He realized that at probably the worst time, when you nervously played with the button of his jeans. He found it endearing that you were shaking. That you were trembling. Yoongi liked it, in the most inappropriate of ways, because you, this clever, talented woman, are being shaken by Yoongi’s simple touch.
Just thinking of the way your skin will bead with sweat as you cum turns Yoongi on.
You fumbled the button open, zipper down, and found Yoongi’s cock.
You droop down to the floor with a thump, as if your legs had given out at just the sight of Yoongi’s firm limb. You greedily took it all into your mouth, sucking and fondling every part you couldn’t fir your lips around. And there are parts you can’t totally fit your lips around.
As your tongue swirled over Yoongi’s tip, he realized yes, that he does like you. That he likes you more than as a friend, work colleague, or hook up.
“Ah, shit,” Yoongi said loudly. It surprised you. “Keep going, babe, keep going.”
When was the last time Yoongi had gotten a blow job like this?
When was the last time Yoongi had gotten a blow job, period?
And you’re sweet little mouth-fuck. That sweet little mouth which isn’t afraid to yell at him or put him in his place.
Yoongi knotted a hand in your hair and dared himself to thrust against your mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he definitely didn’t want to come off as too strong.
Every second there was a gentle thrust into your mouth, a whimper following in suit from you.
Your inner thighs have become slick with wet arousal; you swear to God, your clit has never throbbed so much. The feeling is nice.
But is nice the right word?
You don’t know the right word. There isn’t a word, you decide. It’s just a warm feeling in your chest and core.
You yearn to touch yourself when Yoongi cums into your mouth, coating the back of your throat. He pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you.
You lick your lips, more so at the sight of his still hard member. He isn’t done yet. Thank goodness.
You kiss the tip of Yoongi’s cock, making him shiver.
Yoongi kicks off his jeans, crawling to the floor and over top of you. One hand of his sneaks up your dress, hooking over the band of your underwear.
“Did you like that, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear. His raspy voice made your toes curl. “Did you like sucking me off like a good girl?”
He kissed your jaw.
“Do you remember our first time together?” he asked you, lips still buried in the crook of your neck.
You nodded. “I-yes,” you responded, breathless and winded. Your chest ached with excitement.
“You came so quickly that night.” Yoongi chuckled into your skin. His fingers pulled your underwear down to your thighs. You wiggled them to your knees so you spread out your legs just a little bit more.
“Oh, greedy aren’t you?” Yoongi laughed. He kissed the top of your forehead. “You are full of surprises.”
He pushed his finger against the entrance of your dripping cunt, circling around your walls. With a long finger inside of you, and one thumb poised atop your swollen clit, Yoongi continued to laugh, the sound reverberating against your chest that heaved more and more with frustration.
His thumb circled down, down on the soft bead of nerves. Your back stretched off of the floor as you cried out.
“That’s it…that’s what I wanted to hear. Wanted to hear this the entire fucking meeting,” Yoongi growled in your ear, nibbling the lobe. “Wanted everyone to hear how good I make you feel. Yeah? I do make you feel good, right?”
“Mmm, yes,” you moaned out. Your voice shook with pleasure, especially as his finger curled inside of you. He added another one, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you whimpered.
You aren’t stretched out this way often, so it was sort of uncomfortable for a moment. To ease you through that split second of pain, Yoongi put a bit more pressure on your clit. Lightening struck up your spine in the the bottom of your stomach.
You moaned with tearful pleasure. His fingers slowly scissored apart, leaving you to shudder beneath him.
“That’s it,” Yoongi murmured. He envisioned you in all sorts of places and positions.
“You know I wanted you then and there, right? On the table. In front of everyone. I didn’t care who would see us. But this is much better. Having you all to myself…hearing your pretty, little moans. I don’t want anyone to see you. I want you all to myself. Is that okay?”
You writhed yourself around his fingers, trying to get him to fuck you with them, slowly pry them in and out of you. “Yes,” you cried. “Keep me to yourself. I don’t care.” So long as I can keep you to myself in return.
Yoongi pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his tongue and licking your arousal. “Yummy.”
You couldn’t handle this any longer. You pushed him down to his back and straddled him, consequently tearing the lace underwear that still strapped your legs.
“Oh,” Yoongi said, as if just remembering something. “You should know that I have your bra.”
You stopped in the middle of removing your dress. “What?”
“Your bra. The cute one with the little lace thingies.”
You gaped. “You mean my missing bra?”
“Hey, you left it in the hotel room that night. I just picked it up and took it. It’s in my room. Don’t worry I don’t jerk off with it or anything.”
You cringed. “You’re such a perv, Yoongi, my God.”
“So, do you want it back, or what?”
You sighed inwardly. This man…sheesh.
You simply continued to remove your dress and bra. “I would like it back sometime,” you said, “but not before you fuck me.”
Yoongi sighed, the sound breathy and fairly sexy, as he put his head back. “This is something I could get used to. Condoms are in my back pocket.”
You crawled off him for a moment, earning a playful smack on your ass. You sent him a look to which he just beamed. “You said you wanted me.”
Oh, Yoongi. You grabbed the forgotten skinny jeans and dug into the back pockets. Men’s jeans have deep pockets; you knew that but you just now realized it in full perspective as there are at least fifteen in the ONE pocket.
“You…you really wanted this to happen, didn’t you?”
Yoongi shrugged. He didn’t really meet your eyes, either because he had become embarrassed or he was to preoccupied with your breasts. You restraddled Yoongi’s hips, quickly becoming excited and aroused once more.
“One condition on that bra,” Yoongi said as you rolled a condom down him. “In return, I get another?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“So that’s a no, I am assuming,” he said, once again sighing and leisurely playing with your hair.
“Very bold of you to ask for a bra of mine when we aren’t even dating.”
“I’ll take you to dinner,” Yoongi suggested. He grabbed your hips and shifted you around. You hovered over his twitching cock, the tip just poking at your entrance.
You lowered yourself down onto him and found yourself blind with bliss.
“Ahh, such a good girl, with a good little pussy too.”
You flushed at the cheeks, feeling embarrassed and shy.
“Too much?” Yoongi asked. “Or not enough? You don’t get enough praise, baby girl. Have I mentioned you ought to be fucked daily?”
He held you by the hips, thumbs pressing into your either side of your pelvic bone. You were astonished that he had the strength to fuck you this way, with you on top of him and him on the floor. He somehow managed to find a way.
How have you been surviving this whole time without sex? How?
“Ah, fuck,” you moaned.
Never in a million years has sex ever been so good. If it had, you wouldn’t have been able to focus on w-
“Fuck!” you exclaimed.
“What?” Yoongi grunted, frustrated that he had to stop but clearly something was going on.
“Work! I am missing my shift,” you said, clambering to get up and get your things.
Yoongi held you tightly. “Whoa, this would just be wasting the condom,” he said, in a hint of a whine. “Can’t we just…keep going?”
Your jaw dropped. “Yoongi, I-well. I mean…we could.”
Saying that alone was a rushing experience. Bailing on work for sex…that’s definitely a first.
“Fuck,” you said again when Yoongi slowly began to roll his hips again. Your hand patted around the bed, trying to find your carelessly placed phone without using your eyes.
You had some trouble getting past the passcode prompt, not quite being able to concentrate on what it was exactly.
Yoongi gestured for you to flip over. You rolled onto your back, hair settling down against the floor. You felt very exposed now, your naked body on full display for Yoongi to play with as he pleases.
“Hello, Boss,” Jin Woo cheerfully answered.
“I-Hi. I won’t be making it in today.” You sounded dreadfully strained. You attempted to sound normal while Yoongi slowly pumped in and out of you.
“Really? That’s a first,” Jin Woo laughed.
“Yeah, I am really sorry Jin Woo.”
Yoongi’s eyes hardened. He slammed into you harder. “Don’t say anyone else’s name.”
You bit down on your tongue, holding back high, slutty moans.
“Holy SHIT! Chef, are you having sex with someone right now? I swear I just heard-”
“Get back to work, immediately,” you said flatly as possible. Yoongi lifted both your legs over his shoulders, causing you to accidentally moan into the receiver.
“CHEF! FOR GOD’S SAKE, DON’T MAKE THAT NOISE AGAIN!”
Yoongi promptly plucked the phone from your hand and put it to his ear. “Hello? Jin Woo, is it?”
He slammed against you over and over, the sound of skin slapping together probably very prominent to your employee.
You conjured the image of Jin Woo, Min Dae, and even Soon Li huddled together and listening to the phone on speaker while something was majorly on fire in the foreground.
“I apologize to say Y/n won’t be making it into work today. Possibly tomorrow. Yes, yes, I’ll let her know. Goodbye.”
Yoongi hung up the phone and proceeded to toss it onto the bed.
“Fuck-you-Yoongi-now they all-know.” Your words came out separated and broken in rhythm.
“Exactly,” Yoongi growled, kissing you on the mouth. “They all know that you belong to someone.”
Cuddle Buddies ☁️ MASTERLIST || BTS Fake Text/Social Media/Friends to Lovers? AU Series !! UPDATED !!
📝 ONGOING SERIES
You and Yoongi were always close, sort of. Not physically, at first. For months now, though, you have been self-proclaimed ‘cuddle buddies’.
Your arrangement was the product of sheer coincidence. One night, you just so happened to fall asleep in his arms – and the next morning Yoongi woke up the best rested in years, leading him to believe you are the only cure for his escalating insomnia.
Slowly but surely, however, things are starting to get … complicated. Because Yoongi is not the only one acquiring an increasing liking for your company …
You x Idol! Yoongi ❓ You x Idol! Taehyung ❓
❕ Best Friend Jimin ❕
fluff, angst, mentions of (past) sexual abuse/trauma, possiblehints at/of smut, mentions of alcohol abuse, strong language/cursing
Summary: You give Yoongi a taste of his own medicine.
Yoongi growled, deep in his throat. You had bee ignoring him just about all day long, teasing him with your clothing choices. From his shirt and too short shorts all morning to amuch to a revealing dress for your afternoon out. He didn’t know who would stare at you, or who you had gone out to see. You had told him you were meeting with your group of friends, but how was he supposed to know the truth when he was stuck at home doing nothing but meaninglessly work the afternoon away.
Now though, he was upset and determined to get your attention. Now that you lay in your shared bed in nothing but your underwear and a thin t-shirt, he had a long night planned for you.
He quietly stepped over in large strides and as he crawled onto the mattress next to you, he took notice of your half asleep state that was taking over. However you did not move your body an inch even when he laid himself down, practically on top of you and whispered in your ear.
“Someones been a bad baby, I think daddy might need to punish them…” His breath sent a shiver down the entirety of your body. You whined quietly in displeasure, seeing as you were to tired for his horny ass at the moment. But you still rolled over onto your back and opened your eyes, despite the tiredness knocking at your mental state.
“I-I wasn’t the only one who was bad today, though.“ You slurred sleepily, yawning and rubbing your runny, tired eyes. Yoongi chuckled at your cute and tired state, if it weren’t for the knocking memory of your behavior that day he would have been cooing and praising you.
“Oh really? Who else has been bad today…?” He asked. You hummed quietly trying to keep yourself up to get what you ‘supposedly’ deserved.
“You haven’t…. given me kisses for sooo long.” You murmured. Almost dozing of in the middle of the sentence. Yoongi’s eyebrows raised, had he really. He thought back to his past few days and sighed at the fact that you were right. He hadn’t given you kisses for almost three days strait now. He smiled down at you, your eyes kept blinking slowly till you finally decided on keeping them shut.
Yoongi leaned down and pecked your forehead, noticing how you inhaled deeply, as if you had just redeemed something. And at this rate you did. He trailed kisses from your forehead to your cheeks and to your chin, feeling your baby relax every time he placed a peck of his lips down.
“Your right baby, I’m sorry” he muttered, finally kissing your lips and feeling the faint smile off of your them.
synopsis: you and yoongi are the unconventional type
pairing: domestic!yoongi x reader
genre: fluff, slice of life, lowkey actual crack
warnings: some adult language, alcohol, too many mentions of a Pintrest board, and making eggs
preface: the sequel to my short drabble, a casual proposal, but could be read alone! (the read more link probably won’t work on mobile, apologies)
“WHAT! WAIT! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to propose?” Hoseok shrieked. He dropped his spoon back into his bowl with a loud clunk. The noise was deftly drowned out by the incessant chatter of their fellow restaurant patrons along with the hustle and bustle of the staff, near tripping over themselves in the midst of lunch hour.
Despite that, Yoongi was still quick to shush him. “It’s not like I was planning anything, I just asked.”
Unfortunately, his friend looked even more taken aback by his attempted explanation. “You didn’t pick out a ring? Or get down on one knee? Or take her somewhere romantic? What kind of proposal is that?”
Summary: You learn that the cute barista you’ve been crushing on might have an…otherworldly disposition after you accidentally cut yourself.
A college, coffee shop, and vampire AU all in one!
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, and anything in between
Word Count: 15,639
A/N: This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written. I found this vampire!yoongi fic sitting in my WIPS back at the start of the year. I did my best to pick it up and rewrite the story into something interesting.
Hopefully you guys like it.
In your opinion, college is a fairly safe space. You go to
classes, get along well with friends, enjoy sitting near the pond in the middle
of your campus when the weather is nice. There are rarely any crimes—and when
there are, it’s a stolen bike, a petty fight, or an…“attack”.
But! Attacks are rare.
Hell, sometimes they aren’t even acknowledged. Not everyone
chooses to believe in folklore—that vampires are real and walking among us.
Some people are disbelievers because they’re too scared to
give into the reality that every day they might be around someone who could pin
them down and steal their blood in a split second. Others just…think it’s a
hoax—the few and far between vampire attacks, that is.
“Those people just
want attention. They can fake fang marks like that with special effects
Society seems to be torn on their existence—just as some
people refute the existence of ghosts or spirits, or even god and higher
powers. You for one—well…you believe. At a younger age, in an event you’ll
never forget—you had fallen off a swing at the park and gouged open your knee
on the turf. In what seemed like a flash a shadow had appeared above you—a man
looking to be in his late 20’s to early 30’s. When you glanced up he had knelt
down—his eyes meeting your curious and slightly frightened stare. His eyes were
crimson, and it had seemed as if his irises were pulsing with….with…
“You need to be more
careful,” he had told you, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily against his
throat. He hadn’t bothered to help you up, instead stepping back— fingers
trembling near his sides. “You can’t
afford to get hurt around others if you keep smelling like that.”
And then he was gone. But despite his disappearance, his
words stuck with you—lingered in the back of your mind for days—weeks, even.
What do I smell like?
You had wondered, but had never bothered to search for the answer. Anytime you
pondered potentially pricking your finger or making a harmless little cut,
immediately those crimson eyes popped into your mind, and you found yourself
weak at the knees—unable to follow through.
Years later, you’ve nearly forgotten about that man at the
park—those deep red eyes and resounding words. You’re a college student—you’ve
got papers to write, tests to take, applications to fill out—you don’t have
time to worry about things such as ghosts, or higher powers, or vampires. As if. The only thing on your
mind is class and the coffee you get every morning to help you through the day.
Also the cute, yet bored faced barista at the campus coffee
shop you seem to face nearly 7 days a week, regardless of the time you leave to
get your coffee. He’s charming in his own right—dark hair, styled a little
lazily, and dressed in casual clothing that perfectly accentuates his body.
He’s minimal effort good-looking, and you can’t believe how much you’re
attracted to him sometimes.
“Morning,” you greet with a smile when you step up to the
register, the line advancing forward. He doesn’t bother to look up, already
hitting buttons on the screen in front of him and reaching to grab a cup to
write your name on.
“Usual, right?” he asks in a low voice, sounding groggy, and
you stare at the top of his head as he bends to grab a marker that had fallen
on the floor.
“Tired?” you respond instead. He grunts.
You hum in understanding as you watch him press the marker
to the cup, however, instead of writing your name, with sloppy handwriting he
ends up scribbling his own, and you break into a fit of giggles.
Cocking an eyebrow, the male glances up at you.
“Wow, suddenly our names are quite similar,” you say,
pointing at the cup, and when he sees the permanent black Yoongi written he curses.
“Fuck, I’ll get you a new one–,” he begins apologetically,
but you cut him off.
“No! It’s ok, it’s just a cup and you already know me, so
it’s no big deal,” you laugh, smiling at him. He pauses.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just draw a little heart next to it to make it cute
and I think I’ll be fine,” you tease, and while Yoongi rolls his eyes, he can’t
help the small smirk that comes to his face.
“I make no promises with that heart. Go ahead and swipe your
Nodding, you do, and once the charge goes through you walk
to the other end of the counter to wait, knowing by now that Yoongi will simply
take your receipt and throw it away, since neither of you want it.
As you wait for your drink to be made, you pull your phone
out and scroll through your twitter feed, trying to catch up on all the latest
news and gossip before you run off to class. However, your finger only manages to
swipe upward a few times before there’s a gasp behind you, and you turn to find
a girl staring in horror at her phone which has just landed face down on the
“Oh no,” you say, highly sympathetic as you squat down and
gently pick the phone up since she’s clearly too petrified to do it herself.
You peek at it, tilting the screen your way, and the hiss that escapes your
lips is enough to let the girl know that she’ll be needing a new phone sometime
“Shit, the glass,” you mumble as you return the phone to
her, managing to mirror her thankful, albeit disappointed smile. She says that
she’ll clean the glass up since it was her fault, but you tell her that you’ve
got it, and reach over to grab a napkin.
“Don’t touch it, Y/N. We’ll clean it up,” you hear Yoongi’s
voice command from the background, almost warning you to not do anything
stupid, but you wave him off. You’ll be fine, it’s just a little glass.
So, putting the napkin next to the tiny shards, you gently
use the side of your hand to brush the pieces onto the napkin. In the
background Yoongi calls your name to get your drink, and then immediately sighs
when he sees you bent down, trying to macgyver glass onto a napkin like a cave
“You’re dumb,” he grumbles as you stand up, turning to face
him with the napkin full of glass in your palm.
“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” you grin triumphantly, but just
as you transfer the napkin to Yoongi to be disposed of, a piece of glass tears
through the thin layers of paper and scrapes your skin.
“Ow, fuck,” you curse, examining the damage as Yoongi
hurriedly takes the glass from you and tosses it into the waste bin. You hold
your palm out, fingers lightly pressing at the cut—red seeping at the edges—but
before you can move to find something to clean yourself up, Yoongi’s hands are
embracing your hurt one.
“Yoongi?” you say in surprise, watching as his thumbs brush
against your palm, pressing down slightly on either side of the scrape. At the
action more blood appears, and you glance up at him in shock.
pairing: Yoongi x Reader genre/warnings: tattooartist!yoongi, florist!oc, tattoos, piercings, smut, fluff, angst words: 10.5k summary: when Yoongi turns to your shop for drawing practice inspiration, neither of you could have forseen the way things unfold and just how deep you both would fall.
a/n: Happy Yoongi Day! <3
Wincing at the burn of too-hot tea scalding the end of your tongue, you sigh and let your gaze return to the barren street outside, the light trickle of flowing water against the glass windows all that was left of the sudden autumn rain. The sky was still somewhat grey, not quite yet clear from the clouds, and you easily found yourself getting lost in the blue that was cracking through.
It’d been a quiet season in general in the shop, but even more so than normal this morning, and not even just in the flower shop but out on the street as well. But, what more could you really expect from a Monday morning?
You’re staring down at the leftover crumbs from your toasted croissant you’d nabbed from the café on the corner for lunch when the warmth of your shop is interrupted by a painfully cold rush of air. Your eyes shoot up at the chiming bells’ cue of a visitor, readying your face with a polite smile even before you connect gazes with the possible customer.
Their back is turned to you as they push the door closed against the wind, and it gives you time to brush the paper bag into the bin below the counter before they spin to face you, but you could already tell by the sheer width of their shoulders that it was man.
“Hi, can I help you with something?” Your voice crackles slightly from lack of use and you clear your throat quietly, a natural smile curving your lips as he meets your eyes, and you’re caught off guard at the depth of his. Long pale fingers interrupted with scrawls of black on his knuckles lift to pull the scarf that’s wrapped around his chin open and down his chest and it takes you a moment to realize its tattoos adorning his skin.
“I mean, I’m not really sure what I’m actually after so I can’t say for sure.” Now that his scarf is lining the lapels of his thick coat you can see a peek of more black designs breaking the neckline of his t-shirt and disappearing beneath. He gives you a warm smile as he crosses towards the arranged buckets of single flowers, and you pull yourself from your stool to meet him.
Warnings: Taehyung’s gets a little smutty, but other than that this is pure fluff!
… Also, these are really fucking long. Apologies.
“Shove over.” You give a gentle push to Jin’s shoulder, frowning at the way he’s leisurely spread himself over the entirety of the couch with little to no consideration of where you’re supposed to sit. Half asleep already he prises one eye open to peer up at you, a lazy smile pulling at his full lips. “C’mon,” you prompt again, huffing, “My back’s killing me.”
Pregnancy is a joy; that’s for certain. With each week that rushes by you swear your joints become less and less able to withstand the wear and tear of everyday life, and now, having spent twenty minutes at the kitchen sink having washed up this evening’s dirty plates, it’s protesting more than ever.
“I told you you should’ve let me do them,” Jin sighs, sitting himself up and straightening out a crick in his neck as you dig your fingertips into the flesh at either side of your spine, trying to massage away the pain.
“Maybe.” You arrange the sofa pillows into an arrangement that appears more inviting, scowling further at how difficult your growing bump makes even the most simple of things - like bending over. You’re a little scared about how big you’re going to get, actually; you’ve still got eight weeks left till your due date and as far as you’re concerned you’re already the size of a house. “A more chivalrous man might’ve just insisted he do it, you know.”
“I cooked dinner!” he exclaims, feigning an indignant expression that only manages to last until you roll your eyes at him, cracking into a smile once more. “And you know there’s no arguing with you at the moment.”
“I’ll give you that,” you concede, turning on the spot in readiness to ease yourself down into the cushions but halting when Jin gives a gentle tug on your hand, pulling you towards his end of the sofa.
“C’mere,” he beckons, “I’m comfier anyway.” Smiling, you allow your husband to slowly ease your aching body onto his lap. He’s warm and he’s solid against your back, and it feels so good to finally sit down with Jin’s arms wrapped around you, the feel of his breath on your neck.
You shift your weight and he ‘oofs’ as you feel the meat of his thigh move underneath you, rolling against the bone.
“Careful; you’re not so light these days,” he chortles teasingly, placing a kiss on your shoulder through the soft fabric of your sweater.
Jin clearly thinks nothing of his comment, and deep down you know he doesn’t really mean it - he’s just being him, playful Jin - but when you’ve already been feeling a little insecure about the ever increasing mass of your stomach his words really hit home. You fall silent as the two of you sit watching mindless television, one of Jin’s hands absentmindedly stroking your bump up and down, but after a couple of minutes he seems to realise something’s wrong, resting his chin on your shoulder and peering up at you.
“Are you ok?” he asks softly, passing a tender touch over your side, “Is it really hurting that bad?”
“No,” you answer him quickly. You wouldn’t want him to start thinking there was actually something wrong with you; he’s been protective enough whilst you’ve been pregnant as it is. “Am I… do I really feel that much heavier?” you blurt out when he insists on continuing to look at you with those big brown eyes of his. His expression becomes one of horror once he realises that you actually thought he was being serious.
“Baby, no, I was only joking!” he assures you, grabbing a hold of one of your hands and lacing your fingers together as he places a softest of kisses against your cheek, “There’s barely a difference, I promise.” Jin smiles apologetically on pulling back and when you give him a timid, answering smile in return, mollified, his smile grows, handsome face aglow.
“In fact,” he continues, “I think you could do with fattening up a little more. How about I make us some dessert, hm? I’ll even wash up this time, ok?”
❝ Yoongi likes to destroy, and you like to create. But love blooms in unusual places, and between unlikely hearts. ❞
➸ prompt: I accidentally grabbed your sketchbook in art class, and it’s filled with amazing doodles… wait is that supposed to be you and me… and are we…???
➸ pairing: bad boy yoongi x reader
➸ requested by anon | 2.1k words | fluff
➸ author’s note: I strayed a little far from the prompt with this one, but… this is what felt right for the story… so here you go, fluff and bad boy Yoongi! A wonderful concoction I never knew I needed ‘till just now! Also, this was kind of inspired by ‘secret garden’ by oh my girl!
Floriography. Or the language of
flowers. It’s another way to talk outside of the words you always find
yourself struggling with, giving clumsy constructions and hesitating answers every time
you open your mouth.
You’d much rather communicate
with flowers. And drawings. Giving a sketchbook’s worth of your feelings, captured better than words ever could, is so much easier.