Douma Harem + Douma Oneshots

☻Douma x Gyutaro☻

A/N: can't remember who requested this, sorry for not writing, went on holiday with my fam. I aged up Gyutaro here to 16 when turned into a demon. Yeah. The above drawing is done by me, it is Hiroko from the earlier chapters. I know it sucks okay, I only had an hour of free time, and it was only half done when I posted this. The Gacha character at the bottom is done by @Douma'slittlesister. Short chapter, I do apologise for that.

To be honest, Gyutaro had never thought he could be loved. That thought had been engraved in him when he was a mere child living on the streets.

His sister was loved by all, humans and demons alike. She'd told him that if someone ever loved him too, she'd temporarily dye her hair pink. She'd laughed at him, teasing him by saying she would rather die than look like him.

His looks are what scared people, and for a while as a weaker demon, he'd been thankful for them. Many demon slayers that had tried to attack him had screeched at the sight of him, freezing. Whilst they were frozen in both shock and horror, he'd poison them with his sickles.

But now he didn't need to use that tactic, and he was resentful of others.

They had perfect eyes, and beautiful lips, and smooth skin. They had shiny hair, and anatomically correct bodies.

They had humanity. They had beauty. All things that Gyutaro had been deprived of when he was so, so young. It wasn't fair, in his eyes.

Then one day, someone had come. Someone who could make it fair, someone who could tell him that it didn't matter.

He'd stumbled across him by chance. He'd been sixteen at the time, carrying the body of his dying sister in his frail arms.

He wished he'd let her die now. She limited his power, and was such an irritating person to be around.

But fate cannot be changed, and so they'd both been transformed into demonic beings, shadows of their former selves.

For the better, in Gyutaro's opinion. If she hadn't been burnt, and he hadn't been so desperate to so save her, he'd never have met him.

He lay in the pale man's arms, eyes closed as a sign of trust. Gyutaro could feel his first -and probably only - love's fingers lightly brush against his horrendously warped skin, pressing gentle kisses against his collarbone. He shifted slightly, turning to face the man who'd helped him embrace himself.

"Douma." The Uppermoon Two looked at him, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes darling? Is everything alright?"

Gyutaro smiled. He loved this man so damn much. No one had ever been so kind, so understanding as the blond in front of him.

"No. I just wanted to...."

"To what, my love?"

Gyutaro's ugly lopsided grin grew wider, nearly laughing at the look of confusion on Douma's face. "I wanna thank ya. Ya know, for the blood ya gave me."

"It's been, like, forty years. You don't have to thank me. Also, my love, your pronunciation is incorrect. It's not 'ya' it's 'you'."

"Shuddap. If I'm being all soppy with ya, at least say ya love me."

"I'll say it when you pronounce your words correctly." Stated Douma matter-of-factly, craning his neck to look down at the shorter demon with an amused look in his normally dead prism eyes. Gyutaro gave a sigh.

"I love you. Now say it back."

"I love you too, but go to sleep. You have a mission with Daki and me tomorrow, and being tired will do you no good at all."

Gyutaro sunk into Douma's pillow throne in his room, sighing contentedly at the softness. He could get used to this luxury, for sure. His sister bragged about how she had amazing rooms, but Gyutaro could just as easily brag about how he was actually loved, and not used for random customers benefit. 

Douma ran his fingers through Gyutaro's tangled hair, muttering quickly about 'lack of a hairbrush' to himself. The latter let out a loud burst of laughter.

His mother had told him his laugh was an ugly, horrendous sound, one of a beast, but Douma said it was beautiful, and so he'd loosened up his emotions more. He was glad. He was glad for Douma as a whole.

He closed his eyes, feeling the welcoming sensation of sleep beginning to cloud his mind. Gyutaro was already feeling drowsy, reaching forward and clinging onto Douma's tasseled coat, half asleep. 

The world faded to black, and the sound of his boyfriends laugh drained from his mind as his breathing slowly evened out.

Becoming a demon hadn't been so bad after all.

Douma looked at the sleeping form of his boyfriend, smiling genuinely. He'd helped Gyutaro find comfort, just as he helped humans find 'paradise', except he wasn't going to eat the person this time. 

He would love and cherish him, just as he had promised to him all those lonely nights ago.