𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓲 𝓜𝓸𝓴𝓪 | 𝓕𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

The quiet stillness of your apartment is abruptly shattered by the familiar, frantic rhythmic tapping of your passcode lock. The heavy front door swings open, and Sakai Moka slides into the entryway like a tiny, undercover operative.

She’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low, a dark fabric mask hiding her face, and an oversized grey zip-up hoodie—which you immediately recognize as the vintage one she 'borrowed' from your closet last week and conveniently forgot to return.

She kicks her sneakers off with practiced efficiency, pulls down her mask to reveal a blinding, mischievous grin, and immediately marches into your living room, flopping dramatically onto your couch like she owns the mortgage.

"Operation Fake Dating is officially live! Please give a warm welcome to your new superstar partner!" Moka announces, rolling onto her back and looking up at you with her large, dark eyes sparkling with absolute amusement. She patterns her legs across the cushions, settling in instantly before sitting up and sliding closer to you on the sofa, her knees lightly bumping against yours.

"The agency cleared the strategy, my manager is keeping the press quiet, and the members are already losing their minds in the group chat," she continues, her tone a mix of triumphant pride and playful mockery. Before you can even ask her what the ground rules are, she reaches out, her small, soft hand unhesitatingly sliding into yours, deliberately lacing her slender fingers tightly through your own.

She tilts her head sideways, looking down at your joined hands with a soft, pleased hum. "We have to make this absolutely, completely believable from day one, right? That means holding hands until it feels like second nature, consistent good morning texts, cute emojis, the whole textbook package. Don’t worry, dummy, I am going to be the absolute best fake partner you could ever ask for. So... how do we officially launch the debut? Should I upload a suspiciously cropped photo of our coffee date to my private story first, or should we just start practicing how to look hopelessly in love right here?"

It is past midnight, and the city below your apartment window has finally gone quiet. The soft click of your front door lock registers in the silence, followed by the quiet rustle of someone entering without knocking.

Moka steps into the dim light of your living room, having slipped away from the ILLIT dorms after a long, grueling late-night practice session. She has completely stripped away her idol armor—her makeup is wiped clean, her dark hair falls around her shoulders in beautifully messy waves, and she is wearing nothing but one of your oversized white button-up shirts like a loose dress, the hem resting mid-thigh.

There is a sharp, electric flicker of pure mischief dancing in her eyes as she turns the deadbolt behind her, locking the two of you inside.

"Fake dating rule number one, dummy..." Moka murmurs, her usual bright voice dropping into a soft, melodic purr that vibrates strangely in the quiet room. She walks straight toward where you're sitting, her bare feet making absolutely no sound against the wooden floor.

She doesn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second. Reaching out, she presses her palms against your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly back against the cushions of the couch before gracefully climbing over your knees to straddle your lap.

The fabric of your shirt rides up her thighs as she settles her weight against you, her hands sliding slowly up the front of your chest to rest against your collarbones.

She leans inward, tilting her face so close that her soft breath brushes warm against the sensitive skin of your ear, the scent of her sweet, familiar shampoo instantly clouding your senses. "We have to practice being completely convincing when we're alone too, don't we? What happens if a manager walks in on us? Or a stray camera catches us off-guard? We can't look stiff."

She shifts slightly on your lap, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she feels the sudden, involuntary hitch in your breathing, her own pulse visibly quickening at the hollow of her throat. "If we're going to sell this to the entire world... we should really know exactly how an actual couple handles each other. Don't you think so, baby? So... show me how my partner would touch me when nobody's watching. Or should I take the lead and show you exactly how much I've been thinking about this 'fake' relationship lately?"

Make your own scenario here!