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valeskafics · 2 months

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"Princess" - Feyd Rautha x Reader

Summary: Feyd Rautha makes it his mission to seduce you, the innocent younger sister of Princess Irulan.

TW: DUBCON, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, physical violence/death (not any main character), primal kink, blood kink, knife kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, size kink, tummy bulge, creampie, p in v sex, unprotected sex, feyd rautha has black cum pass it on, overstim, corruption kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The task was simple. Seduce one of the Emperor’s daughters. Feyd waits at the landing pad, standing just beside his uncle. After the Emperor disembarks, Feyd sees who he assumes to be Princess Irulan. She approaches him, a smile on her pretty face. She doesn’t seem averse to his pleasantries, so the young Harkonnen thinks his plan may go more smoothly than he initially anticipated. However, he is thrown for a loop when he sees you.

You are every bit Irulan’s opposite, except in beauty. Yours rivals hers, if not outshining her entirely. But you seem shy, keeping your distance from him and offering nothing more than the necessary pleasantries. You are so sweet looking, with bright doe eyes, full soft lips. Your father introduces you to the Harkonnens and you dip into a low curtsy, showing your respect though you keep your eyes averted, not meeting his gaze.

“Baron Vladimir. Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. It is an honor.”

Your voice is pleasant, like honey in his ears. Your dulcet tones are a welcome change for him. Feyd regards you curiously, the way you shrink behind your sister and father, content to dwell in their shadows. You are a shy one. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone as shy as you. And it makes him want to peel that away, to see what lies beneath. He wants that more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. The Baron announces that Feyd is to escort you and Irulan around Arrakis. Before Feyd can say anything, he sees you turn to the Emperor.

“Father, I am quite tired from our journey. The heat is getting to me, I believe-”

Yes, Feyd is feeling the effect of it too, his blood turning to lava the longer he looks at you. He watches as the Emperor fixes you with a stern look, telling you that it is rude if you do not accompany your host. You quickly nod, ever the dutiful princess, walking to stand beside Feyd, Irulan on his arm. He watches this with amusement, offering his arm to you, but you pretend not to notice, walking with your hands clasped in front of you.

Your first stop is the spice refinery. Irulan seems utterly bored standing in the shade as you all watch the workers go about their business. You, on the other hand, seem intrigued by the spice production, weaving your way through the factory, speaking to the workers. Feyd’s gaze follows you as you walk, unaware of the effect you have on those around you. He sees the way the men’s eyes move along your body, your dress clinging to you as you begin to perspire from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat covering you as you continue marveling at the refinery. Irulan notices this and immediately drags you away by the arm.

Feyd hears her scolding you, while you remain baffled as to what it is you’ve done, “Wha- Irulan, I didn’t do anything…”

He bites back the urge to laugh at your oblivious nature, the pout on your sweet lips as the three of you leave the refinery for the arena being almost irresistible. It’s almost sickening, how innocent you are, how sweet you are. You look at the arena, your voice low, almost… Frightened.

“What is this place, my lord?”

You’re driving him crazy, calling him by his title so sweetly.

Feyd responds with a smile, though there is no kindness behind it, his voice a low rasp, “The gladiator pit.”

“Gladiator pit?” You repeat nervously, “You mean…”

His smile turns cruel as he leans in to whisper, almost conspiratorially, “It’s a place where men fight to the death, Princess.”

You look at him, entirely bewildered as you question, “For what purpose?”

“For the entertainment of the people.”

He watches the horrified expression that slowly colors your face. It’s that purity, that inherent goodness in you that he desires to corrupt so badly. It stirs something deep inside him. He watches as you blurt out that the whole thing is barbaric, going silent when your sister shushes you. You glower at her as the three of you take your seats, Feyd sitting between the two of you. The whole thing seems to bore Irulan, and Feyd wonders if your sister finds anything interesting. You, on the other hand, seem repulsed. One of your hands grips at the armrest of your chair while the other covers your mouth as you watch the two former Atreides soldiers fight to the death. Feyd is equal parts enthralled by the fight itself and your reaction to it. His body grows hot as he watches hide your face when the fallen gladiator’s corpse is carted away.

Feyd decides to shake things up, standing up and volunteering for the next fight. Your eyes go wide as you turn his way and you speak quietly, uttering something about feeling light-headed, needing to lie down. It fills him with confidence and excitement, a wave of lust surging through his body as he shakes his head.

“Princess, this will be over before you know it. Don’t leave without me. You won’t be able to find your way back.”

He can feel your gaze on him as he fights. He glances over at you, seeing your expression twist into equal parts horror and intrigue. Feyd knows he’s as graceful as he is brutal, as ferocious as he is beautiful. It likely sickens you, the way he beats his opponent into the ground, adrenaline flooding his veins, his thirst for blood only surpassed by his thirst to show you what he’s capable of. By the end of the battle, blood covers his face, though none of it is his own. As he walks back toward you, he wipes it away, thanking Irulan for her congratulations, while you look as if you’re about to be sick. He stares at you and your sister elbows you, giving you a sharp glare.

“Well fought, my lord,” you manage to mumble.

Your praise, no matter how forced or insincere, is music to his ears. You refuse to meet his gaze, eyes trained on the floor as the three of you begin to make your way back.

When you reach the palace, Irulan declares that she has something she needs to do and begins walking away. Feyd smirks to himself, watching you grab her hand pleadingly, saying that it’s almost time for dinner, that the two of you should go get ready together. Irulan is dismissive, seemingly wanting to be rid of you and go off on her own. You watch her, dejected and abandoned as she disappears from sight, leaving you alone with Feyd. He moves closer to you, resting his hands on your shoulders, startling you as he presses his front up against your back.

You turn to face him, doing your best to sound calm as you request, “Would you mind having one of your servants show me the way to my chambers, my lord? I would like to rest before dinner.”

“No, I will walk you myself, Princess. I’d like to show you something along the way.”

You swallow thickly, but nod nevertheless and begin to walk alongside him. You do your best to keep a distance, but fail as he pulls you against his side, his arm still wrapped around you, fingers stroking the warm, bare skin of your shoulder. He can feel you trembling against him as you speak.

“What was it you wished to show me, my lord?”

“Why, my chambers of course,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a nervous laugh, one that is entirely forced as you reply, “Is that appropriate? I really think I ought to go to my own chambers, my lord. Thank you for taking my sister and I to the refinery and the arena, but I’m quite tired-”

“I don’t think you are,” he says, his voice colored with both playfulness and an unmistakable hint of malice as he rounds on you, standing before you and cutting off your path, “I think you wanted me to walk you to your chambers so we could be alone.”

You look up at him, shocked at the insinuation and shake your head, your lower lip trembling slightly, “My lord, I assure you, I am indeed tired-”

His hands move to grip your waist, pulling you flush up against him, his hold unrelenting as he smirks, “Is that so? Perhaps I can help you relax. After all, the bed in my chambers is so much more comfortable than yours…”

Feyd wants to curse his bad luck when he hears the Baron’s voice calling out to him. In the split second that he diverts his attention from you, you break out of his hold and run down the hall. It takes Feyd a split second to decide to ignore his uncle in lieu of sprinting after you. After all, was his mission not to seduce you? His uncle will understand.

Your footsteps echo through the corridors and he hears your breath, soft pants as you do your best to get as far away from him as possible. You may have had a head start, but this is Feyd Rautha. You never stood a chance running from him. Before you can open the door to your chambers, to safety, he grabs you by the wrist, tugging you to him so that you stumble against his chest. You struggle against him, thrashing about, even attempting to use the Voice.

“Let me go!”

Interesting. He only knew of Princess Irulan being trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, but apparently, so have you. He chuckles, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pulls you closer to him.

“Your attempts to use the Voice are adorable, little one. Perhaps with practice, you might be able to succeed one day.”

“Let me go!” You try again, growing frustrated when it doesn’t work, letting out a cry of surprise as the Harkonnen hauls you over his shoulder, grinning as you question in a panic, “Where are you taking me??”

Feyd ignores your question, stalking the halls, making several turns before he arrives at the door to his chambers, kicking the door open. He locks it behind him before unceremoniously tossing you onto his plush bed, watching you scramble backward, trying to keep your distance from him.

“S-stay back!” He ignores your feeble command, advancing on you, crawling on top of you until you’re backed against the headboard, nowhere left to run. You glance around frantically before grabbing the blade on his nightstand, holding it out, your hand trembling as you repeat, “Stay back! I mean it!”

Feyd’s eyes flit down toward the blade you wield, darkened teeth revealed as his lips curl into his widest grin yet. He isn’t afraid of you. In fact, the thought that you tried to do this arouses him all the more, makes him want you all the more. He leans in closer, grabbing your wrist and pressing the blade to his throat.

“Go ahead, little one.”

He knows you won’t. Not his sweet princess, the one who nearly fainted at the sight of violence. You meet his gaze, looking between him and the knife, frozen. After a moment longer, he squeezes your wrist, just enough to make you drop the blade, grabbing it himself. He twirls it between his fingers. You stare up at him, eyes wide with fear as he traces your cheek with the blade, watching as you scrunch your eyes shut, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Kill you? Princess, that’s the last thing I want.”

Your confusion amuses him, as you question, “Then what do you want?”

He leans in close, dragging the blade along your jaw down to your throat, tracing your skin, his breath tickling your mouth as he whispers, “To possess you.”

“I’m betrothed, please, Lord Feyd-” You shake your head, your protests falling on deaf ears as he brings the blade up to your lips, tracing them.

“Your betrothed means nothing to me. I’m the greatest warrior in the known universe. And if I want you for myself, I will take you for myself.”

You gasp as he moves his tongue along your neck, tasting your skin, his teeth grazing against you as you whisper, “P-please, I’ve never-”

Feyd groans, your words, your innocence, your inexperience filling him with ecstasy. The power he holds over you, the ability to corrupt you, it’s nearly too much for him to bear.

“Have you ever been kissed before, Princess?”

You shake your head, your entire body trembling as you reply, meeting his gaze, “No…”

Feyd’s free hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you so close that his breath seeps into your own, his intense eyes locked with yours as he moves in closer and closer. You try to turn your face from him, but to little avail. His fingers knot themselves in your hair, holding you in place, his blade still pressed to your neck.

“You are meant for me, little one.”

You gasp as he presses his lips to yours. His kiss is bruising. Possessive. Hungry. And all the while, he keeps his blade to your throat, his hand in your hair, not letting you pull away. He senses the fear within you, and knowing he is the cause of it gives him a thrill he cannot describe.

When he finally pulls away to allow you to catch your breath, he admires his handiwork. Your lips are glossy and swollen, your chest heaving as you stare at him, doe eyes wide with shock. Feyd keeps his eyes on you as he moves the knife lower, to your shoulder, slicing open one of the straps of your dress. Before you can utter a word of protest, he slices open the other, practically ripping the fabric from your body to reveal your bare form to him. You move your arms to cover yourself, hiding your curves from his eyes. Feyd won’t have that. He grabs your wrists with his free hand that doesn’t hold his blade, pinning your arms above your head. Your breathing comes in soft, shallow pants, held hostage in his gaze as his eyes trail along your body. He smirks at the sight of your breasts, so round and full, your stomach, the small patch of curls that covers the paradise that lays between your thighs.

Feyd drags his knife down to your breast, making a small cut, reveling in the sharp inhale you take at the sting. His tongue immediately goes to lap at the wound, lips circling around your pert nipple, suckling at you, eyes still focused on you. He nips at your sensitive flesh, lips tinted red with your blood. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, your muscles taut with tension at the pleasure you feel from his ministrations.

“Please…”

That tiny little whisper is enough to drive him mad. He moves to trail his lips down to your stomach, his tongue circling your navel, grinning at the way you squirm as he nibbles slightly. He moves further and further down, letting go of your arms, trusting that you realize resisting him is futile. He pushes your knees apart, grin widening at the sight of your folds, glistening with evidence of your arousal. You look at him, feeling horrified and humiliating, trying to close your legs. But Feyd snarls, the animalistic sound startling you, allowing him to shove your legs apart, biting down on the soft flesh of your inner thigh, soothing the pain with his tongue soon after.

“Don’t be embarrassed, little one. This only shows what I already knew. That you’re mine.”

“F-Feyd…”

Your breathy gasp turns into a wanton moan as he buries his tongue inside you. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, his blade cool against your flesh as he licks and suckles at you, almost furiously. Your hips buck up against his lips, your entire body trembling as he fucks you with his tongue. You close your eyes, writhing with pleasure at the feel of his nose pressed flush against your little bundle of nerves, his tongue lapping at your slick folds. He can sense you’re close, with the way your cries grow higher in pitch, reaching a crescendo as you spill yourself on his tongue. But, greedy man that he is, he continues, lifting your thighs up over his shoulders, continuing to mouth at you, your keening moans spurring him on. The obnoxious groans he lets out, the slurping noises as he laps up your arousal, it makes him hard beyond belief.

When he’s finally had his fill, Feyd pulls back, a dirty grin on his lips, flipping his blade around so that the hilt is turned toward you. Before you know it, he’s pressing it against your sensitive pearl, watching as you whimper at the sensation, the swollen bud already overstimulated by his tongue, before pushing the hilt inside you. He chuckles, watching as you thrash against the bed, moving it in and out of you, listening to you whine and mewl his name, begging for him to stop, but pulling him back the moment he moves away from you. Feyd continues pumping the blunt instrument in and out of you until he sees your body go lax. He pulls the blade away, grinning at the way your juices now coat it, licking it clean.

“You’ve been so good for me, Princess,” Feyd rasps, “Now, let me reward you.”

You watch as he disrobes, his body pale and smooth with lean muscles, his cock long and thick. He slaps the fat head of his against your pearl repeatedly, making you cry out his name, the sensation being too much. And then, without warning, he pushes inside you. You moan his name, your legs wrapping around his waist as if by reflex as he sheathes himself inside you, letting out a hiss at how tight your walls squeeze him. Feyd takes a moment to admire the sight of the outline of his cock against your stomach, pressing down against it, reveling in the squeal you let out at the feeling. He pushes your knees to your chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders as he begins to rut against you.

You stare up at him, eyes pooling with tears, not from pain but from pleasure as he fucks into you, slamming his hips against yours over and over again, the fat head of his cock bullying against that spot deep inside you that has your toes curling, your breath catching in your throat. You lose all will to resist him, wondering why you wished to in the first place. Why do you care for whatever betrothal your father set forth for you? You know that no one will ever make you feel the way the man above you right now does, his cock splitting you open as he brings you to your peak.

He continues, gritting his teeth, mouthing at your breast, his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing furiously as he nears his end, feeling your walls clenching around him like a vice, knowing you’re already close once again.

“Come for me again, little one,” he snarls, “Come for me, Princess. You’re mine now. I’m going to fuck you full of my seed, going to fuck you till you beg for me to stop.”

“Please, Feyd…”

You gasp, your arms wrapping around his neck as his lips capture yours once again in a searing, heated kiss. Every thrust brings him closer to his end, the idea of breeding you, making you the lady of House Harkonnen…

He spills himself inside you, hot ropes of his seed painting your womb, feeling your body tighten around him, your own peak finding you moments later. Feyd pulls out of you as he softens, replaces his cock with his fingers, pushing his cum back inside of you, smirking at the sight of the black fluid painting your cunt, the way you quiver against his touch.

You lay there, gazing up at him as he lays on top of you, his hand caressing your face in a gesture that’s somewhat… Tender. Feyd’s traces your lips with his fingertips, something akin to a smile on his face as he admires you, the way you lay there beneath him. Though he’s taken your innocence, it would seem that he is still every bit as enraptured by you as he was the first moment he saw you.

Feyd leans in to kiss you once again, smirking against your lips as the door opens, the sound of your father’s gasp of horror, your sister’s surprise, and his uncle’s laughter filling the room.

Arrangements are quickly made and you, the second-born daughter of the Emperor, are wed to the mighty Feyd Rautha, future Baron of House Harkonnen.

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