#...if you really dance they think you are insane...

[matchpointfaist]

a love like religion ˚₊‧꒰ა♡໒꒱ ‧₊˚

sheltered! art x flirty reader pt iii

the third time he saw you, art couldn’t decide between happy and horrified. he’d been doing his best to stay focused on his studies, his faith, and his training; on anything but you. his thoughts drifted, sure, but for the most part he thought he was doing pretty well. an entire week passed, and he managed to avoid you on campus, ignoring his fleeting thoughts of wishing to see you, even for just a moment.

he knew, in the back of his mind, that attending his teammates birthday party was a mistake. he knew you were in the same social circle, that you’d probably be there, all gorgeous and flirty and drunk and- it was just best if he didn’t see you.

he told himself he wasn’t taking extra care in his appearance for you; he just wanted to look good, that’s all. a birthday party is a big deal. so he got dressed in a button up and jeans, made sure his hair was perfect and his cologne wasn’t too strong, and tried to keep his head high as he entered the already too loud party.

almost immediately, his eyes fell to you. everyone’s did, though, he couldn’t blame himself. you were a vision of pink and silver shimmer, your hair falling down the dangerously low back of your dress. his breath quickened, his mind racing with excuses on how to get out of here before you noticed- and then, your sharp eyes were on his, a dangerous little smile on your glossy lips.

“donaldson!” your voice carried over the music like a melody, like some sort of siren call crafted just for him, rendering him helpless, “cmere!” and he practically floated to your side, a nervous smile on his lip, “uh, hi, hey. i didn’t know you’d be here,” he managed, biting the inside of his cheek and hoping he didn’t think too stupid.

“course id be here,” you grinned, “what’re you drinkin? i can get you a refill,” he shook his head, “no, i don’t drink, i can just get a water,” “you don’t drink?” you laughed, like it was the most insane thing in the world, “cmon, artie. come with me,”

so he followed you to the kitchen, let you pour him a cup of stale beer even though he knew it was wrong, it was stupid, it was a sin. “it’s cheap shit, but it’s fine,” you sounded almost apologetic as he sniffed it, trying to keep his nose from scrunching, taking a shy sip. “you look pretty,” he said after a moment, choking down the beer with what he hoped was only a slight grimace.

“you too,” you smiled, and for just a brief second, it seemed real. not like that fake, mocking smile you gave everyone else. in a flash, though, it was gone, replaced by the coyness you showed the rest of the world, “nice shirt. green looks good on you,” you trailed your fingers over the collar of his shirt, and he almost lost it right there in the crowded kitchen, his head swimming. “my grandma got it for me,” his cheeks flushed, acutely aware that was not the right thing to say, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“cute,” you just smiled, “here, finish that and i’ll make you another, kay?” he shook his head, already regretting the first round, “no, i really can’t, i’m sorry,” he rambled, “i have class tomorrow and i don’t drink anyway and-“ “don’t worry about it,” you rested a hand on his shoulder, “it’s fine, artie. we’ll have fun anyway, yeah? you can just watch me drink,” you teased. and oh, he did watch you. all night, you practically dragged him around the party, inches from you at all times.

he watched you laugh, watched you dance, watched you drink and smoke and all the things he’d always be too afraid to do. he watched you in rare moments of your true form as you interacted with your girl friends, watched you shut down the guys that tried to dance too close to you. he watched so intently he felt like he had learned who you really were in just a few short hours, like he’d cracked some sort of code he must have missed before.

at 11, he debated leaving without even saying goodbye, just leaving you to your dancing and talking. but as he turned to leave, you were calling his name, a little pout on your lips that sent him reeling. “i’ll walk you home,” you offered, and he took note of your heels in your hand, your bare feet on the floor. “no, that’s alright,” he smiled slightly, “thank you, though. that’s kind of you,”

“let me,” you pressed, “at least let me walk you out, art,” so he did, of course, like he did everything else you asked of him. you walked with him to his dorm, and when you asked to come in, he let you do that, too. even when his head was screaming at him to stop, that this wouldn’t end well, that temptation was the gateway to sin.

you just looked so fucking pretty, sitting there on his bed, your heels tossed in the floor and the skirt of your dress on his comforter. he wished he could memorize the moment, bottle it up and save it for when this night ended. surely you’d never be back there, he told himself, this was just one time. a lapse in judgment, on both your parts.

but then he was sitting beside you, and your perfume was so sweet, and your words were even sweeter when you asked him about his hometown and his family and the pictures on his bookcase. you sounded like you really cared, like you thought he was interesting. you, of all people.

“you can relax,” you told him, and his heart nearly stopped as you pressed your leg to his, scooting closer on his bed, “jesus, you’re so tense. i’m not gonna bite you, yknow. not unless you like that,” you winked again, and his cheeks were flushed, his mind working overtime to form words that just wouldn’t come.

“you shouldn’t be in here,” he finally blurted out, his eyes wide with fear of the way it sounded, like he didn’t want you there when that could not be further from the truth, “sorry- that came out wrong. i just- i can’t be with anyone, and you’re in my room and it’s late-“

“you can’t be with anyone?” you repeated, a laugh on your lips, “why not, hm? is the devil gonna getcha if you slip up?” and then your hand was back on his necklace like all those days before, touching it, burning into his skin, “live a little, art,”

and then you were kissing him, and oh god, oh god, oh god. it was heaven and hell and a mistake and bliss and burning and soothing and everything he’d been too afraid to admit he’d ever wanted. you tasted like vodka and cotton candy and sacrilege and he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the sounds leaving him from the simple act of your kiss, couldn’t stop his hands from wandering and fuck, you were so warm and so soft and he could’ve died right there when you climbed into his lap, kissing him dizzy, tipping his jaw open with your fingers and dipping your tongue into his mouth.

he would’ve let you do anything in that moment, would’ve let you ruin the path he’d been on for so many years, would’ve let you dismantle all his plans and his faith and anything you wanted if you just kept grinding against him, kept kissing him so sweetly, so dangerously.

and then you sank to your knees off the bed, your hands pulling at his belt and your eyes shining as you blinked up at him, a sultry little smile on your swollen lips. “you’re so hard,” you hummed, sounding content as you pulled down his jeans, “has a girl ever touched you like this, hm?”

“no,” it came out like a whine, his hips bucking into your hand as you ghosted your fingers over his cock, “jesus- no, no one has,” you made a little noise, like you were pleased, and your eyes widened as you pulled down his boxers, taking him into your hand. “this is so- oh, this is so bad,” he hissed in half-pleasure, half-anguish as you pumped him slowly, your lips parting. “why’s it bad?” you asked, so innocently, so sweet, “just making you feel good, art. that’s all,”

“a sin,” he panted, eyes screwed shut, knowing full well if he looked at you he’d finish right there, just from your hand, “this is- sex before marriage is a sin and,” he trailed off, fucking into your hand despite himself, a little whine leaving his throat.

“oh, no,” you tsked, and when he dared to open his eyes, you were pouting up at him, “it’s okay, art. i’ll be good, yeah? i’ll make up for it,” he didn’t have time to question how before your tongue was on him, licking at the tip like a lollipop, and his eyes rolled back, his hands fisted in his sheets.

“forgive me father, for i have sinned,” you murmured, and he choked out a moan as you took him into your mouth fully, so warm and wet and close- fuck, he was so close. you pulled away with a pop!, “holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners,” and then his cock was down your throat, and you were humming around him and he was so fucking close- his hands were in your hair before he could think to stop himself, his hips bucking into your mouth, your name leaving his lips between moans and pleas.

he didn’t know what he was asking for, exactly. forgiveness, release, for you to slow down so this never stopped, but for you to make him cum down your throat like he’d imagined so many times before. one hand was in your hair, the other clutching his sheets as he came, panting and moaning and whining he opened his eyes in just enough time to see you licking your lips clean, wiping your chin with a grin, sucking your thumb into your mouth.

you leaned down, kissing him until all he could taste was salt and sweat and you, god, you, and then you were gone, his lips still hot. “amen,” you whispered against his ear, gathering your heels and pausing at the door, “see you around, art,”

and then, for the second time, you were gone. he looked down, and nearly fainted when he saw what was left in his floor. your pink lacy panties, complete with a little wet patch, bundled up just for him.

“forgive me father,” he mumbled to himself, picking up the lace and tucking it into his nightstand, not even bothering to clean himself up before curling up and drifting off, his mind busy with thoughts of you.

[delswine]

FAKE DATING EP.01 𝄒 ⸝. P. SH ? — #great news!

ᆢ ۢ pairing: idol!sunghoon x idol!insecure!f.reader

ᆢ ۢ notes: hello my dear braincells! sorry for slow updating, think of it as an introduction! bai bai~

ᆢ ۢ — masterlist

you were in the company's boardroom, you were called in alone -which was weird because you were in a group-. a few Hybe executives, a few YG executives, are sitting in front of you, telling you to take on the hate by saying that you are dating one of the most handsome and popular idols of this generation.

your stomach churned with tension as you thought about the insane level of possessiveness fans had over male idols. you knew they would criticize your face, your posture, your voice, your dancing, everything.

you loved music. your band loved music too. you had become a popular band that had held on well thanks to your shared passion for music. you were the one who wrote and composed your own band's songs, you even had credit on the choreography. you knew you were famous for your talent, not your face.

and yes, this part might have been one of the points where you felt insecure. of course you had fans who would give you millions of comments about how beautiful you were, but when k-pop fans liked an idol they would praise them no matter what. even though your group members, many celebrities, and random people you met told you that you were pretty... you couldn't help but be insecure about it. this was mainly because photos of you from when you were a teenager, way before your debut, were leaked a few years ago and netizens made fun of your face. you were dealing with acne like most teenagers, you had uneven facial features, and netizens didn't care that that had changed now.

you knew that the moment your name was mentioned in the same sentence as one of their beloved idols, you would be taken back to the time before you were lynched. your breath trembled. "why me?" they brushed you off with an answer that was clearly prepared in advance. "you and Sunghoon were picked on before because you looked good together. It will help both of your popularity."

bullshit. tou knew it was bullshit. they were going to throw you in to cover up a scandal about the companies.

and what did they say? Sunghoon? Park Sunghoon from Enhypen?

great, you're going to say that you're dating an idol who's been voted fans' favorite for the past three months. you didn't even know him!

you leaned forward slightly, running your hands through your hair and taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. "you do realize this will ruin me, right? any female idol whose name is mentioned with any male idol is instantly lynched."

this time the answer came from your company. "relax y/n, the fans will love you side by side. lynching will definitely come but not as much as you can handle."

ah, you knew it would definitely will be much as you can't handle.

— —

a few days passed quickly, the members of both groups briefed, and finally the day had come for you to meet Sunghoon and set up your story with the staff.

you entered the meeting room, muttering every curse word you knew. you sat down at the chair and started looking at your phone without taking off your mask and hat.

when Sunghoon walked in a few minutes later, you turned your head towards him. you stood up from your seat and bowed, then extended your hand. "y/n from Lavish, it's great to meet you." Sunghoon also took your hand and introduced himself before taking his seat.

he didn't really need an introduction, all you had been doing for the past few days was researching him so you knew everything about him.

"since you're both here, we can adjust your story and make the official announcement."

and they did. your story had been completed with the opinions and approval of everyone except you and Sunghoon, and now they were getting ready to make a press release.

it was a simple and cliché story, actually: Sunghoon had been attracted to you since you were trainee, and you met at an awards ceremony. the cherry on top for the staff was that, quite coincidentally, at an awards ceremony a few years ago, you both left the camera using the restroom at the same time. watching how they came up with it and adapted it into a story had gotten on your nerves because until the past few days, all you knew about Park Sunghoon was his reputation and talents.

but that wasn't the only surprise, they wanted to say that you liked him first when they made the story in the first place. but to your suprise, Sunghoon quickly objected. forcing the team to switch roles so as not to further intensify the lynching that they already knew would be quite intense. you saw even the CEO was momentarily taken aback by the clarity of his attitude.

but anyway, the story was finally complete! now the companies wanted you and Sunghoon to go on a date in a public area as if you were hiding and get caught by the reporters they sent.

every word you heard made you so angry that the blood in your veins rushed to your brain. why did you even get involved in this?

taglist (lemme know if you wanna be added)

@miuwonis @tasnemluvs @littlofang @enhamonsterghoul @shhh1233728 @elegancefr @pasteltheghost16 @tsukikourito @missunicorn @ily4jknity @enhaz1 @riribelle

[im-a-mess-of-a-person]

how the marauders & co. would dance

james: he’s so confident that he looks cool even when he’s doing stupid moves, which is most of the time. he always looks really relaxed and chill. when he really gets into it though, he’s gooooddd, and no one can look away.

sirius: he had to learn ballroom dancing when he was younger, so he has really good rhythm. ho matter what other moves he’s doing, his hips are always swinging with the beat, and it drives remus insane. he’s also just a realllyyy good dancer over all

remus: he thinks he’s an awful dancer so he won’t do it at all unless he’s drunk. but even when he finally loosens up a little, he’s still kind of stiff and self conscious. it’s kind of adorable though. he’ll dance when sirius drags him out to the floor.

peter: he has so many fun dance moves that make everyone laugh. they’re lowkey impressive though like i feel like he would randomly be able to breakdance really well and everyone is just like ??? he definitely can’t slow dance for anything though.

mary: she should be illegal. she is an absolute goddess. hips, shoulders, butt… she is a master and she knows it. she loves to dance and show off, especially for lily. she’s also always wearing the perfect clothes that swish and flow with her body.

lily: she can dance, and she knows it. she doesn’t usually go too hard until she’s had something to drink, and her moves slowly become for suggestive. lowkey feel like she had a ten things i hate about you dancing on the table moment one time and she’s never living it down.

marlene: she doesn’t like dancing. it feels unnatural and weird and the only person she’ll do it with is dorcas, or maybe mary if she’s feeling particularly tipsy generous. she’s not bad at it at all, she just doesn’t like it very much.

dorcas: she can take it or leave it. she’ll usually dance a little at parties, and occasionally she gets in a mood randomly where she really wants to dance in the middle of the day or night. marlene will always sometimes indulge her and dance with her.

pandora: nobody dances like her. she loves to dance, she can feel the music run through her soul. it possesses her, and she flows so beautifully and perfectly with it. she’s so elegant and mesmerizing and the entire room is transfixed and just stops to watch.

evan: he doesn’t much care for dancing. he can ballroom dance, but club/party dancing just isn’t really his thing. he can occasionally be convinced by barty, and he’s pretty decent at it, but he just doesn’t get the hype. he’d rather just watch

barty: oh, he is downright sinful. how does one even move like that?? he loves to dance with sirius when they both know evan and remus are watching. they get so into it and their boyfriends are over there pretending to be jealous but actually just drooling over them.

regulus: he also learned ballroom dancing, which he much prefers to anything that goes on at parties. he loves to watch james, and although he’ll deny it, he loves when james pulls him out on the floor to dance, even if it’s not a waltz. he has impeccable rhythm too, so he’s naturally good at any kind of dancing.

[lsunstreakerl]

honestly, any strange ship, a while ago you had commented about Sebastian being a "guilty" "ship" something strange or guilty in that sense

this did not end up being sebastian- I mean, he's kind of there. I also need just not try and estimate word counts because this ended up being 1.3k. HI HELLO: this is from the kink prompts so it is explicit in nature, as in people are fucking and getting fucked.

pairings: mark webber/max verstappen, max verstappen/marc márquez, implied mark webber/sebastian vettel, implied daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

relevant heads up: slight exhibitionist kink, semi-socially acceptable public sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, the slightest hint of a temperature kink, mild slut shaming

Max doesn't make a habit of feeling out of place at parties, considering how often he's at them, but this-

This is totally different to anything else he knows. They're in some huge remote cabin-style resort, a weeklong trip entirely paid by Redbull.

Everyone in attendance is either an insane talent in their respect area, or a revered alum, which is how Max has found himself on his knees, Mark Webber's cock down his throat, with Sebastian Vettel piping in with incredibly unhelpful instructions.

"Little bit more tongue, yes, like that- he loves that. Hates to admit it, but nothing gets him off faster- also you'll want to close your eyes when he comes, he likes to get it all over the face, nasty-"

"Shut up."

Mark's talking to Sebastian, but Max is the one who gets his hair pulled roughly, which really doesn't feel fair here- he's not mouthing off, and it's not his fault Mark and Seb still don't have their shit figured out.

He makes a muffled noise around Mark, who groans at the vibrations, and Max realizes with a twinge of annoyance that he actually has been listening to Seb- which is fucking stupid, if Seb wants to suck Mark's cock he can come do it himself, but Max is going to do it his way.

He doesn't give any kind of warning, just watches his teeth before suddenly taking Mark all the way to the base, breathing through his nose.

He's not as impressive as Da- some other Australians Max has gotten on his knees for before.

Mark chokes on an inhale, fingers clenching in Max's hair, and Max grins to himself, because he's not Sebastian Vettel, and no matter how badly Mark wants to dominate a blonde bratty European Redbull world champion, he's not going to find it in Max.

Max deliberately moans, low and long, and Mark's hips jerk before they snap frantically into his mouth.

"Fuck- fuck, Sebastian-"

Oh come on.

People who can't call Max by his name do not get to come on his face, so he doesn't let up, keeps Mark down his throat as he comes, and it's longer than Max expected for a guy in his late forties, honestly.

Seb just laughs from his chair, and Max shoots him a glare as he pulls off, already thinking of which drink he's going to wash down the taste with.

"Cunts."

They can be weird and off putting and miserable together, Max doesn't care. It wasn't even that good anyways, and now he's not going to be able to look Oscar in the eye for a few weeks.

He stalks into the kitchen, passes Coulthard in the hallway, hopes he doesn't look too much like he just sucked off a retired driver in one of the lounge rooms.

Not that it would be surprising- Max had been freaked out the first time he was here, but he gets it now- it's like the Olympic Village. Redbull takes their hot, talented athletes, sticks them in a resort for a week, and lets them fuck like rabbits in the hopes of avoiding sex related PR crisis for the rest of the year.

It works pretty well.

He's checking for gin, fingers dancing over bottle caps, when a hand wraps around his waist, and Max knows that hand.

"Marc!"

He spins around, and then he has an armful of excitable MotoGP rider, hips pressing Max's into the counter while he's busy getting his tongue in his mouth.

Marc tastes like vodka and fireball, and Max wants to drink it straight from his system, wants to-

He pulls back for a second, meeting Marc's eyes. Marc is down for anything- Max loves that about him. The MotoGP guys know how to party.

"Do you want to do body shots and fuck on the pool table?"

Marc yanks his head back down to continue making out, one arm scrabbling behind Max for a familiar clink of a few bottles.

He pulls back to reach for some limes, and then he's grinning at Max, with his trademark brilliant smile.

"Yes!"

------

"Fuck- Marc, please, you are going to kill me-"

Max isn't used to being the one with his dick inside someone, but he's flat on his back on the table, and Marc is tight and hot and wet, sinking down onto Max, one hand braced on his chest as he grins at him.

Max tosses his head back onto the table, and his fingers are digging into Marc's thighs, corded muscle straining under his palms.

His mouth still tastes like lime and liquor, and he's pretty sure his neck is crusted with salt, and he's trying so hard not buck his hips up-

"You are so cute when you're trying to be good."

Max shudders, hands gripping tighter, and Marc is practically purring at him, because the game is that Max can't come first, and he was going to lose from the fucking start. They both knew it.

"Marc- Marc I'm gonna come, please please can I-"

Marc just shakes his head, eyes crinkled at the corner as he changes his pace on the next slide down, tight and irresistible. Max can feel himself shaking, closer and closer to the edge, and he squeezes his eyes shut, one last time-

Marc's fingers come down to pinch his nipples, and they're dripping with ice water, cold and freezing.

Max comes with a scream, back arching off the table, the sound of Marc's laughter ringing in his ears.

He's still riding the wave when Marc gets off of him, and then Max is being manhandled, rolled onto his chest as Marc knocks his knees apart. Everything is hot and cold and sensitive, and he's glad Daniel stretched him out earlier, because Marc pushes two fingers into him off the bat, scissoring Max open as he groans into the table.

"Aw, you are all loose. Whore."

Marc spits into him, and Max keens, scratchy fabric of the pool table rough against his chest, and then Marc is pushing in, splitting him wide, an endless press.

It's unfair for a man that small to be this hung.

Max is overwhelmed, slurring into the table as Marc snaps his hips in, and it's too soon from his last orgasm- he feels raw and peeled open, which is exactly when Marc leans over him, chest pressed to his back, and shoves three fingers and an ice cube into Max's mouth.

He bucks back onto Marc's cock at the sensation, the heat of his fingers and the chill of the ice, and he realizes what's next a second too late, squirming as Marc brings his other hand to wrap around his still soft cock, fingers ice cold.

"Ohhhhh, please, please-"

Marc nips at his back, and Max can feel him smiling at he starts to jack his hand, and it's too much- he feels too full, he's too raw and overwhelmed, he's pretty sure people are watching them-

Marc aims deliberately for his prostate, and Max is wailing, tips over into his second orgasm brutally, shaking to pieces underneath Marc.

He doesn't stop- his rhythm picks up, chasing his own pleasure- Max is limp, lets Marc use him however he wants, and he can't tell if it's seconds or minutes later when Marc snaps in for a final time, hips pressed flush against his ass.

Max slumps down as Marc pulls out, and then there's fingers gently patting at his cheek.

"You are as always very fun, Verstappen."

Max blinks, tries to get his brain started back up.

"Yup."

Marc giggles, and then he's gently kissing Max for a moment- he tastes like lime again.

"Thank you, you are very sweet- for being a slut."

Max half chokes on a laugh, because, well-

He kind of is. He's laid out on the pool table at what is technically a company event, and just tonight he's given multiple blowjobs, been fucked twice, and he's just come back to back.

It's a good thing they have mandatory testing before they get here.

"Anytime, Márquez."

[goldkirk]

I get that everyone wants TikTok back but do we understand how bad it is that it’s happening the way it’s happening. Like we do understand how much of a horrifically choreographed process this is to boost and benefit Trump right. Can we all take a second to pause and go “hey wow something’s been getting fucked up and fishy for days now with Trump being turned into the hero about this even by the TikTok company themselves all of a sudden”?? (more chatter in the tags re tech companies and authoritarian autocrats)

[did-sm1-say-catfish]

So, i just reread dabis dance after like 4 years, i think? after seeing how it all plays out, indulging in fanwork, watching bits and pieces of the anime, I've learned something.

my takeaway is that touya is a dramatic little shit who loves musical theatre. the dude literally dances around while talking about how his father abused him.

tell me that is not a theatre nerd???

[angelogistics]

bestows the highest honor upon beloved characters (lion dance AU)

[sovamurka]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie has gained more that 2,5 million views by now...

It's also labeled as trending in my home country. Is it true for other regions too? 👀👀👀

[ac-art-and-stuff]

Imagine Marius goes down in battle. Imagine Lethica, unable to control her fear as something tugs at the emptiness in her mind. Something unsettlingly familiar that she's felt before. Imagine the breaths in between her prayer to Shar to return him to life. Ragged. Pained. Panicked.

Something bright and hot pushes against the cool darkness in her memories. She thinks of the pyre outside of the mines. "By Lathander! By Shar!" She thinks of the vision of Marius in her the burning house while on the roof of the church in Cyril. "No...! No no no! What have I done!? I'm so sorry!" She thinks of the comforting chill of his hands as they danced, her own uncomfortably warm within them. "I'm sorry... for everything; but I've enjoyed every moment with you."

"No no no!" She demands. "Not again!"

I won't lose you too.

I can't erase myself twice.

[lazyveran]

rereading my own work realising i need to make azula WAY more mean and cruel and nasty. sigh. the things i must do for evil women

[halamshirals]

imagine “i’m here to bring you home” being the first kind thing you hear after a year in torture prison. oh no wonder he’s a goner

[skitskatdacat63]

Some matador studies :)

+ ref pic I like but couldn't even attempt to draw 😭

[uselessdancedata]

maybe this is just me being a skeptic but i really hate how social media-oriented yagp has been getting in recent years. it's my fault for always clicking on their story but damn

[astrophel-lykos]

recently rewatched neon genesis evangelion (favorite anime don’t @ me) and wowowowww there’s just something about revisiting things you like a lot. like i knew i liked it but the DETAILS the little things and just experiencing the epic moments again GODDD IT’S ALL SO GOOD

[aq2003]

i'll be honest i genuinely thought patrick marber wrote dj for david to play him (what with the "are you a doctor?" and "is it time?!" lines) but i found out that no this was written in 2006 for the guy that played the lizard in the amazing spider-man movies. and also both of these lines are in the original. that's crazy

[hsslilly-blog]

the thing about hunt and claire . to me . is that everything about them has to be restrained. repressed. inhibited. these two stupid idiots need to be in situations that require them NOT to express or address whatever the fuck is going on between them. everything about them is unsaid is implied is left to the imagination. these two need to be fighting against And alongside decorum. they’re bubbling beneath the surface. there’s something constantly censoring them, and that something is themselves. and actually it should never be realised. they do not want it to be realised. which is why they keep up with the ridiculous act forever. because there is something deeply attractive about impropriety for both of them and admitting that is extremely shameful. and they're going to make sure the other one is ashamed of it. this is a novel of manners of their own doing. this is masochism!!!