#pevensie peter

[lokotrona11]

hot anger

Pairing : Peter Pevensie x Reader!

Summary: You think Peter is hot when he's angry, and you need him to fuck you

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, created nothing more!

Genre: obscenity.

Word count: 1k

AN : It's my first time writing this genre, I hope it's not a failure and I don't review it

The gif is not mine!

————

Peter was angry for days, angry with everyone.

He had no patience, he yelled at his brothers from time to time and his look could kill Caspian with ease, he had also argued with you but nothing that would ruin their relationship.

Sure, part of you was frustrated with him because of the way he had treated people, including you, but another part of you was turned on.

You bit your lip as Peter walked away from Caspian, his eyes burning with anger.

Your legs clenched as he rudely demanded that Susan shut up.

Something throbbed in your body when he told you not to bother him, that he was working.

You also felt bad, he made you feel guilty, feel needy when he was having a bad time, but you couldn't help it, your body reacts on its own.

Now you walk at a brisk pace through the castle, arriving at your shared bedroom.When you arrived you saw Peter lying in bed and your face lit up.

Peter had been coming to bed late for days, you tried to wait for him but you ended up falling into the arms of sleep, and then when you expected to see him in the morning he had already gotten up very early.

You walk to your nightstand, take off your rings, the corset and you let your hair down, you go to your closet and choose the nightwear, which was just a loose dress.

No one speaks, Peter looks at you in silence, and you only concentrate on changing.

Maybe he thinks you're angry with him, but that's not the case, quite the opposite.

You walk to the bed and lie down on your side of the mattress.

"How was today?" You ask looking at him.

"Not so bad," he said in a soft tone.

Your hand takes he's and your lips fall to her cheek. "You've been very busy, so much work is going to make you sick"

"It is my duty" You kiss her lips.

"Your job is governor, not to be a slave to your government"

Peter's hands grab your waist. "You're so pretty... but you also talk so much." I speak mockingly.

Maybe at another time you had already acted offended but not today, you only wanted him.

You place yourself on his lap, each leg on his side.

Peter laughed, reading your attitude. "you need something?"

"To you" You said, bumping his forehead.

The king's hands squeezing the flesh of your hips.

"I thought you were mad at me."

You deny automatically. "Actually, I've been wanting you all day."

"Then you can have me now."

You squeal when in one quick movement his hands leave you underneath him.

You feel his lips on your neck and a muffled moan comes from your lips, so desperate.

You feel Peter smile against your skin. "You like this, don't you?" Another moan is elicited when he bites down on your skin. "Talk to me or I'll have to stop."

"Yes, I love it." You almost scream, desperate for he not to stop. "I've needed you for days, pet," you cry.

"You got me " he murmurs.

He leaves your neck and takes off your dress.

"Ah!" You can almost come when you feel your boyfriend's tongue on your tit, while his hand fits perfectly into the other.

Let go of your boob for a second. "Days ago, love?"

You nod. "You're.. so sexy when he's angry" you try to speak.

"Yeah?" Move to the other nipple.

"Yes. I've wanted you to fuck me all day"

Peter lets go of your tits and goes down until he reaches your pussy.

"Do you want me to make you cum with my tongue?"

"No." You say firmly. "I want to suck you."

Peter's eyes show the dose of pleasure at your words, and without speaking he turns over in bed, leaving you on top of him.

You take off his shorts and t-shirt he wasn't wearing.

Peter's lips part, trying to speak but his words get stuck in his throat as he feels you suck on his cock.

You choke, your eyes water but you don't stop, you don't want to stop.

“Oh, love,” you hear him say.

You take his cock out of your mouth for a few seconds. "You don't know how long I've wanted this," you confess, returning to your work.

"Me too, love," he stammers.

Sucking his cock with desire, as if it were a pacifier until you feel it finish on your lips and his muscles rest, much of his accumulated stress seems to disappear with the liquid.

“God, how I needed this,” you hear him ramble and smile.

Peter needs a minute to compose himself and lays you down on the bed, without warning he puts his head between your legs, tearing off your panties.

"Peter!" You moan.

He doesn't respond, just squeezes the flesh of your thighs, burying himself even deeper into your pussy, if that was possible.

His tongue violently flicks against your clit and you scream.

"The whole castle is listening to you, dove," she speaks into your pussy, sending vibrations that make you dizzy.

Your cheeks blush. "It's so good"

He sucks on your clit and you feel his fingers at your entrance.

"I'm around"

He didn't respond, he just accelerated his fingers and his tongue was more violent.

You come almost crying, in overwhelming pleasure and Peter doesn't stop, your orgasm and his perfume, stronger than ever, make you dizzy.

The eyes close lazily.

“Hey, lady,” you hear her voice rasp from her and your body vibrates. "we not finished"

Without further ado, he kisses your lips and you feel his cock at your entrance.

When you enter, your moans are muffled on his lips.

“It feels so good,” you gasp, feeling the slow, deep movements of the great king.

His hips speed up as his lips leave you, rising higher over your body and he pounds into your body without hesitation, as sure as only the Magnificent King could.

Your eyes widen and you feel pressure on your belly, his cock moving in and out.

His hips aren't hesitant as he pounds into you, his hands are squeezing his body and you can play that he's just using you to take away his stress from everything he deals with, but you wouldn't want him any different.

His hand finds your clit and you feel a rollercoaster ride through your body.

“Peter… I’m going to cum” you squeal.

"Cum." Demanded and you released yourself, feeling spasms of pleasure and then feeling Peter cum inside you.

Peter falls to the side of your body and his arms wrap around you.

Your body relaxes from his touch and the only thing you can do before going to sleep is listen to the voice of your beloved blonde.

"I love you.."

[liridi]

Once there were four children

[lovesicklovermia]

normalise making a list of character x readers u like to read so you can spin a wheel every night before bed to decide ur bedtime story xx

[supernovasilence]

Ok we all talk about the Pevensies' trauma at returning to Earth at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and their trouble readjusting to life there again but think of all the funny/good parts too

They return from the country, and their mom is surprised when all her children hug her at the station. Even Peter, who thinks he's all grown up. Even Edmund, who went away surly and withdrawn. She doesn't know her children haven't seen her in over a decade.

They miss their dear Cair Paravel, but they absolutely do not miss its chamber pots. Indoor plumbing is amazing.

It takes a while to remember how modern technology works, though. How many heart attacks did the siblings give their parents or the professor because they walked into a dark room only to turn on the light and find the children sitting there in the dark. (They were by the window! There was still plenty of light from the sunset! They would have gotten a candle in a minute!) The kids sheepishly remember oh yeah electricity is a thing.

(Edmund has a new electric torch in Prince Caspian. He was so excited to get that torch. Almost more excited than you'd think a kid his age would be, and his parents expect Peter at least to tease him, but the siblings all agree light in your hand at the touch of a switch is terrific.)

Suddenly getting really high grades in some subjects and terrible in others. Their grammar, reading comprehension, spelling, vocab, even penmanship? Amazing. History and geography? They don't remember anything. One time in class Susan forgets Earth is round and wants to die.

Also they can never remember what the date is supposed to be because Narnia uses different months and years. They can estimate time really well by looking at the sun though, and Edmund at least can always tell which way is north etc without thinking about it (again, using the sun)

Okay but how many times did they go to pick something up or reach something and realize they are so much shorter and less muscled than they expect? It's a common sight to see Peter climbing on counters to reach a top cabinet, grumbling about how he's High King this is demeaning. (No he never takes the extra five seconds to grab a stool. He will climb that shelf.)

Peter and Susan being delighted because they are no longer almost thirty. (In a few years Edmund and Lucy will tease them about being old and their parents will not understand.)

Lucy doesn't have to deal with periods anymore for a few years yet. Susan might not either. Heck yeah

Lucy loves to climb into her siblings' laps and be cuddled. In Narnia she eventually she grew too big, but now she is small and snuggleable again. Peter is her favorite, and if she's upset, he'll tickle her and tell bad jokes until she's smiling again, but really she loves cuddling with all her family. She grew up without her parents; how many times did she just want to crawl into her mom's lap and her mom was a world away? Imagine the first time she realizes she can now. Or, imagine one day, a cold and grey sort of day, when the rain is pattering against the windows, and it sounds like the rain on the windows of the Professor's house, that first day they went exploring. It sounds like the day they played hide and seek. It sounds so like the rain on the windows of Cair Paravel, that if Lucy closes her eyes she can imagine she's back there, having tea and chatting with Mr. Tumnus before the fireplace of her room, and soon the rain will stop, and they will go out on the balcony and wave to the naiads and the dryads and the mermaids, who have come out to enjoy the rain and visit one other on the banks of the Great River winding past Cair Paravel down to the sea.

But if Lucy looks out the window, all she'll see is the rain over London, so it's not only a cold and grey sort of day, it's a lonely sort of day too.

Susan and Edmund are playing chess in the living room (and they must have studied with Professor Kirke, thinks their mother, because they certainly weren't that good when they left). Lucy goes over to Edmund, and oh dear, thinks their mother, now he's going to call her a baby and be horrible to her, but instead he picks her up and puts her on his lap without even taking his eyes off the chessboard; it's simply a matter of course.

"Doesn't the rain sound familiar?" says Lucy in a solemn, wistful way.

Their mother doesn't know what that means, but her siblings must, because Susan says, "Yes, Lu, it does,” and Edmund gives her a little hug with his free arm as she tucks herself under his chin to watch the chess match.

(Five minutes later there is a crash from the next room as Peter falls off a counter. Their mother does not understand the words he must have picked up from the Professor, but he's grounded for them anyway. His siblings have no respect for their High King, because they refuse to stop laughing.)

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Pevensie children are too old for their age.

Their mom notices, at the dinner table. She sees no nagging children, no stupid fights. She sees Lucy eating and speaking with perfect manners, Edmund analysing the economy and war with concerning skill, Susan being gracious but poised, like a diplomat.

Their father sees it in Peters eyes the first time they get into a fight. When he moves to punish Edmund for speaking out of turn, Peter calls him out on it. When his gaze meet his eldest son's, he's leveled by the war he sees behind it, the tensed muscle in his arm, the knuckles white around his knife. He's seen that before, in other soldiers. He doesn't know how to react.

Other children notice, too. Talking to all the Pevensie kids at the same time is like being the only one left out of a secret, and the way they touch and tease each other speaks of a history far deeper than their polite demeneor lets on. And when they walk they fall in line, as if there is a natural hierarchy between them.

The first time anyone picks a fight with Edmund, Peter comes home with a three week suspension and blood around his mouth. He looks more alive than you've seen him in weeks.

When Susan gets back in the pool after Narnia, she wins all the contests. Coaches can't explain how to beat her, because they don't understand how she's doing it, either. She seems to almost disappear when underwater.

Lucy, always gay and golden-haired, starts dancing, and never misses a step. She moves with an elegance that no 10 year old should have, and all the girls want to be friends with her

Edmund soon becomes the best student in his faculty. He always seems to know the right thing to say, and teachers laud his ability to think through complex problems. His mouth does get him in trouble sometimes, but the boy seems uncatchable, always talking his way through the cracks. And if not?

No one actively fears Peter, but everyone is a little scared of him sometimes. He's tall for his age, sure, but there is something else, some other air that seems to give him an authority far beyond what's normal for a teenage boy. He's nice enough, but teachers can't stand it, and bullies learn very quickly that pissing him off means missing teeth and black eyes.

The Pevensies are not quite inhuman, but not fully mortal, either

[thirstywaffles]

Got bored and doodled older Pevensies

[tenaciousgeckos]

Shakespeare: So, in Macbeth, the forest doesn't actually move, it's just an army holding branches

C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien: And we took that personally

[goldenvulpine]

Yearly Reminder that C.S Lewis encouraged his fans to write fanfiction about Susan Pevensie becoming a friend to Narnia and reuniting with her family once again.

Literally inviting his fans to write Susan’s adult, angsty character development with a happy ending.

Do your duty fans. Write that fanfiction.

[aimeecarreros]

[zluty-spendlik]

Caspian and co were like "gosh this duel idea is great and all, but how the heck are we gonna get Miraz, whos army is like three times bigger, to agree to it??"

And the Pevensies were all like: "No yeah we'll just send this little shit right here, he can provoke anyone into doing anything, trust us"

While Edmund so-you-bravely-refuse-to-fight-a-swordsman-half-your-age Pevensie just raised an eyebrow, grinning.

[minamorris1857]

Can we talk about how chaotic Narnian battles would feel?? Especially in Prince Caspian. Like, imagine you’re a little Telmarine soldier waiting for the catapults to go and you’ve got all your regiments in nice orderly rows and these two 16 year olds suddenly yell “charge” and the ground opens up beneath you, a mouse with a sword the size of a large pencil takes out your bestie, a griffin drops a dwarf 5 ft away from you and he comes up swinging. As you try to rationalize this, you’re stabbed by a twelve year old with a British accent. Finally, a really freaking big lion shows up, roars, and your entire army collectively pees their pants. At one point in the movie (yes I know the movies aren’t quite the same as the book but they’re still good) Peter says like “we have the element of surprise” like dude, you have drafted the trees I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna be surprised no matter what.

[lokotrona11]

Just Peter Pevensie x Reader!

Boyfriend! Peter demands, like the great king, that you spend time with him if you haven't had a moment alone in a long time or he simply needs more.

Boyfriend! Peter doesn't like going shopping and even less with girls because it's just a "waste of time" but when you give him those puppy dog ​​eyes he ends up agreeing. (There is always a reward for him for that)

Boyfriend! Peter says that if he gets bored of a royal dance or a large gathering he just drags you out of the place regardless of his social commitments.

Boyfriend! Peter who only listens to your words when he's so angry or frustrated that he makes everyone walk away.

Boyfriend! Peter who loves that you are a little ignorant, so you don't know how to ride? You should not learn, he can take you in his belt. Don't you know how to use a sword? It doesn't matter, with him taking care of you you will never have to learn.

[justjudethoughts]

One of the things I love most about Lockwood is that he is the textbook example of the "one who is scared to love" but instead of being extremely cold and callous all the time like your normal tragic backstory male mc, he can't stop himself from loving.

The thing is, we know he tries. (See THB). He tries to keep everyone at a distance, tries to be cold and calculating, but he can't do it. He wants to be Sherlock Holmes, highly functioning sociopath, but he can't do it.

And it shows up in the smallest ways: how immediately understanding he is of Lucy when she doesn't want to explain what happened at Jacobs' even though he is interviewing her for a job. How he stood up for the bratty nightwatch kid when Ned was bullying him, simply because he didn't like watching someone smaller get picked on. Or when he mercifully changed the bet with Kipps, because at the end of the day it was a petty bet to begin with, and they had just been through so much together, and honestly it didn't matter anymore. There was no reason to humilate anyone. How he will always protect another agent, even if they are Fittes. Heck, he even stands up for the Fittes' agents, saying "they're just kids like us." It's the adults he has beef with.

Lucy mentions that any news of a death by ghost-touch weighs on Lockwood. He is incredibly patient with Danny Skinner and perturbed that a kid this young is in his living room alone.

All three of them think of Lucy as the one with the bleeding heart. She's a Listener, a feeler, the one who is most affected by the past suffering of the ghosts. But that's for the dead.

Lockwood is a bleeding heart for the living. He tries not to be. He hates it. Because caring means risking hurt. Caring means you can lose what you care about. But for as hard as he tries to pretend he doesn't, for as good as he is at acting like nothing can phase him, it does.

Lockwood is scared of loving. But he can't stop.

[rainintheevening]

They're his children of course. Richard still recognizes them; it's only been two years.

And yet...

Peter is a man. Still six months shy of his draft papers, but he stands, walks, sounds like a man. He always has a pocket knife, he tips his hat to all the females, he sings in a baritone that will only get deeper and richer. The tea he makes is decent, but sometimes he drinks coffee now. He talks about horses and crops and reads Augustine. He can drive a car. He gives orders, and expects them to be followed.

They all look to him, to Peter. Helen calls him to open a jar, Susan questions how her hair looks, Lucy runs to him in tears. As for Edmund, he and Peter are curiously joined, they turn to each other with their laughter, their thoughts, their books and newspapers and letters. As often as his family swirls around him, Richard sees them swirl around Peter, a habit, he knows, born of necessity, but that doesn't prevent it from being strange. Even painful.

Peter moves to take the head of table, catches himself. They both start to say grace, stop, glance at each other. Peter takes the newspaper over breakfast, and is a page in before he remembers. And every time he apologises. Each time he smiles at his father, and it is warm, glad, even benevolent.

One of the first nights, shortly after Christmas, Peter finds him sitting in his old armchair, staring into the fire, after everyone else has gone up to bed. "Dad?" comes the question, and he looks up blinking at the tall man, lamplight crowning him in gold, blue eyes deep and dark with knowledge and certainty.

"I'm not who I was," Richard says, a confession, the kind a father shouldn't burden his son with he thinks immediately, but then Peter is down on one knee, reaching for the mangled hand, tender with the three fingers as he clasps strong calloused palms around them.

"Neither am I, Dad. None of us are." Peter's gaze is earnest, bright. "But you are still my father. And I will always be your son. I am forever grateful for that."

It is as if a great burden rolls off of his shoulders, and he finds no shame in leaning on Peter's hand to rise.

When the holidays end, and the four go back to school, Peter says I love you to each of them at the station.

If Peter is a man now, Susan is a lady.

She sits straight, she walks gracefully, she can cook anything as well or better than her mother. She reads the newspapers with Peter, she scolds Lucy for coming home with twigs in her hair and a tear in her stocking and wet shoes.

She talks less than her father remembers, and there is a woman's sadness in her gazing out the window or into the fire. She is also very admiring of the boys in uniforms, and Richard requests her arm on the way out of church with a father's righteous sense of protection.

But she is also gentler than he recalls, she does not shy away from his injured hand, she takes care of him without making him feel as if he needs care. She sits on a cushion by his feet as she braids her hair in the evenings, leans on his knee as she reads aloud, and Richard thinks, Not my little princess, but a queen now.

At the train station, she kisses him goodbye, and he hugs her close, and there are tears in her eyes as she says I love you.

Edmund is the closest to unrecognizable, the once-obvious four year span between he and Peter seemingly halved. He greets his father wordlessly, all shining eyes and bright smile, and his face is so close to Richard's own it makes his heart break a little.

Ed is no more little boy, he is tall, slim, oddly graceful, but his handclasp is strong. He holds himself the same way Peter does, with squared shoulders and lifted head, but he wears that nobility in a quieter fashion. He's quick to see, quick to hear, quick with a wisecrack that makes Peter laugh out loud. He plays the violin now. He returns the family Bible to the living room with an apology for having kept it since the summer holidays. He reads Agatha Christie as a personal challenge, whispers to Susan in French, and his chess games with Peter are fierce battles of strategy that Richard cannot keep pace with.

In discussions of the war and its movements, he is sober and considerate, he meets each of Peter's moods with a balancing counter, he has a way of phrasing questions that pull out stories Richard had never planned to tell.

A few nights before the children return to school, Richard sits up in bed, certain he has heard a faint cry, and he slips away from his exhausted wife to check on his children, remembering how Edmund had suffered from night terrors as a child, imagining little Lucy inflicted with some dark dream.

But all he finds is shadows in the boys' room, and quiet whispers—Peter's apologies, Edmund's reassurance, and allusions to things Richard has no context for. He lingers by the door, an outsider in his home, until silence falls, and he returns with morning light to find them curled together in Peter's bed, Pete with an arm over Ed, and the father's love is bittersweet.

They have fought their own battle over here, on the home ground, Richard reminds himself. In their own way they have each faced terror and learned to conquer or be conquered, but perhaps he can meet them somewhere in between. Only time will tell.

On the train platform, Ed hugs his father tightly, gives him a smile, tells him to keep out of trouble.

Lucy is the least changed, though she too is taller and stronger, and her eyes are deeper. She still sings, still dances, still tries to make friends with all the animals, still smiles and speaks kind and stares dreaming at the Christmas tree.

She still gives fierce hugs, still climbs into her father's lap, though her head comes up higher on his chest, on his shoulder.

But then he finds gaps in his library, and Lucy returns the medical books with a winsome apology, she asks questions about his practices in the field, she winces but does not shy away from the blood and broken things he speaks of.

Then she recites long poems, words spinning off her tongue until they become half song; she dances swift and graceful, she and Peter laughing and stepping and clapping and spinning in intricate patterns to the swing song on the radio; and it is she who, breathless, quotes Byron: "On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined!"

Her comfort is both generous and thoughtful, and she strokes her father's hair with a motherly hand that makes his eyes sting, and he kisses her fingers, looks up at her to whisper, "Don't- don't grow up quite so fast, my darling."

When she hugs him on the platform, Susan waiting for her, the boys already gone, she doesn't want to let go, and there are tears on her cheek, that he wipes away gently. "Be careful, Daddy," she whispers. "Get strong. Take care of Mummy."

"Yes, little mother," he smiles back.

And then they are all gone, and he takes a cab home, weary of his still-recovering body.

He will have to learn his children all over again, he thinks. But he is proud of them still. That has not changed.

[clumsy-words-again]

I think magically becoming a Narnian queen would help me a lot actually

[thatrandomblogsays]

Dear Diary,

Today I cried for Susan Pevensie’s loss today.