Hi could you please write Peter pevensie x wife!reader in Narnia where Peter has been in a bad mood as of late taking it out on everyone including his siblings so he distances himself from reader acting all cold and then they have an argument over something so they go a few days without talking with lots of tension and then it ends in smut ?
Thank you! 🫶🏻
thank YOU anon for asking this! nothing i say will be an excuse for the amount of time this took so lemme just apologise
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The Cure
✧. ┊ PAIRING: peter pevensie x fem!wife!reader
✧. ┊ WORDS: 1.8k
✧. ┊ TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+, smut, swearing, peter is fucking annoying, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, edging, you get the point
"Do you ever shut up?!" His voice booming across the large hallway makes everyone pause, and their heads snap up to the owner of the interruption. It belonged to none other than your husband, who'd been less than amicable these last couple of days.
Susan had been rambling on about the most logical positioning of the tables in the ballroom, for the upcoming ball, to celebrate Narnia's independence from the Telmarine rule, and to crown Narnia's new king, Caspian.
While you were grateful for Peter getting Susan to halt in her mind-numbing explanation of technical detail, you were also incredibly furious at the way he spoke to her.
"Peter." Your voice is low, jaw clenched in warning. It'd be an expression and tone he'd recognise all too well and shut his mouth up before he could cause any more damage but he throws caution to the wind today.
"What?!" He retaliates, hands up in the air like it isn't his fault at all. "She always does this. Trying to act smart, like she knows better."
"Okay. Enough. Go to your room." You scold the High King like a child. He obeys, although reluctantly, attitude manifesting as a scoff and a shake of the head, followed by echoing footsteps on the marble floor.
"Who pissed in his tea?" Chuckles Edmund once his older brother disappears, an attempt to diffuse the tension. Caspian, Susan, and Lucy still remain quiet.
"I apologise for him. Since the war, he's been...less than cooperative," you sigh, rising from your throne.
"You mustn't apologise for my brother being a dick," mutters Susan, glancing pointedly in the direction where Peter walked off to. You excuse yourself from the assembly, and head off to the chambers. Peter stands in your shared bedroom, rough movements pulling off his sweater and tunic, leaving him shirtless.
"What in Aslan's name was that back there?!" You shut the unnecessarily large doors of your chamber, walking over to him.
"I said what needed to be said. I saw the look on your face as she kept talking, I did you a fucking favour." He doesn't turn to face you, still methodically peeling off his pants and changing into something more comfortable (a shirt and trousers).
"You could've been nicer to her. She's your sister, for God's sake!"
"Exactly. So I suggest you stop correcting me on the way I speak to my siblings." You stare at him, shocked by his nerve.
"I beg your pardon."
"You're new here. This is how we always operate."
"Didn't look like the others thought the same way." He lets out a frustrated sigh, like he's on his last nerve. He was trying hard not to snap at you, really. He hated it when he'd channel his frustrations out on you, but you were making it so goddamn hard.
"Can you just leave me the fuck alone?!" He snaps, the high king anger resurfacing. He's left breathing heavy, vein in his forehead throbbing.
"Fine," you spit out. "Be alone, then." The double doors slam on your way out.
You aren't surprised when you hear complaints of Peter's behaviour from Edmund or Caspian. Peter had a love-hate relationship with the two, and had a tendency to lash out at them. Edmund's fight with him was about Peter's insistence to act like the father figure, like he knew better, which pissed your husband off greatly, because he insisted it was his duty as the oldest, and that a reckless boy like Edmund would never understand. And Caspian's was a regular occurence for them-- an argument about political affairs.
You only get furious when you hear of an incident with Lucy.
The girl runs into the garden, tears in her eyes. You drop your basket of flowers.
"Lu, what's wrong?" Your voice is incredibly soft as you kneel to the girl's eye level, hands stabilising her arms.
"P-Peter yelled at me." Your jaw clenches. Peter had crossed a line. He always treated Lucy with love and care, so something was seriously wrong.
"Why? What did he say?"
"He was working but I wanted a hug. He got mad and told me not to bother him." Lucy sniffles, wiping tears.
"I'll go talk to him, okay. He shouldn't have raised his voice at you." She nods, watching you kiss her head and storm off to find your husband. You hadn't talked ever since he told you to fuck off. He hadn't even said sorry, or attempted to reconcile. You'd fought before, and he'd immediately be on his knees, begging for your forgiveness. But this was different.
"How dare you yell at Lucy?" You storm into the map chamber, the eyes of his army men widening at the sudden conflict between their king and his queen. He gives one small look to the men present, their cue to do the clever thing and file out the room. Once they shut the door, he turns to you, jaw clenched.
"You disrespected me in front of my men."
"Does it look like I give a damn? You raised your voice at Lucy."
"She was interrupting me!"
"She was asking for a hug! Honestly! Did you have to reprimand her?!" His stare is unmoving, cold, the kind reserved for soldiers who fucked up, or colonising Kings that insulted his honour. Never for the love of his life. He takes slow, yet wide steps towards you, his height towering.
"You are my queen," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that vibrates right through you. "But do not ever test my authority in front of my commanders again. The men need to see a united front, or we lose the room before a single war council even begins."
"Will you shut up about your commanders for one damn second! You haven't talked to me in days, you're making everyone's lives hell, what the fuck is wrong with you-" He shuts you up with a rough kiss. He isn't as gentle as you'd previously seen. The kiss is mostly teeth and tongue, hand sliding in your hair, pulling it into a fist and pulling your head back. You only have time for a quick gasp before he lifts you by the ass, and throws you on the table, maps scrunching. His mouth sucks on your neck, biting occasionally, leaving angry purple bruises in his wake, while his hands pull your dress up, fingers hooking into the silk of your undergarments. He doesn't pull it off just yet, whispering.
"Yes. Or no? You've every right to stop me, especially when I've been an ass to you." His words give you pause, but when you give him the green light, he smirks, tearing your undergarments as he tugs them off.
"Peter!"
"Sorry. I'll get you new ones." The High King sinks to his knees, strong arms separating your legs, placing soft kisses from the knee to the inner thighs. His head disappears under your gown when he reaches your core, placing a soft peck to it before working his usual magic, tongue flicking against the top, finding that spot that usually got his clothes wet as a result of your pleasure. He bites, sucks, and licks until he's satisfied. Yes, he. Not you. You frown when he stands, wiping his mouth before you come. "Don't look at me like that. I want it to last longer."
"But I was close."
"But you also were disrespectful to me in front of my men."
"Me?! You're the moody idiot who's been a prick to his siblings and his wife!" He flips you over at that, so your hands and knees are on the table. His hands are rough, throwing your gown over your exposed ass. He gives it a tight squeeze, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
"You're right. I'm sorry. But you should know I have my reasons." He doesn't give you a warning before he pushes in, making you yelp deliciously. He smirks, grabbing your hair and tugging your head back as he starts off with slow, deep thrusts, then proceeding to pick them up, watching the way your eyes flutter, the way your mouth goes wide as you let out those groans he's come to hear in dreams. He places a messy kiss to your mouth, interrupted by your body moving as he pounds you from behind. He can feel you clenching around him so he decides to pull out, smirking when you let out a frustrated groan. "I wanna come my favourite way." He lays back on the table. You know what to do. The man is a sucker for riding.
You take your gown off, and tug your bra down so your boobs are exposed, but still sit on top of the bra. You throw a leg over his body and sink down on his erect dick, moaning as he fills you up, the slight curve hitting the spot.
"Fuck," he breathes out, head hitting the table, eyes fluttering. He places a hand on your hip as you grind down on him. He hisses, glazed eyes watching you. "That's new," he chuckles. "The grinding." You ignore the man's comment, beginning to bounce. He aids you by giving your legs support, never taking his eyes off the way your boobs bounce. His favourite thing to watch. "Might not last very long, love."
"When do you ever?"
"Touché."
"You might wanna get off. I'm gonna..." He lets out a shaky breath.
"And if I don't?" His face breaks into a wide grin at your words, using his strong arms to keep you down on his cock as he splutters, eyes shutting, groan throaty. He has never finished inside you (without rubber in the way), and this is a feeling he could get used to. You feel your peak come about just from the warmth of his seed filling you. When you're both conscious and clear enough to recognise how tired you are, he pulls you next to him, pressing gentle kisses to your head and forehead.
"If you must know," he begins, his voice soft. "I've been losing my shit lately because... I overheard Caspian saying he wants to propose to Susan." That knocks the breath out of you. "I know it doesn't give me an excuse to be cruel to everyone else but...it makes me so fucking angry." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "She can't stay here. She belongs with us. Not him."
A moment of silence.
"I think they deserve each other." You whisper, hand stroking his bare chest peeking out from his outfit. "Caspian's been so loyal to you. He's a worthy king, and a better husband for your sister. I know you two have your issues but she genuinely likes him." He doesn't say anything, introspective as he stares at the chandelier. "She's old enough to make her own choices. And if it is her destiny to stay here, in Narnia...I couldn't think of a better queen." More silence. Then he turns to look at you.
"I have made many decisions in my life. Marrying you was the best one." He leans in to press a kiss to your lips. "Perhaps you're right. God, I'm an ass, aren't I?"
