Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 68: Clay-Stained Kisses

I freeze, lifting my gaze slowly. "Did you just-"

Tae grins, entirely unrepentant. "What? Just getting into the spirit of things."

"Oh, you want to play dirty?" I flick the clay on my hands just the same and lands on his forehead

He gasps, eyes widening. "Hyung!"

"You started it!" I defend, but I'm already laughing because he looks so cute-his expression a perfect mix of outrage and delight.

He doesn't hesitate. With a flick of his fingers, it lands this time on my temple. "There. Now we match."

I narrow my eyes, but I can't hold back my grin. "You're impossible."

"You love me," he says simply, and my heart stumbles. Because it's true.

Before I can respond, the instructor interrupts with a good-natured chuckle. "I see we have some artists taking creative liberties tonight!"

The class laughs, and Tae leans in conspiratorially. "She gets it."

We finish shaping our clay pieces-Tae makes a small bowl, while mine is supposed to be a cup but is definitely leaning sideways.

Then we move to the pottery wheel.

"This is where things get really fun," the instructor says, demonstrating how to center the clay on the wheel.

"Gentle hands, steady pressure. And if your piece collapses-well, that's just part of the process."

I take a seat behind my wheel, but before I can even touch the clay, Taehyung pulls his chair beside mine.

I raise a brow. "What are you doing?"

His expression is the picture of innocence. "Helping you."

"Tae-"

"Shh," he soothes, reaching for my hands. "Let me be your muse, Joonie."

I laugh under my breath but let him guide my fingers over the clay. The wheel spins, our hands working together, the cool earth shifting under our touch.

The world narrows to this-his breath fanning against my neck, the quiet hum of the wheel, the warmth of his hands over mine.

It's intimate in a way I wasn't expecting, something deeper than playfulness. Something real.

At some point, his cheek brushes against my temple, and I hear him sigh contentedly. "I like this," he murmurs.

"Making something together."

My heart clenches. I swallow, my voice coming out softer than I mean it to. "Me too, bear cub."

We sit like that for a while, our laughter mingling with the rhythmic spin of the wheel, our fingers shaping something that might not be perfect but is ours.

And maybe that's the whole point.

After a while, I settle in front of my pottery wheel, rolling my shoulders back as I press my hands against the damp clay.

The wheel hums softly beneath my touch, the cool earth giving way as I guide it upward, steady and precise.

I'm a fast learner-it's just a matter of pressure, balance, and patience. My fingers move with intention, coaxing the shape into something smooth and even.

Taehyung, on the other hand...

"Hyung!" he wails, and I glance over just in time to see his sculpture crumpling under his own hands.

His mouth hangs open in exaggerated horror, eyes wide as if his very heart has been shattered. "It's deformed!"

I bite back a laugh, leaning in to inspect the damage. His clay, once a promising little vase, is now a sad, lopsided heap.