Drawing the Demoness of Seduction brings out the inner masochist in me. It's a pain to draw her, but God it looks hella good! My post for Darksiderstober 2022 Day 25 "Deadly sin". Who better then the epiphany of sinful lust herself as a deadly sin. Lilith was the perfect candidate. Hope ya like, prompts are here , and stay tuned.
Demons have a rich culture, including music, art, fashion, body modification, spirituality, languages, folklore and traditions. The notion that they do not was the result of an ancient smear campaign originating from the first kingdom to sway public opinion of demons and portray them as a 'feral', 'stupid' and 'unrefined' race.
Imagine coming home to find Lilith in your kitchen, wearing one of your hoodies and raiding the fridge.
You’re halfway through shaking out your raincoat, leg wedged between the door and its frame, when you hear the first crash. You dip inside to hang the coat up, wincing at the second crash before wrenching the front door open and sprinting to the hatch. You open the little window. Thunder rumbles through the sky with contempt, and you glare at a squadron of angels streaming overhead, weapons held loosely.
They’re scanning the area, no doubt looking for you, the human who brushed Uriel off after another explosive argument over where the rest of your community is. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Uriel still seems to believe that Heaven would be the best option to protect humanity after the collective revival and not Fury, who has had her hands full bashing in demon skulls for you. It would be nice to slam the window closed, but their annoyingly keen eyesight would pick out the change easily, so you carefully shut the screen and jog back to the reinforced door of your house.
You just slide in through the door, when three crashes reach your ears in succession accompanied by an annoyed curse. You unhook the axe Ulthane made for you. It fits nicely in your hand and you heft it onto one shoulder glaring at the shirt you find hanging off your bedroom door.
It’s a luxurious, feather light bit of silk, with a sturdy chain accessory holding it in place. You don’t bother trying to take it off, beelining to the kitchen just as a vehement, non-human curse slithers down your spine. After a minute of furious self-debate, you lean the axe against the wall behind a cupboard.
The kitchen is a mess when you trundle in, the top shelves flung to opposite ends of the small space. Everything is meticulously placed on the countertops, except the salt soup Jones made that is still, somehow, edible and the apples Uriel gave you in farewell. You sigh.
Lilith’s tail flicks lazily up and down, the sharpened point pulverising the apples to mash and rhythmically throwing the salt soup against the cupboards.
Her head remains stuck in the fridge and you realise, with growing dismay, that she’s probably eating the last cheesecake you had found in the supermarket three blocks down. She’s too tall for the kitchen, her legs brushing against the island in the centre, and too tall for the hoodie of yours she’s wearing, which leaves her belly button exposed.
She’s still, thankfully, wearing pants.
A laugh bubbles up and you have half a mind to turn to Uriel before you squash the instinct angrily. “Hi,” You greet lamely, watching the Mother of Demons freeze, “what the fuck did you do to my fridge?”
Lilith’s head jerks out and up, throwing an annoyed glare at you while she wipes the cheesecake toppings from her face. Her ears flick back to parallel her horns, taking the loose strands of hair with it, “Nothing, darling.” She drawls the last word.
Her tail slithers demurely to wrap around your ankle. You cross your arms. So, you may not be with Uriel anymore, by your own volition, but that doesn’t mean any of your feelings are diminished and if she wants to try seducing you, fine. Her visage shatters into a frown but she’s still damn hot.
“No pet to back you up, human,” She purred, “No need to act so brave.”
You roll your eyes but can tell she’s pleased by your defiance. The thought is more uncomfortable than ever, so you open a pickle jar and throw one at her. She winks as she catches it and, panicking, you snap, “Fix my fridge, freeloader.”
Lilith lifts one shoulder delicately, fluttering her eyelashes coyly.
You splash her with pickle juice, but it somehow makes her more alluring. “Please fix my fridge.”
