not to be basic but 😳 do you have any thoughts on the demon brothers courting MC? Like any specific Devildom culture aspects that come into play? (Maybe something SUPER important that MC writes off as “oh huh. wonder why my ~friend~ is all nervous today”.) wink wink romantic demon tension wink wink.
Apologies for the long wait on this but YES, we love thinking about Devildom culture(s) and possible traditions, and courting ones are certainly fun to imagine!
We've come up with a handful here (plus a special bonus at the end), so we hope you enjoy them!!
(You can see a follow-up of mini-stories with the characters we missed here!)
There are a few different kinds of fruits in the Devildom that can have romantic meanings when shared with someone you're interested in.
Bloodseed fruits, which vaguely resemble human-world dragonfruits on the outside and pomegranates on the inside, are the most popular of these by far.
The number of seeds you each eat is meant to be representative of how long you will stay in love with one another.
The average bloodseed fruit has around 1,000 seeds in it, with especially large ones able to have up to 1,500 seeds.
Which of course means the demon brothers and royals aren't going to settle for anything less than the largest ones they can possibly find to share with you.
Favored by: Diavolo, Lucifer, Beelzebub
It's not uncommon for Diavolo to invite you over for tea. Today, however, you've scarcely seen any sign of his loyal butler, aside from a single moment where he delivered both tea and a much smaller plate of sweets than usual.
"Does Barbatos have a lot going on today?" you wonder aloud.
"Oh, no," Diavolo laughs. "He's keeping his distance today out of respect for me. You see, I invited you over for...something rather special."
He takes your hand then and places a massive, spiky-looking fruit onto it. "I suppose you wouldn't be familiar with this, but this is a bloodseed fruit. They're rather rare, but we have a legend here in the Devildom that lovers who share one will stay in love for how many seeds they each eat," he explains. "And so, MC...would you do me the honor of sharing this with me?"
In the Devildom, there are certain patterns that one paints on their face that are based on their yearnings or desires, or signify something about the wearer.
These looks are usually only worn for special occasions -- and there is one event in particular where if you wear a certain matching makeup look with another, it signifies being together.
The Bacchanal of Illumination is a special time in the Devildom, where a variety of colorful demonic flora bloom and glow with an ethereal light once every few centuries.
Since ancient times, it has been customary to celebrate the three day window in which these flowers bloom with great revelry, parties thrown throughout, and imbibing an intoxicating drink created from the sap found in these flowers from past seasons.
It is considered good luck if a couple finds a flower in these fields the exact shade of the makeup they are wearing, signifying a healthy and long relationship.
Favored by: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Barbatos
"There we go, now we match!" Asmodeus giggles with delight, finishing the last flick of makeup over your cheek before turning you around to his mirror with a flourish. "Let's go show the others, hm, darling?"
You nod enthusiastically, excited to head out for this festival that everyone has been talking about lately. You've hardly taken two steps into the common room, however, before the rest of the brothers alternately gasp and/or pounce on the Avatar of Lust.
"ASMO, WHAT THE FUCK!" Mammon shouts. "Why the fuck does MC have that makeup, you bastard --"
"Because they're mine, of course," Asmo just grins back cheekily, draping himself possessively all over your shoulders. "Should have done it yourself if you wanted them!"
Purple and white with a crown of barb-like vines around a protruding spike ending in an eye-like orb, these Devildom flowers can look quite bizarre to humans at first glance.
However, if offered to a love interest, they represent passion, affection, sweetness -- and agony, if the recipient refuses it.
You see, giving a single flower of this kind to someone is seen as equivalent to asking them to be in a relationship with you, and accepting the flower is to accept the relationship.
The giver can also cast a spell before giving it, where if accepted, the flower will then actually undergo a second blooming where it sheds the vines, and the spike opens up into a set of brilliant petals.
Favored by: Mammon, Diavolo, Leviathan
"Ahhhh, that was fun!" you exclaim with a stretch, ready to head to bed after a long night of gaming with Leviathan. "It's late though, I should probably get to sleep. Good night, Levi!"
"A-a-ah, MC, wait!!" he calls out to you just before you reach his door, his voice unintentionally almost a shout with nervousness. "Wait, I have something for you." He pulls a long, thin stem of a bizarre-looking flower from somewhere in his room and thrusts it towards you.
"Oh, what a...nice flower," you smile politely, taking it from his hands.
"Y-you'll really take it?! I know you probably don't want this from me, but you'll really accept it?" His words are gushing out with excitement.
In his excitement, sadly, he forgets to tell you what the flower actually means. But Asmo will be sure to tell you when he sees it in your room tomorrow.
Candles can often be symbolic in magic, and the Devildom is no exception.
Red candles, in particular, are known for representing the fire of love and passion.
For this reason, when a demon gives someone a red candle, it's akin to a confession -- essentially, they are "giving the fire of their love" to another.
The House of Lamentation, by the way, has a lot of red candles that just happen to be sitting around all the time...
Favored by: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan
"Oh, Lucifer, perfect timing," you say as he enters the dimly lit library. You quickly thrust the plate of the red candle you were holding into his hands, explaining, "Would you hold this for me for a sec? I'm trying to get this book out, but it's so firmly wedged in here, it's a bit stuck, and I didn't want to put the candle somewhere where it could fall over."
The barest hint of a blush crosses his expression before it's quickly replaced with a mischievous smirk.
"Oh? MC, you ought to be careful who you give a candle like this to in the Devildom," he murmurs, placing a finger under your chin to turn your gaze back to him. "Or I'll have to take this as a sign you mean to surrender yourself to me."
For demons, giving someone their grimoire is the ultimate sign of trust, as it is akin to surrendering complete power to that person.
Long ago, demons sometimes actually gifted each other their grimoires as part of marriage ceremonies, though it has generally fallen out of practice at this point.
However, the sentiment of the act is still quite popular, and as a symbolic equivalent, nowadays demons will sometimes write down a story from their life as a gift to their beloved.
Especially popular is for couples to choose a story about each other, such as when they met, a special date, etc.
Favored by: Satan, Belphegor, Barbatos
Come up to the attic, the text you get reads. I have something for you.
Even after everything, it's still one of Belphegor's favorite places to nap. You gently push open the door, half expecting him to already be asleep, but even though he's sitting comfortably on the bed, he's definitely awake and looks uncharacteristically nervous.
"What's up, Belphie?" you ask, taking a seat next to him.
"I told you, I have something for you." He passes you an envelope patterned like the worn cover of an old leather-bound book.
Inside, there's a single slip of paper, with just a short handwritten story describing the night he made the pact with you. You tilt your head at him with some confusion. "Thanks...? It's very sweet, but...what's this for?"
"Trust." A small smile tugs at his mouth, though he himself hardly even notices. "I told you I believe actions speak louder than words, didn't I? So here it is. All of my trust."
A much more direct way of courtship, some demons have partaken in the tradition of gifting a locket to their intended partner.
While this might sound rather ordinary on the surface, there is something particularly special about these lockets -- they are imbued with a special, intimate magic.
When one opens the locket, it pulses with the other's heartbeat -- mirroring it in real time.
It also feels warm, as if you are holding the other's hand instead of the locket.
Favored by: Mammon, Beelzebub, Belphegor
Beelzebub has never really been one to particularly fuss about with over-the-top romantic gestures, but with his brothers all fighting over you all the time, he wants to do something to express his feelings to you too.
"I wanted to give this to you," he says sweetly, handing you a lovely red jewelry box.
Inside, you find a beautiful, intricately designed locket, and to your surprise, it quickly warms in your hand when you click it open. And even more surprisingly, it begins pulsing as well.
He holds his hands over yours, mirroring the warmth from the locket. "So you can hold my hand any time you want," he explains with a gentle smile.
"Thank you, Beel. It's wonderful." You rest your head against his chest, feeling how the rhythm of the locket perfectly matches the reassuring, steady beat of his heart.
At high-class Devildom weddings, it's common practice to serve something called a boutonniere elixir, a special kind of sparkling demonus with a single flower floating atop.
On its own, the drink tastes somewhat plain, much like any other kind of sparkling demonus.
However, if two individuals hold the chalice at the same time, even for just a moment, the cup reacts by warming up to represent the strength of their connection -- the hotter it becomes, the better a match they are.
The demonus inside, in turn, also transforms, lighting up and bubbling over, and becomes infused with the taste of the flower inside.
It is considered incredible good luck for both the pair and the marrying couple when a chalice of boutonniere elixir is spilled from the abrupt searing heat.
However, due to the pain of burning their hands on the goblet, it is often referred to as the "Boutonniere's Challenge."
Favored by: Satan, Asmodeus, Barbatos
"What a beautiful wedding!" you remark, clinking your glass against those of the others around you.
Just then, someone bumps your arm, causing the cup to start to slip from your fingers when one pristine butler quickly rushes to catch it. But, at the sudden feeling of searing heat against your fingertips and blinding light against your eyes, it only serves to make both of you drop it. "Ow!" you cry.
To your utter confusion, this somehow sends a wave of applause rippling through the entire wedding crowd.
With an apologetic smile, Barbatos takes your hand and pulls you towards him, completely ignoring the fallen chalice. "My apologies, MC, I should have been more careful, but it would appear that the cups think we're a good match. Now...let me heal that burn on your fingertips. Perhaps with a kiss?"
When one wants to propose in the Devildom, they do so with beautiful, intricate ceremonial knives.
At the base of the blade, the proposing demon inscribes their personal sigil on one side and the intended recipient's sigil on the other, making each knife unique to the pair.
The handles, which can be made of various magical materials -- bone, onyx, gold, the wood of a special tree, etc. -- are personalized with engravings.
These engravings can tell a small story, or just be very symbolic of the relationship the involved parties share.
What makes these knives most special of all is that it is customary to infuse a part of oneself into the knife -- whether it be a feather, a scale, their venom, or blood, they are giving a part of themself to you.
If the recipient chooses to accept, the two of them hold hands over the blade, cutting their palms open to form a blood pact in the shared wounds.
The shared blood then seeps into the blade, imbuing it with both their magical energies.
Saw this on pinterest today
.....is this the reaosn I have anger issues
Lucifer in the pirates costume is awesome🏴☠️🏴☠️
internally, satan is just an old woman
I think it would be interesting if part of the reason Barbatos avoids being too open and friendly is that there are times when he’s genuinely unsure of what timeline it is/how far along in the timeline they are.
Barbatos must perceive time differently from the other characters. While everyone else is along for the ride in a linear fashion, Barbatos can jump around and see into different timelines - and even though we know he can’t just change things of a whim, that amount of information has to be a lot to handle.
Barbatos who never asks specifically after Belphegor, because he can’t be 100% sure he’s out of the attic or not.
Barbatos who only asks follow-up questions to things others have said so he doesn’t spoil the future at all.
Barbatos who always checks for a ring on your finger, or a gift from someone you always wore, trying to see who you’ve chosen in this timeline.
Barbatos who always seems to be five steps ahead, but always feels like he’s on a different path entirely.
seeing people copying my tags in the reblogs like,
hanma x reader
summary: hanma demands that his entire gang kiss your feet to ensure they knew exactly what his priorities were going to be, and treats you to some much needed cuddling after.
warnings: humiliation, gang stuff, but mostly fluff
attention was not something you were used to, nor liked. truly, you never understood how people could ever want to be the center of attention, thrive in the midst of it. it seemed counterproductive and obsessive to you.
so even with tears streaming down your face, you huddled your body into hanmas as much as possible in the current position you were held in, hiccuping softly into his neck so as to avoid the stares of strangers crowding the valhalla arcade.
it seemed that you didn’t do well when gangsters take you to their boss with the intent of doing bad things to you.
you were just really grateful that it was only hanma you had to face. but the pity you held for yourself at the body-freezing fear you felt when they grabbed you and gagged you and dragged you to hanmas throne was enough to make you want to stay in your room for days.
“kiss their fucking feet,” hanma’s voice boomed, startling you out of your trance. suddenly your main focus was not trying not to cry, but on what hanma just demanded of his gang.
lifting your face out of the comfort of hanmas neck, your eyes widened when the leader of the smaller division that had brought you here so rudely stumbled toward you, a black eye and broken nose so visibly obvious that even you felt a twinge of remorse. he dragged his broken leg to the elevated position of hanmas seat, and collapsed downward, eliciting a gasp from you.
and then he kissed your feet, just the tip of your shoe.
your hands clutched at hanmas shirt tighter, breaths coming out of you sharply. his chest was to your back, your legs comfortably between his to ensure that you were surrounded by the presence of him and him only.
“next,” hanma’s voice cracked through the silence, and one by one each member of valhalla dropped to their knees and kissed your shoes.
after some point, you closed your eyes, and allowed yourself a sniffle, leaning into hanmas chin (he was much taller than you). you had looked up to him once, and unfortunately, his gaze was stone set towards his gang, disappointment emanating off of him in very obvious waves. waves that made his gang leave their eyes dedicated to the ground.
the ordeal ended soon enough. after dismissing everyone, hanma lifted you bridal-style up, and walked you to his place.
his pace was slow and methodical, despite the moons glare. he himself seemed…dejected almost.
it hit you at some point that he felt as if he failed you — the whole point of not introducing you to his gang originally was to protect your identity. but it backfired in the worst way possible.
hanma reached his apartment in no time and lifted both you and himself under his white covers. your back to his chest again, you just felt safer immediately. he rubbed comforting circles around you, and whenever you whimpered, he pulled your closer, softly expressing how you were safe, and how he would never let you get hurt again.
and when he thought you were asleep, he whispered a shaky “im sorry”, his grip tightening exponentially around your waist.
your eyes flew upon at that, upsetting feelings rising within you one more time. turning sharply, you held his face in your hands.
he smiled lazily. sadly. “hi sweetheart,” he sleepily slurred.
panic coursed through you. that tone…he wasn’t going to leave you right? you loved him too much…as did he.
“it’s okay,” you breathed out, shakily moving hair strands away from his eyes. his own eyes closed, breathing deeper with your presence. a content look crossed his expression.
you both slept just like that. face to face, eye to eye. soul to soul.
a/n - awww some soft hanma :( hope you guys liked it hehe….my next muzan chapter is coming out soon dw dw sorry im late again 🤧🤧 STAY SAFE EVERYONE ILY ALL
my best friend. my one and only.
[ 𝟏𝟏:𝟐𝟑 𝐏𝐌 ] — 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈
warnings: mentions of abuse (hanma’s home life)
the light tapping on your window from hanma makes you quietly shuffle out of bed, careful not to let your parents hear as you cautiously open it and let your boyfriend in. he offers you a tight smile, climbing through quietly and standing before you.
“hey, baby—sh-shit,” he cuts himself off with a wince as you hug him. immediately, you pull away, concern written all over your face as you glance him over. his hair is disheveled and his jacket, thrown on in haste, hides the rips in his shirt. “just kinda sore, is all,” he tries to reassure you, but his voice wavers the slightest bit.
and then it clicks.
hanma seems unbreakable, untouchable, even. you’ve been guilty of seeing him that way countless times yourself, but dating hanma let’s you see more to him than what meets the eye. he’s human, you’ve seen this countless times. he has weaknesses, fears, and he has his own battles and inner turmoils. just like everyone else.
but mostly, he has a shitty hell hole of a home that you can’t wait to get him out of.
“was he drunk again?” you murmur, pushing back a few stray strands of hair from his face.
he doesn’t meet your eyes, and you know it’s hard for him to open up about these things to you. it’s hard for him to admit that he lets these things happen to him in the walls of his own home while he roams the street almost like a god amongst men. it’s hard for him to look you in the eye and let you see the sore parts and the battered and bruised ones too.
inside and out.
“when’s he not?” he chuckles bitterly. “‘s okay, baby. i’m okay,” he shrugs. but before he can make his way past you and climb onto your bed, you lay a hand on his cheek, making him pause. it’s the gentleness of your touch, how tender and careful and loving it is when it comes to him, how you treat him like he’s made of glass even if he’s much stronger than you—not because he’s weak, but because he’s precious—that makes you home for hanma.
not that shitty busted down apartment with his drunkard father that likes to take swings at him for the littlest of things.
“shuji, let me see,” you insist. he hesitates, he doesn’t want you to see the bruises that litter his body from his father’s escapade tonight. and he remembers laying as a child, back when he used to let tears stream down his face, how he’d always dreamt of having somewhere to run to.
and now, now that the tears don’t come, now that he simply takes it like he’s trained himself to do, he realizes he does have somewhere to run to. your arms, no matter where you might be, are his safe haven.
as are his for you.
“don’t worry—”
“i always worry,” you cut him off. and for a second, he stares at you so intensely, you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. but then, he buries his head into your neck, clutching onto you tightly as you feel small tears drop and wet your skin. it’s been a really long time since hanma’s let himself cry over his fucked up home and his fucked up dad, but now he has someone to wipe the tears, and it’s almost overwhelming—the warmth and the hope, he’s never felt things like that before.
“didn’t even say shit to him this time,” he grits his teeth. “went off over nothing,” his voice cracks along with your heart.
and of the two of you, you’ve always had a better moral conscience, but for a split second, it flies out the window as you wish the worst upon the man who’d hurt the boy in your arms. some day, you think, when you and hanma get away from all of this, you’ll both give his father a taste of his own medicine.
but for now, you turn to your boyfriend, rubbing his back soothingly as you press a soft kiss to the side of his head. he sniffles, relaxing slightly when your fingers thread through his messed up hair.
“he won’t be able to hurt you for much longer,” you promise. “and then we’ll burn his whole place down,” you smile, bringing his face out of your neck and cupping his cheeks. he lets out a watery chuckle as your thumb wipes the stray tears.
“he’s gotta be in it when we do,” he adds. hanma let’s himself sit on your bed, watching as you pull out a hoodie you’d stolen from him, making your way over.
“of course,” you grin, kissing his forehead. “i’ll go get you something to eat, i’m sure you haven’t eaten much,” you say quietly. and he knows it’s an excuse to leave him to change out of his ruined shirt alone, he knows it’s so he doesn’t have to feel any weaker than he already does from you seeing the marks that litter his upper body.
hanma promises he’ll offer you everything you’ve given him and more some day, he’ll have the city down on its knees before him, and he’ll make sure you’re there by his side watching.
“make sure to get me something sweet,” he calls, grinning when you roll your eyes.
“you can have something sweet after some real food, shuji,” you say sternly, and the fondness in your voice and the softness of your gaze makes him realize he’d follow you everywhere—to the end of the world and beyond that if he has to, just for the taste of home you give him.