#maxime fabric

[chicinsilk]

Balenciaga Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1950-51. Evening ensemble: The skirt, buttoned from the waistband to the hem is in red velvet by Ducharne, the bodice is in white guipure by Maxime.

Balenciaga Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1950-51. Ensemble du soir : La jupe, boutonnée de la ceinture à l'ourlet est en velours rouge de Ducharne, le corsage est en guipure blanche de Maxime.

Photo Walter Carone

[starleska]

Maxime's transformation in HD...for those of you who want to know what all the bug-related fuss is about 😉🪳💚

[prettiestpear]

Recording videos be like... because plz i get so stressed

Pairing up Patterns: How to pick fabrics for quilting

[hordemama]

two rabbits enjoying a romantic cuddle in the "private room". Since so many space rabbit cultures and dwellings are based on the family and social interactions, it's important to have at least one private room for one or two individuals at most to escape to when things get loud and chaotic.

they're enjoying a nice snack as well! its a nasty mixture of hot melted fats and other such innards with melting stirring sticks made of blended plant matter and sweet sap.

Also, i think a lot of their language sounds like silly nonsense word and squeaks so hence the "gwah". Gwahwahwa waaaaa hoooooo like that i think

[deathbind]

everytime I see this photoshoot I think it's a crying shame no one's using him as the FC for a wizard

[inky-thoughts]

me: my horoscope doesn't define me

also me: leo in my first AND second house DEMANDS that I have the most luxurious interior and wardrobe money can buy. yes give me that art déco dresser and velvet armchair, there will be a wall mural behind my bed and fuck you I will wear a silk morning gown while sipping coffee on my chaise lounge

[olvaheiner]

Heureux Gagnants (2024)

Directed by Maxime Govare & Romain Choay

[chicinsilk]

L'Officiel Octobre 1950

Balenciaga Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1950-51. Sophie Malgat wears an evening ensemble. The skirt buttoned from the waistband to the hem is in red velvet by Ducharne, the bodice is in white guipure by Maxime.

Balenciaga Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1950-51. Sophie Malgat porte un ensemble du soir. La jupe boutonnée de la ceinture à l'ourlet est en velours rouge de Ducharne, le corsage est en guipure blanche de Maxime.

Photo Philippe Pottier

[puc-puggy]

no, this is an industry-wide issue in fabric weaving, not just clothing construction. unless you are weaving your own fabric by hand, wholesale cloth quality that you would make clothing out of is, on average, significantly worse quality. and not many people weave their own fabric by hand, even if they're selling handmade clothes.

[source] [second alt under cut]

As clothes are produced for the market at an ever-increasing pace, their average quality is not what it used to be. Consumers have been experiencing the decline in garment quality since the 1980s, before the time of outsourcing production and before the period of fast fashion and mass manufacturing in developing countries [3]. Although less resources and time are now spent on designing and manufacturing garments, it is unlikely that enough time is invested in the work for quality [4] or that the quality of all products is fully tested [5]. This, combined with cheaper fabrics and faster mass-processes, has led to products that last only a short time or a few washes. In the tight competition of fashion, it is not easy for producers to manufacture durable, long-lasting products [6], and it has been claimed that consumers are no longer even looking for the best quality. Therefore, it is believed that producing the best quality is not worthwhile, and garment quality can only be average or lower in the current linear system [7]. This is especially true in these times when fast fashion is the dominant reality, and production happens through cost savings on the other side of the globe. It seems that quality is systemically fading in terms of the way in which products are designed and manufactured. Although at the same time, it is stated that the price of a product is forgotten shortly after a purchase, but the quality is something consumers remember long after, and they also associate it with certain brands and their reputation [3,7]. Poor quality is connected to both consumer dissatisfaction and the early disposal of clothing, which results in large amounts of garments ending up in landfills. Textile waste streams have been increasing in all Western countries and recently also in developing countries. The issues are complex, partly due to the lengthy and highly global supply chains of the industry, the tight global competition in the fashion sector, and the current business model based on fast fashion [8].

Do "they" actually not make good clothes anymore or do you just shop fast fashion?

[omisubi]

ushijima x reader. some angst, mostly fluff, suggestive content. timeskip spoilers.

plot: your long-time coworker turned friend, Kuroo, sets you up on a date with one of his finest clienteles.

To stay unattached is to keep a distance.

Ushijima Wakatoshi knows this well enough. He had gotten accustomed to it at an early age, when his parents divorced. It was pretty clear that his mom hardly wanted anything to do with him, and neither did her family.

His intention is to keep this maxim walking into the date. Though, it doesn’t deter him from being the gentleman he is, even when you show up 15 minutes late.

Your first impression of Wakatoshi is that he is a man of few words. You aren’t put off by it, however, you prefer a man that knows his points, speaks it, and waits for a response in deliberate silence. It’s endearing in its own way.

It’s endearing now, when you can’t help but find yourself staring at him. His dress shirt and pants—Armani— are tailored to fit him perfectly. You saw when he stood up to greet you, even pulling your chair out for you (swoon.) His jawline is sharp, eyes stoic, and his shoulders are so broad—

He’s turned to you with expecting eyes.

“Oh- sorry, what did you say?”

Wakatoshi clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “I said because I’ll be in Europe soon, I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”

Oh. Okay… you can work with that. You usually don’t do one-night-stands, but the longer you look at him, the more amorous you’re getting.

“I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

You perk up, realizing you haven’t given a reply. “Not at all! I’m not really interested in that either.”

A lie. You fear you are quite the hopeless romantic at heart.

As you resume to your dish, he takes a moment to watch you.

Wakatoshi might not be too well versed in pop-culture, but he has picked up a few magazines in his free time and reads enough ads to know that you’re quite the public figure yourself. Quite the vivacious one at that— according to some headlines.

He isn’t too sure of what your job is, just knows that you’ve worked alongside Kuroo for a while and recently ventured into the fashion world. Your confidence in style illuminates under the dim lamps of the restaurant: classic, chic, timeless. He hadn’t missed the wandering eyes when you walked through the door.

When Kuroo had called him during his off-season trip back to Japan, Wakatoshi had initially declined, not wanting to start something he wasn’t sure if he could finish. But, Kuroo had insisted, saying that you thought “his eyes are pretty” and wanted to see for yourself if they were olive or brown. Safe to say, he was intrigued and figured he’d quell your thirst for knowledge.

When dinner concludes after some small, but interesting talks, Wakatoshi insists he pay for the bill, and before you can deny, his card is already given to the waitress without even looking at the check.

“Thank you for dinner, Wakatoshi. It was delicious.”

“Of course.” He says as he holds the door open for you. You both walk to the marble water fountain placed in front of the parking lot. “Have you decided what color my eyes are?”

You freeze.

(“They’re definitely brown.” Kuroo assured.

“We’ll see. You didnt tell him I said anything about his eyes though did you ?”

“Not at all!” Kuroo gave his salesman smile to your glare. His two thumbs up acting as a shield from your valid accusation.

He did.)

You make a mental note to leave a scathing voicemail later.

“Oh!” You laugh, bashful, a hand coming up to rub your neck. “That….”

It appears Wakatoshi is still waiting for an definitive answer. You suppose he’s the not the type of man to tease, but still comes off just as humorous through his bluntness. It’s lovely, you think, you prefer to be the one teasing anyway. You step closer, leaning in close enough for him to feel the surface of fabric on your evening wear against his own. The string lights around the restaurant have given you both a warm, golden hue. It’s brighter out here.

“…Right now, they look olive. In the restaurant, they looked a dark brown.” Your voice is quieter now, but you’re still looking at him with that inquisitive gaze of yours. And he can’t help but study back. He scans your face and absentmindedly thinks those magazines don’t do you justice. He watches as your lips curve upwards into a small smile. “I guess it depends on the lighting, but my verdict is olive.”

Neither of you have moved, still inches apart. It feels… intimate. “What color do you say they are?”

Wakatoshi never thought about it, never really cared, but right now, he just wants to agree with you. “Olive.”

He watches as your smile grows, feeling his heart beat at a quicker pace. “Ah, I love being right.” There’s a moment of silence until you take a step back and extend your hand, “Well. Goodnight, Wakatoshi.”

Wakatoshi gives a nod, breaking out of his short-lived trance. He takes your hand, thinks your skin is some sort of magnet the way he can’t bring himself to pull away.

And before he can think clearly and go through with his plan of saying goodbye and leaving it at that to go your separate ways, he leans in closer, gently tugging you in with his hand still in yours.

You don’t move a way, instead you purse your lips as you look to his and back up at his olive eyes.

His voice is just above a whisper.

“May I… kiss you?”

He’s not sure who kisses who first after he asks. He just knows that for the following weeks, Wakatoshi sees you more than he should be. He becomes accustomed to your presence in his apartment, your smell on his bed, and the way you call him ‘toshi against his lips.

The weekend before his flight(weekends of which you usually spend the night) you don’t come over. He doesn’t play dumb at the fact that he had been the one to say it wasn’t serious in the first place. You seemed to take that to heart. He remembers the sadness in your eyes the last time you were in his home, telling him you weren’t good at goodbyes. Did you think he was?

Wakatoshi spent that weekend mulling the last few weeks over, missing you. He mentally scolds himself for letting it go this far, but how was he supposed to know his heart would cave at your simplest touch?

This kind of issue can only be resolved by talking to one person: a best friend.

And Tendou Satori rarely misses a phone call from his.

“I suppose me leaving is for the best.” Wakatoshi had rationalized, the afternoon before his flight, filling Tendou in about the heartache that is you.

“Maybe.”

“The more distance the better.”

“Ah, but Wakatoshi-kun, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?”

His flight landed in Poland around noon. Many hours on the plane, Wakatoshi decides he isn’t good at goodbyes either. He calls you when he reaches his hotel.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” His voice is caught on the air, surprised you’d picked up so quickly. “I just landed. I…I—“

To be unattached is to keep a distance. But, even thousands of miles away from you, Wakatoshi is bound, tied true to the anchor that is your voice and the mirage of your face when he hears it.

“I miss you too.”

He wants to laugh because really, it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other. Have you both grown lovesick?

“Can I see you when I get back?”

“Wakatoshi, that’s weeks— months away.” You laugh. He smiles upon hearing it. Yeah, lovesick. “Who knows what will happen by then?”

His smile is replaced by a confused frown. “What will happen?” Before you can answer, he has spoken again. “Nothing will change. For me, at least.”

You hum. A beat of silence. “‘Toshi?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be thinking about you until then.”

Wakatoshi thinks he might just fly you out and attach you to him forever.

…

(On a random weekday, Kuroo receives a box of Parisian chocolates and a typed out ‘Thank You’ card on his desk. The card flips to show a man with red hair and red eyes.)

a/n: ty for reading! long distance sucks, but this couple will make it thru :’)

[prettiestpear]

I need some air. New video out now!

Pairing Patterns: How to Pick Fabric for Quilting

[tiamathh]

Walk Walk Fashion Baby

Hi girlies new year new style ykwim anyway this is a pac that i have been wanting to make for a long time but i was like idk how many ppl will like it etc but now idc about all that i want to have fun so here it is!! Have fun and stay hydrated. muah <33 also my paid readings are open there are a few slots (15) if anyone's interested xx ciao <3 like and rb if you like xx

Masterlist / Paid Readings + FB / Tip jar

Pile 1

Hi pile 1! You need to try that classical, timeless, style, i know it can be annoying to look at all the beige and muted tones but its so much more than that like, picture this, a tailored blazer or high-waisted trousers that fit like a dream. tbh I am also getting pearls for some reason so maybe adding neckklaces as accessories can be something you are interested in to incorporate in your style next year. Start with a simple white shirt, a fitted black dress, or a pair of cut jeans. Then you can accesorise with delicate gold bracelet, a black bag, or a string of pearls again with the pearls they are calling for you right nowww.

Moreover, another style you can incorporate is just as sharp, and elegant so like the whole academia aesthetic, regardless of light or dark that doesn’t matter but what I am trying to say is, clothes with shape. Like cinched wastes and just clothes that create shape for you are like something you really should give thought to. It’s about being comfortable but also looking effortlesss while doing it all, I think basics like camis, just plain shirts/tshirts are something you need more of in your closet because theres so many ways to style them other than just for formal wear. Like one style inspo is literally Proncess Diana cannot get more elgant than her istg, enjoy muah <33

Pile 2

Y’all this is my pile you guys are my PEOPLE ok to begin with you need to stop being afraid of colour and looseness like not everything has to be tight and fitted especially just because the microtrend world says so. Experiment with “loud” colours and different textures, things you may have thought are “odd” and don’t look good, because trust me the way it can all be pulled together is crazy and so much fun!! Layer, the most important part, stack rings and bracelets and go for those colours that lowkey hurt your eyes because fashion is about colour and pattern and texture and taking all of it out of fashion just makes it dull imo.

Start with a bright coloured tshirt, maybe something like yellow, then layer on, very “indie kid” aesthetic like the high saturation stuff. Mixed with that I am also getting maximalism to the MAX layer layer layer, stack stack stack you should look like a walking apparell store (kidding) seriously though if you have been feeling like you want to experiment with something like this and oxidised jewellery and mixing different styles mainly because all of your wardrobe is mismatched (me) then go for it because I promise it will come out looking way better than you may have imagined. 

Pile 3: 

Ooo I love this, okay so very romanticised, very coquette but not really, this is also the pile which will look so good in pastels in lighter colours. All I am getting in my head are those pictures of people on picnics in their flowy outfits and dresses looking so pretty and at peace, bows and dellicate bangles, just a very dainty aesthetic im thinking light fabrics and romantic fashion like lace-trimmed dresses, pastel skirts and floral prints, very fairytaile-ish. Ruffles or embroidery too and just magical overall. Also the complete opposite of pile 2 here, minimalist aesthetic may suit you a lot so try it out next year!

I am talking about keeping it simple, not too much with the accessorising and maybe a staple or statement accessory piece that goes with everything and anything you wear. Also for some of you with this simplistic style, you may have to be pushed to try on something more glam too like a bold red lip when it comes to makeup, like be bolder with your makeup experiment with more purples, pinks and reds while keeping the outfits simpler. 

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[hoernypie]

Can you make gojo or sukuna fucking the reader due to jealousy

The Sukuna's annoyance in the air was palpable as the final attendees shuffled out of the dimly lit room, their eyes averted from the scene unfolding in the corner. Sukuna's command had been clear and unyielding, leaving no room for misunderstanding. The only person remaining was the one whose gaze had lingered on you throughout the meeting, his curiosity piqued by what was hidden under the fabric of your yukata. Your heart raced from worry as you felt Sukuna's strong hands grip your waist, guiding you to the edge of the small, wooden table, forcing you to bend over. The smooth fabric of your yukata slid along your skin as you bent over, your breath catching in your throat. Sukuna's eyes burned with desire as he stared at your body, before turning his gaze at the other man, hatred and jealousy in his features. He leaned in, whispering in your ear, "Don't move. I want him to watch everything." He lifted your yukata, revealing your exposed bottom to the man's stare. "Don't look away. You wanted to stare at her so do it or I'll kill you," Sukuna said to him coldly. His fingers brushed against your skin, making you shiver in anticipation as you felt the heat from Sukuna's body closing in on you. With a low growl, he pushed his way inside you, filling you completely, his tip almost crushing your cervix. Each thrust was deliberate, each movement calculated to maximize your exposure to the man who couldn't tear his gaze away. Sukuna's fingers dug into your hips as he claimed you, his hips slapping against your ass in a rhythm that echoed through the room along with your moans.

Sukuna's teeth sank into your shoulder as he marked you with his teeth, leaving behind a trail of bite marks that stung. His thrusts grew more aggressive, each one punctuated by the sound of his teeth clenching down on your flesh. You could feel the other man's eyes on you, burning with a mix of lust and fear as he watched the intimate display of dominance. The pain was exquisite, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every bite, and you knew that each mark was a declaration of ownership that no one could ignore. Sukuna's eyes met his eyes, and the primality in them was almost terrifying. "She's mine," he snarled, his voice low. You couldn't help but whimper, your body responding to his animal's need to assert his dominance. Each bite was a brand, a promise that you belonged to him and no one else. As your climax built, you closed your eyes, moaning his name.

Sukuna's thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing ragged with desire. His hands moved from your hips to grasp your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to look how he penetrated you. The sound of his body slapping against yours grew wetter, as his movements grew more frenzied. With a final, primal groan, he released himself inside you, his hot cum flooding your insides as you clenched around him. The feeling of his warmth spreading within you sent you over the edge, and your own climax shuddered through your body, leaving you gasping for air. The man's eyes widened as he took in the sight, unable to believe the raw passion that had just unfolded before him. Sukuna pulled out, leaving your pussy gaping open, filled with his cum. He smirked at the other man before tucking himself back into his yukata, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now you've seen what you wanted," he said coldly. "Remember this moment. She's mine and you dare not look at her that way again." The other man nodded, feeling scared to even look at you again at all. Sukuna pulled your yukata back down, the fabric sticking slightly to your skin, and you felt the warmth of his cum slowly seep out of you, leaving a sticky trail down your thighs. He whispered in your ear, "Don't forget to whom you belong," his hot breath tickled you. You nodded, closing your eyes and resting on the table.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

How the iudex sleeps

Unexpectedly enough Fontaine started wondering how the great judge is productive enough to do all his work and some bizarre ideas start pooping up until the iudex himself says his 'secrets'

Read also: otters sleep holding hands and with their babies on their bellies and I found that incredibly sweet

WC: 1,3K

Cw: gn reader, you both have a baby but it isn't specified if he is biologically related or adopted

‘The chief of justice is a busy person’ is a known fact amongst the citizens of Fontaine, who see him working through many cases plus uncountable quantities of paperwork. That led to a question for some people ‘how does he get enough energy for the day’ at first the common guess was coffee but they were told off by an angry melusine.

“Huff! As if monsieur Neuville would ever drink such things! Only weird humans can drink something that bitter”

That quickly shut down that possibility and led them back to the board of ideas. About that time reporters started to notice how many people seemed interested in maximizing their energy and being awake for longer, while they aren't life changing or particularly interesting sections, some weeks are remarkably unremarkable and anything is better than nothing.

Now every week there would be a few merchants promoting tonics, pallets and pills that enhance energy, even when they would find ways to waltz around trying to mention the judge in their advertisements.

‘Lawfully energetic’

‘as fierce as a dragon’

‘enough to stand 100 trials’

Even if the last one was almost enough for the mermonia palace to get involved for using Neuvillette's name it was vague enough that it got off the hook.

Usually Furina’s crew would be able to rehearse two scenes before tea time but for some reason it was already 2 pm and they were still rehearsing the beginning of the play.

“ I'm sorry, Ms. Furina, I just can't connect two ideas together today” the female lead says as she grabs her head, sighing deeply. Furina touches her back and before she can ask about it someone shares a thought to the air.

“ Oh! Have you tried nilotpala lotus tea? It seems to stimulate the nervous system and clear up brain fog. Maybe the iudex uses that” the man who was supposed to be practicing the piano to match the scene says with a slight poison over his words.

“ Isn't brain fog rich coming from you?” Furina yaps at him “ your tempo was off the whole day” as she looks over his shoulder and rather than seeing a music sheet she finds the newest issue of steambird “what are you even reading? Focus on the piano! We have a show next week!”

She quickly grabs the paper and starts reading the small column with advertisements and tricks, huffing at the idea “stop reading those newspapers and keep rehearsing! The magic fix you are looking for is simply a good night sleeps, like the iudex you are stalking for an answer” she sighs loudly before looking at her crew.

“Is that all?”

“Simply a good night's sleep. What else were you expecting? An extract with 10 times more caffeine than a cup or liyue acupuncture?” She looks at her crew and finds some of them nodding and others seemingly disappointed “now, a break or can we start from the top?”

Unsurprising enough, very few people believed what she claimed, most likely wishing for a strange concoction that can make up for bad habits. Even then a few girls believed it to be rational enough of an answer, seemingly even one of them must have said furina knew his whole nighttime routine causing a hoard of reporters to crowd her door asking senseless questions.

‘Does he use sleep mists?’

‘What kind of fabric are his sheets?”

‘What does he eat before bed? Does he drink water?’

After being stalked everywhere from her home to the supermarket or the café she started dressing up in disguise to escape, luckily a few days after she noticed the quantity of reporters went down and only one came knocking on her door asking about the rescheduling of her play.

“ Oh, yes, we had to reschedule as there was an ‘important trial’ that had to be dealt with urgently. A representative of the palais mermonia apologized for the inconveniences but in the end the most important thing is justice!” furina says with her characteristic theatrical flare. Now looking at the reporter scribbling things on his notebook she adds a bit “the new date will be in two weeks, if someone presents the special meet and greet tickets with the old date they will still be valid”

As he finishes writing he goes off to write the article “thanks miss!”

Now standing on the doorway to the rehearsal room, Furina was expecting the usual sleepy greetings or the usual chitchatter or gossiping but, unusually enough, the whole room was silent and her whole crew was hunched over a spot, their backs facing her.

Clearing her throat she greets them first but they still don't react “ morning? Guys? Are you all okay?” she rounds them trying to get their attention until one of them catches sight of her.

“Director! Look! Monsieur Neuvillette told his secret to the newspapers!” He grabs the yellow paper and holds it to her face, a big bold font meeting her eyes.

CASE MELUSINE AND OTHER QUESTIONS WITH THE IUDEX: PAST CASES TO HIS GREATEST SECRET

‘Greatest secret?’ Furina thinks for a second ‘did he already publicly state to be the hydro dragon? Doesn't seem like it’ but she quickly smiles at her co actor “So? What is his secret?”

But all her crew look at her with a questioning glare “ what we have been wondering all this time? Who would have guessed our director was right!”

“What is that even supposed to mean?!”

Charlotte looks at the pages full questions she prepared for her so desired meeting, who knew that after so long wishing for it she would truly get a chance to interview the iudex, even if half the questions she prepared couldn't be answered for privacy or because the cases weren't closed she got enough material to fill a good pair of pages. Even then she couldn't lose this opportunity and started asking the ‘dumber’ or sillier questions

Looming over one particular line she wonders, would the judge consider it rude for her to ask that given he was giving her his important time but she simply swallows and asks

“How are you able to work through so much work?”

“My apologies?” Neuvillette furrows his brows and looks confused “I don't think I quite understand what you mean”

Charlotte breathes in deeply before elaborating “People have been wondering how you have enough energy to do all the work you are able to do”

Neuvillette stays silent for a second with his eyes closed

“It's known the iudex doesn't talk about his private life, so if you don't want to answer-”

“ It's not that” Neuvillette reassures her calmly “it wasn't a question I was expecting, that is all” he crosses his legs and details as Charlotte writes

But regardless of how many tries we have thrown to the ceiling we all were wrong, the way our judge is able to power through the day is simple actually, a comfortable bed and his beloved family. Even if he refused to expand on information about his family he did speak more about his routine.

“I'm unsure why people care so much suddenly but it's very simple, really, I always sleep with my lover in bed and keep our child on my chest” even as Charlotte choked on her own spit at a sudden juicy revelation neuvillette barely glanced over the rim of his goblet “we are also rather particular about bedding, but for now we settled on silk flower sheets made I'm liyue”

As he drinks water a small smile creeps up his lips, remembering that very morning vividly, his fingers firmly entangled with yours, almost as if he fears you would leave and meet a cold spot when he wakes up, even when you are practically hugging his side. Or your young baby peeking his head out of his father's sleeping shirt and feeling the soft beating of his heart with a pleased face.

Hm, he is sure that is why he always wakes up with enough energy to power through his duties .

Opening his eyes he finds Charlotte with small tears on her lashes and muttering ‘how sweet’.

“ So about your son…?”

“No”

“Understood”

[sosasturns]

late night studyin librarian!matt

perfect competition.

profit maximization.

competition in… fuck.

you��d been staring at the same page for what felt like hours, your eyes grazing over the words without absorbing a single thing. jeffery m. perloff could wait.

the library was quiet, save for the faint rustle of pages being turned and the occasional creak of a chair as another student packed up for the night. a quarter past midnight. the kind of hour where most people had already given up or fallen asleep on their textbooks. not you, though. you were still here. still trying to convince yourself you were studying for that microeconomics exam.

but, if you were honest, the reason you hadn’t left yet had nothing to do with your coursework.

he was sitting no more than thirty feet away, head bowed, glasses slipping down his nose as he flipped through a book. matt, as his name tag read. the late-night librarian.

you didn’t know much about him—not his last name, not his major (if he even had one), not why he always worked this shift. but you knew enough. you knew that the soft fall of his brown hair brushed just above his glasses when he tilted his head forward. you knew he had this habit of chewing on his lower lip when he was focused, like he was doing right now. you knew that he sat in that stupid button-up shirt that looked just a little too big for him, the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms as he rested one hand on the desk.

what you didn’t know was how you were supposed to concentrate when he was right there.

the ache between your thighs had started almost an hour ago, dull and ignorable at first. but the longer you sat there, pretending to read, the harder it was to ignore. you shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as if that would do anything to alleviate the growing heat. it didn’t. your underwear was soaked, clinging to you uncomfortably, and you were certain that if you stood up, there’d be a faint damp spot on the fabric of the chair.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not with him so close.

you were practically squirming in your seat at this point, the book in front of you nothing more than a forgotten prop. you hadn’t flipped the page in over twenty minutes, and the words were just a blur, lost in the fog of your thoughts. the ache between your legs was unbearable now, pulsing with every subtle glance at matt.

you had half a mind to just pack up and leave before you embarrassed yourself, but then he stood up.

your eyes snapped to him immediately, your breath hitching as he grabbed a small stack of books from the desk and walked toward the shelves. his footsteps were soft against the library’s old wooden floors, the quiet shuffle of his shoes barely breaking the silence. he moved with a sort of ease, his long fingers gripping the books firmly as he scanned the spines of the shelves, searching for their place.

your heart raced. this was your chance.

you grabbed the textbook in front of you—an afterthought, really, since you weren’t even sure it belonged to this library—and stood up. your knees felt weak, whether from sitting too long or from the way matt’s shirt stretched across his back as he reached up to slide a book into place, you weren’t sure.

you wandered toward the same section, feigning a purpose you didn’t have. the air between the rows of shelves felt warmer somehow, like the quiet intimacy of the space amplified the pounding of your heart.

and then you saw it.

he was reaching for the top shelf, one hand gripping the edge for balance as he stretched upward. his button-up shirt shifted with the motion, the fabric lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach. soft, pale skin, a faint trail of hair leading down beneath the waistband of his pants. the elastic band of his briefs peeked out—black, simple, but enough to send your mind spiraling.

he let out a quiet grunt as he slid the book into place, the sound low and unintentional, but it hit you like a freight train.

your thighs pressed together instinctively, the ache worsening as you tried to keep your breathing steady. god, you were a mess.

you were too busy staring at the soft stretch of matt’s shirt as he reached for another book to realize you’d been clutching your textbook so tightly that your knuckles had gone white. it wasn’t until you shifted your grip that it slipped from your hands, hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud.

you froze, heat flooding your face as matt turned his head toward the sound. his blue eyes met yours, curious but calm, and you were sure you looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“need help?”

his voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was an underlying firmness to it. an odd mix that paired surprisingly well with the low, scruffy east coast accent that laced his words. it sounded so good—too good—to come out of his mouth.

you blinked, realizing too late that he was waiting for a response. “oh, um…” you bent down to pick up the book, fingers fumbling slightly as you tried to steady yourself. “no, no, i’m good. i was just, uh…” you paused, cringing at the way your words were already tumbling out of your mouth. “i’m just swapping out books. i have a microeconomics exam coming up for my micro 101 class in a few days, and i thought—”

you stopped mid-sentence when you noticed the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of matt’s lips.

“well,” he said, his voice low and playful, “you won’t find anything economical in the fiction section.”

his tone was so casual, but there was a faint smirk on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. it wasn’t overt, just enough to make you question if you imagined it.

you let out a breath of amusement, though it felt more like a flustered cry for help. his ability to joke around—however small—was almost worse than his quiet demeanor. you quickly crossed one leg over the other, your head ducking down for a moment as you tried to collect yourself.

“right…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

when you didn’t say anything else, matt tilted his head slightly, studying you before speaking again. “you want me to show you where the right section is?”

you looked up at him, nodding quickly before you could embarrass yourself further. “yeah, that’d be great. thanks.”

he gestured for you to follow, and you trailed after him as he led you down a few rows. the silence between you was heavy, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your steps.

“here,” matt said, stopping in front of a shelf and motioning to the books.

“thanks,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the spines as you read off the titles.

he started to walk away, but then he hesitated, turning back around. “you know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “there’s this theory in microeconomics about diminishing marginal returns. it’s pretty interesting.”

you looked up at him, blinking. “what?”

he scratched at the back of his head, his hand running through the short hairs there. the gesture was so casual, but it felt like a habit—a small, nervous quirk during social interactions. “diminishing marginal returns,” he repeated. “basically, it’s the idea that the more you add something, the less you get out of it. like studying.”

the corner of his mouth quirked up again—just a fraction—as if he found himself amusing.

“oh,” you said softly, suddenly very aware of how dry your mouth had gone.

you couldn’t help but notice the way his blue eyes lingered on you for a moment, giving you the faintest once-over. it wasn’t intense or deliberate, more like a quick assessment—like he was taking you in without even realizing he was doing it.

then, almost as if he caught himself, matt shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, the movement a little awkward, a little unsure. the action should’ve felt insignificant, but there was something about the way he did it—the slight shrug of his shoulders, the way his fingers fidgeted inside the fabric—that made your heart race.

god, why was that so attractive?

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as you turned your attention back to the spines of the books in front of you, pretending to read them like your life depended on it.

“so, uh…” matt’s voice broke the silence, soft and careful, like he wasn’t used to filling quiet spaces. “micro 101, huh?”

you nodded, trying to focus on the titles in front of you, but your eyes kept drifting back to him. “yeah. it’s… a lot,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

he let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, rocking back slightly on his heels. “it’s a tough class. i remember taking it my freshman year.”

you glanced at him, surprised. “you’re into econ?”

he shrugged, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips again. “i wouldn’t say into. it was more of a requirement. but…” he trailed off, his eyes flickering to the row of books in front of you. “it’s not so bad once you get past the graphs. and the endless supply and demand curves.”

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, though it sounded more like a nervous giggle. “yeah, those are the worst.”

matt’s gaze flicked back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. for a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension.

"you're distracting," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

matt blinked, his lips parting slightly as a faint flush crept up his neck. "distracting?" he echoed, his tone low, almost teasing, but there was an underlying nervousness there—like he wasn't entirely sure if you were serious.

you nodded, your gaze locked on his. "yeah. like... how am i supposed to focus on anything with you right there, looking like that?"

his brows lifted, and for a split second, you thought you might've gone too far. but then he let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "you're kidding, right?"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" you countered, your voice steady even as your pulse raced.

matt stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours like he was trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke. when he didn't respond, you took a half step closer, the tips of your shoes brushing against his.

"if you're free," you murmured, your voice dropping to a near whisper, "you could help me... relax. just for a little bit."

his breath hitched, and you swore you saw his hand twitch where it still gripped the edge of the shelf. "relax?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost uncertain.

you nodded, tilting your head slightly as you let your gaze drop to his lips for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. "yeah. unless you don't want to."

there was a beat of silence, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. and then, as if something inside him snapped, matt surged forward, his lips crashing against yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.

the kiss was hungry, unrestrained, a sharp contrast to the quiet and reserved demeanor he'd shown just moments ago. his hands found your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pressed you back against the shelf.

"you're... impossible," he muttered against your lips, his voice low and strained, like he was struggling to catch his breath.

you let out a soft laugh, your hands sliding up his chest to the collar of his button-up shirt. "so i've been told."

his lips curved into a faint smile against yours before he kissed you again, slower this time, but just as intense.

one of your hands slipped down to his belt, fingers brushing against the leather as you tugged him closer. he let out a quiet groan, the sound sending a rush of heat through your body as his grip on your waist tightened.

"here?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke.

"why not?" you replied, your voice breathless as you tilted your head back, giving him more access.

he hesitated for a fraction of a second before. nodding, his lips returning to yours as his hands began to roam, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder with each passing second.

you were halfway through pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants when matt broke the kiss, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

"wait-hold on," he stammered, his voice a low rasp as his hands hovered uncertainly at your hips. "here? like right here?"

you paused, your lips brushing his jaw as you gave him a look. "you don't want to?"

"no! i mean-yes. i do. it's just..." he trailed off, his blue eyes darting around the dimly lit aisle, as if he expected someone to walk in at any second.

"then stop overthinking," you murmured, your fingers deftly undoing the first button of his pants.

his breath hitched as he looked down at your hands, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "you're-uh-really forward, huh?"

you smirked, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"you're the one who kissed me first."

his lips parted like he wanted to respond, but before he could, you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding down to the waistband of his boxers. his entire body went rigid, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the shelf for balance.

"oh-oh, god," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

you looked up at him, your eyes catching the way his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose as he stared at you in wide-eyed disbelief. "you okay up there?" you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

"uh-yeah. totally. fine," he said quickly, though the way his voice cracked on the last word betrayed him.

his hands fumbled at his belt, fingers shaking slightly as he tried to undo the buckle. but he was taking his sweet time, and the growing ache between your thighs was making it impossible to be patient.

"jesus christ, matt," you muttered, pushing his hands away. "let me."

before he could protest, you pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free him, the cool air of the library brushing against his skin. his head tipped back against the shelf with a quiet thud as you took him into your hand, your thumb brushing over the sensitive tip.

"oh, my god," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

you leaned forward, letting your tongue flick over him before taking him into your mouth. his entire body tensed, a shaky gasp escaping his lips as his hand shot out, gripping the edge of the shelf even tighter.

"oh-fuck," he muttered, his voice low and strained.

"this is—holy shit, this is happening."

you couldn't help but smile at his reaction, the sound muffled as you took him deeper. his hips jerked forward slightly, and he let out a quiet groan, his free hand moving to tangle in your hair.

"you're... god, you're really good at that," he rambled, his words coming out in a rushed, breathless stream. "like, wow. i didn't-fuck—I didn't think—"

you pulled back slightly, your tongue swirling around him as you glanced up at him through your lashes.

"matt," you murmured, your voice teasing as your hand replaced your mouth for a moment. "you're not exactly being quiet."

his face turned bright red, his lips parting as he let out a shaky breath. "right. yeah. quiet. got it."

but the moment you took him into your mouth again, all of his resolve seemed to crumble. his fingers tightened in your hair as a low, guttural sound escaped his throat, his hips twitching forward despite himself.

"shit-shit, sorry," he whispered, his voice frantic as he forced himself to stay still. "i didn't mean to-fuck, you're just-"

he cut himself off with a sharp inhale, his head tipping back as his breathing grew more ragged. you could tell he was trying his best to keep it together, but the way his thighs trembled under your hands told you he was close to unraveling.

"this-oh, god, this doesn't happen often," he admitted suddenly, his words tumbling out in a breathless rush. "i mean-it's been a while. like, a long while. like, years. and-fuck-you probably don't care about that, huh?"

you pulled back just enough to respond, your voice low and teasing. "what do you think?"

his breath hitched, his grip on your hair tightening as he let out a soft, almost whimper-like sound. "no," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

his breath hitched, body tensing as he leaned forward, bracing one arm against the shelf above you while his other hand tightened in your hair. his glasses had slid down his nose again, fogged slightly from the heat radiating off his flushed face.

"i'm-fuck," he muttered, voice shaky as he pressed his forehead to his arm. the tendons in his neck strained as he fought the urge to speak louder, to make any noise beyond the soft whimpers and ragged breaths slipping past his lips.

you could feel him trembling beneath your touch, and just as his hips jerked forward slightly, a clear sign he was about to let go, you pulled away.

his head snapped up, his blue eyes wide and glassy as he looked down at you in utter disbelief. "wha-why did you stop?"

a sly smile tugged at your lips as you sat back on your heels, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"because," you said softly, your voice laced with teasing, "i'd rather feel you finish inside me than in my mouth."

his jaw went slack, the tips of his ears turning a deep shade of red as his hand fell from the shelf to his side. "oh," he managed to say after a beat, his voice barely audible.

you rose to your feet, your hands sliding up his chest as you pressed your body against his. his breath hitched again, his lips parting as you tilted your head slightly, your mouth brushing against his ear.

"but only if you can last," you whispered, your tone playful yet challenging.

that seemed to light a fire under him because within moments, his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he guided you back against the shelf.

"don't say i didn't warn you," he muttered, his voice low and slightly shaky as he fumbled to position himself.

the first thrust was slow, almost tentative, as if he were testing his own limits. you let out a soft gasp, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he filled you completely.

"fuck," he muttered under his breath, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck as he gripped your waist tighter.

the second thrust was rougher, his hips snapping forward with a bit more force, and you couldn't stop the soft moan that slipped past your lips. his breathing was ragged, his body trembling slightly as he fought to keep control.

by the third thrust, his resolve crumbled completely. his hips stuttered, and a low, guttural groan escaped him as he buried himself deep inside you, his entire body tensing as he reached his release.

you clung to him, your legs feeling like jelly as you struggled to catch your breath. but before you could even process what had just happened, he pulled back slightly, his head resting against the shelf as he let out a shaky laugh.

"you know," he said, his voice still breathless as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "if you think about it, the law of diminishing returns would technically apply here. you know, in a, uh, metaphorical sense."

you blinked up at him, your mind still hazy as you tried to make sense of his words. "what?" you asked dumbly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks still flushed as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "never mind," he muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back against the shelf. “you’re such a nerd.”

© sosasturns