#also soft to temper the nasty finale coming next 😳

[valaruakars]

Prompt 118 with student au viktor? ♥️

Took that to mean pre-act 1 academy students! Hope that works 😉

Tags/Warnings: Viktor x G!N Reader, kinda wholesome make-out, marking, body worship, soft bc I love him

You slip him a note that afternoon in his rush between classes.

Come to my room tonight.

Simple, effective. Nothing too incriminating since you scrawled your name and a reminder of your room number across the bottom.

Though when Viktor turns up at the door still in full uniform, balancing an armful of books for your ‘study date,’ you kick yourself. Drawing him a little heart or a winky face could’ve gone a long way, in hindsight.

The good thing about Viktor though, beyond the way he blushes or the passion with which he speaks, is that he’s perceptive. It takes all of twenty minutes and your hand on his knee to realize that your interest in chemistry isn’t academic.

“You have an exam tomorrow,” he scolds with kiss bitten lips as your fingers work open the knot of his silky white tie.

“Not that interested in being responsible, thanks.” And who is he fooling with his ragged voice and tented slacks? The way his blown, glassy eyes never leave your lips? ”I don’t think you are either.”

His reply is given by the hand on your jaw dragging you back against his mouth; by the slick, breathy cadence of kissing you senseless, long fingers in your hair, on your twin sized bed.

His throat bobs with a heavy swallow when you break to breathe but can’t keep your mouth off him. Panting hot and heavy, your lips trail down his jaw, his carotid where the smell of aftershave is strongest.

It’s not for you.

None of it is, the way he keeps his hair neat or his clothes pressed or, yes, tries overmuch to smell nice. It’s all a means of compensating for his background, for trying to blend in. You wonder, though, if he took it too literally when someone said he reeked of the Undercity in his first year at the Academy.

He doesn’t, for the record. He smells like Viktor, tastes like Viktor, and all that matters is that you want him. He’s worthy of worship, unconditionally so, and you start with his long, lovely neck.

Each kiss lingers longer and deeper, cradling his brilliant head in your hand. It’s when you bite with gentle, bruising care that he remembers himself, though.

“S-Stop leaving marks on my neck,” he says, easing away. Lets you see how his face is flushed and you’ve disheveled his dark hair. “I, eh, have a presentation first thing in the morning.”

Your finger hooks the edge of his collar. With a gentle tug, you ask, “Then can I leave marks anywhere below the neck?”

He licks his lips and lowers his eyes. “If you wish…” Shy, because you’ve never seen him naked.

But you’re going to.

How else will you color him purple and blue, yellow at the edges, in the bruising shades of your affection? How else will you worship him in full?