All Work And No Play - Tumblr Posts

Hi, this is part of my Whumptober series. I’m re-blogging it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot!

by ADGAEA

Tony and Peter are kidnapped from a charity gala when a human trafficking ring decided to get their next victims from the gala. Tony and Peter are separated, and back-up arrives. They were too late, so now Tony must have the help of Magneto and the Wolverine in order to save his kid from a terrible fate.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot.

Words: 15509, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of ADGAEA’s Whumptober —— 2021

Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Iron Man (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), Marvel 616

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Erik Lehnsherr, Logan (X-Men), Raven | Mystique, Luna Maximoff, OC doctor, oc nurses, OC Kidnappers, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, William Stryker (Movieverse), Sebastian Shaw, Friends of Humanity - Character

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Luna Maximoff

Additional Tags: Human Trafficking, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Avengers Compound, Whump, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Hurt Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker’s Parental Figure, Teen Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, BAMF Tony Stark, BAMF Erik Lehnsherr, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Kidnapping, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Murder, Attempted Murder, BAMF Luna Maximoff, Collars, power-dampening tools, Needles, Tranquilizers, POV Alternating, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Iron Man 3, Genosha, Comic Book Science, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Torture

Whumptober: All Work and No Play

Leonardo was usually the one who got captured or hurt. Of course, Donatello only thought it logical, as much as it distressed him. Leonardo was the oldest, the leader, and now, their sensei. Taking him down would most likely destroy the rest of them as well. A simple, but efficient, way of taking what remained of the Hamato clan off the face of the planet.

Somehow, Donatello managed to overlook the fact that, being the person who knew the most about medical things and the smartest of the group, a bright red target would be painted onto his shell, too.

The first month in enemy hands was brutal and violent- Well, more violent than recently. He was tortured almost everyday, only given a week or two at some point to recover before they brought him back, shoving him underwater and pretty much trying to tear him to pieces. Eventually, he gave up, desperate for the pain that clouded his mind to stop. What they wanted was for him to build for them. No information on where they were hiding, not their weaknesses, nothing that he would have expected. They just wanted him to build them weapons.

At first, he had complied as best he could, working through the agony caused by injuries. Almost immediately after starting, he tried to be half hearted about his work. He didn’t work as well as he could, he went slower and pretended like he needed more than he actually did. Of course, those attempts to slow them down were quickly put to a stop. His head still felt scrambled from that chair, he could still feel the metal gag in his mouth and the restraints around his wrists as electricity coursed through his body-

It was bad. He didn’t like to remember it.

Knowing what they had done in the beginning, sometimes he would completely stop or go on strike. They knew he was afraid, though. They could tell, they always did. Stopping wasn’t a privilege he got. When he tried to just not work, they starved him until he started doing what they said again. “You work if you want to eat”, they had said.

So he did. He worked long days and even longer nights without sleep, constantly telling himself “they’ll come”. Every night as the lights went out so that he had to work in near blackness, he told himself again, “they’ll come”.

For a long time, they didn’t. Obviously, he didn’t blame it on them. He knew that they had to be looking everywhere for him, the same that they would do for any one member of their clan, but everyday that nobody came, his hope diminished just a little more.

Just a little more, every time they would hit him again or drown him.

Just a little more when he went yet another night without sleep.

He was locked to the desk, of course. They didn’t want him trying to escape when they weren’t supervised, but that posed some… Problems.

Such as when things blew up.

The fire was so close to his face, and he couldn’t breathe through the smoke. Heart beating a jackhammer, Donatello grabbed a wrench from the flames, crying out when the fire wrapped around his hand greedily, trying to tear away the flesh to eat. He tore his hand back out almost immediately and began beating the chain, growing more and more frantic by the second. The fire was still growing, still reaching out and trying to take him for its never ending appetite.

Donatello had broken himself out from the chains, and the guards came in almost immediately after, allowing him to reel backwards while they put the fire out.

Because he broke the chains, he was punished for it.

He sat at a scorched workstation, fidgeting and tinkering to make up for his lack of ideas that would most certainly get him injured, when he realized that somebody was behind him.

"You're still not dead?" They asked, sounding like they were mocking him.

“No Mx.” He couldn’t tell their gender and, honestly, didn’t want to risk offending them. He knew what that would do for him.

They scoffed, “Good, keep it that way.”

He was scared to death when they hovered behind him, clearly not leaving any time soon. Eventually, he started bouncing his leg to try and soothe himself, but stopped working in the process.

A hand connected with the back of his head and sent stars flying across his vision. He went back to work.

Shortly after, they finally left him alone, and let out a breath of relief.

They’ll find me, he told himself again.

%%%

Surprisingly, they had given him a break.

It was unusual, and sent his nerves into a frenzy, but he was in no way ungrateful for the rest period. He wasn’t quite sure when the last time he slept was, and with no coffee, he was barely functioning. So, he took the break as a chance for a nap, even if it meant waking up to pain for sleeping over his break time.

God, he was tired. Everything hurt, and he just wanted to be home where Leonardo would eventually mother hen him off to bed, or Raphael would drag him out of the lab by the edge of his shell, or even have Michelangelo come running in and messing with his experiments. Anything would be better.

With a groan, Donatello realized that he couldn’t sleep. Homesickness was getting the best of him, and the hunger gnawed on his stomach, keeping him from any real rest. So, he tried his hand at lockpicking. He certainly had the things for a makeshift lockpick, if he just tried hard enough he was sure that he could get out-

As he began, somebody appeared behind him again, and he briefly wondered if he was clocking out for long enough that they could get in without him noticing.

“Don't do that,” They warned with a low growl.

Donatello flinched. “Sorry Mx.”

“I know what you were doing,” They ventured further, voice rising a bit in an accusatory tone. He couldn’t deny it, it only meant that he would probably get sent back to the chair.

Instead, he let them hit him harder than before, and bit his tongue to keep the cry from escaping him.

He was so, so tired. He thought he might die from it.

Suddenly, there was something crashing behind him, and his adrenaline got going, screaming at him to go go go there’s a fight get up right now.

The genius obeyed the frantic call of his body, standing up and spinning around to face the source of the sound.

Or, at least, he tried to.

When he went to get up, he crumpled to the ground, dropping to his knees with the only thing holding him up being the chain that held him by his wrist. New pain blossomed there and, honestly, he couldn’t force himself to care.

The crashes stopped and somebody called his name. There were hands on him, warm and calloused, friendly. A few clangs followed the calls, and then the hold on his wrist was released. Instead of hitting the floor, he fell into waiting arms, holding him off the ground.

“Donnie? Donnie, wake up. Please, wake up.”

He knew that voice. That was a friendly voice. That was one of his brothers.

“Hey, come here- Please, keep your eyes open, you can’t close them now.”

Oh, yeah. He would’ve loved to, but he could barely do just that. Before, he had such a hard time sleeping. Now, he couldn’t stay awake. Sleep tugged at his mind and the longer he had his eyes closed, the more he slipped. Rest sounded really nice. Maybe he would…

“Donatello Modesto Hamato, open your eyes right now.”

Oh, that was his full name. Not just Donatello, or Hamato Donatello, or that switched around, but his full name, with the middle name he assigned himself. He had really liked that name, it came from the same era that his first name did. Not the point- That was his full name, which meant something important was happening.

Slowly, Donatello cracked his eyes open, squinting in the harsh light. He could see blue and brown and green, behind that was orange and brown and green. Those were good colors. He was almost certain that if he looked up, he would see the same color combinations, except with red. “Wha’s happenin’?” He mumbled instead of looking up, tempted to squeeze his eyes shut again.

“Get up,” The blue said urgently, “We need to go now.”

“Alright,” Donatello didn’t try to get up, even though he agreed to getting out of there.

Somebody hooked their arms under his and lifted him up, then let him lean against them, trying to go fast and forcing him to stumble along in an attempt to walk. He frowned. That wasn’t very nice. His legs were asleep and he was tired. Wasn’t it rude to wake somebody up like that?

“C’mon,” The same person who called him by his full name whispered in his ear, “We’re going home now.”