‘STUDY’ SESSIONS WITH FELIX CATTON
Felix strikes me as the sort of person who will try to put some sort of effort into his studies whenever he isn't partying, suffering from a hangover or passed out in the comfort of his bed.
Whilst he enjoys studying on his own; a cigarette between his first and middle finger, smoke billowing in the cascading rays of golden light, and possibly shirtless, he also enjoyed the company of someone else.
You.
Specifically in the four memorable walls of his dorm.
At first, it was quite difficult to convince you to join him; consistently using the argument that it will be much more nonchalant in the library, yet, Felix always disagreed.
Soon, you joined him in these weekly sessions.
The windows were always open as the sun directly shone almost perfectly into Felix’s room at noon, peach and honey in the air. To you, he almost seemed like a caricature of the ravenous Icarus, except he didn’t fly close to the sun, but instead, the sun sought out him. His pious skin was like nectar, his hair a gift from the gods.
You couldn’t help but stare in awe at the man.
And his goddamn smile.
Any time you called out his name, he always turned to you with this fascinating look on his face, with his signature grin and a glint in his eye, causing a rupture of butterflies deep down in your gut.
One thing that certainly didn’t help with your situation was the fact that Felix was an affectionate, possibly over affectionate, person.
His hands always found their ways to yours, or he would rest his chin on your shoulder whenever he needed to peer down at your work, kissing the crook of your neck before turning back to his own.
Those molten kisses which you’d treasure forever with your whole heart, with every fibre of your body, with everything inside of you.
You had to swear to yourself to never dramatise the fact he had only kissed you once or twice.
The undeniable endearment ( which you attempted to deny multiple times ) you had for him almost blinded you from his seemingly platonic displays of intimacy. He cancelled numeroussoirées he was invited to, and it became apparent that he was spending most of his spare time with you.
A drunken Felix, however, came into your care when you arrived at his dorm to study.
He welcomed you in with his perfect smile, and his perfect soul, holding you tight in the comfort of his arms as he always did.
Jubilance filled the creases of his mellifluous eyes as he looked at you, encapsulating you in his body still, his breath was warm on your skin as he led you to sit beside him on his bed.
For him it must have been a blur, yet, you remembered how his lips found yours as he unconsciously pulled you closer towards him.
Drunken and tender kisses tattering your body.
Your first response was to push him away gently, a silent plea almost, hinting at the fact he was heavily intoxicated and had no idea what he was doing.
In response to this, he decided to lay down in your lap, the little pools of honey you called his eyes staring softly back at you.
The boy who flew too close to the golden sun, and, by jove, his raw & angelic eyes.
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MOTION PICURE SOUNDTRACK
pairings : paul atreides ⠀𝒙⠀ fem!reader
𐙚 warnings : religious undertones, ( slight spoilers ?! ), suggestive content
words : 0.723k
note. i wrote this barely an hour after watching this movie because my ideas just flooded onto a page. I’m in love with this movie, and I cannot wait for the third ( and final one ). As someone who is in love w movie franchises & trilogies, the build up was so good, but now we wait :3. What better to wait than writing fanfiction !!! ( i need to start writing fics more than 1k bc this is a bit pathetic ).
#. main masterlist. | misc masterlist.
PAUL ATREIDES.
IN your hazy mind, buried deep inside the sacred caves of your soul, you knew he was still yours.
From his lengthened, yet disguised stares to his lingering, yet quick touches, you knew in his carefully hollowed out heart, he still called you his.
Far inside those ocean blue, star-dusted eyes of his, he was the ripple of water amongst the desert sand.
A glass pearl imprisoned in a tight-fisted oyster.
Paul belonged to them, he belonged to his people.
He was the grace of the hand of god, the messiah of your virtue, desire and sin.
Most of all, however, he belonged to you.
Your flickering eyes watched as he exerted his power over them, your figure trailing behind in his shadows.
They never knew you.
Yet, he knew you better than anyone could. He knew every hue that littered your eyes, he knew every spot on your body, he knew your every thought and language, he knew how to drive you practically insane, seduced by the simple touch of his bare hands.
He was yours to keep, and you were his.
In the comfort of your tent, soft oranges bleeding into and staining the night’s dizzy tint, you lay beside each other, your lingering hands abstaining from touching him as your eyes travelled up and down his body.
He was still awake, but it seemed as if he refused to acknowledge you.
Letting out a small sigh, you pushed yourself onto the leverage of your elbow, glancing at his face as you locked eyes with him, watching as his pupils dilated softly, as he flicked his gaze to your lips.
“You should try and get some sleep,” you whispered, cupping his cheek with your free hand as your thumb pressed against his bottom lip. “It’s not good for you to go out exhausted.”
A moment passed before a small smile laced his lips, a glimpse of an old version of your lover coming back.
“What if I wanted to stay up looking at you?” He muttered before leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.
Your stomach fluttered at that, your body growing weak and the sound of his adoration for you. The keeper of his heart.
Copying his motion, you also moved to deepen the kiss, his hand moving to your waist as he pulled you closer.
You pulled away slowly, breathing deeply yet quietly, as you gazed into his eyes, a deep thought disrupting your raw and pure moment.
“Do I matter to you, Paul?” You asked, your eyes now glossy as you stared at him, attempting to read him somehow.
To find a remnant of emotion or memory on his face.
To study him like the pages of an ancient book.
“What do you mean?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb lightly into the skin of your hip as he caressed it lightly.
“You hardly acknowledge I’m even there,” you explained, pursing your lips into a straight line as you tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your bare skin.
Paul studied you for a moment in the dim light before sitting up right, causing you to mirror him.
“They need me, you know that,” he answered, placing both of his hands on your face, pulling you in so your faces were inches away from each other, his breath warm on your skin.
“But here, I’m all yours,” he added, taking your hand in his. “I belong to you, and only you.”
His face was sincere and his expression was soft. His heart was pure and his touch was intoxicating.
“I’m yours too, Paul Atreides. I’ll always be yours,” you whispered swollen words, the corners of your mouth twisting into a small grin as you leaned in to kiss him again.
This time, he moved both of his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he kissed you deeply.
Your body was flush against his, your nimble fingers played with the strands of his hair at the back of his head. He then moved his lips to the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses to every sensitive spot possible, causing you to let out small gasps at the feeling of his lips against your desperate flesh.
Your small whimpers, a raw testimony to his passion.
And all sleep was lost.
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