wolfing down some more. He chuckled, and leaned over, kissing your forehead. 

“Love you. Don’t fuckin’ forget that.”

You sighed, then smiled. “Love you too.” 

[heartfullofleeches]

may you please tell me which of your ocs aren’t cis so i can imagine freaky t4t sex with them<3 (and tag them bellow too pretty please</3)

-smilesaurus anon

Trans Fem

Clementine [android lady]

Bo/Shanna [sheep girl] (no seperate tag for her - every fic is under the #cafe tag)

Cherry Milk [cow girl] (milk farm tag)

Lollie [lollipop girl]

Lilith [bunny girl

Trans Masc

Vendetta [magical boy

Orange Murder Clown (again, no seperate tag)

Spice Milk [cow] (milk farm tag)

Ben [animal lover

Paxton [don't know how to describe this lad... horror enthusiast?]

Gummi [gummy bear guy]

There are way too many NB ocs for me to list. Like every other dork here is athey/them or a they/it.

Liu [butcher/parasite] is genderfluid. So are Beau [unicorn] and Dea [worshipper god] <- all comfortable with he/she/they to different degrees. Damsel is.... Damsel. Regardless of their agab which changes like the seasons, pronouns are up to whoever referring to them since they don't care how they are perceive despite their current form

Bugman is that Bug. (pronouns are They/It/Bug]

And i think thats a good enough list for now.

[dogmalilith]

I had no idea white witches were so passionate about Judaism 😈

[mthsmelo]

"Show me you motivation!"

[devilous-ov-noir]

ℑ 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔭 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔦𝔫

ℌ𝔢'𝔰 𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩

𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔤𝔬, 𝔥𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔪𝔢 🔥

[debora-goth]

Devil wife

[2hoothoots]

it is laughably late for valentine's day art but my life has been consumed by Baldur's Gate 3 so you'll all just have to pretend i'm posting this three weeks ago. ANYWAY here's something silly with my favourite goons, love is for all year round, i'm throwing a cloud of heart-shaped confetti in your face