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

Chapter 85: Need like Prayer 🔥

His body clenches like it's trying to memorize every inch of me. I lean over him, pressing my chest to his back, my lips at his ear.

"You feel that?" I whisper, voice guttural.

"That's me-deep inside you. Exactly where I belong."

He moans-high and shattered-head turning to the side, his cheek pressed into the mattress as he tries to speak, tries to move, but I hold him in place with a palm flat against his lower back.

"Don't move," I snarl, tightening my grip.

"You take what I give you."

He whimpers, nodding frantically, legs trembling.

Then I start to move.

Slow. So slow it's unbearable.

I draw back just an inch, feel his body try to follow me, desperate to stay connected. I push back in, agonizingly slow, grinding deep.

"Fuck," he gasps,

"Yoongi-please-I need-"

"You don't tell me what you need,"

I cut him off, voice sharp and dark.

"You beg for it. You prove you deserve it."

He shudders beneath me, a mess already, and I'm just getting started.

"Please," he whispers.

"Please, Yoongi-harder. Use me."

God.

The way he says it-like he's offering himself, like he's starving for it-sets something alight in me.

I roll my hips forward again, harder this time, watching his hands curl into fists, the sheets twisting in his grip.

I wait just a beat-just long enough for him to register it-then roll my hips forward again, slow, delicious torture.

He's trembling, moaning uncontrollably, a mess of sound and sensation. I watch his back arch, his chest rise and fall like he's drowning in it.

"You begged for this, baby,"

I grunt, grabbing his hips and dragging him back into each slow grind.

"Begged to be ruined."

"I-I can't-please, Yoongi, harder-please-"

"Oh, now you want it harder?"

I mock, slamming into him again, sharp, brutal.

"Can't take the tease, can you, slut?"

He screams into the sheets, words turning to curses, hips bucking to meet every thrust.

I ram into him, relentless, watching his body rock with every punishing stroke.

"You're so tight," I groan, head falling back.

"So fucking good for me."

He moans again, louder this time, and I can feel the way his body shakes under mine, caught in that liminal space between pleasure and destruction.

I thrust again-slow, but deep-and he chokes on a sob.

"You're crying already, baby?"

I whisper, dragging my tongue along his spine.

"We've barely started."

"Yoongi, please-please-harder, I can take it-"

"You will take it,"