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

Chapter 68: Clay-Stained Kisses

"That's because you kept messing with it, baby bear," I tease, tapping his nose lightly with my pinky.

Taehyung huffs, lips pursed, pretending to sulk. He crosses his arms, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"I just wanted to make it perfect."

I shake my head, but I don't correct him. Instead, I watch him.

The soft golden lighting catches on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the faint streak of dried clay on his skin.

His brow is furrowed in concentration, lower lip jutted out slightly, eyes scanning the mess in front of him as if contemplating whether it's worth salvaging.

I should look away. I should focus on my own work.

But I don't.

Because he's beautiful-completely, utterly breathtaking in a way that makes my chest feel too full, too tight.

Like if I don't do something-if I don't touch him, kiss him, have him-I might just burst.

And then-of course-he ruins the moment.

With a wicked little glint in his eyes, Taehyung dips his fingers into the wet clay and actually swipes a streak of it across my forearm, not just flick, this time a long line of clay is on my cheek.

I pause.
Look at my arm. Look at him.

Taehyung's grin is nothing short of dangerous. "Oops?"

I narrow my eyes, voice dropping low. "You wanna play like that, baby?"

His smirk falters-just slightly-because he knows me. He knows exactly where this is headed.

Before he can scramble away, I catch his wrist and drag my clay-covered fingers down his cheek in revenge. The soft, wet earth smears across his skin, leaving a messy trail in its wake.

He gasps, loud and dramatic, as if I've just committed an unspeakable crime. "OMG I didn't do yours that long!"

"All is fair in love and war."

It's the only comment I give before I strike again, swiping another streak of clay across his jaw.

What happens next is absolute chaos.

Taehyung lunges, laughing wildly as he tries to retaliate, but I'm faster. I grab his wrists, pinning them against the table, grinning down at him.

He squirms, breathless with laughter, twisting in my hold, but I don't let go.

"Let me go!" he demands, but there's no real weight behind it-his voice is light, teasing.

I tilt my head, dragging a clay-covered finger down the sharp line of his jaw, smirking as his breath hitches.

"I like seeing you like this."

Taehyung stills.

His laughter fades into something softer, something heavier. The playful spark in his eyes flickers, something warmer taking its place.