Today was just like every other, you waited in the waiting room until it was your turn to get examined by the infamous Doctor Jeon Jungkook, a man who every nurse had a crush on. You were a regular patient he had and ever since your first visit with him, you couldn’t keep him out of your mind. You had dreams about him, very intimate and wet dreams and it destroyed you, so much so that you told him on your last check-up.

The waiting room was filled with a bustling atmosphere as new people left as quickly as they came. You were planted onto your chair, observing everyone who came in until an assistant nurse rushed into the room. “Miss Y/L/N, Doctor Jeon is waiting for you in the back. Follow me.”

———

The paper on the exam table crinkled beneath you, the only sound in the exam room besides the steady pounding of your heart. You sat still, shoulders bare under the flimsy gown, fingers curled into the edge of the table. It’s just another check-up. It’s just him.

But then Dr. Jeon walked in.

Jungkook’s eyes met yours for a split second—too long, too sharp. There was something in the way he looked at you today, something strained. His jaw was tighter as his tongue poked against the side of his cheek. His movements were brisk. And when he closed the door, the soft click behind him sounded too final.

“You’re early,” he said, flipping through the chart in his hand, though he was not reading it.

“So are you,” you replied quietly.

He didn’t smile.

He approached with practiced calm, but you felt it—the tension rolling off him, thick and hot. You were not imagining it. His hands, warm and steady, touched your back as he placed the stethoscope against your skin. You flinched, not from the cold, but from the heat surging through you at the contact.

“Deep breath,” he said, but it came out low. Rough. He was too close now, towering over you with his large frame. You could feel his breath near your ear, feel the air shift between your bodies.

He lingered. Just long enough.

“Still having those dreams?” Jungkook asked.

Your breath caught.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Still me?”

You nod.

And that was it. That was the line. The air snaps between you like a storm rolling in too fast. Jungkook dropped the stethoscope onto the counter without a word, stepped in, and grabbed your face with both hands, his mouth crashing into yours like he had been holding back for years.

You gasp, and he uses it, his tongue sliding over yours, devouring you in a kiss that had nothing gentle in it. It was messy, almost starving. His hands are everywhere—cupping your jaw, your breasts, sliding down your throat, gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t. Your legs parted instinctively as he stepped between them, and he grabbed the flimsy gown and yanked it down, baring you with no hesitation.

“This is wrong,” Dr. Jeon muttered against your mouth.

“Don’t care.”

That’s all it took.

Jungkook’s coat hit the floor. His shirt was next, half-unbuttoned, pulled aside as your fingers fumbled with his belt, your nails scraped against his skin. He groaned into your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark as his hands spread your thighs wider. The cool air hit your skin, but then his fingers were there, sliding over your pussy, collecting your slick juices, rough and deliberate. 

“Wet already,” he growled. “You came in here wanting this, didn’t you?”

Your breath stutters, and he didn’t wait for a response. He pushed his pants just low enough for his thick, long cock to jump out, hitting his stomach with a thudding sound, grabbed you hard by the waist, and pulled you to the edge of the table.

He pushed himself inside your tight entrance with a bit of struggle—thick, deep, and all at once.

You cried out in pain, your fingers digging into his back as he thrusted hard and fast, not holding back. The metal frame of the table creaked under the force. His grip was almost bruising, his rhythm unforgiving, like he’s been starving for this, for you, for too long.

Jungkook’s member had filled you up completely, the tip of his cock hitting the deepest parts of your pussy over and over again, it all felt like a dream.

He kissed you again, biting your lower lip, his breath ragged and broken. There’s nothing clinical now, nothing professional—just heat and pressure and bodies colliding. He fucked you like he was losing control, like you were the one thing he wasn’t supposed to want but took anyway.

“You feel that?” he snarled in your ear, slamming deeper, his cock hitting each and every spot within you as your walls clenched around him, biting onto his thick meat. “No one else gets this. Just me.”

Your head fell back, moaning his name, legs tightening around his waist as you shattered around him, your juices flowing everywhere. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural sound against your neck as he delivered his final harsh thrust, his hands trembling as they held you there, his twitching cock pumping out cum, filling you up to the brim, leaking out of you.

Silence follows.

Your skin was flushed, your heartbeat wild. Jungkook’s forehead rested against your shoulder, sweat slick between your bodies. For a moment, it was just breathing—heavy, chaotic, slowly falling into sync.

Then he speaks, voice rough.

“This never happened.”

But the look in his eyes says otherwise.