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whumpedydump · 5 hours ago

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Shockwave

Tags: shocking, electrocution, defiant whumpee, captivity.

Pt 1 of a crossover story by me and @paingoes!! Delta from their series Destroyer gets some new whumpers <3

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“If you’re expecting gratitude, you won’t get it.”

Delta didn’t look at her. He tried not to look at any of them since he’d woken up here—chained to the floor of this unfamiliar ship.

Amira stood over him, arms folded, gaze razor-sharp. She watched him carefully, studying for any flicker of resistance, every muscle that tensed at her words.

"You understand your purpose here, then, do you not?" Her voice was smooth, unwavering.

Delta held his silence, ignoring the rising burn in his knees. He wondered how long it’d been since he’d moved them. They’d kept him on his knees since he’d arrived. Wrists locked behind his back. A small length of chain kept him tethered to the floor.

"You were a weapon of Empire because you possess a certain power. We now possess you,” she paused, as if to let the obvious sink in. “Therefore the power belongs to us."

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing as if waiting for him to argue.

He deflated. It wasn’t like he actually expected anything different. Of course, in the event of his capture, they would want him for his powers.

"This part isn’t up for discussion." A beat of silence. A pause just long enough to let the weight of it settle.

"But you can choose to make it as easy or as difficult as you’d like."

Of course he would have no say in it. It was the same spiel with each new owner — or with each who aimed to be.

He’d been briefed on this possibility already. He knew what he was meant to say. But that was all just theory. Now, in the moment, refusal seemed like the worst thing he could do.

He thought of Empire, were they ever to find him. Would he ever be able to defend himself?

He imagined himself whipped bloody, if not rendered limb from limb. Brain in a jar. Decommissioned. He knew where his loyalties lay, the steps they took to ensure them.

“…You’re not authorized for use,” he said slowly. “I apologize. I won’t be able to.”

“I expected as much.” Amira stepped closer, eyeing him sharply. “But let’s not delude ourselves—’no’ was never on the table.”

Her hand rose, fingers catching Delta’s chin, lifting his face. It wasn’t gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Not yet.

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice reciting that little line at Empire Elementary,” she said. Her voice darkened, “But their rules don’t apply to you anymore.”

She tightened her grip, fingers pressing just enough to remind him who was in control. “Your powers belong to us now. To me. You’ll do well to remember that.”

Empire Elementary.

If she had known half the shit he went through at Beldam, the things that went on at that school—

He pushed it back down. Now wasn’t the time.

The touch didn’t faze him. Truthfully, he almost leaned into it. He expected this too—the reminder of his place, who was really in charge.

That was fine. He would follow her orders to the letter, do everything she asked of him.

But the powers were a no-go.

“I’m property of the Empire…sir.” He added the last honorific out of caution, as an afterthought. “I am accountable to their laws. My choice has nothing to do with it.”

I couldn’t help you if I wanted to.

Amira released his jaw, and her tone fell with it, dipping ever further, into something even colder.

“I could let you rot in here, if you want. But remember, if Empire ever does find you, they’ll put you right back in that little cage you love so much.”

Her hand hovered for a beat longer, as if debating whether to grab him again.

“Or worse, they’ll kill you, if I leave nothing for them to use.”

She let the threat hang in the air. Her hand lowered to his neck, fingers tracing at the edge of the dampener collar he still wore.

“That insignia doesn’t suit you. Let’s fix that.”

He stayed quiet. If Empire did find him, he’d have done exactly as they asked. The threat of returning to his cage meant very little as she leveraged the new one over him. What difference did it make?

He’d thought the rebellion might be different, in some way. It was a naive hope. He knew exactly what he was to her. As her hands traced the collar, he got all the confirmation he needed.

“…As you wish,” he confirmed.

She turned away without a word, moving toward the wall where tools hung in their precise places. Delta couldn’t see what she reached for—not at first. But then she turned back, and he saw it.

Bolt cutters.

Very large bolt cutters.

She crossed the room again, gripping the thing easily in one hand, as if it were weightless.

And then she came for his neck.

Or rather, the tongs of that thing did. Metal jaws opening, teeth snapping too close to his face before clamping down on the band around his throat.

Delta held still. The shears were gnarly-looking and the look in her eyes was no better. He didn’t need to play with her while she had it at his throat. In fact, he craned his neck slightly, trying to give her an easy angle.

He realized, a bit belatedly, that she meant to do it right now.

Was she actually just going to—

With a small, ringing clank, the metal snapped apart.

Immediately, the lightning poured out. It was enough to blind him, more than enough to make him seize. It went off, off with no warning, and all the world snapped into a razor-sharp focus.

Delta keeled. It was an indignity, one he’d fought so hard to spare himself from, but his body was not his own right now. There was an awful, alien energy to it.

The spasm repeated itself incessantly. It wasn’t supposed to be this bad. It was never supposed to be this bad, but when was the last time he’d had the collar off?

He never could have been ready. There was too much information around him to process—each nail in the wall, each arc of the craft’s trajectory, each link in the chain.

There was a different body, not too far from him, collapsed to the floor. The shock had come for her too.

What had she done?

Amira’s breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as she reached for the replacement collar, fingers trembling from the residual shock. Sparks still flickered across Delta’s body, the air thick with the scent of burnt ozone. Every instinct screamed at her to back off—to let the storm pass—but there wasn’t time.

She crawled toward him, ignoring the heat radiating from his skin, and forced her fingers around the edges of the collar.

The crackling energy bit at her hands, jolts stabbing up her arms with every twitch of his body. She grit her teeth, steadying her grip. No hesitation. Not now.

The new collar snapped shut with a click.

For one agonizing second, nothing happened. Then the crackling died, the blue arcs dimming into silence. The energy ebbed, and Delta ceased to move.

Amira exhaled hard, her hands still clenched around the metal. For a terrifying moment, she wasn’t sure which of them held the reins.

The moment ended nearly as quickly as it’d begun, with no point in between in which he could fully recover, or even wrest back control. His body ached as savagely as if he’d been beaten.

Delta was keenly aware of Amira’s movements behind him — was unable to not see it, unable to not see everything.

He coughed terribly as sensation returned to him, gasping for air. He’d hurt her, he realized with a dawning horror. He’d hurt her, in what he knew was an execution-worthy offense.

Amira knelt, breath ragged, her head dropping forward as she unclenched her fingers from the collar. Her hands ached, still crackling with the last traces of his power.

She stared at the crumpled body before her, chest heaving, struggling to process what she had just unleashed.

She thought she knew what he was capable of. She thought. But she had no idea it was this.

Could anyone truly control a being like this? Could she?

A whisper of fear clawed at her throat, cold and sharp. But something else rose to meet it—a heat in her chest, fierce and undeniable.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

To hold this power in her hands. To twist it, bend it, make it hers.

Her pulse quickened—adrenaline snapped through her like a live wire.

She had ended it. She had locked her collar around his neck. And she had ended it.

She felt her lips curl at the corners.

He belongs to me now.

༻✧༺

There is more written!! I can actually promise that!!

General taglist: (I’ll tag general this time cuz it’s the first part of this but might just have a separate taglist from here!)

@whumpsday @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch

@unorganisedalienrubbish @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter

@ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp

@spooky-scary-vampires @veyroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee @demondamage

@electrons2006 @long-past-eventide

#ooooooooooooooooooooooo #i love this #definitely want to read the next part too #thats the good stuff

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whumpedydump · 4 days ago

Text

Static Between Us

Tags: mafia setting, shock collars, restraints, threats, multiple whumpers, defiant whumpee. Words: 1.7k

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“You know what I just can’t figure out?”

Amira circled him slowly.

“That for however many times I’ve hit this button, you still wear that sullen expression on your face.”

She looked down at him as she spoke, sharp eyes meeting nothing. His gaze was firmly affixed to her shoes.

“What I can’t figure out,” she took a step towards him. “Is that despite all of our,” she paused, “convincing, you continue to refuse to cooperate.”

She was close now. He still didn’t dare look up. He realized he could hear the electric hum of the gadgets she wore around her wrists and waist. He could hear the half-distant buzzing of the tiny radio in her ear.

Too close.

“Despite the fact that you know we require so little, and that doing what I say would grant you better treatment, effective immediately.”

Sora’s neck burned.

He saw—felt—her hand lower towards her left bracelet and he flinched, he felt the muscles in his neck seize—

After a second, he realized she hadn’t touched it— her hand was back on her hip.

She hadn’t pressed it.

Hadn’t even touched the remote.

Amira frowned.

“You want me to press it for real this time?” she asked, a momentary drop of irritation in an otherwise cool facade.

“Rather, not just yet. I think if I could simply shock this attitude out of you, it would’ve happened by now.”

Beneath a mess of ash-brown hair, Sora’s eyes widened slightly, but remained trained on that place on the floor. Hovering somewhere on the laces of her boots.

“You’re lucky I’m so patient. I’m willing to work with you on that. So let’s try something else. Something a little more… out of the box.”

He had barely the time to process her words before—

“Yoojin!*

That snapped him out of it. There was a loud clanging sound, like metal slamming into the concrete wall. Sora winced at the sound, his eyes squeezed shut. It just made the ringing in his ears that much worse.

He registered Amira stepping away from him, and he briefly, stupidly, felt grateful for the reprieve.

Then, he heard that terrible, stupid laugh for a second time that afternoon.

“Fiiiiinally….” Yoojin’s low chuckle reverberated off the walls.

Sora audibly groaned. He already felt like he was getting a live lobotomy from the inside out. His head sank down to his chest. He was too fucking dizzy for this.

Not this fucking guy.

“I was losing my mind back there, you know.”

Sora scoffed. “Too late. She’s already tried ‘bad cop.’

“Oh, you haven’t seen bad cop.”

He could almost feel it before it even happened. He didn’t see her do it, leaning against the back wall of the room as she was now. But Amira’s finger had tapped at the remote on her wrist, and it had sent white hot pain shot through Sora’s throat—squeezing and twisting the tendons on his neck into a horrible knot that forced his chin down and his features to contort with the pain and the voltage, as though stretched apart so tightly they’d break entirely.

“Why the—why the fuck—cant you—j- just— turn it—around—fuck—why the fuck is it— is it — .. “

‘Why was the voltage box on the collar pressed against the front of your neck?” Amira asked, like she was inside his head. He thought it had come out less than intelligible.

“Call it a happy accident.” Amira turned, collected the tablet from the nearby table, and promptly strode toward the exit.

Sora could feel his eyes on him the moment Amira shut the door behind her.

“Shit, you don’t look so good, hot-shot.” Yoojin’s voice echoed over the silence, smiling through every word.

The hot-shot in question was promptly trying to look anywhere but right in front of him, trying to think of anything but the reality of who he had just been left alone with, who just happened to be, in Sora’s fine opinion, the worst one he had met so far.

“I think it’s time we hear you scream for real. Cmon, I know you can do better than whatever that was.”

Yep, definitely the worst. He’d be surprised if any of these half-witted mafia goons could come up with a worse bastard-piece-of-shit-asshole than this guy.

“Frankly, I was just surprised you took so many shocks without fucking passing out.”

Ohh.. to rip this fucker’s tongue out so he’d finally— “Shut the fuck up.”

“Yeah? Giving me ideas?” Yoojin audibly smirked, and Sora looked up just in time to see him sticking out his tongue and making a scissors motion with his free hand.

He was goating him again. It was no different. Different day, same Yoojin. Sora was so sick of this game.

But he shut up after that, which left him with nothing to do but hang there by his wrists as Yoojin crossed the warehouse floor, taking his sweet fucking time.

He willed the pain in his shoulders to distract him from whatever braindead thing Yoojin would say next.

But he didn’t hear his voice, at least not right away—only a low scraping, trailing along behind nearly quiet footsteps. He was dragging something behind him. Sora could hear it screeching along the concrete, and the pain in his head throbbed—he was so fucking dizzy.

Okay, maybe he was a little concussed.

Or just shocked fucking stupid.

The muscles in his throat twitched again, at the mere thought.

“What, not even a hello?”

Sora still didn’t look up. Fuck this guy. Sora could hear him smiling.

The footsteps stopped, taking the awful dragging sound with it.

Sora didn’t look up.

“Cmon, you didn’t miss me even a little?”

Sora didn’t even want to entertain him.

“Nothing to say? Aren’t you gonna at least tell me what a big piece of shit I am? Better get some insults out while you still can, right?”

His boot nudged Sora’s exposed ribs, teasingly, and Sora momentarily lost his focus on that spot on the ground and snapped his gaze up to Yoojin, eyes wild and furious.

“If you’re asking me to insult you—“

Yoojin’s boot slammed right into his stomach. Sora coughed hard as the wind was gutted from his lungs and his entire body collapsed and cringed over. He rather fruitlessly tried to fold in half as he wheezed and gagged his way back to functioning airways, but the awkward position prevented him. His knees stayed folded below him, his arms strained above his head, yanking against the chains that affixed them to the ceiling,

“I’m asking if you’d even dare.”

Sora would fucking skin him alive.

“Go fuck yourself you piece of shi—“ but his words died in his mouth when he saw Yoojin’s hand approach.

Yoojin gripped his jaw, wrapping around his face before Sora yanked his head away. The sudden movement sent a loud clang down the chains and shot pins and needles through his arms.

He hadn’t realized they’d fallen asleep.

Fine. No more sudden movements. Sudden movement fucking hurt. His sore muscles seemed to boil and seize as fresh blood reunited with oxygen-starved tissue.

“Piece of. Shit.” Sora finished.

In the time he’d caught his breath, Yoojin had re-strategized. Sora felt fingers along his scalp, roughly grazing before twisting a tight fist into his hair. Yoojin yanked his head back all the way until Sora let out a choked cry.

This was quickly becoming a favorite of his. It always seemed to shut Sora up right away.

“You don’t wanna play nice? Fine. I’ve got something new I’ve been wanting to try out.”

As if there was ever another option with Yoojin. As if he knew the first fucking thing about playing nice.

Yoojin released his hair and Sora’s head fell forward. He squinted his eyes and flexed the muscles in his neck, trying to ease the tightness at the strain of the past few moments.

Sora hadn’t even noticed Yoojin had left his side until he felt something sharp press into his back. He felt his blood run cold instantly, nearly freezing in his veins. He felt his heart slow—almost stop—like it would let his cells drift, suspended, through the cold, liquified sludge.

A knife? A box cutter? What was it? It felt bigger than that. Sturdier, somwhow. But it had an edge.

“Come on. Whatever you’re planning can you just get it over with? I’m trying to limit the amount of hours per day I have to see your fucking face.”

“How sad. It’s like you don’t care at all about having fun. Are you really gonna just sulk the whole time?”

“I fucking hate you,” Sora seethed.

Yoojin smiled wide. He seemed to like the insults. It was part of the game to him, Sora had gleaned.

“Am I going to have to get creative?” He leaned down to Sora’s eye-level. “‘Cuz I’ve got a lot of new ideas, you know. You’re quite a fun assignment.”

Yoojin was too close to cloose—wayyy too close. Again. He leaned in until their noses nearly touched. Sora grimaced. Yoojin smiled. That look was back in his eyes again.

“You’re inspiring. You really are.”

Sora grimaced. What the fuck was that even supposed to mean??

Yoojin must have read his face, because he continued.

“I was so fucking bored before you showed up. You know that?”

Sora blinked.

“She had me benched for, like—over a month, I swear. For some fucking stupid reason.”

Sora cocked an eyebrow.

Yoojin frowned. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t even say it.”

“I was gonna say I could name a few—”

Yoojin’s nostrils flared—he swung a roundhouse straight into Sora’s ribs.

Sora coughed sharply, doubling over for a moment before straightening, his eyes watering.

“…Reasons.”

Yoojin grit his teeth and let out a frustrated grunt as he made contact a second time.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?”

Sora choked on another breath, failing to stay upright. This one must’ve hit something deeper—softer. Organs and all that, Yoojin considered absently.

For a moment, all Yoojin could hear was the ragged sound of Sora’s breathing and the heavy pound of blood in both their ears. Just long enough for him to think Sora would finally shut his stupid mouth for once.

Sora coughed again, voice hoarse.

“Well, someone here has to be.”

༻✦༺

General writing taglist:

@whumpsday @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch

@whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter

@ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou

@feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby

@the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veyroswin @painsandconfusion

@skittles-the-whumpee @demondamage @demetercabingreen-thumb @electrons2006 @long-past-eventide

Just ask to be added or removed!

#ooooooooooooooooooooooo #wonderful #whump #thats the good stuff #this is giving me whumperflies