Jinkook Oneshots

1.

*Jin POV*

"I don't know, Tae... I mean, I love him, of course I do, but sometimes he treats me like a porcelain doll." I sigh, shoulders slumping.

It was six in the evening on a Friday. I had the house to myself for the weekend, and Jungkook was out with hanging out with Yoongi who came back from his business trip. I laid on my back, a bowl of grapes balancing on my stomach as I lamented to Tae about my sex life over the phone.

"So he's boring?"

"No!" I defended him automatically, before pausing to think. "Okay, maybe he's a little boring, but it's because he doesn't want to hurt me. He's very... sweet, you know?"

"Have you tried telling him to be a bit... rougher?" Tae giggled.

I laughed, too. I imagined how awkward I would be just even trying to say that to Kook. "No way. It might hurt his feelings," I sighed. "I'm just tired of having to fake having orgasms, you know? I know I should talk to him about it, but, like, what if he doesn't know how to? What if he only has one speed or something? What if our sex life becomes even worse?"

Tae was laughing pretty hard by now. "Oh God. Okay. Wow. I'm dying." His sentences were punctuated by laughs. I muttered a few "shut ups", but I was kind of laughing myself.

"I'm not surprised, to be honest. Jungkook's always seemed pretty vanilla," Tae continued as I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

"Vanilla as hell," I agreed. "I don't want to be made love to. I just want to be used, damnit."

"Oh really?" Came a voice from the doorway. I sat up quickly, knocking the bowl of grapes to the floor.

"Oh," I whispered, my eyes wide. "You're home."

God, I was lame.

And, judging from the look on his face, I was also in trouble.

Jungkook didn't look amused. At all. He took small steps as he walked towards me, jaw clenched, eyes blazing and grabbed the phone I still had in my hand. He managed to do all this without breaking eye contact with me.

"Jin's kind of busy right now. He'll call you back tomorrow. If he hasn't lost his voice by then."

I was too worried to worry about exactly what that meant. Shit. He was going to get upset.

He hangs up, dropping the phone onto the couch.

And all I can think of is shit he heard me calling him boring in bed.

I figure an endless stream of apologies is the way to go, because I can see the anger on his face and I know he's not fucking around.

"Baby, I'm sorr-"

"When I get into that bedroom-" he points upstairs, towards my room, "I want you naked, and on your hands and knees. Is that fucking clear?"

Holy fuck.

"Yes," I manage to say, not questioning it, but he cocks an eyebrow, and I amend it to "yes, sir," just because it feels right, my boxers getting a little tighter as I do so.