syn: kinich takes on a tutoring job, you end up teaching him something else.
an: university au, tutor ! kinich is an absolute loser virgin nerd, f ! reader is a mean girl, slight power dynamics, only gets slightlyy suggestive in the end.
uniboard > forums > services
â ! LOOKING FOR: tutor / study buddy :T
deets: URGENT help needed to raise GWA. parents said no raise = no car. must explain biostatistics fundamentals. pay nego. msg for rates xdd
the only light source in kinich's dorm room was through his pc monitorâall lights turned off in a feeble attempt to lessen next month's electricity rent. along with the faint scent of takeout noodles, the scrolling sound of his mouse fills the room.
his pointer finger scrolls down against the scroller,
shit. is this really the only job listing he can seriously find in the university forum?
he sighs, further leaning in towards the monitor. it's not the most glamorous, exciting, and thrilling job in the world...
but tuition isn't going to pay itself any time soon.
"..isn't that right, ajaw?" he mutters under his breath, eyes still focused on the bright screen. the lizard doesn't reply, only flicking his tongue out in response.
kinich rolls his eyes, voice flat and sarcastic. "oh yeah, because all you do is eat and sleep all day like the little king that you are."
letting out a sigh, chair creaking as his fingers fly over his keyboard, cautiously typing a reply, each word weighed with military precision;
calling you ma'am when you're literally probably around the same age as him? c'mon now, kinich.
hello. im malipo kinich. available to help with biostats, let me know your schedule and when you'd like to start.
he immediately winces as soon as he hits sendâshit, it was way too stiff, too formal.
kinich curses under his breath, debating whether or not he should edit the message, add an emoji, or maybe just delete the entire message altogether and just go to bed. but wait, maybe the 1.25 he got in biostatistics last semester will finally amount to somethingâ
hi. thx for replying to my thread:P im free tomrrow in my dorm. can u come over??
kinich freezes in his seat.
the dim glow from the monitor illuminates his wide eyed expression as he rereads your message once, and then twice. "my dorm." he reads like it was scandalous, voice barely above a whisper.
as in... a girl's dorm???
his grip tightens on the mouse, creaking softly.
no, no. tuition doesn't care if he's socially inept.
kinich swallows hard, fingers trembling slightly as he types back.
SURE. WHAT TIME TOMORRW? ALSO WHICH DORM?
why is his response in all caps.
srry for the caps. just clarifying details.
he stares at the little bubbles floating as you typed on the other side, before sighing to himself. somehow, he'd already managed to yell at his potential client and apologize in under thirty seconds.
great. tuitionâthat's breathing down his neckâ wasn't even due yet and he was already finding new, creative ways to not pay it, go him!
lol it's fine. 3pm. east wing, 3rd floor. i'll text u the room # when ur there
kinich lets out an exhaleâhalf relieved, half terrified? he doesn't know at this point. east wing, third floor... that's the nice dorm building. the one with actual working air conditioning, the one where people throw the cool parties...
his cursor hovers over your profile picture, your face barely visible in the low-quality, pixelated square.
but ajaw would definitely agree: you're wayyy out of kinich's league.
you seem... cute. the kind of cute that can make eye contact with someone and they'd immediately forget how consonants and vowels work. a normal guy would probably be over the moon right now if they got to tutor you.
kinich, however, only feels the creeping awareness that his strongest interpersonal skill is... well, exchanging information for a quick buck. not talking to girls. and definitely not pretty ones.
you seem nice, anyway. like, girl-next-door-nice charming. all he needs is to teach like a totally normal person, get the money, and scram.
maybe tomorrow won't be so bad!
unfortunately, that thought lasted approximately fifteen hours long.
kinich stood in front of your dorm door for what seems like six or seven minutes already, backpack sagging against his shoulder and heavy with review materials, pens, and a timer set on his phone that will ring once the session is over, in professional tutor fashionâmentally rehearsing his very professional tutor introduction. it was easy, really;
hello, i'm kinich, i'll be your tutor.. hello, i'm kinich, i'll be your tutorâ
as soon as the door swings open, all words come to a humiliating halt.
you stand in front of him. hair messy yet falling down in all the right places, barefoot, wearing a cute tiny cami top and even tinier shorts that make your legs look a bit too good, shitâ
why is he even thinking that? he looks like a fucking pervert right now just staring at youâ
the hallway light spills behind him as his grip on his backpack strap unknowingly tightens. for some reason, his hands suddenly feel clammy. and phew, now he feels a bit too warm in his hoodie...!!!
for a split second, his brain supplies absolutely nothing helpful. only drinking in every bit of you like an idiot.
like he's some virgin loser.
which, well. is technically true.
"..hi?" you start with a raised brow from his silence, tilting your head slightlyâeyes flicking him up and down in a quick, unapologetic assessment. as if he was just a puny, pathetic bug.
kinich swallows. suddenly feeling very small.
"..uh. hey." he manages, voice a bit strangled.
well. that was very off from his very professional tutor introduction that he rehearsed last night, but that will do, i guess.
he mentally kicks himself for staring. of course it would be obvious he was checking you out, and in the hallway, no less. his eyes start to dart around searching for the most normal place to put his gaze on.
before settling down on your bare feet.
wait no, that would look hella weirdâ
he quickly looks up, "iâuh, kinich. tutor. here to.. tutor." the words stumble out in a choked rush, each syllable somehow more mortifying than the last. such a smooth talker you are, kinich.
you let out an amused exhale, eyebrow still raised. "yeah, i figured."
"you gonna come in, or are we doing this in the hallway?"
he feels his cheeks warm up for some reason; maybe it was the hallway light? or maybe it was how you looked at him as if he was the smallest man in the world? or maybe the fact that your soft thighs looked.. really good in those shortsâ
fuck, can he please stop thinking about your legs?
he quickly nods and steps in your dorm, gripping on his backpack strap as if it was the only thing keeping him from dropping dead on your floor.
kinich hears the door shut behind him, and he immediately feels the burden from the sheer pressure of simply existing in the same room as you.
he freezes mid-step as he finds himself in the middle of your dorm roomâeyes exploring as if he's in another country, no. another planet, suddenly he's been made very aware that he has never been in a girl's room before...
makeup stacks on your vanity, or at least, he assumed it was makeup. small colorful boxes, shiny tubes, weird little compacts that are probably overpriced that he had no names for.
posters covered the walls, bands and artists he vaguely recognized. some taped up crookedly, edges peeling. the next thing he's aware of is your cd player playing avril lavigne and five seconds of summer in the background.
sweet, warm. vanilla, maybe? or lavender perfume.
kinich didn't know, he just knew it definitely didn't smell like instant noodles or cheap laundry detergent, and that alone made him painfully aware that he was out of his depth.
he shifts again, standing over your desk as he puts his backpack down on the floor. the chair occupied by you feels too close to the empty chair waiting for him... and the bedâ oh archons, don't even start thinking about the bed.
"alright, tutor boy." your sweet voice interrupts his thoughts as you lazily lean over the wooden table, checking out your freshly manicured nails.
you look up at him, almost bored. almost as if mocking him. "teach me."
kinich freezes, before settling down beside you and clearing his throat.
"right. uh, biostats, yeah?" he murmurs, posture stiff, knees awkwardly angled like he's unsure what he has to do with his own limbs.
the desk feels too small, the space between you and him feels even smaller. his backpack gapes wide open at him from his feet, scattered notes peeking out in an attempt that says: please take me seriously.
he feels your gaze burning a deep hole into his head.
kinich clears his throat again, avoiding your stare, like you're aware you're getting under his skin and dwelling on the fact.
he attempts to look up at you, make eye contact for once. before his eyes immediately jolt back to the desk like he got burnt as soon as he realizes you were already looking at him.
"so, uh. what are you struggling with? the computations? the history?" he mutters.
you hum, shrugging, pretending to be clueless about his spiraling decent. "you're the one in charge here."
...both of you know that's a lie.
kinich's jaw sets, oh. so that's how it is.
a part of him reallyyy wants to assert his authority. he's the tutor. he's the one with the knowledge and experience!!! he shouldn't be intimidated, nervous, and.. and flustered... from a pretty girl like you...
and he definitely shouldn't be all red in the face from seeing a glimpse of your waist from that damn tiny cami top, like some victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time.
but you look completely unfazed, chin resting on your palm, almost smirking mockingly. as if telling him, "go ahead, try."
he clenches his jaw once more and inhaling as if he's going to make a jump, before opening his textbook. "fine. let's see."
"okay," he starts, firmer. "then we're starting from the basics."
it's not exactly authority. but it's the best he's got.
the grip on his pen is a bit tighter.
teach like a normal person. get the money. leave alive.
"so, everything basically started when dr. john snow found the source of the cholera outbreak in 1854..." he explains, voice steady and firmer nowâfinger trailing across the study material.
"...and he found out that the source of the virus was actually in a contaminated water pump in town, right?" he continues, hands gesturing.
"he realized it when he made a social mapping of the cases, through uhh, geographical patterns of the disease where he noticed that most of the cases were near the pumpâ" kinich pauses, squinting.
you hum, but your eyes aren't on the notes.
"...you're not even looking at the paper." he mutters.
"oh, i am." you say innocently, before leaning in slightly. just enough for him to catch the scent of your strawberry shampoo.
suddenly, kinich's brain goes into a humiliating halt, again. his pointer finger uselessly hovering over a paragraph of the review material he definitely knew five seconds ago.
he stares at you. which is already a feat in itself considering he couldn't even hold four seconds of eye contact with you thirty minutes ago.
then his eyes instinctively dart down to your lips, shining pretty with freshly applied lip gloss. ignoring the sudden urge to gently run his thumb along your lower lipâ
he inhales. the same mantra repeating in his brain, as if it wasn't filled with images on how close you are right now;
you have tuition to pay... you have a lizard to feed... your rent is due next month...
"right." kinich's throat bobs, before forcing himself to flip to the next page, the paper crinkles loudly from the force of his hand. as if it will drown out the loud beating of his heart.
"moving on," his voice cracks,
"measurement of diagnostic efficacy..! yes," he braves on.
"sensitivity, specificity, positive predictive value... negative predictive value.. this is where the computations beginâ" kinich pauses, again. squinting.
you're not looking at the damn study material again.
he sighs, running a hand down his face. "do you even care about formulas?"
you tilt your head, blinking innocently as you cross your legs under the table. your fingers lightly tap on the desk. "oh, i care about passing. getting my gwa up, getting on the deans list, the whole spiel."
he sighs, once more. "which involves learning."
you smile, as if you already have him all figured out. "you're the one getting all flustered and red instead of teaching."
"because.. because you'reâ"
because you're distracting!!!!
kinich groans, stopping himself just in time from blurting something absolutely embarrassing and walking into your stupid trap.
"can we please focus on the topic?"
"uh oh, did i make the tutor boy angry?"
he looks up at you. your eyes twinkle in delight, mock-innocent yet sharp. he knows you're messing with him because you can. because you're bored. because he stupidly lets himself stumble around you like some loser and you know it.
kinich straightens up from his chair, and mutters through gritted teeth.
"okay, alright. little miss smarty. let's see how you do with actual numbers."
"oohhh, i knew you'd cave in."
he lets out an exasperated groan. muttering to himself as his fingers glide over the material, preparing the first example question.
"i swear, you're impossible."
"what was that, tutor boy? didn't quite hear you."
kinich clears his throat, before his hand slides over the paper toward you, a hastily drawn table with equally hastily written numbers as your givenâtapping the page with the end of his pen. "alright," he mutters, trying and failing to sound unaffected by you.
"simple example. sensitivity." kinich says,
"let's say... there's a diagnostic test for a disease. twelve people actually have the disease, the test correctly identifies ten of them as positive."
he finishes, before glancing at you. just a glance, because he's still a coward. the stare he did awhile ago was just him acting tough for five minutes.
"what's the sensitivity?" kinich asks.
you blink at the page, the tip of your pen lightly tapping your cheek.
okay, maybe you'll humor him for a moment. you actually did pick up something from his teaching awhile ago... and you do need that gwa raise after all...
the only sound of the dorm was the music from your cd player and the scratching of a pencil against the paper, and the tapping of the scientific calculator.
you don't notice that way kinich secretly steals glances at you whilst you wrote, he finds himself gulping from the way your hair cascades down your face as you tilt your neck down to the paper.
you look up from your solution, "eighty three percent?"
kinich stills. "that's... correct."
"see? i'm not totally hopeless," you grin, satisfied.
kinich's heart stutters from your smile, too bright. too pretty.
kinich clears his throat for what seemed like the fifth time that evening,
"right. good. that'sâyeah. exactly it."
"nice... nice job..?" he adds weakly, that's what... tutors do, right? offer encouragement? as if you'd even careâ
your laugh interrupts his overthinking and awkward attempt at praise, "what, no gold star for me?" you softly tease, pen spinning around your delicate fingers.
kinich's ears burn. what was he, your kindergarten teacher?
he swallows as he catches you from his peripheral view leaning even closer, enough for the neckline of your cami top to dip slightly, and definitely enough for him to catch the scent of your strawberry shampoo again.
"..no.." kinich stammers weakly, ears still burning as he quickly prepares another question.
"mmm." you hum, looking right at him. "you look cute when you're focused, you know that?" you say casually, as if you're just simply talking about the weather.
kinich feels his cheeks tingle, gripping on his pen like its his lifeline. his mouth goes dry. "iâi, uh.."
"on to the next question, yeah..!?" his voice cracks, quickly sliding over another practice question over to you.
you tilt your head, your hand skimming over the piece of paper. "you're cute when you're all nervous, too." you hum, as if it was nothing.
"i'm not nervous," kinich lies, voice shaking as he fiddles with the end of his hoodie.
"no i'm not," he says, nervously.
"just.. just answer the question already," he squeaks, pen shaking under his tight grip.
you simply read the question whilst kinich takes this as the opportunity to calm his racing heart, fingertips tapping on the buttons of the scientific calculator once again. before looking up at him.
"fifty-five point six percent." you answer.
kinich immediately raises a brow, "...how did you get it so fast."
"are you sure you weren't just guessing..." he mumbles under his breath, leaning in forward slightly to look at your solutions.
you roll your eyes, "i was listening to your explanations awhile ago." you reply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world; as if you weren't just purposely getting on his nerves for the past hour.
your chin rests on the palm of your hand as you look at him, eyes glimmering with tease. "uhuh." tone with feigned sweetness.
you hum, eyes going over the scribbles of solutions and numbers on your scratch paper. pen lightly tapping on the wooden table, "seems like you're doing a great job teaching me, tutor boy."
heat creeps up in his neck, an awkward, nervous ahem escapes his throat. "let's not get ahead of ourselves,"
"aww, and i was gonna give you a five star review." you say, again, with that damn sweet-condescending tone of yours.
before kinich could grumble an answer, "say, kinich..." you beat him to it. there's... something different shining in your eyes, as if you're about to absolutely obliterate him into pieces,
this was also the first time kinich has heard you actually say his name in the last hour or two, instead of that stupid tutor boy nickname you know he secretly hates but is too wussy to even say something about it.
and he would be lying if he said he didn't like how his name sounds falling out of your lips.
"..yeah?" he says, a bit breathless at this point, avoiding looking at your eyes.
"...since you've been such a good tutor this evening," you sing, sitting up straight as you lean in.
"why don't i teach you something in return, yeah?" you say, voice low. as if you're about to tell him a dirty little secret.
"teach me..?" his voice cracks as if he was back in highschool hitting puberty all over again, his breath hitches at your proximity, you're real close now. he can practically count the little freckles on your face, how your lip gloss makes your lips shiny, and the way your cami top's neckline threatens to drop, again.
you hum, smiling. your voice like sweet poison as you devour all the nerves he's gushing out.
"mhmmm, like, how to hold an actual conversation with a girl, maybe." your fingers trail slowly trail up to his chest, over to his hoodie strings, playing with it.
your grin sharpens, "or.."
"how to not stare at a girl's thighs for five minutes straight?"
this is how malipo kinich dies.
in a girl's dorm room. with avril lavigne's hit song 'girlfriend' blasting in the background.
kinich makes a sound that's akin to ajaw wheezingâsomewhere between a whimper and a dying cough, as he holds on to a now crumped piece of paper like it was his salvation. you really don't miss a thing, do you, little miss smarty?
he breathes out, "i wasn'tâ" his mind immediately scrambles for an excuse, even if he has to bullshit his way out of it. while his eyes are too busy trying to look anywhere but you.
maybe the floor? maybe the desk? your plushies? hell, even the bookshelf corner in your room gathering dust is more interesting right now.
"i wasn't staring." kinich lies, the paper he was holding on for dear life makes a 'schrkkk!' noise from his tight grip.
"i was just.. i was just..." he continues on, brilliantly.
kinich takes a deep breath, before settling for: "i was just zoning out." nice save, dude.
"...zoning out." you echo, smile coy as you reach out to gently arrange his bandana that has turned askew on his forehead from all his nerves, ignoring the way his breath hitches from the contact.
"i.. yeah.." kinich squeaks, he looks like a tomato right now. he knows you know, you know he knows you know. and you're absolutely delighted about it; the way he goes so red from one fleeting touch from you that it's pathetic.
you're still way too close. and you look even more gorgeous the more you lean in towards him,
you can practically see and hear gears turning in his pretty head as he desperately tries to think of another excuse to deny the very obvious fact that he was, in fact, staring at your thighs.
"hm. okay, then." you pretend to accept his pitiful excuse, fingers still lazily twirling around his hoodie strings as if it was the most interesting toy in the world.
"..okay." kinich repeats back, nodding slowly. even though he knows you know he's absolutely bullshitting. but he'll take it anyday.
to kinich's demise, you lean in even closer before he could breathe out a sigh of relief, "back to my statement earlier..." you hum.
holyshitsholyshit. he can practically feel your breath brushing over his and a part of him wants to get even closerâbefore he lets out a tiny yelp when you give his hoodie string a soft tug.
"say, kinich." you murmur, voice sweet as honey like always, "have you ever kissed a girl?"
you and him definitely know that he's never kissed a girlâhell, he's never even been in a girl's room before!
a series of uh's and um's just slip out of kinich's tongue, you've practically just stolen the air out of his lungs from one silly question. suddenly, the room feels even hotter.
his throat tightens as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. he could lie, he should lie, but with the way you're looking at him...
he knows and you obviously know the answer is no. and kinich has never wanted the ground to swallow him whole like right now.
"no..." he lets out, admitting in an exasperated half sigh half groan. then, like it was a reflex, he instantly looks up at you again, ignoring the way his cheeks burn even hotter.
"not thatânot that it's any of your businessâ" kinich grumbles, instantly defensive as he attempts to glare at you, with cute red cheeks and all.
"really?" you ignore his last statement, grinning. he notices the way your pretty lips part slightly. "not even once?" you hum,
you ask one more question, just to get on his nerves one last time. "have you ever fucked a girl, then?"
he takes back what he thought earlier.
this is actually how malipo kinich is going to die.
still in a girl's dorm room, still with avril lavigne playing in the background, but with you practically leaning over him instead, breath brushing against his.
he could only let out a whimper as he feels your knee brush against his thigh, he can practically hear his racing heartbeat as his eyes suddenly have a mind of its own, darting down to your cleavage, the soft flesh of your thighsâany sliver of your bare skin, then back to your even softer lips.
and then the next thing he feels is his pants getting tighter, throbbing against the fabric.
his fingers itch like hell.
he wants you, even when you're mean to him, and especially when your knee brushes further within his thigh.
he wants to touch you, so fucking bad,
to finally even feel a single touch on all the soft skin he's been staring at.
kinich doesn't even realize the way his breath comes in short, uneven bursts and gasps, and how his hips twitch just slightly at a single brush of your knee against his thigh.
he makes an effort to look at you through his dark lashes,
"so. that's a no then, too." you hum casually, still not making an effort to spare him and lean back even one inch away.
the sound of your voice alone is enough for him to twitch, for his pants to become even more uncomfortable.
it's embarrassing. it's pathetic.
"lucky for you," you lower your voice, your lips are practically inches away from his now. "i wouldn't mind being your first, if you'd allow me."
he's actually fucking dreaming. or maybe you're just messing with him. you have to be messing with himâ
his grip tightens on the edge of your table, nails digging down on the wood as the paper he was holding on was now abandoned and crumpled.
kinich hates how easily he folds for you. and how he'd probably follow you into the deepest depths of the world if you asked him once with those pretty eyes of yours.
"use your words, kinich." you hum.
and in true kinich fashion, his eyes dart back to yours, mouth opening and closing and opening:
"uhâ yeah. sure." he stammers. sure to what? you stealing his first kiss? taking his v-card??? both? yeah, probably.
"yeah?" you repeat, voice gentle.
"yeah." kinich's voice cracks.
you smile, amused. but not as mean this time. seeing this pretty tutor boy of yours squirm in his seat has by far been the best thing you've seen this week.
kinich squeezes his eyes shut a tad bit too tight as if anticipating for your lips to meet his when he realizes you're leaning in closer now.
his breath shakes again when he feels your hand graze over his thigh to steady yourself.
kinich is going to have his first kiss and it's by the most beautifuâ
you stop. head turning towards his phone laying on the desk, vibrating nonstop from the timer he had set earlier today before tutoring you. the screen brightly displaying 5:30 PM â tutor end.
malipo kinich had just unknowingly cockblocked himself.
you smile once more, completely unbothered. leaning away and back to your seat. kinich almost whines and wants to protest from the sudden loss of you, but only a shaky exhale leaves him. now you're too farâ
"looks like it's times up, kinich." you hum, acting like you didn't just completely obliterate him and take him apart piece by piece as you fixed your hair.
kinich's eyes snap wide open, the blissful cloud he was inâor he was about to be inânow abruptly shattered by the shrill shrieking of his own phone and his own timer that he set himself. then he looks up at you, groaning when he sees that smug look on your face.
"uh, yeah. i guess so," he says, breathless, completely breathless as if you had actually just kissed him.
he hastily packs his things all whilst still sitting on the chair in a discreet way to hide his throbbing and growing problem in his pants.
all whilst you sit there prettily as if you weren't just about to flip kinich's world upside down, watching him shove the last of his notes into his backpack with trembling hands and equally trembling breaths.
he can still feel the ghost of your lips almost brushing against his, and the ghost of your hand and knee kissing the denim of his worn out jeans.
his legs feel like jelly and he's mortified about the thought of even standingâhe might just fall flat on his face and eat floor as if it was the last declaration of embarrassing himself before leaving this dorm.
kinich's hands fumble for the zipper of his backpack, missing it once, missing it twice, before finally getting a grip of it and closing the zipper shut. he can still hear the remnants of his stupid alarm even though he'd shut it off.
and the feeling of the way your eyes continue to bore into him, the end of his hoodie awkwardly stretched all the way down to his crotch in a desperate attempt to hide his problem.
"you okay?" you ask gently, all with fake concern.
"yeah, 'm okay." kinich immediately says,
"...great, actually." he adds, lying through his teeth.
he tries to stand on his own limbs that he has complete control over of, before his balance wobbles for a split second that he has to grab the edge of your desk to bring him back to earth.
"just, uh. sat too long."
"mm, alright then." you say sweetly, before standing up and rummaging through your dorm as he now stands there awkwardly near your door. his posture stiff, backpack in front of him clutched like a shield.
"here," you hum, casually handing him a four hundred bill without even bothering to glance at it.
kinich binks. eyes flickering down to the slightly crumpled paper in his still shaking hands. four hundred.
"thisâ" his voice cracks, he's getting a bit dizzy frankly, "this is.. too much."
his hands curl tighter anyway. from one tutoring sessionâthis is good enough to add to his funds for tuition, for rent, for ajaw's stupid food that he pretends he hates but will scream for it if it runs out.
"for.. one session?" his voice cracks again, still flabbergasted. "i mean.. i.. we barelyâ"
"kinich." you call out, gentle. "it's fine," as if it was just spare change to you.
"..okay," he murmurs finally, his chest loosens the moment he accepts it with trembling hands.
you smile, not those condescending ones, not a teasing one this time, or at least that's what he thinks. "same time next week?" you ask casually.
next week, alone with you. in this dorm.
he nods. "..yeah. yeah, same time next week."
"uh. i'll bring more practice problems."
and then blurts a quick, "okaybye."
before he's bolting out the door, accidentally shutting it a bit too loud. archons, he's hopeless.
kinich knows he's going to keep thinking about you for the rest of the week. his chest is still hammering, knees still feel weak, and his cheeks are definitely still red. hopefully no one saw him get out of a girl's dorm looking like this just now...
yet, when he swallows, a small, helpless, giddy grin threatens to tug his lips.
this definitely won't be the last time he finds himself crawling back to you.
art by tometo_9, dividers by cursed-carmine
