Teach Her ✔️

Black Bandana

Um.
You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, frozen very, very still, afraid to turn around and face the man who just asked you to help him out of his boxers what the heck?!
Breathe.
Slowly rotating to face him, you almost smack your palm to your forehead.
He's genuinely struggling to remove his own underwear.
With his hips straining up off of the toilet seat, back against the tank and feet pushing up off of the floor, Jimin weakly pulls at the pant leg of his boxers. His progress is painstakingly slow, only moving the fabric down a centimeter or so every minute.
For a second you just stand there and watch him, observing the legitimate distress on his face as his manly pride is slaughtered by his limp muscles.
You feel bad for him.
Crap.
Panting from exertion, he slumps back down against the toilet and gives you a wide-eyed and pitiful look.
As much as you search for it, you can't find any hint of deviousness beneath those wide brown eyes.  It's all distress and helplessness.
You give in to his pout.
"Fine," you grit out, stomping back into your bedroom. You take a black bandana from your room and, reluctantly, tie it over your eyes, settling it on your forehead so it doesn't quite yet cover your eyes completely.
"If you do anything whatsoever that could be considered sexual or inappropriate in any way," you hiss, "I swear that I'll leave you for dead in this bathroom."
You're still pissed about the 'I don't want to deal with you' comment from earlier.
If he touches you at this point, you're chopping his hands off without hesitation.
Nodding in acknowledgment, Jimin once again indicatively tugs on his boxers and gives you and expectant look.
You grimace, pulling the bandana over your eyes and reaching for him. "Put my hands on your hips," you demand.
The words make you blush as they come out of your mouth.
If anyone were to be listening through the door, it would seem totally inappropriate.
It's all black in front of your eyes as you feel his hands encompass your wrists, pulling you forward and down until there's fabric beneath your fingertips.
"It's here," he whispers.
You blindly grasp a handful of the thin fabric and start pulling down, feeling your fingers curl around what must be the waistband.
It's hard to ignore the warmth of bare skin brushing past your knuckles as you separate the cloth from it.
Jimin shifts, raising his hips to help you.
You pull until you can't pull anymore, until the freezing tile stops your balled-up hands from any further motion.
"Okay," you say. "Finished."
"Now my shirt?" he replies.
Still crouched at his feet, you exhale heavily in frustration.
A slight gasp sounds, followed by a low, rumbling moan.
"What?! Are you okay? Are you gonna pass out?" You lunge for him, scared to take off the bandana but concerned for his well being. Your hands find his calves, running up the smooth skin and firm muscle.
"Stop," Jimin says in a strained voice. His hands capture yours and hold them still on his legs.
What did you do?
He releases one hand and says shortly, "Close your eyes," before ripping the bandana off of your head.
You keep your eyes squinted shut on his command as he fumbles around with your bandana.
There's a moment of stillness, then "Okay, you can open them now."
Once again following his command, you open your eyes and look at him.
Holy heck.
Jimin's still in his white tshirt, but his hips and the tops of his thick thighs are barely covered by the width of your black bandana. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a little cloudy.
"You can't be down there blindfolded and breathing on me," he mumbles hoarsely. "I can't take it."
Oh.
That nasty boy, always with a dirty mind. You give him a glare.
"You also need to see where you're touching," he breathes. "We narrowly avoided disaster a second ago."
It's then that you realize how far your hands have traveled up his thighs, almost reaching the edge of the bandana.
You gulp.
"S-sorry," you stutter.
Jimin grins a little, leaning back tiredly against the white porcelain.
Your stomach feels a little queasy as you stare at him, taking in the fullness of his chafed lips and the dark circles under his eyes.
It's sad.
The bath is full now, lukewarm water threatening to over spill the rim of the basin. You drain a little of the liquid and turn back to Jimin. He lifts his arms a little in a silent plea for help, the which you respond with an eye roll.
Standing up, you take the hem of his shirt in your hands and quickly lift it over his head, holding the fabric against your chest afterward.
You look down and flush at the sight of him sitting below you, nothing but bare skin and thick muscle and a tiny black square covering up the important bits. Full lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. That stupid sexy freckle on his collarbone. His red hair laying against all of that skin on display, color contrasted by the dark cloth across his hips, all of it makes you swallow hard.
He's gorgeous.
And it's getting to you.
There's an invisible current flowing between the two of you, clouding your head and making your thoughts disappear into thin air.
Don't get distracted, Y/N.
You gently wrap your arms around his ribs, feeling the softness of his hair brush your shoulder. Straining your muscles, you lift him up so he's standing in front of you.
Jimin's not helping this time, hands too occupied with keeping the bandana across his crotch. With your chin basically resting in his shoulder, you make the mistake of glancing down his back.
Through the valley in between his angular shoulder blades, you can see the beginning curve of his butt.
Squeaking, you shut your eyes.
Just get him in the water, stupid.
The two of you take tiny steps to get to the tub, you keeping your eyes shut and him clutching that square of fabric. It's and awkward position with you clutching around his waist and arms, keeping by his hands stuck straight at his sides. He steps into the tub and you slide your arms under his, helping to lower him into the sloshing water.
When he's settled down and you don't hear the water moving around anymore, you deem it safe to open your eyes.
Jimin's reclined against the back of the tub peacefully. You're happy to see that some color is coming back into his pale cheeks as the medicine begins to kick in.
"I feel better already," he says. His lips curve up into a grateful smile that smushes his eyes into little slits. "Thank you."
You're welcome, Jimin. I'm glad you're alright.
That's what you would have said, anyways, if at that particular moment you hadn't felt a viscous lurch in your stomach seconds before you spewed last night's dinner into the toilet.
"Crap," is the last thing you hear, spoken by a masculine voice before your world goes totally black.

[A/N]
Unedited
I managed to get this update in on the limited wifi I have, but I'm still going to be gone for another week☹️ hope you enjoyed.
Also, THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS ❤️❤️❤️ you guys are the best
aegyo-mochi has a ship book you should look at😋