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

Chapter 122: In Every Universe, It's You 🔥

His legs tremble under my grip.

His voice is all breath and barely held-together moans.

"Shit-Jimin-" he groans, bucking slightly.

I press down harder on his thighs to keep him grounded.

"Let me have this," I whisper. "Let go."
He lets go.

Not all at once. But in shivers.

In whispered curses. In the way his head tips back against the pillows and he whimpers my name like it's the only thing keeping him tethered.

"Baby-please-God-your mouth-"

He's babbling now, chest rising in desperate waves.

I feel drunk on it.
Not just the heat of him, the taste of him-but his unraveling.

The way he clings to me like I'm the only anchor he has left in this universe we built together.

I pull back slightly, kiss the crease of his hip. His thighs twitch.

"Don't tease me," he says, nearly pleading.

I glance up again, lips wet, breath shallow. "You look so wrecked."

"You wrecked me," he growls, a laugh dissolving into another broken gasp.

"Good."

And then I go again.
Deeper. Slower.

Letting every movement, every exhale, every groan become something holy.

I let him tremble. I let him fall apart.

The sounds he makes-low, deep, reverent-curl in my stomach and light my veins on fire.

"Jiminie-ah-please, please-"

His voice is unmade now. Uncontrolled.
It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

He's sweating. Glowing. Hands fisted in my hair. Eyes squeezed shut like the pleasure is too much to bear.

And when I finally slow, pressing my cheek to his thigh and breathing him in, his entire body goes still.

Quiet.
Ruined.
Loved.

He looks down at me, eyes glassy.

"I can't-" he breathes, "I don't even have words."

I crawl back up his body, kissing his chest, his neck, his jaw. He grabs me the moment I'm within reach and pulls me into a kiss so deep I feel it in my spine.

When we part, he's breathless.

"You're everything," he whispers. "Everything."

I kiss him again. Slower this time.
Just lips and warmth and knowing.

Then he rolls us over, slowly, gently, and leans above me, hair falling around his face like a curtain.

And his eyes-those endless, starlit eyes-darken with something new.

Something deliberate.

"Now," he says, voice low, deep, velvet-dark. "It's my turn."

And I smile.
Because I'm ready.
Because I trust him.

Because in every timeline, I'd choose this again.

He's above me now, arms braced on either side of my face, and for a moment - he doesn't move.

He just looks.

Eyes roving over me like he's cataloging every inch, every freckle, every breath I take.