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sound-of-scoups · 13 days ago

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Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, love triangle, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff. Word count: 9.2k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: A LOT of angst and tension, explicit language, sexual innuendos, kissing. Lemme know if there's more. A/N: I’m so happy it’s finally out!!! Just a few notes: I don't want to specify an exact date, but the events take place mostly during the second half of 2022, during the PROOF and Face the Sun/SECTOR 17 eras. Also, I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this fic will have, but possibly around 10 to 15 (if i can help it). That’s it! Enjoy the reading and let me know what you think!! Tags: @cherrylovescheol, @lovingkoalaface, @whoa-jo, @marihoneywk

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything.

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Your phone buzzed on the dresser as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You knew it was a message from Jungkook, probably wondering where you were since it was half past nine and you were already late.

Nice way to make a good first impression, you thought to yourself, staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a mix of excitement and nerves creeping in your chest.

Jungkook had chosen the dress himself. It was simple yet elegant, a mid red velvet dress—his favorite color on you—with a slight sheen and floral embossed details. The dress has a V-neckline and it’s fitted to the body, creating an elegant and sophisticated fit, perfect for the night. Over the dress, you chose to threw a black leather jacket, which added a cool touch to the look, contrasting with the delicacy of the dress and looking very chic overall.

You took a step back, after applying a final coat of the deep red shade lipstick, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time as you studied your reflection in the mirror once more.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had spent more time getting ready than usual, wanting everything to be perfect.

Tonight marks six months since you and Jungkook started dating, a milestone you both had eagerly awaited. From the moment you met while temporarily working for HYBE as a stylist for BTS’s PTD on Stage first show in Seoul, back in october, you knew it was meant to be. When he started shamelessly flirting while you tried to adjust his clothes, you knew you were a goner. And in the 182 days since he kissed you at 2 a.m. by the Han River, the two of you have been through so much together.

You’ve already done almost everything and anything, absolutely ignoring when everyone said not to rush into things, since you’re both so young. Plans for the far future, matching tattoos, and considering how much time you spent at his place, basically living together. You can name it and find out what you've already done. HYBE already knew about your relationship, and you spent ninety percent of your time together, except when you were both working. He already knew your family and closest friends, and you also knew his mom, dad and brother, his members and most of his friends from school and the industry.

Well, all except the infamous 97 line. Which basically was your task for tonight.

You had never met them before, or at least not all of them. However, tonight that would change, as Jungkook had arranged a dinner and drinks to introduce you to them. And from the moment everything was agreed upon, the thought of making a good impression had your stomach in knots. Jungkook was everything to you, and all you wanted was to be perfect for him—to be the woman who would fit seamlessly into his world.

You really did love him. It was a thought that both comforted and anchored you all day, keeping you steady despite the nervous feeling creeping in your stomach as you finished getting ready. During the time you’ve been together, you've fallen hard for Jungkook, his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel safe and cherished. He became your world. He’s kind and thoughtful manners, the way he treated you like you were the most important person in his life.

Jungkook had been nothing short of amazing and you loved him deeply.

But that was not the only thing on your mind tonight. There was something else, something you hadn’t been able to push away no matter how hard you tried. Or rather, someone.

Of course you knew the guys who were part of 97 line—you didn’t live under a rock. For Christ’s sake, you also work for the entertainment industry; it’s basically part of your job to know who they are. And even if they weren’t who they are, Jungkook never stops talking about him specifically. He’s already shown you dozens of photos of the two of them and their adventures during Seoul’s nights.

It had been months since you realized that Mingyu from Osaka was also Jungkook’s Mingyu.

The worst part, however, was that you hadn’t had the heart to tell him. You knew how angry he would be, how fiercely he loved you, and how much he disliked the idea of sharing anything, especially you; what was his was his only. So, yes, you were terrified of what would happen if he found out. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not when you loved him so much, and not when what you had together was the best thing that had happened to you since you set foot in Seoul again.

That’s the only reason you had kept it to yourself this entire time, knowing this moment would come eventually and you would have no way to escape it, only hoping you could get through the night without Mingyu causing any trouble. You knew he was a discreet guy, and it wasn’t like you were going to see each other every single day anyway from now on.

Your phone buzzed on the dresser one more time, pulling you out of your thoughts. As you have guessed before, it was another text from Jungkook.

You smiled, the warmth of his words soothing your nerves, if only a little. Jungkook was the reason you were doing this, the reason you face tonight despite the anxiety gnawing at you. And tonight was about him, and you were determined to make it nice and easy.

So you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you muttered to yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It's just one night.”

Grabbing your purse, you took one last look in the mirror, and headed out the door. Even though it's not that far from your house, the cab ride to the restaurant felt shorter than you expected, your anticipation growing with each passing minute.

Earlier in the day, Jungkook had insisted on picking you up, but you refused. You ended up working late—your temporary job as an editorial stylist for Elle Magazine had taken more of your time than expected—and you didn’t want to make him late as well. So, you told him you’d take a taxi and assured him it would be fine. But even so, you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He'd texted you several times throughout the evening, double-checking that you were okay and reminding you to let him know once you were on your way.

When you arrived, you spotted Jungkook immediately, staging outside the entrance with a wide grin on his face. He looked effortlessly handsome in his dark gray Calvin Klein shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair tousled in that way you loved.

As soon as he sees you getting out of the cab, his entire face lights up.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted you, bunny smile on full display as he pulled you into his arms to a warm hug, nose immediately dragging against the column of your neck, “I missed you.”

“Hi, handsome,” you replied, a teasing smile on your lips, nerves easing slightly with his touch as you melted completely into his embrace. “It's only been eight hours, babe.”

He shrugs. "What can I say? I don’t think I can last much longer without you, babe." Taking his face from the crook of your neck, Jungkook smiles, leaning down to kiss you softly. You sunk into the kiss, his familiar warmth making you feel safe and more at ease. “Happy six months.”

“Happy six months, baby,” you replied between kisses.

When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, both hands on each side of your hips, an amused smirk pulling up at the corner of his lips. “You look incredible. Can’t wait to take this dress off of you.”

Your arms rested on his shoulders, circling his neck. “Mhmm… you don’t look so bad yourself.” He smelled really nice too, a wood and ocean scent that was distinctly his. “I have a surprise for you underneath this.”

"Don’t do this to me, doll,” he groaned in complaint, his voice almost sounding like a whimper. “I’d ditch those guys for you in a second.”

His lips met your jaw, trailing a path down to your neck. “And I wouldn't complain.”

You heard someone clear their throat, noticing a lady on the sidewalk staring at you with an unfriendly expression. You giggled, finally pulling away but staying close enough for him to drape his arm around your waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he sounded way too excited, his doe eyes sparkling with joy. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the lingering jitters.

“They’re going to adore you, I promise,” he said, squeezing your waist reassuringly.

Jungkook led you into the restaurant, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. The place was cozy and intimate, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the tables—the exact kind of spot you’d expect idols to gather for this kind of get-together. You could hear the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you made your way to the back of the room toward a large table where a group of eight guys were already seated and chatting animatedly.

As you weaved through the maze of tables, your nerves began creeping back in, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the table. You forced yourself to focus on Jungkook, on the fact that he was here with you, and that tonight was more about him than anything else. But as your eyes scanned the faces at the table, you couldn't help but search for the one you were dreading most.

“They’re just over here,” Jungkook said, bringing you out of your thoughts as you approached the group.

And then you saw him.

Heart skipping a beat and breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the man sitting at the far end of the table, his eyes downcast as he filled his glass with a cabernet liquid.

The man you never expected to see again in your life.

Kim Mingyu.

The sight of him was like a punch to the gut, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy. The world around you blurred, your vision narrowing to just him—the man who had occupied your thoughts for so long after Osaka four years ago, the one you had tried and failed to forget.

It felt like slow motion as all eyes turned to you, and Mingyu slowly looked up from his drink, following suit with the rest of the guys.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his. A flicker of recognition crossed his gaze, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly masked his surprise with a neutral expression. Even though you knew he would be there, nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotions that surged the moment your eyes met.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and frozen in place. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart.

Mingyu held your gaze, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. In that moment, a jolt of electricity shot through your body—a mix of fear, guilt, and something else, something you didn’t want to name.

“Everyone,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze in your mind, pulling you back to the present. “This is Y/N, the amazing woman I’ve been telling you all about, and the love of my life.”

Jungkook’s tone was joyful and proud as he kissed your cheek. You tore your eyes away from Mingyu, forcing a smile and trying to steady your breathing. Meeting the gazes of the guys around the table, you spoke, your voice steadier than you felt. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you all.”

“Babe, this is Yugyeom, Bambam, Chan, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Seokmin, Minghao… and Mingyu,” Jungkook introduced, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Mingyu stood up almost immediately, one of his long legs hitting the edge of the table, causing the silverware to rattle. He offered you a polite smile, but you noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided yours as he reached out to shake your hand across the table.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and measured, as though nothing was out of the ordinary, giving nothing away.

Your hand trembled slightly as you shook his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body that you desperately tried to ignore. Heart racing, you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced a smile, “You too, Mingyu.”

Clenching your teeth, you fought against the shiver that coursed through your body, your nipples hardening despite your will. Memories flooded back in flashes, like a kaleidoscope of moments—the way his fingers felt inside you, on you, touching and caressing, guiding you to most the earth-shattering nights of your life.

Your hands lingered together for just a moment, you mind racing as you tried to gauge his reaction. Was he going to say something? Did he really remember you?

The rest of the introductions faded into a blur. As everyone took their seats, you found yourself sitting directly across from Mingyu, the small proximity only heightened your awareness of him. You could feel his gaze on you, even though he was careful not to let it linger too long.

Jungkook sat beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh under the table—a gesture that usually made you feel secure. But tonight, it felt like a reminder of the terrible situation you had suddenly found yourself in.

You now hated yourself for not saying something to Jungkook before tonight.

Of course, you hadn’t known Jungkook when Mingyu came into your life, but now that you knew both of them, shouldn't you have said something?

And what would you even say?

That his best friend had once stirred feelings in you so intense that they haunted you? That you spent years trying to erase the memory of his touch? That all those years ago, it was as if Mingyu hadn’t just claimed your body but your soul?

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down.

As the conversation flowed around, you tried to focus on the others, to be present in the moment. You had to keep yourself occupied, or your sanity would begin to fray. And the other boys were more than happy to help you with that. They were very kind, funny and welcoming, and despite your tension, you found yourself slowly warming up to them.

Jaehyun was charming and amusing; Seokmin was full of energy, making you feel more at ease with his laid-back attitude; Eunwoo was sweet but a little shy; Chan was outgoing and warm-hearted; Yugyeom was bubbly, relentlessly teasing Jungkook throughout dinner, while Bambam was clearly the life of the group—loud, hilarious, and making you laugh with his playful banter and jokes, easing some of the tension you’d been carrying since you arrived. Minghao, on the other hand, was more subdued but quick-witted, throwing in sarcastic comments and showing a genuine interest in you.

They all seemed genuinely happy to meet you, and you found yourself laughing at their stories, trying to relax.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Bambam asked. “We gotta know if you’re doing something cooler than us.”

You chuckled softly. “Right now I'm between jobs. I mainly work as a tour stylist, but recently I’ve started getting into some editorial work too, for Elle Magazine.”

"Oh, so you know Chaeyoung?" Eunwoo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Chaeyoung?" you echoed, unsure.

"Rosé, babe," Jungkook leaned in and whispered.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I was responsible for her outfits in the Elle June issue. We spent the whole day together—she’s really sweet."

"She's part of our group too," Jungkook explained with a grin, "but you'll meet the girls another day."

"They're a separate event," Jaehyun joked and you laughed.

“What do you like more? Touring or editorial?” Yugyeom asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Touring, definitely,” you replied, your face lighting up as you spoke about your job. "It’s incredible, and I get to do the other thing I love most—traveling."

“Wow,” Seokmin outed, sounding genuinely impressed. “What do you do when artists go on tour?”

“The months prior to a tour I coordinate the designers and do the talks with brands for custom pieces or partnerships," you began to explain. “During the tour, I oversee the team of dresses who help with costume changes and ensure costumes are functional for performances.”

“She’s so much cooler than you, Jungkook-ah.” Bambam said, pointing at Jungkook, who just shrugged.

“I can't argue with that.”

“What artists have you worked with?” Chan piped in, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Mostly westerners. Little Mix, Dua Lipa, Ariana Gran—”

“So how did you two meet?” The question came up suddenly from the far end of the table, interrupting what you were saying and making your breath catch.

You shifted your gaze toward Mingyu, who leaned across the table with his eyebrows arched, head resting in the palm of his hand. Curiosity—and something more—sparkled in his eyes. Until that moment, he had been the picture of composure, engaging in conversation easily, his voice smooth and confident as he chatted with Jungkook and the other guys, but never with you.

Right now, however, you could see the tension in his jaw and the way the muscles in his forearm flexed, fingers tightened around his wine glass as he said, “Jungkook’s been pretty quiet about it, keeping us all in suspense.”

You hesitated for a moment, his tone sharp and unsettling, the bluntness of his question throwing you off balance. It was exactly the conversation you'd been avoiding, knowing it could lead to Mingyu prying into things you weren’t ready to share in his presence.

You glanced at Jungkook, who smiled encouragingly and gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“Well, we actually met when I was working temporarily with BTS during the PTD on Stage shows here in the city," you said, keeping your voice steady, though inside you were bracing yourself. You turned your attention to your boyfriend’s face, forcing yourself not to let Mingyu's presence intimidate you, though it was becoming harder with every passing second. "It was supposed to be just for those shows, but I ended up staying with them until PTD in Las Vegas.”

“HYBE really loved her work, but I think I loved it more than anyone,” Jungkook said with a big smile, his hand gently caressing the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you exchanged a warm smile. “We got to talk one night after one of the concerts in LA, and…”

“It just felt right,” you concluded, smiling at the man on your left.

“Wow,” Yugyeom said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how similar his smile was to Jungkook’s—very bunny-like. “That sounds like something out of a drama.”

“Doesn’t it?” Jungkook said rhetorically, his eyes never leaving your face.

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “I guess it does. Life has a funny way of writing its own scripts.”

Tonight was the greatest proof of that, you thought, as Mingyu's gaze seared into the left side of your face.

You stole a glance in his direction, catching him watching you closely. His expression was unreadable, but the tense set of his jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed—his own question had backfired, and this conversation was clearly affecting him, and not in the "I’m-happy-for-my-best-friend" kind of way.

Then he abruptly turned his attention away when Minghao leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"She’s got a point," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk as he pointed at Eunwoo. "You’ve probably started enough dramas to know how this plays out, huh?"

The man chuckled. "To be honest, it does sound like fate.”

Jungkook glanced at you with a smile that made your heart flutter even more. But before you could respond to Eunwoo, Mingyu’s voice cut in, accompanied by a wry smirk. “Real cinematic. Almost too good to be true, right?”

“It really was kind of perfect,” Jungkook said, smiling down at you again and completely oblivious to his friend's ironic tone."Fate or not, I’m just glad it happened."

The boys instantly started imitating Jungkook’s voice, making obnoxious noises and exaggerated smooching sounds. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way Mingyu’s words lingered above you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

His eyes remained fixed on you, but he leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. “I see. Well, it’s surprising that you didn’t run into us at the concert here in Seoul, too, since we were there. I guess fate decided to keep things interesting.”

Once again, his words were tinged with irony, and though he didn’t directly address it, the implication was clear as the day for you. Your heart raced as you fought to maintain your composure.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Just then, Jaehyun flashed you a warm smile and asked, “So, Y/N, are you from around here?”

You shook your head. “No, actually. I’m originally from Gwangju, but I lived in the UK for almost my entire life before deciding to move back here.”

“Really?” Jaehyun said, clearly intrigued. “What brought you back?”

“Just felt like the right time,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sometimes you need a change of pace, you know?”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s nice to have a fresh start every now and then.”

"How many countries have you visited while working?” Yugyeom asked, taking your focus off Jaehyun. “Must be nice traveling to so many places."

"Oh, it is. There are so many places that I couldn't name them all at once. The last time I was in Brazil with–”

“Have you ever been to Osaka, Y/N?” Sensing an opening, Mingyu threw the question at you, his eyebrows raised, your name rolling out of his tongue slowly. His smirk didn’t waver as he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with the kind of knowledge only the two of you shared. “Osaka is really nice.”

You winced at the chill in his words, desperately searching his eyes for the tenderness that once resided in those brown depths. But all you found were dark, empty eyes that swiftly brought back memories of your time together.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, the memory of those three days in Osaka flashing through your mind like a neon sign in the dark. He didn’t mention it—he wouldn’t—but the way he phrased the question made it clear what was hovering between the two of you. You didn’t know what game Mingyu wanted to play tonight, but it was suddenly driving you crazy.

Everyone at the table turned their eyes to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, since he brought up Osaka out of nowhere.

It was Bambam who voiced the question. “Osaka? She just said she was in Brazil, and you're stuck in Osaka?” he laughed. “You’ve been to Osaka hundreds of times, bro. Let’s hear about Brazil, please.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, conversation and laughter filled the air. You tried your best to focus, to be present and engaged, but it didn’t matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to Mingyu, the tension between you palpable, even though neither of you acknowledged it. The others made you feel at ease, but Mingyu’s presence cast a shadow over your excitement.

And as if his mere presence wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, his smooth gestures and deep, husky laughter stirred memories you were desperately trying to forget.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes burning into you, now and then. Every so often, you would catch Mingyu looking at you, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he looked away. And every time your eyes met across the table, it sent a jolt through your system; your heart skipped a beat again and again, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, a jumbled mess of past and present. You couldn’t believe this was happening—of all the people in the world, Mingyu had to be Jungkook’s best friend.

It was so obvious that you weren’t the only one affected by this. You could see the tension in Mingyu’s shoulders, the way he kept his responses short, his attention drifting elsewhere. He was as shaken by this unexpected reunion as you were, and knowing that only made you feel more unsettled.

You loved Jungkook so much, you reminded yourself over and over. You were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

“Jungkook’s been so happy since you two got together,” Eunwoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice beneath the hum of conversation. His warm gaze focused on you as he whispered, grounding you again. “It’s really nice to see.”

A lump rose in your throat, the warmth of Eunwoo’s words a sharp contrast to the cold tension swirling inside you. Forcing a smile, you replied, “He makes me really happy too. The happiest, actually.”

It was true—you knew that. But right now, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than reaffirm it, and you hated yourself for it.

As the night went on, the tension in your chest never eased. It felt like guilt was eating you alive. Maybe you were overreacting—after all, it wasn’t like you had any feelings for Mingyu anyway. Maybe you should have told Jungkook from the start. Maybe he wouldn’t have reacted the way you feared, and everything would have been fine. The two of you would have laughed at the coincidence, and life would have gone on.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But now it was too late, you thought to yourself—you were already here. You and Mingyu had already spent most of the night pretending you didn’t know each other, as if nothing extraordinary had happened four years ago. There was no way Jungkook wouldn’t find the situation strange.

Did that make you a cheater? You had wrestled with the question through the night, guilt gnawing at you, even if there was no betrayal in the technical sense.

This wasn’t the kind of thing you could confess without destroying everything. It wasn’t something you could admit even to yourself without breaking. But the memory clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to bury it. And the weight of it was unbearable now, sitting in a room with both of them, feeling like you were betraying Jungkook just by being reminded of a past you could never speak of.

Not with him, anyway.

Sitting among your boyfriend's friends in silence, you felt like the worst person in the world. Although the rest of dinner flowed with lighthearted conversation, your heart raced every time Jungkook brought up something about your relationship that could give Mingyu space for interrogation.

And that continued until the conversation suddenly shifted.

“So, Mingyu, you still haven’t spilled the details about what went down between you and Sanghee," Yugyeom said, turning all eyes toward his friend. “Spill, already.”

"Who’s Sanghee?" Bambam mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

“She’s that friend I set him up with on a blind date about three weeks ago," Yugyeom explained and all of a sudden, it seemed like the whole table had remembered a very important topic to be discussed: Mingyu’s love life. “She’s a dancer for YG.”

You took a long sip of your wine, trying to drown the strange knot tightening in your stomach. A confusing mix of warmth and bittersweet unease creeping through your veins, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

Jealousy? Seriously?

The thought hit you like a wave, catching you off guard. You had no reason to feel this way, but the unsettling twinge in your chest was undeniable. You shook your head, trying to push the feeling aside. You didn’t even know him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or him to be feeling this way. But most of all, it wasn’t fair to Jungkook. Yet the thought of Mingyu being with someone else had every muscle in your body tensing, rejecting the idea completely in a crazy possessive way.

"Wait, you're dating again?" Jungkook asked, genuinely surprised and you lowered your gaze to your plate, trying to tune out the conversation, even though a part of you wondered what he meant with again. "I had no idea, man. That's good for you!"

Mingyu’s tone was sharp, clearly meant as a jab, as he replied to your boyfriend. "Well, of course you wouldn't know. We’ve barely seen you these past six months."

"But for a good reason, so you're off the hook," Seokmin said with a wink in your and Jungkook’s direction, quickly easing the tension. "Anyway, it's awesome that Mingyu's getting back into dating. Four years is a long time."

You froze, a chill running through you. That couldn't be right. You must've misheard.

Slowly, you lifted your head, just in time to catch Minghao wrapping an arm around Mingyu, as if offering quiet support. "He had to move on eventually, you know."

"Seriously, dude," Eunwoo chimed in, shaking his head. "I’m starting to think that girl you met in Osaka is a figment of your imagination. No way you’d stay hung up for four years over someone you only spent three days with."

Mingyu’s face flushed, and it was obvious he knew you were staring—he avoided your gaze, and for the first time tonight, he was looking everywhere but at you. Still, you couldn’t help but watch him from beneath your lowered lashes, struggling to make sense of your feelings right now.

To your surprise, he glanced your way for just a second before turning his attention back to the guys.

"Could you all shut up for a moment?" His gaze landed on Jungkook, then Yugyeom. "And no, I'm not dating again. Sanghee was a little annoying, to be honest. She only wanted to talk about things that didn't interest me”

Yugyeom let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his head back. "You’re way too damn picky, man. Seriously, just choose someone and date them already!"

"I'm not picky, I just know what I want." He leaned back in his chair with a casual shrug and turned his gaze to you. You quickly looked away, but he pressed on. "I've already said it: I'm looking for someone I can genuinely connect with. Someone kind-hearted and easy-going."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like the girl from Osaka."

Mingyu shrugged. "Exactly like her."

You swallowed hard, leaning your head against your boyfriend's shoulder, using him as support to try to erase the thoughts racing through your mind at full speed.

What the fuck was going on and why was he saying all these things?

"Mingyu met a girl in Osaka, like, five years ago? And he's never shut up about her since," Jungkook whispered, trying to include you in their conversation. "He hardly ever dates anyone because of her, so it’s always a reason to celebrate."

You forced a smile, bringing the glass to your lips as you replied, "She seems like a special girl."

Jungkook smiled softly at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I bet she is.

The conversation went on and then shifted, turning to the new drama Eunwoo was preparing to film over the summer. When dessert was served, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and breathe. You slipped quietly out of your chair, walking down the dimly lit hallway outside the restroom, your heart still racing as you closed the door behind you.

You immediately leaned against the sink, gripping its edge tightly as you stared at your reflection, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you cursed loudly. “Fuck.”

What the hell was going on? Why was Mingyu trying to confuse you with all these things, after everything that happened the morning he left Osaka? What did he stand to gain from this? He was the one who set the boundary, who made it clear that the past needed to stay buried. So why now, of all times, was he stirring it all back up? None of it made sense, and the more you tried to piece it together, the more it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

You loved Jungkook. You knew that. You were in love with him, with the life you had begun to build together. The perfect bubble you had created around yourselves, one that no one seemed able to burst. You’d spent six months like this—entwined in each other as if your very lives depended on it—and even now, you were still eager to celebrate this milestone by yourselfs the moment you step out of here.

Yet, seeing Mingyu tonight took a toll on you.

There had always been something about him, something intangible that tugged at your soul in ways you could never fully explain. Now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite remember what it was. It was maddening; the way the memory of him from four years ago slipped through your fingers all night, yet still sent your mind spinning uncontrollably. Deep down, you knew it was the same force that had once made your heart surrender so easily, the same pull that left you defenseless all those years ago.

You splashed water on your face, hoping to wash away your thoughts, trying desperately to clear your mind and come to your senses. But no matter how cold the water was, the anxious feelings remained, stubborn and unshakable.

Drying your face with a towel, you tossed it into the basket and took a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to pull yourself together before heading back out there to face the rest of the evening with nothing but a big, stupid smile on your face, doing what you seemed so good at: pretending.

You stayed in the bathroom a few more minutes, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the flush that had risen as you steadied your breathing. You needed to get back to Jungkook as soon as possible—back to the reality you had chosen, back to celebrating your six-month anniversary together with his friends.

But as soon as you rounded the corner, you almost collided with a solid figure.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, stumbling back slightly before steadying yourself. “I’m sorry, I—”

You stopped talking immediately when you looked up and met the one person you least wanted to see right now. Panic coursed through you, and you instinctively dodged, forcing yourself to start walking again without saying a word.

But you were quickly halted when a hand landed on your forearm. The sudden touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of surprise and an unwanted spark of familiarity that you couldn't shake off. It was the faintest brush against your arm, but the sensation lingered, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

How could such a small touch feel so electric?

You quickly pulled your arm away, but didn’t take a step, frozen in place with him just behind you.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whispered, his voice husky in urgency. “Can we talk?”

Your heart sank. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered right now, especially after everything that had been said at the table just a couple of minutes ago.

Slowly, you turned to face him, heart racing as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm you just by a single touch. In that moment, all the thoughts you had tried to suppress tonight came rushing back, and you found yourself caught between the instinct to flee and the magnetic pull of his presence.

“I… I really can’t,” you replied, voice firm but slightly wavering.

“Please,” he said, stepping closer, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to breathe. “I just need a moment. Just to talk.”

You shook your head no, mind fighting with all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “Mingyu, it’s not a good time. I’m with Jungkook, and—”

“I know you’re with him,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “But that’s not what this is about. It’s about us.”

“What happened is in the past,” you stated, feeling a rush of frustration. “This won't change just because we ran into each other.”

His expression softened, a mixture of regret and longing. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. We…”

He stopped talking for a moment and for a second, just stood there, his gaze fixed on your face with intensity. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you it was as if he hadn’t really seen you until this moment. His eyes roamed over your face, down to the way the red dress clung to your body, and back up again, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like you was something he couldn’t quite believe was real.

Your pulse thumped loudly in your ears. The proximity between you was unbearable. He was too close, his scent too familiar, the memories flooding back with every breath taken as if the ones that haunted you through this night weren't enough.

It had been four years, but suddenly it felt like it had all happened yesterday.

Mingyu stepped closer, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse thudding wildly as his eyes met yours once again. There was something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken, that made the air between you hum with electricity. He was looking at you like he’d been waiting all night just to get this close, like being in the same room hadn’t been enough until now.

“You…” Mingyu’s voice was rough, almost strained, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look… different.”

“Mingyu…” you started, but your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You knew what he meant. It wasn’t about the dress or the fact that your hair had grown long since the last time you had seen each other. He meant something deeper, something you both felt but neither could acknowledge. As you met his gaze, the weight of that understanding settled over you.

“You… look good,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but it still carried the same roughness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You smiled softly, tilting your head to the side. You wanted to say so many things to him, but all that could come out of your lips was, “Thank you. You look good too.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything you couldn’t say. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of hope clouded by the reality of your lives now.

“Mingyu,” you started, unsure of how to express the conflict inside you. “Listen, I…”

But before you could finish, somebody turned around the corner, interrupting your moment, making you jump slightly. Your heart started racing again, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. Anticipation clenched in your stomach. You had to get out of here.

“Minghao. Hi.”

Minghao smiled at both of you immediately, stopping in his tracks, his curious gaze locking onto yours. “Sorry about that,” he said with a chuckle, stepping aside to let you pass. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” You said, mirroring his smile. “No worries.”

Then you made a move to walk past him, eager to return to the safety of the dinner table, to Jungkook, but Minghao didn’t let you go so easily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed to freshen up.” You replied, glancing toward the dining area of the restaurant where you could hear Jungkook’s voice and the others still laughing, still blissfully unaware of the storm that had just brewed in your mind.

“Are you two okay?” Minghao asked, glancing between you with a raised eyebrow.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

He didn't look convinced. “Did I interrupt something?”

“We’re just catching up,” Mingyu replied, his expression shifting, the vulnerability from moments ago replaced by a guarded look. The casualness in his voice stood in stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung between you seconds earlier. “I had to know if she passed the test to be Jungkookie's girlfriend.”

Mingyu let out a light laugh as he spoke and Minghao nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. There was a curious glint in his eyes, as if he were trying to piece something together. He studied your face intently, his brows furrowing in thought, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You know,” he started, his voice thoughtful, “you look really familiar. Have we met before?”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat for what it felt like the hundredth time this evening. The way he said it, the way his eyes held yours—it sent a chill down your spine. The distant familiarity in his eyes unsettled you all of a sudden, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

You quickly glanced at Mingyu, then back at Minghao, swallowing hard, the weight of his gaze suddenly becoming too much for you to handle, because you knew exactly where he recognized you from.

That day at the airport, the very last day, four years ago. The day you had said goodbye to Mingyu, heart in pieces, believing you’d probably never see him ever again. Minghao had been there, along with the other members of Seventeen. Far away, but there. He had probably seen it. He probably knew.

Panic bubbled in your chest, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. You forced a laugh, shaking your head as you carefully replied, "I don’t think so. I think I’d remember."

“You’d be surprised,” Minghao’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if your reaction to his question had only deepened his suspicion. He chuckled softly, but his eyes stayed on yours, sharp with thought. “I’m terrible with names, but faces? I never forget a face.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he tilted his head, studying your face a little bit more. He glanced at Mingyu slightly and there was a beat of silence between the three of you. All of sudden, you felt your pulse quickening again. This night looked like it would be one that would land you in the hospital with the onset of a cardiac arrest.

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t think we’ve officially met before tonight.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he mused, glancing past you for a second before returning his focus back to your face. There was something knowing in it, something that made you feel sick. This couldn’t be happening. Then Minghao’s expression shifted, as if a light had just switched on in his mind. “Japan! Ha! Have you ever been to Japan?”

“I, uh…” you stammered slightly, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’ve been. For work.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You had met Mingyu during your time off while the singer you worked for was on tour.

He nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together. “Right.”

Minghao's eyes lingered on yours, and you had the distinct feeling that he was seeing right through your attempt at casual conversation.

But to your relief, he didn’t press the subject further. Instead, he just shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually,” he said, his tone hinting at something unspoken. He smiled as he stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining room. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Minghao.” You mumble quickly, as he stepped into the men’s restroom after lightly touching Mingyu's shoulder and smiling at his friend. You took a deep breath, eyes meeting Mingyu’s again. “I should go,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I really need to—”

“Wait,” he interrupted you, his tone suddenly serious. “Can we… can we talk later? Somewhere private?”

You hesitated, the conflict within you flaring up again. Minghao's words and gaze had completely thrown you off balance. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Mingyu said, his voice dropping to a whisper, a plea that struck deep within you. “I just need to see you again. Just to talk.”

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, taking one last look at him before you walked back toward the table.

Every step felt heavy, your mind racing with thoughts you wished you could push away as you made your way back to Jungkook. Did Minghao know? Was he just playing with you, or had he already connected the dots? Has he really recognized you? Was it possible that he had seen you in the airport with Mingyu?

You simply couldn’t afford to think about that right now. Not with Jungkook looking so happy, waiting for you at the table, surrounded by his closest friends. For now, you had to push everything aside, pretend like the past hadn’t crashed into your life tonight.

As you neared the dining area of the restaurant, the sound of laughter greeted you, and for a moment, the weight on your chest lightened. Jungkook spotted you immediately, his face lighting up as he waved you over.

You observed that boys had spread out. Seokmin, Bambam and Yugyeom were huddled around the karaoke machine, laughing and dancing to the soft ballad playing in the background. Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan sat nearby Jungkook, deep in conversation, while there was no sign of Mingyu coming behind you.

When you reached the table, Jungkook turned fully toward you, flashing that familiar boyish smile, the one that always made your heart swell. It was effortless, the way he could make you feel safe with just a look, as if the entire world faded away and it was only the two of you.

He extended his hands, pulling you close to seat on his lap, his voice soft and affectionate as he murmured, “There you are. I was starting to miss you.”

You genuinely smiled, the sound of his voice grounding you in the presente, exactly where you should be. You had to focus on him. On your six-month anniversary. On the life you had built together, even if ghosts from your past were insisting on creeping back in.

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you as close as he could. “You okay?”

The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness in his words wrapped around you like a protective shield, momentarily easing the tension inside you. You melted into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder and allowing yourself to sink into the comfort he always provided you, grateful for his touch on your skin. “Never been better.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, his words filled with sincerity as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “You make everything better, you know?”

You smiled at him again, though this time it felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“I’m glad too.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

He smiled big. “I love you more.”

You shook your head, tears suddenly welling up, pushing against your resolve. "No," you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to hold them back. You couldn't tell what it was. Whether it was the events of tonight that had left you feeling so overwhelmed, or if it was simply because you loved this man with every fiber of your being that it couldn't be possible for there to be a love greater than that. "It’s not possible."

Everything inside you felt tangled—love, guilt, confusion—blurring the lines between what was real and what you were trying to push away.

“Yes, it is,” he said, head tilted to the side as he examined your face, his eyes and voice soft with concern, while you sank deeper into his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you whispered, forcing a small smile as you blinked away the tears. "They're tears of happiness, I promise. I'm just happy that we're here and together."

“Babe, this has been the happiest six months of my life.”

Your heart clenched. Six months. It was supposed to feel like a celebration, but all you felt right now was guilt weighing on you.

“Mine too,” you whispered back, mind far from settled.

Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laughed, despite the sincerity in his voice, burying more of your face in his neck and closing your eyes to inhale the scent you loved—his. “Are you drunk right now, mister?”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I feel the same way, baby,” you said, hoping the words would steady you.

He leaned closer, moving your hair away from the back of your neck to leave a trail of kisses there, voice a little rough. “And the way you look in this dress? Absolutely perfect and mesmerizing. I’d say you’re turning heads tonight.”

Your heart raced with joy at his compliment, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not too shabby yourself,” you teased, letting your gaze linger on him. “So handsome,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your lips. “So hot. It’s no wonder Calvin Klein wants you as their new brand ambassador.”

He chuckled, a low, playful sound that sent a thrill through you. “Careful, babe. If you keep complimenting and kissing me like this, I might have to take you somewhere else.” His tone was flirtatious and tinged with mischief, causing a flutter deep within you at the thought.

You bit your lip, lifting your head from his neck as your hands caressed his face, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw and lip ring. Leaning in closer, you raised an eyebrow, your voice soft and teasing. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhmm…”

Your faces were inches apart, the warmth of his breath sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. There was electricity in the air, a palpable tension that danced between you, wrapping around you like a silken thread. In that brief moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away.

You swept his hair back, savoring every detail—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes, the magnetic pull of his gaze. The urge to lose yourself in him was always so powerful. With a teasing flick of your tongue, you traced his lips, biting his lip ring, and he parted them willingly. A smile played at your mouth as you pulled back provocatively, but his lips chased yours immediately, hands slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you close. This time, you surrendered to him completely, feeling his smirk press against your mouth as you gave in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching as his soft lips pressed into yours, stealing the air right from your lungs. As you moved in, your tongue met his in a playful, lingering dance. The warmth of the kiss sparked something deep inside, each gentle caress a silent promise to savor every second together.

Still seated on his lap, your hands pressed to his chest, fingertips grazing over the firm planes beneath, as each languid pull of his lips melted you further .Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips, urging you even tighter against him. The cool touch of his lip ring sent a thrill through you with every brush, a tantalizing contrast to the heat building between you.

Your hands slid up, fingers lacing behind his neck as your nails grazed his skin, slipping into his hair with a gentle tug. But just as you were close to getting more lost in each other, a piece of bread sailed through the air, smacking Jungkook on the head. You both broke the kiss, turning quickly to see where the unexpected interruption had come from.

Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan observed you with amused expressions, joined by the others on the other side of the room.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he stared at you, Jaehyun said, “Aren’t you two awfully cozy over there?”

“Seriously, get a room!” Yugyeom shouted across the nearly empty restaurant.

“And don’t forget we’re still here, please.” Chan spoke, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

The others joined in with laughter, their teasing breaking the intimate bubble you and Jungkook had momentarily created. Your cheeks warmed even more as you buried your face in Jungkook’s shoulder again, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Jungkook said, laughing as he pulled back slightly, still holding you on his lap. “Can’t blame us for trying to celebrate our anniversary!”

“Right, right,” Eunwoo said, smirking. “Just don’t do it with us watching, yeah?”

As laughter filled the air, you felt the warmth of Jungkook’s arm around your waist, anchoring you to him amidst the joyful chaos.

But just then, you couldn’t help but let your gaze drift across the table. Drawn by an invisible thread, your eyes locked onto Mingyu’s. He was there again, clearly forcing a laugh as he stared at you. Your heart raced, the laughter around you fading into a distant murmur. Mingyu’s expression was unreadable yet charged, a blend of warmth and something profound swirling between you, and suddenly the light atmosphere seemed to shift again.

“Babe?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you back, concern etched across his features as he noticed your distraction. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him again, the affection in his eyes steadying you again. And then you lie, feeling like the worst person in the world again. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook pressed, his brow furrowing. ”You're not uncomfortable, are you?”

“No. Really, I’m okay.” you insisted, the words slipping out a little too quickly as your eyes met his.

Eventually, as the night wore on, your head nestled against Jungkook’s shoulder, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat started to lull you into a sleeping state. He turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. “So, what do you say we call it a night? I think we’ve celebrated enough for one evening.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection.

Jungkook pulled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

★ TAGLIST

#jungkook x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu fanfic #jungkook fanfic #seventeen fic #bts fanfic #97 line

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sometimesanalice · 11 months ago

Text

Wildest Dreams (Part 2)

Summary: After meeting Bradley during Fleet Week, he shows you whether he is more of an officer or a gentleman in the bedroom. And while you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night, you also hope he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, and Bradley in Summer Whites (minors dni)

(Author’s note: this was written as part of @laracrofted’s 1989(TV) Challenge! This a 2 Part series.)

You don’t remember finding your keys in your clutch.

Or the elevator ride up to your floor.

Or the winding hallway to reach your apartment.

What you do remember is the way his fingers toyed with the flimsy strings of the bows tied at the nape of your neck as you searched for your keys. You remember the heat in his eyes and the way they trailed over every inch of you as the too small lift climbed to your floor. You remember his lips on your neck and the way the embossed wallpaper that lined your hallway felt against your back.

And you already know you’ll never forget what it feels like to be pressed up against your door by Bradley Bradshaw and the way your world explodes into technicolor at the easy slide of his tongue against yours.

His hands can’t seem to stay in one place very long, like he wants to commit the shape of you to memory. You grip his shirt tightly as you try to pull his body even closer to yours. He moans his approval when you rock against his thigh, the thick fabric dragging against the soft skin between your legs.

His uniform has been driving you wild all night. And for as good as he looks in it you want it off. You want him naked. You want to know if he got his callsign for the reason you think he did.

Your hands trail down his chest, down his abs on a mission. You can feel the way he tenses under your palms as they move lower, lower. There’s no hesitation in the way you grasp and stroke him with one hand as you work to unbuckle his polished belt with the other.

Rooster groans into your mouth, the brim of his hat just grazing your temple, “You didn’t have me fooled for a second, I knew you weren’t a good girl.”

The way he says it makes it sound like it’s the best compliment in the world.

You feel his smile against your lips before he moves to take advantage of your amused laugh by dipping down and licking a line up your neck in a what that had your knees threatening to give out in your tall, sparkly heels.

Rooster’s hand slips under the short hem of your shiny dress. His mouth finds a spot underneath your ear that has you gasping as his thumbs slide under the waistband of your panties. He pulls away only to work them down your legs and watch as they puddle at your feet-

“What the fuck are those?”

“U-underwear?” The word comes out a stutter the moment Bradley starts moving his big hand slowly, purposely up, up, up the inside of your thigh.

The high-cut thong was something you’d purchased on a whim. The floral embroidery on the barely-there sheer mesh contrasted with the thin silky straps of the bright pink panties that had caught your eye right before you’d gone to check out with the set you’d bought as a gift for your friend’s Bachelorette party.

You always did enjoy a theme.

You’d barely felt them all night. That is, until you’d gotten in the cab with him, and then you were almost hyperaware of them and how wet they were getting. But pooled on the floor of your entryway, they look almost indecent.

“That’s some damn dental floss and you know it,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit. You suck in a sharp breath at the contact. His hot mouth returns back to that spot under your ear, “Now I’m mad at myself for not getting to see them on you.”

Your body erupts in goosebumps at the way the coarse hairs of his mustache feel against your skin. You’re so wet that his fingers have no problem sliding and circling and gliding over that sensitive part of you.

“You want me to put them back on for you?” you offer breathily, hips tilting forward trying to seek more of his touch.

“Don’t even think about it,” he states heatedly. Like he is personally victimized by even the idea of you putting a layer back on.

And then he sinks two thick fingers into you.

“Bradley,” you gasp, your hands flying up to clutch his biceps.

“Mhmm?”

“I-” Your words are lost to a keen when he flicks a thumbnail over your clit. It’s a little mean, but it has your toes curling and tensing in the most delicious way.

His firm thigh keeps you pinned open as he works you. His lips and tongue mapping out the areas that make you squirm and pant. Your whole body seizes when he teases you with the possibility of another one of his fingers.

“You what, pretty girl?” You can feel his smirk against your neck.

Oh, fuck him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. You’d be more annoyed at him if he wasn’t so good at it.

“I-I,” you try again, “I had-oh god, that feels good. Your hands.”

“Hands of a pilot,” he says, satisfied and smug, “I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments to the Department of Defense.”

Rooster’s eyes are molten with pride as he takes you in, from your kiss swollen lips to where the tendons of his forearm are shifting and flexing beneath sunkissed skin half hidden under the hem of your skirt.

He is frustratingly still so put together while you’re quaking against the door like a leaf in the breeze. You want to make him just as needy for your touch as you are for his, you can feel how hard he is pressed against you.

Your hand goes for his zipper, you’re only able to tug it down half way before Bradley catches you by the wrist and pins it above your head with a tsk.

“I had plans, Rooster,” you pant, finally are able to get out the words. You’ve never had a man make you feel this good this quickly, he’s picked up on every cue your body has given him. He’s got you teetering along that edge, but he’s still toying with you rather than sending you over it.

“And what were those again?” he hums teasingly, his thumb making infuriatingly featherlight circles against you, “Remind me what was on your agenda.”

Bradley doesn’t give you the chance to reply because he’s hooking his fingertips against you and dragging them against that spot inside of you that causes your head to fall back against your door with a gasp. He shows you just how well practiced in giving pleasure he is as he does it again and again and again.

You try to arch into his touch but his strong body pressed against you so securely that you can’t do anything more than take what he gives you. The short hem of your skirt is riding dangerously high, gathered and bunched between the two of you.

“You’re not playing fair,” you whine as he runs his teeth along the tendon of your neck, “I was going to suck your cock.”

“It’s all yours, baby. You just need to come for me first. I’ll even let you wear my cap as a reward.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Damn straight,” he says before licking deep into your waiting mouth, “Now show me you can be a good girl and come on my fingers.”

You don’t get a chance to reply because Bradley’s thumb changes up the patterns it’s making on your clit making you cry out. There’s nothing teasing about his touch, he’s playing your body to pull exactly what he wants from it. His movements are controlled and precise even as you writhe against his hand.

When you come it’s with his name in your mouth as your orgasm coasts over you in a whiskey wave. The heat and force of it radiating through your whole body from your fingertips to your toes. Bradley murmurs sweet words into your ear as shivers work their way down through your spine.

You’re still breathing hard when you flutter open your eyes just in time to see him pulling his shiny spit-slicked fingers from his mouth with a devastating smirk.

So pleased with himself, so damn handsome.

Not to be out done you kick away that hot pink thong and pull his face to yours seeking the taste of yourself from his mouth. He welcomes your tongue with a satisfied moan, his hungry hands running up your back to tug at one of the sets of ties on your dress.

“Nuh-uh,” you tut against his mouth as you push him up against your door, “It’s your turn, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You’ve only managed to undo two of the little white buttons on his uniform, and while you’re dying to see more of his skin, the hard length of him against your stomach has your full attention.

Your knees only just skim the floor before he’s hauling you back up.

“Wait, wait. C’mere, baby,” Bradley says, his hands on your elbows, “Show me your bedroom and then I’ll let you have my cock.”

“‘Come on my fingers’, ‘show me your bedroom’,” you parrot back to him, stroking him through his pants, “You’re going to give me a complex if you don’t let me give you a blow job. I have a theory about your callsign and I need answers, Rooster.”

“You can, I promise,” he huffs a laugh, running his thumb under your bottom lip, “We’re skipping over a few things, let me be a little romantic with you before we smudge that lipstick up.”

You try to ignore the way your heart somersaults at his words and the affection in his eyes.

“It’s longwear,” you reply, with a cheeky half shrug, “But you’re certainly welcome to try.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, dipping down a bit to get an arm underneath you and picking you up like it’s nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you from your entryway and past your kitchen towards the open door on the right where your bedroom is, the lamp on your nightstand that you’d left on before leaving for the evening guiding the way.

“How is your hat still on?” you mutter before laving at the scars on his neck that had caught your eye earlier at the bar.

“How is your tiara still on?” he tosses back, leaning his head to the side to give you more access to the skin at the base of his throat.

“It’s a headband.”

“It’s cute.”

You pull away with a grin, “I knew you wanted to try it on. Big, strong, Naval aviator has an affinity for pretty shiny things.”

“Guilty as charged,” Rooster agrees. His hands run down the sides of your waist as he sets you down, his fingers stroking the material of your sparkling pink dress. “Where do you want me, baby?”

You don’t answer him, instead you press him back lightly until he takes the hint and sits on the side of your bed, legs wide so that you can step into the space between his thighs. He makes an enticing contrast of tan skin and white uniform against the pale blue of your comforter.

Holding Bradley’s heated gaze, you take the pristine white hat off of his head and set it on the nightstand next to you. The sight of his sunkissed curls is a treat you weren’t expecting to see and you can’t help but run your hands through his hair.

You take a minute to indulge in the feeling of his soft strands between your fingers as he leans into your touch. There’s a ribbon of desire that is still wrapped around the two of you, one that pulls tighter with every pass of your hands.

“Take your cock out,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a wink, his voice like rich espresso.

He’d gotten his way, now it was your turn.

You lean forward to kiss him, wet and deep, before finallyfinallyfinally sinking to your knees in front of him.

Rooster is all efficient hands and fingers as he unzips those dizzyingly snug pants the rest of the way down. You swear that smirk of his gets a little wider as he pulls his cock out for you.

You’re almost annoyed at how perfect it looks, at how big it is. But that feeling fades quicker than it came on at the pretty way his large hand fists and pumps himself. It makes your breath get caught in your throat as you watch.

And then he’s holding it out for you like an offering, “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You don’t shy away from his intense gaze as you flatten your tongue underneath him and obscenely lick up the length of him.

“Goddamn,” he says hoarsely, as he throws his head back.

You beam, pleased and preening, before you pull him fully into your mouth. That smirk is entirely wiped off his face and you can see the way his jaw is clenching and releasing as his face is angled up towards the ceiling. Your hand replaces his on his cock to stroke him in time with the bob of your head. He groans low and ragged at the twist of your wrist at the base of him as you swirl your tongue right underneath the firm ridge of his head.

You feel your Bridesmaid headband slide back on your head with all your enthusiastic movements, and it falls to the floor with a metallic clatter. You wait until he’s looking back at you before you hollow your cheeks as you draw his cock further into your mouth.

“Knew that smart mouth of yours was going to look so good around my cock. God, you’re so fucking pretty,” he says, running his thumb along your jaw, “That little pink dress of yours did a number on me, I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Bradley’s pretty praise and compliments goes straight to your head, like a rush of bubbles from a freshly popped bottle of champagne. You like the way he is gazing at you- his eyelids heavy but his eyes greedy- and the way he looks sitting on your bed, his presence filling the space of your room.

“If you like it so much I can tell you where I got it from,” you tease, “Don’t think they’d have your size though.” You treat him with another long lick, taking a moment to catch your breath to work him in your hand. It slides easily over him with the mix of your spit and his pre-cum.

“We both know how much I like pretty shiny things. I like seeing them on pretty girls, but I think I like seeing them on the floor even more.”

Rooster reaches out to slide his hand up the valley of your breasts and up around your neck to the back of your dress where the duo of bows of the halter top are still tied and starts tug on the ends of them.

You run your fingernail gently along the underside of his cock, smirking to yourself when it jerks in your hand. You take the tip of him between your lips, flicking him with your tongue as you let him work on the bows.

“Jesus, what kind of knots did you tie on this thing,” he grunts, still pulling on the thin pink strings.

“I thought you Navy men were supposed to be excellent with knots,” you say with a laugh, moving your hair aside so that he can see better.

“I fly planes that land on ships, the only knots I’m tying are the ones on my boots.”

“Well now, that’s a shame,” you say with a sigh, blinking up at him with your best doe eyes. You give him a couple more slow pumps and watch with pleasure as his eyes flare with heat as he catches on to your meaning.

The way he moans your name sounds like both a curse and a prayer.

You pull away from him and sit back on your knees reaching up behind your neck. He watches you with rapt attention as you untie one and then the other. You hold it up with one hand at your collarbone and run the fingers of your other hand over the swells of your breasts before sliding it behind your back to release the final bow dancing along your mid-back.

And then you let go of the top.

It flutters down to your waist and you’re bared before him.

“Fuck me, knew you couldn’t be wearing a bra with that sexy little dress,” he groans as you pull him back into your mouth.

His fingers fly to your hair as you work to take him further and further into your mouth. It’s impossible to look away or close your eyes when his heady gaze is trained on you so intensely. He goes slack-jawed as you swallow around him, humming your approval to his reaction around his cock.

It’s easy to lose yourself to the rhythm of it. Of the staccato of his breath and sounds of satisfaction coming from in his broad chest. Of the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue.

Bradley’s thigh is taut and tense under your other hand with the strain of holding himself back. You are almost tempted to tell him to use your mouth how he wants, but there is something so exciting about having this man wrapped around your finger and at your mercy. He’s looking at you with such open want in his eyes that it makes that place low in your stomach spark with desire.

You pull off of him to drop a few open mouth kisses to the length of him. You look up at him from under your eyelashes, making sure you have his full attention when you use your tongue to trace along the thick vein on his shaft.

“How’s my lipstick holding up, Rooster?”

He barks a laugh, his smile wide and broad with amusement, “Hasn’t budged. Guess I’ll have to work harder to make a mess out of you then, huh?”

“I guess you will.” You shift forward like you mean to brush a kiss to his lips, but pull away with a mischievous smile right before his lips could meet yours. He groans and leans forward chasing after your mouth.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” Bradley says, hauling you up off of the cream-colored carpet of your floor. He hastily shoves your dress down the rest of the way down your hips and onto the floor before pulling you into his lap.

“But-” The words die in your throat as you whimper at the contact of your soaked cunt as it rubs up against his thick cock. Rooster runs his nose along the line of your neck as your hands tangle in his curls. He squeezes your ass with his hands encouraging you to continue your rock and grind against him.

When you tug him back up to your mouth, he goes willingly with a self-satisfied smile. You keen when your nipples catch against his nametag and the ribbons decorating his chest and you’re reminded that he’s not nearly naked enough for your liking.

“Why are you still dressed?” you huff, your insatiable hands roughly pulling at the buttons of his shirt, “If you were as interested in furthering those civilian-military relations as you claimed to be earlier, Sailor, you’d take that uniform off.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he drawls, not sounding the least bit sorry, “Please allow me to show you just how committed I am to cultivating strong bonds with the local community at hand.”

And in a move so smooth and powerful, Bradley’s got you pinned to the bed. It doesn’t even register to you until he’s crowding into you, his head dipping down to drag his teeth over your peaked nipple. His large hand comes up to cup and massage your other one as he laves over you in broad and long strokes of his tongue.

He rolls against you teasingly and the way your thighs come up to bracket his hips is almost instinctive as you sink further into the cloud of your bed under his sturdy weight.

That mustache feels even better against your chest as it did against your neck when he had you pressed against your front door. But the drag of those damn buttons is impossible to ignore even as his hot mouth works its way down your sternum and stomach.

“Bradley.”

“Yeah, baby?” He nips at your hipbone as he strong-arms your thighs open further for his wide shoulders to settle under.

You’re so tired of feeling that sure-to-be-well-made fabric under your hands and against your body. You want to feel his skin against yours. You want his heat. You want to smell like the cedar and spearmint scent of his cologne.

He’s been derailing your plans since the moment you saw him enter the bar, but in this you will not be swayed, “If you’re not naked in the next ninety seconds, I swear I’m going to kick you out.”

“I can work with ninety,” he says with a toe curling glint in his eyes right before he licks into you.

The coarse hairs of his mustache against that most intimate part of you has you seeing not only stars, but entire galaxies. He slides his hand under your back to get you to arch further towards him. His tongue is relentless against your needy clit and when he sucks it has your hips canting right into his charming mouth.

“Can’t keep those hips on the bed, can you? Keep tryin’ to chase my mouth,” he smirks at your frustrated whine when he pulls away from you all too soon. He’s all lithe grace as he moves and stands up at the end of your bed.

You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. There’s no reason to be when he shoots you a wink so easy and playful and so endearingly cocky that you think you might just melt on the spot.

“Tick-tock, Lieutenant,” you say breathily as you sit up and lean back on your elbows.

“Now you’re just being difficult on purpose. That ok, baby, I think you’ll enjoy it when I fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Promises, promises.”

You already know that lazy smile he’s wearing is going to take you down as he starts to undo the buttons of his uniform. He’s definitely past the ninety seconds you’d threatened him with, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to kick him out now.

Rooster does it slowly. One by one until he is shrugging it off his frame. He looks like sin standing there tall and broad with his belt dangling open and his cock hanging out proudly from the open fly of his formfitting pants.

“Oh, this is getting good now,” you muse, not unaffected by the increasingly unclothed man in front of you.

Feeling brave you bring your fingers down to your clit, teasing yourself lightly as he pulls his thin undershirt up and over his head. And finally, you get to see all of that bronzed skin on display. The sight of the smattering of chest hair between his full pecs and the ridges of his abs in the soft light of your nightstand lamp has your mouth watering at the sight in front of you.

“That’s it,” Bradley says lowly, his eyes glued to the shiny, slick part of you, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

You let your legs fall open wider for his gaze as you continue to touch yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest as you put yourself on display for him. As you show off for him. With every passing second your need for him ratchets up even higher. He gives himself a few pumps, his cock still shiny and wet from your mouth and pussy, before he’s shoving his pants down his thick thighs and kicking them off.

He works his way back up your bed and props himself against your tufted headboard and pulls you back into his lap. You sigh as you lean into him, your bare skin against his. At last. He feeds you his tongue as he tips up your head for a fevered kiss, his hands skimming up the length of your spine and into your hair as he commands your mouth with his.

“What’s it going to be, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, “Do you want to be fucked by an officer? Or do you want me to be sweet with you? I’ll show you just how much of a gentleman I can be.”

A shiver works its way through your body and you feel the way his lips pull up at your response to his raspy voice and the sultry promise laced in his words. The night has been building up to this, the feeling of his hands in your hair and having his clothes on the floor in your room shouldn’t feel so right. But it does.

And if you’re only going to have this one night with him, you already know what you want. You knew it from the second he kissed you back at the bar.

You pull back just enough to lean over him to grab his hat off your nightstand. His hands flex on your hips when you set it on your own head. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be and it tilts down your forehead a bit. Rooster tips it up for you and adjusts it, his eyes seeking an answer you have yet to give him.

“I want to be fucked by an officer, Lieutenant Commander,” you say, running your thumb down the divot of his chin.

You’ve never felt more powerful than you do at the sound of his wrecked groan.

“Grab that condom, baby,” Bradley’s voice is thick with need.

“Yes, sir,” you say cheekily, pulling open the drawer next to the bed.

You aren’t expecting the hand that connects with your ass or the sound of the sharp slap that seems to reverberate throughout your bedroom or the way it makes you even wetter than you already are.

The tequila and champagne from earlier wore off long ago, now you’re just drunk on him.

You pass him one of the gold foiled squares and watch as he rolls it on with ease as you hover above him on your knees. He’s got you so spun up in such a short amount of time, you’d know from the moment you saw him that he was trouble, you just didn’t realize at the time that he was going to be your kind of trouble.

He holds his cock in one hand and guides you onto it with his other hand heavy on your hip. You expect him to rock up into you, to give you both that air stealing bliss, instead your jaw drops open at the way he’s coaching you to sink onto him slowly, slowly, so so slowly.

It’s been awhile since you’ve taken something other than your fingers or one of the toys discreetly hidden in your bedside drawer and he has you whimpering as you stretch and spread around him. You can feel his want in every devastating touch, in every heated kiss. You cling to his shoulders to keep you from floating away.

“There we go. Nice and easy,” Rooster murmurs, watching the way his cock disappears into you, “Felt how tight you were around my fingers. I know ‘m big. You’re doing so good for me.”

He’s got a hand wrapped around the base of your neck and around your waist holding you there when your hips finally connect, keeping you from squirming as your body works to relax around him. Your pussy flutters around him at the sheer size of him.

You gasp in surprise as a shiver of an orgasm flurries through you unexpectedly.

“Goddamn,” he grunts, you can hear the relief in his voice as he continues to rock up into you gently pulling out more of those ripples from you.

He’s still holding you in place, controlling just how much of him you’re getting, his fingers are pressed tightly into your hipbones. His hair is a mess and his eyes are hungry. Bradley is flushed the prettiest shade of pink along his cheekbones and across his chest.

You’re about to tell him so when your eyes snag on a patch of scarred skin on his shoulder and you suddenly must know what it feels like under your tongue.

The second your seeking tongue glides over it Rooster’s hips jerk into you in a way that steals all the air from your lungs. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck as he does it again and again in smooth, measured strokes.

But it’s not enough. That whisper of an orgasm was nothing like you know it could be. It did nothing to take the edge off, all it did was make you more desperate for him.

He feels so solid beneath you that you need more of him. You start to roll your hips against him trying to get him to move faster, to fuck you in the way he promised he would.

“Oh, you wanna take the lead, huh? By all means,” Bradley says, putting his hands behind his head in a way that makes his biceps look massive, “C’mon, pretty girl, show me what you got.”

Not one to turn down a challenge, you reach behind you to brace your hands on his thick thighs and lean back. You’d show him alright.

Show him just how good you look wearing his hat. Show him just how good he looks buried in your cunt. Show him just how good he looks covered in your arousal. Show him just how good you look working his cock as you roll your hip and raise yourself up and down on him.

“Jesus, fuck. Look at you. Good girls don’t ride cock like that. Shit, you look so damn pretty. You feel so good like this, you’re taking me so well.”

His eyes are torn between watching your face and the way your breasts bounce and the way his hat on your head bobs in time with the rhythm you’ve set. The new angle has the pressure building up swiftly in your lower stomach. And it’s so good, but it’s not what you want. It’s not what you need.

“Stop being such a gentleman, Rooster. I thought you were going to fuck me,” you say, leaning forward and nipping at his bottom lip.

“Pretty sure I told you I was both,” he says tracing a finger down your soft stomach to your pussy, you shiver as he starts making tight circles on your clit, “But if you wanna be fucked, then you’re going to be fucked.”

Bradley shows you just how honed his body is in the way he pulls you off of him and onto your hands and knees in front of him. Your arms never had a chance at keeping you up when he roughly pushes into you. He grips your hips tightly forcing you to bend and arch up further to meet his powerful thrusts.

His hat topples off your head and onto the edge of the bed, where his next drive of him into you sends it dropping onto the floor.

“Tell me how much you like getting fucked by an officer, sweetheart, I want to hear it.”

“It’s good,” you moan into the crevice of your elbow, trying to muffle some of your whimpers.

“Just good? The way your pretty pussy is clinging to be, I’d say you’re feeling more than ‘good’,” he taunts, slapping your ass for good measure in a way that makes you jerk back against him.

“Just think there’s room for improvement, you’re so chatty for someone who could be fucking me harder.”

“Had to work you open before I could fuck you. This how you want it?” he snaps his hips harder and faster into you. You gasp at the sensation and clutch at the comforter beneath your hands.

“Yes, yes.”

The pace he sets is desperate, hungry, and unrelenting. When he skims a hand up your back, tangling it in your hair and tugs, you swear you’ve never made the sound that he pulls from you before.

Every time you adapt to rock and grind of his hips and start to thrust yourself back to meet him, to take him deeper, he changes up his tempo forcing you to only take what you’re given. His touch is so electric you feel like you could light up a whole city.

Your room is filled with the sounds of skin connecting on skin, of sharp breaths and shattered sighs and pitchy keens. The angle he pounding into you has the ridge of his cock rubbing against that spot that has you trembling and writhing beneath him.

“Oh fuck, fuck. Bradley. Please.” You’re babbling nonsense now and you know it, but you’re so, so close.

He knows it too because when he slides his hand around you to run his thumb over your aching clit you shatter around him with a choked sob into your arm. You don’t fight the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you let them pull you under.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he rasps as you quake under his touch, “Good girl.”

His own hips start to stutter against you and his breathing starts to run ragged as he fucks into you. He is clutching your hips so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you were wearing his fingerprints tomorrow. His groan as he comes is the best sound you’ve ever heard.

Somehow through the haze you realize that you’re not just smiling, you’re beaming.

Bradley is so perfectly heavy on top of you and so warm. You’re so thoroughly worn out and well fucked it’s all you can do to lay there with your eyes closed as you float in that post-orgasm bliss. You make a noise of disapproval when he pulls out of you.

“Gotta get rid of the condom, baby,” he says with a little laugh. You feel the bed shift as he makes his way to your bathroom, already missing the feeling of his body against you.

You know you should get up. Maybe take your makeup off or get some water, but you’re just so content. So satisfied. You’ve had a few one night stands before, but you’ve never felt so comfortable with someone before.

You hear Bradley’s steps get closer as he comes back into your bedroom, but the feel of a damp washcloth gliding up your thigh to the center of you takes you by surprise, “Oh, that’s warm.”

“Is it too warm?” he asks, pausing. You were lucky if your ex would hand you a tissue, so Bradley’s thoughtfulness makes something in your stomach flutter.

“’s nice. Thank you,” you sigh, arching into his tender touch.

You know you should take over, it’s too intimate of a gesture. You should, you should, you should. But you don’t. You let him clean you up while you will your heart to stop fluttering behind your ribs.

You’re pliant and boneless as he climbs back into your bed and pulls you against his chest. Your body shouldn’t fit so perfectly against his. It shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t. But it does.

“You still with me?” Rooster teases lightly, brushing back some of the sweaty strands of your hair that were clinging to your forehead.

“Just resting up for round two.”

You feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Mmhm.”

Time slips away under the gentleness of his warm hands. Your breathing slows down to match the way he smooths his palm up and down along your spine. You don’t realize how close you are to sleep until he’s pulling you back from the wisps of slumber that were rising up to meet you.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks quietly. You think you hear a string of hope threaded through his words.

It’s late, but not too late that he’d have a hard time finding an Uber or a cab to take him back to wherever home is for him, but you’re not quite ready to let go of him just yet.

“Yeah, you should stay,” you murmur into his chest.

You feel as he pulls up your comforter around the two of you. You nestle in even closer to him, draping your arm over his stomach and tucking your head under his chin. He reaches over you carefully and turns off the little lamp on your nightstand.

“Ok, I’ll stay.”

It doesn’t take long until the sound of Bradley’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the way your body aches in the most pleasant of ways. You allow yourself to stretch luxuriously, your high thread count sheets skimming against your still naked body.

The second thing you notice is the sound of the shower running in your bathroom.

You’re glad to have this moment to yourself to grin madly into your pillow.

Because he stayed. He’s still here.

Once that rush of giddy energy works its way through the rest of your body, you get up to find your clutch with your phone in it and bring it back to bed with you. You shoot a text off to your best friend so that she doesn’t worry and get caught up on all the things you missed in the chaos that is the group chat. The amount of missed notifications are in the triple digits, you love to see girls supporting girls.

A few minutes later Rooster comes out of the bathroom with one of your fluffy white towels wrapped low around his hips. There’s still a part of you that still can’t believe last night even happened even as he stands in front of you, giving you a wide grin when he sees that you’re awake.

His hair is damp and the sight of those curls make you want to run your fingers through them again. Those muscles of his look even better in the morning light that is filtering through your blinds, you’re getting more than an eyeful of him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bradley says gesturing to the open bathroom door, “I wanted to sneak in a quick shower just in case. You seem like the type of girl who would know about her Third Amendment rights.”

“You never know, there’s still time,” you say with a coquettish little shrug and a Cheshire cat smile, “Although it seems rude to kick someone who made me come three times last night.”

“Four,” he says, the left side of his mouth ticking up a bit as he leans a hand on your dresser.

“Four?”

“Mmhm, four. I know what I felt.”

“Would you be up for reminding me how that fourth one went?” you ask, teasingly pulling the soft sheet down your body to sit up on your knees at the edge of your bed.

“Sure would, ma’am. Anything to solidify those civilian-military bonds,” Rooster says, strutting towards you.

He’s ducking down to greet you with a kiss when you stop him with a hand on his chest, “Wait, what time do you have to be back?”

You see that easy smile of his falter for just a moment, “18:30. Sorry that’s-”

“I know military time, Bradley,” you say with a smirk, toying with the loose knot of the towel. You do the math in your head, there’s still almost seven hours before he has to go. It’s an easy decision when you offer, “What do you say, Lieutenant, you want to spend the day with me?”

Rooster answers with an enthusiastic kiss and greedy hands that tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing off his towel, pulling him on top of you and getting tangled up with him again.

It only took you a few passes of his tongue to realize what he was spelling against your clit before he had you coming on his mouth.

L-I-E-U-T-E-N-A-N-T-C-O-M-M-A-N-D-E-R

And then after he reminds you of just how that fourth orgasm went, you set him up with some coffee in your kitchen as you go take a shower and get ready feeling entirely too weak in the knees for a man you’d just met.

You opt to skip the make-up and go fresh faced to have those extra minutes with him instead. Although you do end up finding a spot beneath your ear, a remnant from his mouth last night, that you do have to take a minute to conceal.

Swathed up in your silky robe, you sift through your closet looking for something to wear when your eyes catch on a different pink dress. There are other comfier, easier things you could wearbut it’s the tie on the mostly open back that seals the deal for you. You grin to yourself as you tug open the bow before pulling it on.

He lets out a low whistle when you emerge from your bedroom.

“I know it’s not sparkly, but I think it’ll do,” you joke, twisting your hips a bit so the material of your floral print ruffle sundress floats around your calves.

“It’ll more than do,” Bradley says, staring at you with the same open desire as you’d probably given him when he’d emerged from your bathroom wrapped in that towel.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “Do you mind tying this for me?”

You could easily tie it yourself, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as having him do it for you.

“That ok?” he asks, his voice dropping a few notes lower as he fiddles with tying the flimsy straps in the back for you.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Rooster.”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder when he’s done and then spins you so that you’re facing him.

“What about me? How do the Summer Whites measure up?” he asks, clearly fishing as he gestures to his uniform. It’s still white and pristine and surprisingly devoid of any wrinkles from the night it spent on the floor of your bedroom.

You give him a contemplative once over taking him in, “It’ll more than do. Although, you’re missing a little something.”

You walk over the island where you’d set his hat earlier so that it wasn’t forgotten on the floor in your bedroom and pick it up. He bends a little for your benefit as you place it on his head.

“Cute,” you say, adjusting it so it sits just right, “But I think I wore it better.”

“I think you did too,” Bradley says, tugging you in for a thorough kiss before he laces your fingers together, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road,” you say with a wink, repeating the same thing that you said back at the bar when you decided to take him home with you.

The first stop is to your favorite little café not too far away from your apartment. Coffee and food were very necessary after the way the two of you had worked each other out the night before.

Bradley had looked so cramped in your little VW Golf on the way over that you decided to ditch it there and walk around the area instead. The two of you popped in and out of the bookshops and plant shops and record stores that dotted the area. You were surprised to learn he had really great taste in music and ended up picking out a few new vinyl records to take home with you.

In line at the checkout, he’d plucked your credit card from your hand, nodding to the sign advertising the store’s military discount and whispered into your ear, “I won’t tell Uncle Sam if you don’t.”

A ten percent discount never felt so thrilling.

You caught more than a few men and women checking him out in his Summer Whites as you walked around. But you couldn’t blame them because he’d caught you checking him out more than once. But it wasn’t your fault that his ass was a revelation in those tight pants. And he clearly knew it.

When you see the marquee for the small theatre on this side of town that is known for playing the classics and art house films advertising a showing for State Fair you offhandedly mention how much you like that movie as you peek in the widow of one of the antique shops, and then next thing you know he checking his watch and pulling you with him to the box office window for tickets.

“If you don’t let me pay for something here soon, you’re going to give me a complex,” he complains when you stop him from pulling out the credit card that he has tucked in the pocket of his uniform.

“Sorry, Rooster, it’s still Fleet Week and rules are rules,” you joke, bumping him out of the way with your hip sliding your card to the attendant before he can argue with you any further.

“Baby, I need you to stop Richard Gere-ing me,” he says, taking the tickets and wrapping an arm around your waist then leading you in the building.

“Alas, they’re playing Pretty Woman today, but I think you have the potential to make a pretty Julia Roberts,” you tease him, “I’d bet red would look very fetching on you with those undertones.”

The pinch on your right butt cheek makes you jump, startled. You whirl to see if anyone caught him, but the lobby is fairly empty. You turn to send him a heatless glare, but his face is the picture of innocence.

You shake your head at him amused, “Ok, fine. Just for that I will allow you to buy me a small soda from the concession stand, Bradley.”

He looks very pleased ten minutes later when he’s carrying a large bucket of popcorn, three types of candy, and two giant cups of fizzing soda as you go to find your seats.

“So much for free Fleet Week drinks,” you tut, taking a sip of your drink.

“But I did get laid today, so I’ll call it a win,” he winks.

The two of you trade whispers as the lights go down and the music of the opening credits starts to play. You grin as you reach over for some popcorn and hear him humming along.

Just as Vivian Blaine starts strutting away from Dana Andrews, her hair bouncing vivaciously with each step, Rooster angles over, “Hey, that’s how your friend looked last night walking away from Hangman. He’s been harassing me all day to get you to give me your number so he can call her.”

You hold back the snicker that tries to escape your throat when he gets shushed by someone a few rows back, whispering even louder, “Sorry!”

You lean in closer, admiring the way half of his face is illuminated from the screen and confide, “Where do you think she learned it from?”

You and your best friend had taken the same film studies class in college and she tested out the move that night at the bars near campus with an almost perfect success rate. It’s been her go-to move ever since.

“No shit?”

“I’m serious,” you say with a giggle.

The shusher makes their displeasure known again and this time the both of you burst out laughing.

“We should probably go before they start throwing popcorn at us. I don’t think even with military grade detergent that you’d be able to get butter-flavored oil out of those Summer Whites.”

Bradley agrees readily and your heart flip-flops knowing that he’d rather be talking with you than sitting silently for the next two hours. He even tosses one of the boxes of candy to the shusher on the way out as an apology.

The two of you head to the beach instead, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. Tossing some of the popcorn kernels to hungry seagulls who approach. The two of you are both a little overdressed for it, but if anything, that makes it more fun.

You’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him, to tease him. Surprised that he’s more than just a pretty face with a good body. The way he is so at-home and comfortable in his own skin makes you feel like you don’t have to try to be impressive, you can just be yourself.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, you’re both increasingly aware there’s a ticking clock above your heads and that this has to come to an end soon. And far too soon you end up making your way back together to where you’d left your car a few blocks away from the café you’d taken him to for brunch.

“Do you need to drop by your place for your things?” you ask Rooster, toying with your car keys.

“I packed last night. I asked a friend who is shipping out with me to grab them for me,” he says, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face.

“Not Hangman?” You wonder fleetingly if your friend ended up caving and giving him her number or not.

“Not this time. Which I’m not too mad about since he snores.” You know he is trying to make you laugh, but you just press your lips together and nod.

“So I should head there.” It’s not a question. You know your time is up.

“You probably should,” he says, with a sigh and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s a quiet ride as he directs you to a public lot near the Naval Air Station where he says his friend Bob is going to meet the two of you, explaining that he doesn’t have the pass that would allow you to drop him off inside the gates.

There are a few cars in the lot, but he points out where you should park near an older, but well maintained Chevy truck. When you look over as you pull into the space a couple spots away a man in glasses waves, you don’t miss the two duffle bags that are in the second row of his cab.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Don’t leave yet, please,” Rooster says, unbuckling and getting out of your car. And for whatever reason, you do too.

You linger in front of your car as you wait for him to come back to you. You watch as his friend Bob passes him a pen and some paper, you can tell he’s trying to fill it out quickly based on the way his hand seems to be flying over it.

There’s an intensity to the way that Bradley walks back to you. Your feet are pinned to the asphalt beneath you as his eyes stay trained on you.

You both stand there nearly chest to chest just taking the other in.

He’s still too breathtaking for words in his uniform as the golden hour light makes the sun-streaked strand of his hair gleam like threads of gold. His eyes slowly run over your face and down the dress he’d carefully tied you in this morning.

If this is it, if this is all you’re ever going to get with him, this is how you want him to remember you. Standing in a nice dress and staring at the sunset.

He reaches out and cups your face in his warm hand.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he says, holding your gaze. You can see every color of brown reflected in his pretty eyes.

Your heart seizes in your chest, “Bradley, I-”

He lightly puts his thumb over your lips to stop you before you can finish.

“Listen, I really like you. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait for me, so I’m not going to.” You’re unprepared for the rock that sinks to the pit of your stomach. “What I’m going to do is give you this,” he says handing you the thin paper packet, “This has all the information you need to get on base if you wanted to meet me there in two months when I get back. They give it to all of us when we get our deployment papers mailed to us, I’ve just never had a reason to fill one out for anyone before.”

You hold it in your hands and look at it. The letters are slightly sloppy in that way that men seem to have. The sheet is filled out his full name, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, as well as what you assume is his military I.D. number and other crumbs of information about the handsome man standing in front of you.

And you’re reminded again, that you’ve only gotten to see just the tiniest sliver of him.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he repeats, quieter this time, “Even if it’s just pretend.”

You hear what he is really saying: lie to me, please.

His friend is waiting for him in his idling truck.

And Bradley is waiting on you.

But you feel like you’re out of time.

This was supposed to be one night.

One night, one moment.

So why does this feel so big? Like you were on the precipice of something monumental.

You haven’t even known him for twenty-four hours and yet you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before. The potential of him and of what this seemed like it could be was too good, too perfect. And it scares you. Because the reality of it could crush you if you let yourself give into it and he changed his mind. You don’t want to get swept up in a daydream or a flight of fancy.

What-ifs are just heart aches, not heart breaks.

You can’t give him what he wants, not right now. But you can’t lie to him either.

Even if you want to. Even if you’re dying to.

“Stay safe, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw,” you say, softly not trusting your voice.

Bradley leans in and tips your chin up with a finger under your chin, your eyes flutter close and your breath catches in your chest when you feel his warm breath ghosting over your face. He brushes the softest kiss you’ve ever been given against your cheek. The sweetness of it melts against your skin like a snowflake, like a wish.

“I hope I see you again,” he murmurs, lips lingering.

And then he’s gone, taken away on a summer breeze.

Those two months had moved slower than you thought possible.

You’d learned that your best friend hadn’t been able to give Hangman her number when she’d ended up being the one to try and corral the gaggle of drunken bridesmaids at last call and shepherd them into the waiting cabs. Apparently, she’d tried to look for him but by the time she’d had a moment he’d already left.

That packet of paper you’d kept on your island had taken on a life of its own.

At your friend’s wedding, you’d stood off to the side in your intricately beaded bridesmaid dress watching on with a glass of champagne in your hand as she had her first dance with her new husband. And let yourself imagine what it might have felt like if he’d have been there too. The next day as you had nursed your hangover, you’d regretted indulging those thoughts in addition to drinking the full bottle of champagne you’d snuck away with.

It felt like you were just going through the motions. Like your head was somewhere else, with someone else.

The more you tried to talk yourself out of it and forget about how he’d made you feel, the more he chased you in your dreams.

All the hours you’d spent wondering about what-if you went, what-if you waited, what-if you met him there had led you to this moment here and now.

The drive had been made, the papers had been handed over and you were approved for entry, it was all happening.

You at Naval Air Station North Island wearing the same pink floral ruffle sundress that you had dropped him off in two months ago.

The smell of jet fuel and rubber mix with the ocean air as the planes start to land one by one and make the slow taxi along the long airstrip that leads to the ramp where they are to park. The perfect lines of them were just as immaculate on the ground as they were in the sky.

As more and more of them make their final descent, the more antsy the crowd of friends and families of the squadron members get. There’s an excited tension steadily building as they wait for the go-ahead to leave the hanger to greet the people they’ve been missing.

You can hear your heartbeat beating in your ears like a drum.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

You hope you’re not making an idiot of yourself. You hope that he hasn’t forgotten you. You hope he remembers why he wanted you here in the first place. You hope he still wants you.

When the final engine of the final plane is turned off, the officer in charge announces that everyone is free to exit the hanger and another cheer goes out. This one much louder than before when the aviators had done the flyover in their faultless formations.

It’s a rush of people as they stream around you out of the domed arch of the hanger and onto the open tarmac under the cloudless blue sky.

The names on the planes had been clocked well in advance by their keen, anticipatory eyes. They know exactly which aircraft they’re heading to and who is going to be climbing out of that cockpit to greet them with equal enthusiasm.

You can see the beaming smiles, you can hear the giddy laughter.

Yet your feet stay stuck on that line between the cracked industrial cement floor and the sundrenched tarmac as you watch all those happy moments happen around you.

It’s the sound of a raspy, full bodied laugh that catches your ear and has your head whirling to the left.

And there he is.

Even from a distance the sight of Bradley Bradshaw has your heart fluttering in your chest.

You see him meeting up with a couple of other pilots with his helmet in hands. You recognized Bob by his glasses, but they’re joined by a fierce looking woman. Rooster is all smiles as she gives him a friendly, playful shove before slipping her hand into Bob’s.

There is nothing you want more than that smile of his to be directed at you.

You catch the way he seems to be checking over his shoulders and looking around to observe the joyful homecoming scenes unfolding around him.

It feels like half hope, half agony when you take that first step out of the shady hanger, onto the tarmac, and into the bright San Diego sun. There were still more than a few warm summer days to look forward to.

Summoning more courage, you take a few more tentative steps in Rooster’s direction. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waitingwaitingwaiting for him to look over and see you.

You’re noticed by his dark-haired female friend first, who nods her chin in your direction. You see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he takes a deep breath before he turns towards your direction and sees you for the first time in two months.

And for a moment, it’s just you and Bradley.

Across a crowded bar. Across a teeming tarmac.

His eyes locked on yours and yours locked on his.

That easy smile he’d already been wearing is transformed into a wide grin that lights up his whole face.

Your stomach swoops and your feet start moving like they have a mind of their own towards him. He hands his helmet to Bob before he’s taking long strides to meet you halfway. You’re almost toe-to-toe with him, but you stop a respectable half-step further away than you’d like to be.

The two of you are a little greedy in the way you take in the other up close.

You can almost feel the warmth of his brown eyes on your skin, he’s looking at you like he is trying to soak up every inch of you. He has a heart-fluttering crinkle around his eyes as his gaze sweeps over your dress. And you know you’ve made the right choice by wearing it.

Rooster is more tan than the last time you saw him. Sweat dots his temples and his pretty curls are a little flat, no doubt from the shiny red and yellow helmet he’d all but blindly shoved into poor Bob’s hands. You notice that his lips are chapped and his nose a little sunburnt.

He’s still handsome as hell. Maybe even more so now.

“Hey, Sailor,” you greet him, giving him a grin of your own. “You look awfully familiar. Although I think the flight suit is throwing me off, maybe if you put those Summer Whites back on it’ll help jog my memory.”

He laughs and slides a finger under the thin strap of your dress and gently tugs you in even closer.

“Huh, that’s funny because I definitely remember you,” Bradley says, scooping you up with one arm, “Pretty sure you’re the girl of my dreams.”

And then he’s kissing you in a way that you’re pretty sure is going to screw you up forever.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for the reminder of how good it feels to be held in his arms.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his lips sliding against yours again.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for a man like Bradley Bradshaw.

He was real and he was in front of you and he wanted you.

“I need you to stop smiling so much, sweetheart, so I can kiss you properly,” he says, pulling back to nudge your nose with his.

“My apologies, I’ll try to take this more seriously,” you tease, still smiling as you pull his face back to yours.

As Bradley presses you even closer, you realize this might not be a bad idea at all, but possibly the best one you’ve ever had.

There's no man quite like Bradley Bradshaw! Whether he is in his Summer Whites or in a Flight Suit he's That Man™️!

Many, many, MANY thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for her support and endless cheerleading! He's finally got his pants off, Jordan, we did it!

If you missed Part 1 you can read it HERE! Or if you haven't read the story that started it all check out Hey, Sailor!

Moodboards: One || Two

You can read my other stories here!

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