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

Chapter 108: Confessions, Cranes & Cosmic Chaos

The kind that makes everything hurt less.
Everything feel possible.

I reach for him.
Not clumsy. Not shy. Just sure.

My fingers curl around the edge of his hoodie, and his eyes flutter half-closed like even that touch is a promise he's been waiting to hear.

There's no hesitation this time.

I whisper against his lips.

"I should've known. You never let go of things that matter."

Then I kiss him.

It's not a firework.
It's a sunrise.
Unfolding slow, warm, and full of wonder.

His lips are pillowy and parted, already sighing into the contact like he's been holding that breath for years.

The kiss starts gentle.

A question.
Then an answer.
Then a revelation.

We find the rhythm together-like a song only we know. Like the beat that's been buried beneath our ribs all this time was just waiting for this harmony.

His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing under my cheekbone in a way that makes my skin burn and melt at the same time.

My fingers fist into his hoodie, dragging him closer, until there's no space left between us.

Only skin.
Only breath.
Only us.

He tastes like sleep and laughter and a little bit like honey.

Sweet. Familiar. Addicting.

I sigh into his mouth, and he catches it like it's sacred.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss-not aggressive, but certain.

Tender in the way that says you matter. I see you. I'm not going anywhere.

I kiss him back like I've been aching for this-because I have. God, I have.

His lips mold perfectly to mine, soft pressure turning into slow longing.

Tongue brushing-barely-a test, a tease, a silent is this okay?

It's more than okay.

My heart thunders in my chest as I open for him. Let him in.

And when our tongues finally touch, it's dizzying.

Not messy. Not rushed.
Just full of meaning.

He moans into the kiss-a soft, caught sound that makes me shiver.

His other hand slides into my hair, gentle but firm, grounding me in place like he's scared I'll disappear.

But I won't.
Not now. Not ever.

He tugs slightly on my hoodie strings, and the motion is playful and desperate all at once-closing the last inch between our bodies.

Our knees bump.
Then our chests.
Then our hearts.

I swear, if you listened close enough, you could hear them sync.

We kiss again and again, breaths mingling, lips brushing, trading warmth like it's currency.

Each kiss is deeper. Slower.
Filled with all the words we couldn't say before.

My tears?
They dry between his kisses.

Not because he fixes me.
But because he holds me like I don't need fixing at all.

He kisses me like I'm something precious.
And I kiss him like he's already home.