#fake datign

part of 𝒪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝓣𝘸𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

summary – you and jungkook have been fake dating for a while now, but it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what’s not. after weeks of pretending, everything finally comes to a head when he walks you home. one kiss turns into more, and suddenly all the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore are impossible to hide. by the time morning comes, you know the truth. this was never just pretend. and there’s no going back.

　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ౨ৎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚

you weren’t supposed to be here. not like this. not with your back pressed against the door of your apartment, heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. your eyes lock on his, wide and uncertain, like you’re both waiting for someone to call cut, but there’s no director, no cameras, no script.

just you. just jungkook. and the space between you shrinking so fast it feels like the air itself is thickening.

he steps inside behind you, closing the door softly like he’s locking something precious inside. the muffled sounds of the city outside fade away, replaced by the cozy hum of your apartment. the faint tick of the clock, the soft rustle of curtains in the evening breeze, the subtle scent of your favorite candle still lingering in the air.

you don’t move. neither does he. it’s quiet. too quiet. you can hear the soft scrape of his sneakers against the hardwood floor and your own breath, uneven and shallow.

his eyes drop to your lips, and you feel it everywhere. that pull, that heat, the tension you’ve been pretending doesn’t exist.

“jungkook,” you start, but the words catch in your throat. you don’t even know what you want to say anymore.

he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat, hands resting on your waist, fingers warm and steady. his thumb traces gentle circles over your hip bone and your whole body flinches. not from fear, but from the desperate want you’ve been burying.

“we don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice thick with something unspoken. “if you’re not sure.”

but you are sure. so sure it’s like your skin is buzzing with it. the words get stuck, heavy and dangerous on your tongue. so instead, you lean in and kiss him.

his hands clamp around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. your back hits the cool wall, and he groans low into your mouth, raw and hungry. this kiss isn’t gentle or careful. it’s messy and urgent and full of everything you both tried to hide. teeth brush, tongues swirl, and the heat between you spikes, swallowing everything else whole.

your fingers clutch the hem of his shirt, tugging him closer like if you let go, he might disappear. he lets out a shaky breath against your cheek, whispering, “fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

you laugh breathless, wild and free. “you’re the one who kissed me first.”

he smirks, eyes dark and fierce. “you didn’t stop me.”

he kisses you again, deeper, slower now, like he’s memorizing every second. his body presses against yours, warm and grounding, and you feel it in your knees, your spine. the way your hips instinctively grind against him.

his hands roam down your back, slow and reverent, settling on your hips. you roll into him, the soft, strangled sound he makes vibrating low in your chest.

“bed,” you whisper, tugging his hand toward your bedroom.

he doesn’t hesitate.

you stumble onto the mattress, tangled and laughing softly, breathless and raw. his mouth traces a path down your neck, hot and open, hungry for you. when he finds that spot just below your jaw and sucks gently, your hips jerk up without thinking, desperate for more.

“jungkook-” your voice trembles.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his hair is tousled, lips red and swollen, chest rising and falling fast like he’s been running.

“say stop if you need to,” he says, voice steady but serious. “i mean it.”

you nod. “i will.”

he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring you, the way you respond, like this isn’t just a hookup. like it’s never been just fake dating. like it was always meant to end here.

your clothes come off in pieces. his shirt first, then yours, the rest falling away like rules you don’t care about anymore. he takes his time, hands and lips exploring, drinking in every inch of your skin.

his eyes never leave yours, like he’s trying to memorize the way your skin shivers under his touch, the way your breath hitches, the soft gasp when his fingers trace your curves.

when he finally touches you where you want him most, you gasp, hips lifting off the bed. his fingers are patient, sure, and he watches your face closely, wanting to remember the way you fall apart for him.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

you pull him down by the neck, lips finding his in a hungry kiss. you moan into him as his fingers work inside you, slow and steady.

“need you,” you whisper, dazed. “please.”

he doesn’t tease or make you beg. he just nods, kisses you like a promise, and slides in slow and warm.

you both exhale, breath mingling, like you’ve been holding this in for weeks.

he stays still for a moment, forehead resting against yours, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to lose control.

“you okay?” he whispers.

“yeah,” you breathe. “you?”

he nods, eyes dark and soft. “you feel like a fucking dream.”

he moves slowly at first, wanting to make this last, every push and pull unraveling the tension and doubt you’ve been holding in since this all started.

you grip him tight, fingers tangled in his hair, gasping his name when he hits deeper, harder. the way he holds you. steady and sure, afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. makes everything feel overwhelming and perfect all at once.

when you come, it crashes over you like a wave, and you don’t even realize you’re crying until his lips brush your cheek, tasting salt.

“hey,” he whispers, worried. “you okay?”

you nod, arms tightening around him, still trembling. “i’m just. i don’t know. it’s a lot.”

he kisses you again, softer now, full of everything he can’t say. “i know.”

you feel him relax against you, body shuddering with release, holding on like this is real and not going to disappear with the morning light.

you stay tangled up for a while, neither of you speaking, just breathing each other in. the kind of silence that isn’t empty, but thick and trembling, full of everything you can’t bring yourself to say out loud.

jungkook’s skin is hot against yours, sweat cooling slowly where your chests are pressed together. his fingers keep moving. slow, lazy strokes across your waist, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. like he can’t believe you’re real.

his nose nudges against your temple. he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t move like he’s about to leave or shift or joke it off. he just stays there, chest rising and falling, grounding you. tethering you to the moment. to him.

your hand rests over his heart. it’s still pounding, not fast exactly, but steady. purposeful. like it’s trying to convince you that this is safe. that he’s not going anywhere.

you don’t know how long you lie like that. time stretches and folds around you, soft and slow and impossibly loud. his breath, his heartbeat, the faint creak of the bedsprings when either of you shifts. it’s all you can hear.

your legs are tangled. your bodies too. the sheets twisted down at your calves, the warmth of his thigh against yours. he smells like skin and salt and something sweet, like your shampoo mixed with his cologne. you think you could live in this second. you think it might kill you.

your chest tightens.

finally, your voice cracks the stillness, soft and broken.

“we can’t go back after this.”

your words land heavy in the air between you. irreversible. real.

he doesn’t move. doesn’t even blink.

then, slowly, his hand curls around the back of your neck. his thumb brushes your jaw as he tilts your face to his. his eyes are wide open. unreadable.

“i don’t want to,” he says quietly. like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

you swallow hard. your throat burns.

you want to ask what this means now. what you mean to him. but the words won’t come. you’re too scared the answer will crack whatever this is wide open.

so instead, you just lean in. and he meets you halfway.

it’s not a desperate kiss this time. it’s not frantic or needy or wild. it’s slow. deep. the kind of kiss that says stay. the kind that lingers even after it’s over.

he pulls you closer, presses your body to his like he wants to feel every inch of you again. your fingers ghost down his spine, nails dragging lightly, and he shivers under your touch.

you think he might kiss you forever if you let him.

and honestly, you might let him.

when he pulls back, your noses brush. his eyes are so soft you almost have to look away.

“you ruined me tonight,” he whispers, almost a laugh in his voice. “completely.”

you huff out a shaky breath. “you ruined me.”

“good.”

he presses another kiss to your cheek. your temple. your shoulder. like you’re his and he doesn’t need to hide it anymore.

your heart aches in your chest. too full and too fragile. because he’s looking at you like this is already more than a game. like it always was.

and god, you hope that’s true.

because if it isn’t. if this was just a heat of the moment thing, if you wake up tomorrow and he’s distant again. you don’t know if you’ll be able to pretend anymore.

you don’t know if you’ll be able to survive going back to just faking it.

so you stay. you stay in his arms. in his bed. in this strange, shimmering space between what you were and what you might be.

he falls asleep before you do.

you listen to the sound of his breathing, steady and slow, your fingers drawing mindless shapes on the bare skin of his chest.

you stare at the ceiling, the streetlight casting soft lines across the ceiling, and try not to think about what comes next.

but it’s too late.

because you already crossed the line.

and you already know you’ll never be able to go back

you wake up to light.

not the soft glow of morning creeping gently through your curtains, but the kind that’s already taken over the room—bold, golden, unignorable. it warms your skin before your eyes even open, and for a second, you forget where you are. forget what last night was.

until you feel the weight of an arm across your waist. warm, heavy, anchoring.

until you shift slightly and hear the soft exhale right behind your ear.

you turn your head. slowly. carefully. like if you move too fast it’ll dissolve into a dream.

but it’s not a dream. it’s jungkook.

his lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks, his mouth parted just slightly in sleep. one curl falls over his forehead and your hand itches to push it back. his grip on you tightens instinctively like even in sleep he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

you lie there frozen, but not from fear. from the aching tenderness of it all. the vulnerability. the raw quiet of waking up beside someone and not needing to speak.

until he stirs.

his brows twitch slightly, nose scrunching the way it always does when he’s waking up against his will. his fingers flex against your stomach and then curl again, holding you closer. and then his eyes blink open, slowly.

he sees you. and doesn’t flinch.

doesn’t pull away. doesn’t panic.

instead, he smiles. soft and sleepy and real.

“hey,” he whispers, voice rough and low, like it hasn’t been used in hours.

you bite your lip. “hi.”

he shifts onto his elbow, eyes sweeping over you. not in the way he did last night. hungry and burning. but in a way that feels dangerous in its own right. gentle. present. like he’s really seeing you now.

“you didn’t leave,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your side.

you blink at him, surprised. “i live here.”

he grins. “right.”

a pause.

“you didn’t kick me out,” he adds, quieter this time.

your throat tightens.

“i didn’t want to.”

neither of you says what’s echoing between the lines: i wanted you to stay. i wanted you to wake up beside me. i wanted this.

his smile fades, but not in a bad way. just in that serious, grounding kind of way that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “last night…”

“i know.”

“it wasn’t-” he falters, biting the inside of his cheek, then trying again. “i didn’t just want it to happen. i needed it to.”

your breath catches.

“i know,” you say again, because it’s all you can manage.

but he’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for something.

so you swallow hard. sit up a little, blanket pooling at your waist. “what happens now?”

he sits up too, one knee bent, one arm still draped over your waist like he’s not ready to let go. he doesn’t look away when he says it.

“we stop pretending.”

the words land like a hit to the ribs. not painful. just sudden. sharp. real.

you blink. “you mean…”

“i mean i don’t want to fake date you anymore,” he says, gaze unwavering. “i want to actually date you.”

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. he keeps going.

“i want to take you out. hold your hand in public. not just when we’re playing some stupid game. i want to kiss you because i can, not because it’s part of the deal.”

you’re still frozen, staring at him like your brain is catching up to your heart.

“but only if you want that too,” he finishes. “only if this meant something to you.”

you let out a shaky breath, laugh a little, disbelieving. “jungkook, i… of course it meant something. i wouldn’t have let it happen if it didn’t.”

“then say yes.”

you glance down at your hands, then back at him. and this time, you don’t hesitate.

“yes.”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. then he leans in, presses the gentlest kiss to your lips. one that tastes like morning and honesty and second chances.

“good,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours. “because you’re mine now. for real.”

you don’t say anything back right away. just wrap your arms around him, fingers sliding into the warm skin of his back.

because you know what he means.