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

Chapter 82: The Smoldering Fuse

"You really think I won't?"

I should have stepped back.

Should have laughed it off.
Should have told him to fuck off like I always did.

But I didn't.

He was dangerous like this-when he wasn't just teasing for the sake of it but deliberately, intentionally pulling me into his orbit, knowing full well I couldn't escape.

Didn't want to.

And now, standing in this kitchen, the air thick with something too heavy to name, he was watching me like he already knew he had me.

Like he knew every single defense I had left was hanging on by a thread.

He took a step closer.

"Hyung," he murmured, his voice honey-smooth, a deep vibration that curled low in my stomach.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, fixing him with a look I hoped still held some semblance of composure.

But I knew better.
Because Namjoon did too.

He leaned a hand against the counter, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

Close enough that when he tilted his head just slightly, his mouth was near mine-too near.

His eyes flickered downward for a split second.

The air in the room shifted.

Everything between us had been a slow burn, a fuse lit for months, smoldering, crawling toward its inevitable end.

And now, it was all but touching the last inch of the wick, trembling on the edge of combustion.

"Joon," I warned, but it came out softer than I intended.

Too breathy.

His lips curled, and fuck, I knew that look.

He knew what he was doing to me.

Knew that the way he lowered his voice, the way his fingers tapped lazily against the counter like he had all the time in the world-he knew all of it was setting me on fire.

And still, he pressed.

"You keep looking at me like that, hyung."

His voice was pure velvet, sliding over me, wrapping around me.

"Like you want something."

I swallowed, throat dry.

His fingers, long and deliberate, traced along the edge of the counter as he took another step in, just barely closing the distance between us.

My back hit the opposite counter before I even realized I'd been retreating.

His arms caged me in, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating.

"I don't," I tried, but the way he tilted his head-so smug, so knowing-made it obvious neither of us believed that.

"No?"

He hummed, his voice dipping lower, his mouth so, so close.

I couldn't breathe.

He was everywhere, in my space, in my skin, his scent wrapping around me like a vice.

The heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faintest brush of his breath against my jaw.

I was unraveling.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

It was an invitation, a challenge.

I didn't.

His lips hovered, just barely a breath away, as his hand came up, fingers ghosting over my hip, over the hem of my shirt, teasing, waiting.

My body betrayed me.

My hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, and he let out a sharp exhale, a sound that sent something scorching through my veins.

My pulse thundered, every inch of me hyper-aware of how close we were, how easy it would be to just-

Namjoon dipped his head lower, his mouth brushing against my jaw, barely a whisper of contact, and yet it shattered something in me.

"Hyung," he breathed against my skin, and I was gone.

My fingers clenched tighter, and his lips grazed lower, his nose brushing along my jawline, his mouth teasing, always teasing.

I was burning alive.

His lips finally ghosted over mine, the softest, most excruciating touch, and it was like my entire body locked up, seized with anticipation.

One more inch and we would-

And then-
We hear a yawn.
A fucking yawn.

We froze.

Namjoon's body tensed against mine as another, louder yawn filled the room, followed by the shuffle of feet against tile.

"Shit,"

Namjoon muttered under his breath.

And then, like a wrecking ball of the worst possible timing, Taehyung rounded the corner, rubbing sleep from his eyes, completely oblivious to the charged storm he had just walked into.

"Oh, hey," he mumbled, stretching.

"What're you guys doing?"

Silence.

Thick, stifling, utterly livid silence.

Joon was still so close I could feel the frustrated exhale against my skin.

My own pulse was still erratic, my entire body screaming at the interruption, at the cruel, agonizing loss of what was about to happen.

Taehyung blinked at us, then frowned.

"Why do you both look-" He squinted.

"Weird?"

Namjoon exhaled harshly, stepping back, but the tension didn't leave.

It was still there, buzzing between us, thick and undeniable.

And then-

"Fucking hell," Joon muttered, raking a hand through his hair, voice thick with frustration.

"He really has the worst fucking timing."

I swore under my breath, my body still thrumming, still wanting.

Tae yawned again not hearing our frustrations.

"I'm starving, I slept so much"

He mumbles grabbing a glass of water, entirely unaware of how close he'd come to witnessing something irreversible.

Namjoon's eyes flickered back to mine, dark, heavy, promising.

This wasn't over.
Not even close.