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smolvenger · 1 month

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My Lord (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: After you dance with another man, Prince Hal, your royal intended has a confession to make...

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ (fingering, p in v sex, doing it on a desk), historical inaccuracies for the sake of vibes, grammar and spelling mistakes, angst and fluff.

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at “Kiss me again, my dove,” and ends at "You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle. "

Word Count: 3K

A/N: From @muddyorbsblr's request! It ended up being longer, oops. But enjoy!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Despite your fine dress and the rich wine flowing, you felt somber at your betrothal ball. Not that the ball itself was a sad event. No, you were not merry from everything around you. It was all merry with the throne room decorated with flowers and jigs being played by the musicians. Your melancholy was due to your intended.

Of all the good lords and gentlemen on this green isle, only one was destined to be the next king. And that was who you were going to marry. Your parents were thrilled when the king agreed to the marriage. They smiled and embraced you as an artist hugged their painting. They managed to sell you to the highest bidder.

His Majesty Prince Henry the Fourth of Lancaster. The highest bidder indeed.

Or Hal, as the taverns ruffians called him. Hal. Riotous, dishonorable, pranking, thieving, tavern hopping, wench chasing, sack drinking Hal. Beautiful, princely, decadent Hal. Every time his brothers had to tell their father the truth of Hal’s layabouts…the king would turn red with fury. Not that you were surprised.

Even if the scoundrel you were going to call your husband had been kind to you these past few months. He would be by your side. And trying to win you over or get you to smile. Flirt with you- he did to hundreds of women at this point! No doubt! Your inner giddiness was mixed with a silent rage and you weren’t sure which would pop out first each time he got your hand and kissed it gently. Hal was beautiful. A handsome, handsome man who wore his doublets tight on his lean frame and walked with a swagger, his auburn curls freed about his head. There was a charm to his manner, and feelings were in you when you looked at him. Feelings you didn’t like. Feelings you didn’t dare name.

For that, you remained polite. Never forward. Nice, but nothing more. For what else could you do? The world of court could be deadly and dangerous. The world’s eyes were on you. You couldn’t afford to make a reckless move.

Despite the garden walks and meals, there was that sliver of distrust. If you didn’t see him, he could be on the floor of the filthiest bar in Eastcheap passed out on the floor from drink. Or in a room with two tavern women in positions that would make a sailor blush.

And the last picture of him in bed with other women- it made you want to scream and sob and throw your goblet at the wall until it smashed into a hundred bits and then pick your skirts, march to the other end of the room, and slap him hard across his beautiful face.

You took a deep breath.

It was just your imagination. Nothing actually happened. One inhale, then another exhale. The walls were grey stone, the candlelight yellow, and the music from a flute was playing something fast.

Why were you like this, you had to remind yourself! You didn’t like him! Why should that matter? You had to remember how much you didn’t care and didn’t like him.

He could have every woman in England on their knees for him every night and you would not care. You would go about your merry way and when you didn’t have to squeeze out a son, you would enjoy the monetary benefits of servants, fine dresses, horses, gold, jewels, money to buy whatever thing you wanted, and the freedom to do as you pleased as queen.

You held your chin up. Only glad it was a lovely party. All were taking gentle sips of wine, sampling the roast boar, listening to lutes, and laughing over nothing. You felt like doing none. In a whole crowd of people, you felt alone, isolated, and cut off. Like a foreigner trying to make a friend but never knowing how to speak the language. They gathered and talked…and here you were. The most wanted and yet also the most unwanted.

Taking a deep breath, you continued to walk in to try to get your mind off of things.

There were dances as well. But you felt as if your soles were made of lead. For all were celebrating your marriage to this scoundrel.

This beautiful, delectable, leather-clad scoundrel. Looking at him across the room, something inside you churned. And you were frightened to name it.

He was in the corner, talking to his brothers. You turned your eyes down. For the party was in swing and in a way, as if they forgot you were its purpose. They wanted to laugh and gossip and drink. Forget their worldly cares and be merry.

You brought your eyes up to search for him. Your heart beat a little harder seeing Prince Hal at the other end of the room. How delicious he looked. His tight leather jacket was the color of the wine. He preferred rougher, bawdier parties- that was why he was frowning as his father went up to talk to him. And here you were, just to be tolerated as his bride. It seemed queenhood was a lifetime away, as was your marriage. For all of this fuss over you both being joined, you couldn’t help but feel separated.

Taking a deep breath, you put both hands on your cup and took another sip, resisting the urge to gulp down your wine and let the alcohol take its effect.

As you walked in, the Lord of Warwick went up.

“My lady- here is my nephew, Thomas! He’s going to appear at Court more often!” the lord introduced.

You curtsied and gave a smile.

The Lord of Warwick’s nephew with his own blonde hair and blue eyes and skin that tanned. He was a polite, warm friendly boy. For having just met him, he left a good impression on you. The uncle even stepped aside to let you talk. Then Thomas held out a hand.

“They’re having dances. Would you give me a dance, my lady?”

“I would love to,” you replied.

You enjoyed his company as you danced. He was very good too- Hal himself had no “strength in measure” and was inches from always stepping on your toes the grand total of two times you danced. Passing between couples, joining, parting, and reasoning hands to the lute music. You felt at peace.

Little did you know Hal’s eyes were on you.

They were on you every time you the whole evening.

Prince Hal scowled. He was practically red with anger. The second the dance ended, he marched up to you. Thomas looked sickly pale and you felt your stomach drop. You never saw Hal himself have any anger and part of you was terrified. They always say it’s the ones who are never angry you watch out for.

“My lord, what is the matter?” you asked after your curtsey.

“I would like to speak with my lady intended,” Hal ordered.

Thomas handed you over quickly.

Amidst the ball, Hal grabbed your arm. Fie, his hand- large, beautiful hands taking a whole of your arm and dragging you to the hallways and through a door. Jesu, was he going to hurt you? Hal never once did anything that would harm you. He seemed too mischievous and cheerful to seem capable of raising his hand to a woman, much less you. There was a fierceness on his fast that made your heart race. You didn’t know if you were feeling lust, terror, or both at once.

The room was a study. The night sky shone outside, though there were lights from the torches and candles. None were inside-perhaps at the party. With tall bookshelves and desks, it would have been a comforting room had your heart been beating wildly against your ribs.

He looked at you up and down. He saw your dress, how it formed you well, and hugged you in the right places. A warmth flushed over you, and you realized you were panting a little to deepen your breaths. But his face was still angry. Beautifully, beautifully angry.

“What, what is the matter?” you asked. Hoping to get this over with quickly.

“Quite a bit, that is the matter!” Hal replied, ruffling his curly hair.

You gestured at the door.

“My lord, they will notice we are gone. We have a party to attend to…”

Hal reached up a hand that he held in the air. You looked back at him. His voice remained soft, matter of fact, right to the bone.

“My lady, we have to discuss young Warwick. The way you were dancing at him, smiling at him.”

“Oh, him!” you said. You had deduced it. He just had to say it himself.

“Yes! The look he was giving you like he would be falling before your feet any minute! Your smile at him! And you were encouraging him, and I-”

“Are you jealous, Harry?” you interrupted, blurting out the obvious.

He turned a little pink.

“Yes, well- what if I am? Should I not be if a gentleman dances with my lady?”

“A lady can rarely turn down another man. My mother told me it is impolite to refuse a man’s offer to dance!” you reasoned.

Hal leaned closer to you.

“You have promised yourself to me, not him! You’re engaged to me!”

He paused and his mouth hung in mid-air. You saw his eyes were shining bright, he was…on the brink of tears. The jolliest scoundrel in all of England and…he was crying. When you imagined him with other women earlier…was that the very feeling he was having as well?

You closed the distance to him, you offered your hand and he took it.

“Hal, I am sorry. I didn’t think you would be upset or even care that I danced with him…” you consoled.

He brought up a hand and wiped a tear off with his palm.

“I forgive you, my lady. Only….That the way you were beaming at him, and not at me, I…I don’t even have words for it and- YN- it makes me angry because…because…I wish it were me you were smiling at…me and only me. That one smile. Then I’d know for sure that you’d love me and we could be find a way to-”

You gasped.

“What did you say?!”

Your face was closer to his, your voice even softer. He paused. His tears stopped.

“You…you love me?”

He flushed, hung his head low, and then back up.

“I do, my sweeting. I love you so much. I don’t know how else to say it or what speeches or things to give. If I am under your spell, I never wish to be out of it. I don’t ask you to love me back at all…I only ask you…you… pity me.”

His face was right before words. Your own mouth began to speak of its own accord. The music was softer, and distant, as if the ball was a world away.

“Hal…even with everything in Eastcheap, I…I… I…I cannot help but…but want to see you, and speak to you, I think of you and wonder what you are doing when you’re away. And I…I worry about you. I want you happy- more than happy, safe.”

He closed the distance and kissed you. The first kiss you ever had other than chaste pecks on the hand. You shuddered at it as he wrapped his hands around you, one hand crawling up your back. He knew his way around a woman’s body. And he knew what would make your knees tremble. You melted into his arms, collapsing into the kiss, into the embrace. He tasted of wine, of freedom.

He let go. But it was as if something awoke that was long asleep. You let him keep his hands on you, to feel your body beneath your dress—one on your hip, fingers inches away from the most private, precious of places on you. You kept on babbling despite yourself.

“All the battles your father sends you on and… and…I was worried, worried you would die…worried something would happen to you- and then, the Eastcheap visits….I was worried…worried you and Doll would.”

“There were no whores. Not since we’ve met,” he replied.

You kissed him again, and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms to feel his back. Dizzy and drink on him. You heard his moan.

He leaned back on a chair and had you straddle him. You gasped, feeling your legs come apart. Places between you were starting to dampen and it was just over where his most secret places were. You were never this close, this intimate with each other

“Kiss me again, my dove,” he commanded.

You kissed him again, his fingers crawling, up your leg. He found your hip and then moved you. You moaned from the friction, the touching and brushing of your bodies.

But you wanted it, you didn’t stop him.

His hands were over you, greedily touching since you were all his now-his betrothed, his wife, and soon his queen- and he would make sure you never forgot it. He gave you a last grind of your hips.

His hands desperately searched your clothes, trying to find the seams. But you were aching, going up for him, needing him.

“Hal- Hal!” you whispered

“And what if I do? I can’t bear it- the longer I’m with you, the more desire overcomes me- You drive me mad- I can’t, I can’t take it, my dear, my love-I-I have to ravish you, here-now-”

“Yes, you may…”

He slid aside the papers and books so the desk was clear. You swallowed, getting incredibly wet but excited with his flushed face. But his eyes determined, an animal after his prey. And nothing could tear him from his prize.

He kissed you, prompting you to sit. He undid a bit of your bodice, pulling it down, finding your breasts. The cold air touched it as his pupils darkened over the sight of you.

“You’re exquisite, darling, and you’re not his, you’re mine-”

Once they were revealed, he fondled them, thumb grazing over the hard nipples. You moaned appreciatively. All while he kissed your neck.

“Say it, say you’re mine,” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you replied.

He then freed a hand. It moved up your leg.

“All of this, this beauty, it is all mine-and I’ll drive you there, until you cry out for all of them to hear.”

slid a finger inside and you gasped, feeling it stretch you. You gasped as he curled up- surprised his long finger could go so deep, and find a spot that brought so much pleasure and pain as he discovered the little nub inside you.

“My- my lord!”

He kissed your neck again, then looked at you, smugness spread on his lips.

“Yes….yes, call me that.”

He gathered your skirt up and then undid his codpiece and released his pants, standing at full attention. You gave a small gasp at the sight of his size. He looked at you darkly, a new tone in his voice- deadly and commanding, a king to his whore

“You will be good and make it fit, every bit of it. And you will call me my lord.”

His hands made your legs come wide apart, he moved you up. He was slow, entering you, so you got used to it. You let out a moan, tugging onto him.

“Yes…take it…like a good girl…take it.”

He forced your legs further apart, sheathing you in with a grunt. You let out a sound, your insides penetrated, clutching onto him, feeling your bare breasts against his leather. Your blouse fell lower, exposing both. He then gave a first, sloppy thrust. Then he was seated inside you.

“My lord!” you cried out.

“There-there- I will make you scream it louder,” he growled.

Then he began thrusting—his moans in your ear. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and grabbed your hips, keeping tight. The desk made a sound as you did. It began slowly.

“My-my lord, oh- gods- yes, there, my lord-gods-gods blood-”

It then picked up, your breasts bouncing and your heart racing. All you knew was him, felt was him. You were moaning even louder. It was a desperate, animal. Pounding his hips into yours.

He released one hand. It found your nub between. You gasped. He then strummed it with each deep, forceful, desperate pounding.

“H-My-My lord I-I-there-oh-oh god-I’m-I’m going-going to-to die, but- don’t-don’t-don’t stop-”

“You’re close, you’re-you’re close, darling-call me that-yes-now-fuck,yes-yes-

“Say it, say it when you cum-I’m-I’m going to cum-cum inside- cum, fie, lady- fie, it’s on me now- cum, fie, lady -cum!”

He picked it up incredibly fast, you held onto him, your pleasure spinning out of control.

“Yes- close, close- come on now, give in- let go-”

With a grunt, his seed shot into you and the release of pleasure broke inside you. You didn't say his title but gasped. The light had hit you and made everything duller, things spun, and you felt as if you were in oblivion.

In a final whisper, you only whispered once more “My…my lord…” Your nails dug into him- your lord, your intended, your prince, and your husband. A marriage not sworn but already consummated.

He pulled out, and then cupped your face, “as you are my lady.”

You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle.

He helped you off and then readjusted your dress so all was well. Making sure the blouse covered you up and that your skirt was in place.

“Are you not hurt?” he asked.

“Not a bit.”

He wrapped a protective arm around you, leading you out.

“Here…we must return to the party…I will fetch us some wine.”

“And…you can have the next dance, my lord,” you said.

He smiled at you- not a naughty smile, but a kind, genuine smile that burst with love.

“As you have all of mine, my lady.”

His smile shone brighter than any candlelight. He gave you a last kiss before you were on his arm, returning to the party.

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