Burnt with a cigarette for tiny Daero?
Author's Notes: got a little carried away, turned the fella into an ashtray. :')
Content Warnings: demon whump, tiny whumpee, torture, burns, smoking, cigars, heat whump, cruelty, dehydration, exhaustion, multiple whumpers, demon whumpers
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Thirst brought him to these lavish gardens after days of wandering in search of shelter. The trickling of a fountain was so enticing and his need so urgent that he didn't consider who might own the property. Desperate, he fell to his knees beside it
It turns out that the gardens are kept by the courtesans of five wealthy and powerful but brutish demons, who waste no time punishing the intruder.
Now the demons sit out on a patio, around a circular wooden table, gambling, arguing, and puffing on cigars. Daero lies sprawled on his stomach in the ashtray at the center of the table, the pewter cold against his newly shrunken body.
At this size everything is louder, brighter, more painful. Dehydration has left him too heavy-limbed and weary to budge. He has never felt so vulnerable.
The group erupts with laughter, startling him awake just as his eyes begin to shut. One of their hands raises above him, casting Daero in shadow. He taps the cigar and glowing embers sprinkle from the end of it. Daero flinches, but by the time they reach his shivery skin they are nothing more than warm ash.
Four more hands and four more cigars follow until the tiny demon is lightly coated in it. Unable to even lift his head, he inhales a mouthful of the foul gray powder. Violent coughs wrack his listless body until his lungs and parched throat burn.
Daero is so tired of burn and heat and dry. His skin and lips crack with it. His eyes are bloodshot. And his tail - oh, his tail...
More frightening than all the hurt he can feel is the one he can't. His tail is completely numb, a relief that morphs into sinking dread. What if it's scorched beyond repair or worse...gone entirely?
Yet he can't help but feel relieved, because not long ago it was in absolute agony. It was delicate enough at regular size; like this it was outright brittle. And then the demons coated it in kerosene, set it ablaze, used it to light their cigars and then the flame die out on its own until his poor tail was burnt to a crisp.
Unable to catch his breath, Daero becomes lightheaded. Time passes in blurs of sound and silence, bright daylight and darkness, as he fades in and out of consciousness.
He is awake when the sun starts to set the demons finish their game and stand from the chairs. One of the tall figures looms over Daero; he shields his face, expecting more falling ash.
Instead the demon half-extinguishes what remains of his cigar on Daero's bare back.
It's an instant, sizzling pain that drags him from his respite. His mouth falls open in a thin, crackling gasp, the most his raw throat can manage now. Tears prick at his eyes and make tracks through the ashes on his face.
One by one each demon does the same thing, leaving Daero's back a mess of overlapping burns. Smothered by smoke and pain, Daero fades quickly, while the ends of five cigars continue to smolder atop him long after he blacks out.
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Stapler for Arrin from the tiny whumpee prompt list?
from this list, i think!
Content Warnings: demon whump, tiny whumpee, shrunken whumpee, tail whump, pinned down, staples as restraints, smothered, broken bones, rescue, caretaker briefly accidentally hurts whumpee
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Alex doesn't spare a moment to ask who did this or how when he finally finds Arinn.
He nearly misses the familiar voice feebly calling his name. The desperate sound comes from a fallen stack of paperwork, shoved aside in Alex’s frantic search of the office.
He was being kept in the musty old mansion somewhere, Alex knew it. But he didn’t expect to find him here, and definitely not like this.
Alex drops to his knees and carefully removes the strewn items one by one, following the sound of muffled, ragged breaths. Finally, near the bottom, he finds a manila envelope that has crumpled under the weight of the pile.
Inside lies Arinn, smaller than a doll. He’s sprawled on his back with his hair a mess around him. His small form heaves as he gasps for air; his skin is flushed from the heat of being smothered so long. Above his head someone has written Specimen 27 in black sharpie.
Who and how can wait. Alex curls his hand carefully around Arinn’s little body and pulls him up from the paper, too quickly. He lifts only a couple inches, something pulls taut, Arinn screams.
Horrified, Alex lets go of Arinn. His shaking hands nearly drop the folder in the process, so he quickly sets it on the stable surface of the desk and sits in the chair.
Arinn is writhing in pain and Alex’s stomach lurches to know he caused it. Not now, he tells his despondent mind, you can beat yourself up later.
As gently as he can Alex turns Arinn onto his side and -
oh.
Of course he didn’t budge. Not with his tail, more vulnerable than ever in his shrunken state, stapled to the inside of the envelope.
Three staples - one at the base that has fractured the largest tailbone, one in the middle that has broken that bone entirely, and one at the end, which is so fragile that the staple has left it bent at an unnatural angle.
“Oh, babe,” Alex breathes. He can’t begin to imagine the pain Arinn must be in.
While Arinn catches his breath again Alex finds a pair of scissors and carefully cuts away all of the cardstock except the sliver attached to Arinn’s tail. It does nothing to relieve the pain, but at least this way he can scoop his boyfriend’s trembling body into his hands and cradle him to his chest. It rumbles beneath him as Alex says, over and over,
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The sound of his voice and smell of his shirt soothe Arinn almost instantly. The gentle touch of Alex’s thumb rubbing his back gives the touch-starved incubus the energy to open his eyes.
No sooner has he opened them than they blur with tears at the sight of Alex’s warm brown eyes looking back. He truly believed that Alex might never find him - that he would die like this and be discarded, and Alex would never know...
Arinn curls up against Alex’s chest, solid and warm and right above his beating heart. It’s the safest place Arinn has ever known. He sobs into the worn cotton of his t-shirt and lets Alex pour comforting words and touches over him. It’s too much touch at once and he knows it; he lets it overwhelm him until he blacks out, finally escaping the pain.
-
Arinn wakes tucked into Alex’s jacket pocket, loosely wrapped in a microfiber cloth. One of Alex’s keychains - a squishy sauropod from the natural history museum - is in his arms. He squeezes it tight.
-
He wakes when his tail is jostled as Alex carries him up the steps to their apartment. Alex is slow, cautious, nothing like the way he usually charges up them, taking them two at a time. But any movement is too much movement for his ruined tail.
-
He wakes in agony when Alex manages to remove the staples. Careful as he was, there was no way to do so without hurting Arinn. He mumbles apologies and as soon as Arinn’s mangled tail is free he smooths something cool onto it with his thumb. It quickly numbs, leaving Arinn shuddering. Alex’s kisses his head, tells him he’s brave.
-
Arinn wakes splinted, bandaged, and bathed, lying on Alex’s bare chest and covered by a soft, clean hand towel. He rises in falls in a soothing wavelike motion from Alex’s slow breathing. The days of searching have finally caught up to him; he is sleeping soundly.
Though his tail still throbs dully, Arinn is at ease, too. For now he can’t be bothered to think about the days of painful healing to come or the matter of returning to his usual size.
For now it is more than enough to be home, where he is safe and loved.
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