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Kim Taehyung (V) × Reader (Y/N)
Romance • Slow Burn • Academic Rivals to Lovers (sort of)
Fluff • Light Angst • Eventual Smut
Rich Girl × Private Tutor AU
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• Age gap (if applicable; reader is college-aged)
• Strong language / swearing
• Sexual tension & heavy flirting
• Power imbalance (tutor × student)
• Spoiled & bratty behavior
• Teasing & seduction attempts
• Eventual explicit content (future chapters)
• Academic pressure & family expectations
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It was requested. If you enjoyed this story, please consider liking, reblogging, and leaving a comment! Your support means more than you know and truly motivates me to continue writing.
I walked over and tried to snatch the notebook.
That annoyed me even more.
I actually stared at him.
He interrupted me so smoothly I almost forgot I was talking.
"They didn't hire me to admire your last name."
"What they hired me to do..."
He slid a thick textbook across the table.
The book landed right in front of me.
"I haven't opened one of these in months."
"You know what?" I smiled sweetly. "I don't feel like studying today."
"You'll simply explain to your father why you walked out."
"...You're manipulative."
I had the terrifying feeling that he knew it.
With every spoiled, overdramatic fiber of my being.
People were supposed to react to me.
Like I was discussing tomorrow's weather instead of threatening to walk out.
I folded my arms tighter.
"You know what?" I smiled sweetly. "I don't think we're a good match."
"I wasn't aware this was a dating service."
Did this asshole just make a joke?
"No chemistry," I continued. "No connection. I think we should see other people."
"You should see your textbooks more often."
"You think you're funny?"
"But I think you're avoiding chapter one."
I looked down at the thick textbook like it had personally offended my ancestors.
"I don't even know why we're doing this."
"I prefer the term academically misunderstood."
"I still passed twelve questions."
"You guessed twelve questions."
Talking to him felt like arguing with a fucking wall.
I dropped dramatically into the chair opposite him.
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain.
Inside were copies of my grades.
"You've been consistently underperforming for three semesters."
"You make it sound so ugly."
"I have... excellent fashion sense."
"I can name every luxury brand."
"I once organized a charity gala."
"They still needed emotional support."
He looked up from the papers.
"What would you like to do with your life?"
Where the hell did that come from?
Every answer came quicker than the last.
I'd never thought about it.
My parents owned companies.
Money had never been an issue.
Everything had always been...
Like life was already prepared for me.
He quietly closed the file.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've never had to ask yourself difficult questions."
"I ask difficult questions."
"I asked my stylist whether emerald or sapphire matched my skin tone better."
"...That's not a difficult question."
Almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his lips before disappearing.
"I knew you had emotions!" I pointed at him dramatically.
"I simply experienced brief disappointment."
"The chapter we're covering today."
My face immediately dropped.
He calmly turned the book toward me.
"No, you're allergic to effort."
I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my chest.
He ignored me and wrote a simple equation onto a blank sheet of paper.
Then back at the numbers.
"I don't negotiate with terrorists."
He sighed for what felt like the first time all afternoon.
"They have tiny little lines for no reason."
"And why are there numbers on top of other numbers? Pick one."
For the first time since we'd met...
He actually looked at me.
"Were you always this behind?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
"...or did no one ever make sure you understood?"
The room suddenly felt... smaller.
What kind of question was that?
No teacher had ever asked me that before.
They usually just sighed, called me lazy, took their paycheck, and disappeared a week later.
I hated the weird feeling crawling into my chest.
I leaned back in my chair with a dramatic sigh.
"You're ruining the mood."
I rested my chin in my palm, giving him my sweetest smile.
"I thought tutors were supposed to be old, grumpy men with coffee breath."
"But then you walked in looking like..." I waved a hand toward him. "...that."
His expression remained perfectly blank.
"Like someone who belongs on a magazine cover."
I tilted my head, pretending to study his face.
"Are all tutors this ridiculously handsome, or did my parents pay extra?"
He calmly closed the textbook.
"They paid for tutoring."
I leaned a little closer across the table.
He looked at me expectantly.
"...Is that relevant to algebra?"
"I haven't figured that part out yet."
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You don't have to answer."
"I'm setting boundaries."
I placed a dramatic hand over my heart.
"You wound me, Mr. Tutor."
"You finally told me your name."
"I introduced myself yesterday."
I genuinely hadn't been listening.
"That's concerning," he muttered.
I twirled a strand of hair around my finger.
"I think we should establish a better student-teacher relationship."
"What if I bring you coffee every lesson?"
He stared at me for a long second.
"Did any of that make you nervous?"
"You hesitated for, like, half a second."
I leaned in even closer across the polished oak table, letting my perfume sweet vanilla with a hint of something expensive and dangerous drift toward him. My gold necklace dipped forward just enough to catch the light from the library's chandelier.
"Oh, come on," I purred, voice dropping into that soft, honeyed tone I usually saved for club bouncers and luxury sales associates. "You can admit it. I won't tell my parents. Just between us... tutor and student."
Taehyung's dark eyes stayed locked on mine, unblinking. The wire-frame glasses should have made him look nerdy. Instead, they only sharpened the intensity of his gaze, like he could see straight through every layer of my designer armor.
"Personal questions are irrelevant to your education," he said flatly. But I caught it the tiniest shift in his posture, the way his fingers tightened around the pen for half a second.
I smiled wider, biting my lower lip just so. "Everything's relevant if it helps me... focus."
I traced a lazy circle on the table with my manicured nail, close enough that it nearly brushed his hand. "You're really going to sit there looking like that for six whole months and expect me to care about logarithms?"
He exhaled slowly through his nose, the first real sign of strain I'd seen. "Looking like what, exactly?"
"Like the kind of man who ruins girls for other men," I whispered, letting my voice go all breathy and innocent. I tilted my head, letting a curl fall perfectly over one shoulder.
"Tall. Brooding. Smart enough to make a girl want to be good... just so he'll praise her."
I reached across and lightly brushed my fingertips over the back of his hand, feather-light. His skin was warm. Surprisingly smooth.
Taehyung didn't pull away immediately. For one delicious heartbeat, he just looked at me really looked. Then he calmly moved his hand, picked up the textbook, and placed it directly between us like a shield.
"Chapter one," he said, voice low and controlled. "Focus."
I let out a soft laugh, refusing to retreat. Instead, I stood up slowly, smoothing my mini skirt down my thighs as I rounded the table. My heels clicked deliberately on the hardwood until I was standing right beside his chair.
"Come on, Taehyung," I murmured, leaning down so my lips were near his ear. The scent of his cologne clean, woody, stupidly masculine hit me. "You accepted this job knowing exactly who I am. Deep down, you must have been a little curious. A little... tempted."
I let my fingers graze his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath the black button-up. "I could make these sessions a lot more interesting than math. We could negotiate. You help me pass... and I help you unwind after a long day of dealing with spoiled rich girls."
For a moment, the air felt thick. Charged.
Then he turned his head just enough to meet my eyes. Close. Too close. His voice was quiet, almost gentle, but edged with steel.
God, the way he said my name.
"You're beautiful," he continued, matter-of-fact. "And you know it. But if you think flirting will get you out of studying, you're wasting both our time. I don't mix business with anything else. Especially not with students who are trying to manipulate me."
His words hung in the air.
For one ridiculous second...
My brain completely ignored the rest of the sentence.
Granted, it was immediately followed by a lecture, but still.
He opened the textbook again.
"We're discussing fractions."
"No, we're discussing the fact that you just called me beautiful."
"I stated an observable fact."
"I've never claimed otherwise."
"I noticed you arrived forty-eight minutes late."
"...You're killing the vibe."
"I wasn't aware there was one."
I dramatically threw my head back.
"I was talking to Him because you're impossible."
"I imagine He has more pressing concerns."
I dropped back into my chair, crossing one leg over the other.
"I haven't said anything yet."
"I know where this conversation is going."
"You'll ask another personal question."
I crossed my arms and gave him my best pout the one that usually made salespeople hand over extra samples and valets bring the car around faster.
"You're no fun at all," I complained, but my tone was still playful, laced with challenge. "Most guys would be thrilled if I asked them personal questions. Especially when I look like this."
Taehyung finally glanced up from the textbook, his expression unreadable. "Most guys aren't being paid to make sure you don't get shipped off to Switzerland."
Ouch. Low blow. But it only made me want to push harder.
I leaned forward again, resting my elbows on the table so my cleavage pressed subtly against the edge of the cream knit top. "Fine. Be professional. But tell me this do you always keep that top button done up, or is it just for me? Because it's criminal how good those forearms look with the sleeves rolled like that."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He tapped the pen against the paper once. Twice.
"Focus on the problem, Y/N."
God, my name in his voice again. Deep, smooth, with that slight rasp that made my stomach do an annoying little flip.
I picked up the pen but didn't write anything. Instead, I twirled it between my fingers slowly, deliberately. "I am focusing. On the way your shoulders fill out that shirt. On how calm you're pretending to be when I can see your pulse right here..."
I reached out like I was going to touch the side of his neck, stopping just short. "Right there."
He caught my wrist gently but firmly before I could make contact, his long fingers warm against my skin. For a second, neither of us moved. His grip wasn't painful just enough to stop me. Enough to send heat racing up my arm.
"Boundaries," he reminded me, voice low. He released me slowly, almost reluctantly, and pushed the sheet of practice problems closer.
"Solve the first three. I'll help if you actually try."
I huffed but didn't pull away completely. Instead, I scooted my chair a little closer to his side of the table, so our knees nearly brushed underneath. "Only if you promise to give me a reward if I get them right."
I smiled innocently. "A compliment. A real one. Not that 'you're beautiful' cop-out you gave me earlier."
He raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't a cop-out."
"Then prove it. Tell me what you actually think when you look at me."
Taehyung studied me for a long moment. The library felt smaller, the air heavier. The fireplace crackled softly in the background, and outside the tall windows, the sky was turning that soft golden color that made everything look romantic whether you wanted it to or not.
"You're intelligent," he said finally, surprising me. "You just refuse to use it. You're also spoiled, dramatic, and incredibly persistent. Now solve the problems."
I laughed, genuinely this time.
"That's the worst compliment I've ever received."
I picked up the pen and actually looked at the fractions. They still looked like alien hieroglyphs, but with him sitting this close his cologne wrapping around me, his quiet focus somehow more intoxicating than any party I'd ever been to I found myself... trying. Just a little.
I scribbled something down. Crossed it out. Tried again.
After a minute, I slid the paper toward him. "There. Happy?"
He checked my work, and for the first time, the corner of his mouth actually twitched upward. Not quite a smile, but close. "You got one right."
"Only one?" I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. "I'm devastated. I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."
"You need another practice sheet."
I turned in my chair so I was facing him more directly, my knee now definitely brushing his. "What if I told you I learn better with positive reinforcement? Like... if I get the next three right, you have to loosen that top button. Just one."
I batted my lashes. "For educational purposes."
Taehyung closed his eyes for a second, like he was praying for patience. When he opened them again, there was something new in his gaze amusement mixed with something darker. Warmer.
He slid a fresh sheet in front of me, but this time he didn't move his chair away. Our arms were almost touching.
"Start with the next problem," he said. His voice was still calm, still controlled.
But I noticed he hadn't buttoned his sleeve back down.
And when I got the second problem right—miraculously—he didn't scold me for leaning too close.
Slow, stubborn, delicious progress.
I was nowhere near ready to quit this game.
I turned the new sheet toward me with a dramatic sigh, but secretly, a little spark of competitiveness flared in my chest. Or maybe it was just the way he was watching me now like he was actually waiting to see if I'd try.
Fine. I'd play along. For now.
I chewed on the end of my pen, glancing at the next fraction problem. With him sitting this close, his knee still brushing mine under the table, it was annoyingly hard to focus on numbers. But I forced myself to actually read it. Multiply. Simplify. Cross out common factors.
I scribbled the answer and slid it over to him before I could second-guess myself.
Taehyung checked it, then looked up. That tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth returned stronger this time.
"Correct," he said, almost impressed. "Two out of three. Not bad."
A ridiculous rush of pride hit me. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs so my foot lightly grazed his calf. "See? I told you positive reinforcement works. Now... about that top button."
He ignored the request completely and pulled the textbook closer, opening it to the next section. "Let's build on that. Watch how I solve this one."
He started explaining voice low and patient, pen moving smoothly across the paper as he broke down the steps. I should have been paying attention to the math.
Instead, I was paying attention to him.
Like, unfairly, stupidly hot.
The way his dark hair fell slightly over his forehead as he leaned forward. The sharp line of his jaw when he spoke. Those forearms veins faintly visible under smooth skin, muscles shifting every time he wrote something. The silver watch catching the light. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest.
I bit my lower lip hard, eyes tracing the column of his throat, imagining what it would feel like under my mouth. Heat pooled low in my stomach. Real heat. The kind that made my thighs press together under the table.
Fuck. Was I actually getting turned on by a math lesson?
The quiet authority in his voice as he explained the next problem sent a little shiver down my spine. I could picture him using that same calm, controlled tone in completely different situations his hands on my waist, that deep voice telling me exactly what to do...
I bit my lip harder, shifting in my seat. My mini skirt suddenly felt too short, the library too warm. Lust curled through me, slow and dangerous. I wanted to climb into his lap right here, push those perfect glasses up his nose, and see how long his precious "boundaries" would last.
"—which is why you simplify before multiplying. Does that make sense?" He looked up, catching me staring.
I didn't even pretend to look at the paper. My eyes stayed glued to his face, lips still caught between my teeth. I let them go slowly, deliberately, and gave him a small, heated smile.
"Not really," I murmured, voice a little huskier than I intended. "I was distracted."
Taehyung's gaze flicked to my mouth for half a second before snapping back to my eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed once.
"Distracted by what?" he asked, even though I was pretty sure he already knew.
"You." I leaned closer, resting my chin on my hand. "You explaining math shouldn't be this sexy, but here we are. The glasses. The voice. The whole 'I'm in control and slightly disappointed in you' thing. It's working for me. A lot."
He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. For the first time, he looked a little flushed.
"Yes, Taehyung?" I said sweetly, letting my foot brush higher up his leg under the table.
He caught my ankle gently but didn't push it away immediately. His fingers lingered, warm and strong, sending sparks straight up my thigh.
"We're here to study," he said, voice rougher now. "Not... whatever this is."
I smiled, slow and wicked. "We could do both. Multi-tasking is an important life skill."
He released my ankle, but the heat in his eyes didn't disappear completely.
I watched him explain the next problem, but my mind was miles away from fractions. Every word he spoke only made the heat in my stomach worse. When he finally glanced at his silver watch and exhaled, I knew the session was wrapping up.
"Time's up for today," Taehyung said, closing the textbook with a soft thud.
He started gathering his notes and pens, sliding everything neatly into a sleek black leather bag. His movements were precise, controlled just like everything else about him.
I wasn't ready for him to leave.
I stood up slowly, rounding the table until I was right beside him again. Before he could zip the bag shut, I leaned in close, my hand resting lightly on the edge of the table near his hip. The scent of his cologne filled my lungs one last time.
Then I moved fast rising onto my toes and pressing a quick, soft peck to his cheek. My lips lingered for half a second, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin. I pulled back with a playful wink.
"It's for tutoring me," I said sweetly, looking straight into his eyes.
Taehyung froze. Then he rolled his eyes, giving me a sharp, warning glare that somehow only made him look sexier.
I just smiled innocently as he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the library doors. I stayed right where I was, watching him walk away broad shoulders, long legs, that perfect posture.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I bit my lip, still tasting the faint trace of his skin on my mouth, and let out a slow, satisfied breath.
A new note replaced the old one in my head.
Operation: Make Kim Taehyung Quit → cancelled.
New Operation: Make Taehyung Fuck Me.
