spiderson oneshots

Toxic

a/n: peter is NOT spiderman in this

and i swear if any of you make a starker joke about "daddy" being said— it's a word used by children to refer to their parents, not everything has to be kinky

TW: transphobia, gender dysphoria, abuse, slight suicidal thoughts, depression

"You know, I used to have a garden once," Ned said as he and Peter cuddled on the couch of their shared condo.

"Really?" the smaller of the two asked tiredly, his eyes cracking open. Ned hummed, his grip on Peter's hair tightening.

"Yup," he spoke. "But there were weeds—lots of 'em. And you know what you do with weeds?"

"You spray them?" Peter questioned. He didn't have a clue what his boyfriend was going on about.

"Close, but not quite. You pull them out of the ground, killing them off," Ned corrected somewhat harshly. Peter stiffened, but the bigger of the two's grip tightened on his hair once more. "You're like a weed."

"W-Why?" Peter managed to squeak out as his head was roughly pulled back so his eyes met the near black ones of his boyfriend.

"Because you arrive at the worst fucking times, and you never seem to leave," he growled.

Peter swallowed thickly as he attempted to get up from his spot. He slowly shimmied towards the edge of the couch, nearly making it safely when he was shoved off, making him fall to the ground.

"Ow!" he whined to himself as his elbow banged against the coffee table.

"You're such a bitch, my gods," Ned huffed before getting up, hovering over his younger boyfriend. "Little Debby can't take a little tumble. How fucking pathetic."

Peter winced at the use of his dead name, but made no comment on the matter. He couldn't seem to form words as Ned leaned down and delivered the hearty smack across his cheek, making his head turn towards the ground.

"You want to be a man? Start acting like one you dumbfuck," he said before kicking Peter's ribs a little too hard. Another kick was delivered to his stomach.

"Ned-" Peter began, but was cut off by a hand wrapping around his throat, cutting off his air supply.

"Shut the fuck up," Ned growled, spitting onto his younger boyfriend's face.

Peter watched with wide eyes as Ned's free hand began roaming his sides and midsection. The boy wheezed as he desperately tried to breathe in, the little oxygen he got catching in his throat.

"All you do is whine, whine, whine," Ned stated as he loosened up his grip on the boy's neck. "You complain so damn much, you fucking know that?"

Ned spit on Peter again before slapping him across the face. He placed a knee to his bound chest, making the younger wheeze.

"I'm going to the bar, and when I get back you won't be ready for what I'm going to do to that pretty little body of yours, you fucking slut."

Ned left seconds after that, the door slamming shut behind him. Peter lay on the floor, pupils blown wide and breaths coming out in heaves as he tried to calm down. He had already been wearing his binder for too long, and that first kick to the ribs made breathing that much harder.

"H-Holy shit..." Peter mumbled, a hand coming up to hold his reddened cheek. His body was screaming in pain but he forced himself to his feet, slightly hunching over as his other hand held his ribs.