MY SMART GIRL
tutor!kook!pope x bambi!reader
WARNINGS: light academic dumbification, teasing, tension, praise, pope being smug, slightly possessive vibes, makeout at the end
AUTHORS NOTE: credits to kook!pope: @princessbrunette and @starfxkrinc !! also divider is made by me! also i know the math in this fic is for middle school but yeah!
he’s explained the formula three times.
you’re trying. god, you are. but your pencil is starting to slip between your fingers, your eyes blurry, your knees tucked under the desk like they’re holding you upright.
pope’s voice is calm. steady. kind of too calm for someone watching you struggle over the same algebraic expression for twenty minutes.
“baby.”
your head snaps up. “i’m listening,” you say quickly. too quickly. like you’re expecting him to scold you.
he doesn’t.
instead, he smiles. soft, amused. the kind of smile that makes your stomach flip.
“i know,” he says, voice warm. “but you’re listening with your cute little puppy face. not your brain.”
you blink at him. scandalized. “what does that mean?”
“it means,” he hums, tapping your notebook, “you’re staring at the page like it’s gonna sprout legs and walk you through the equation.”
your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
he leans in, close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. “not a bad thing,” he murmurs. “makes me feel important.”
your voice is quieter now. almost shy. “so… if the exponent is negative—”
“it goes in the denominator,” he says, already circling the number. “it’s like… when something’s not ready to be on top, it goes underneath. it submits.”
you stare.
“that’s your academic example?” you ask, heat rising in your cheeks.
he shrugs, not even bothering to look sorry. “it’s memorable, isn’t it?”
you squint at him. “you’re insane.”
“but you’ll remember it now,” he says, smug. “you don’t have to get it my way. you just have to let me teach you.”
you let out a breath. one that sounds a little too much like i want to kiss you.
then, softly: “it’s hard when you’re so smart.”
he smiles again. different this time. quieter. a little dangerous. “not smart,” he says. “just really obsessed with your confused face.”
you stop breathing for a second.
he tilts his head, watching you like he’s memorizing your reaction. “look,” he adds. “let’s try from the bed. maybe the desk is too stiff.”
and maybe you’re too dazed to argue. or maybe you like the way his hand lingers at the small of your back as you sit down.
but you nod. and then it gets worse.
because now he’s behind you, thighs bracketing yours, his textbook on your lap like it’s innocent, like his breath on your neck isn’t making your thoughts evaporate.
you’re trying. again.
you get halfway through the question.
“pope…”
his hand rests low on your stomach, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt. “yeah?”
“i can’t.”
he hums against your shoulder. kisses it, just barely. “you can. you’re my smart girl, right?”
you nod. slow. dizzy.
“say it.”
“i’m your smart girl,” you whisper.
and he grins. so proud. so smug.
he kisses your cheek. your neck. your jaw.
but you shake your head, still fixated on the textbook.
“i’m gonna get one,” you mumble. “watch.”
he leans back, hands raised like he’s letting you drive. “go ahead.”
you reread the question. your lips move, murmuring something under your breath, and then—finally—you circle the right answer.
you turn to look at him, triumphant.
he’s already looking at you like he wants to ruin your life.
“look at you,” he breathes. “that brain does work after all.”
“shut up,” you whisper, grinning.
“make me.”
you don’t get the chance—because his hand finds your chin and tilts your mouth up to his before you can think twice.
he kisses you like he’s been waiting all night. like you’re the answer to something he didn’t know how to ask. like he needs you soft and sweet and pressed up against him in his stupid boat shoes and pressed polo and smirking mouth.
and when you finally break away for air, a little breathless and dazed, he tucks your hair behind your ear and murmurs, “still think you’re bad at math?”
you shove the textbook off the bed.
“i think i’m bad at focusing when your with me.”
