#house of balenciaga

[alwaysalwaysalwaysthesea]

Poppy print silk chiffon cocktail dress, House of Balenciaga, spring/summer 1948.

(source: Metropolitan Museum of Art)

[houseofhistories]

Evening dress (fall/winter 1961) and Evening coat (fall/winter 1948–49) - House of Balenciaga

[fashionistanura]

FR. I love Dune.

[fertileground]

UNDER OUR BLACK SUN: fashion mood board for geidi prime / house harkonnen / members of the bene gesserit

[matchamllk]

source

[game-of-style]

Rhaenys Targaryen - Balenciaga Haute Couture Fall 2023

[solesoldier]

𝙼𝚄𝙽 𝚅𝚂 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴.

[freshthoughts2020]

[shouldvepickedup]

:{

[houseofhistories]

Ball gown (Spring / Summer 1948) - House of Balenciaga

[goosefeathered]

The guy who makes the vestments for the pope is claiming miyake (and balanciaga but they might actually have a point w that one) is stealing his designs meanwhile both designs in question are like carbon copies of any given 90s Yohji Yamamoto which could mean nothing

[komodogall3ry]

pushing PPP

[freshxsturniolo]

4th July - Part 8 - chris sturniolo x femreader

pt1. pt2. pt3. pt4. pt5. pt6. pt7

the uber drive home is actually ... the nicest 10 minutes.

the way you rushed out of the bar like you were going to die if you didn't have him there and then, to the laughter and giggles in the uber was the switch up of the century.

but gods, you had a man.

you had chris sturniolo.

"promise you wont change your mind when you're sober?" he asks, his hand on your thigh as he leans in close to you now, only a short minute away from pulling up to your house.

"promise you won't change your mind." you laugh.

"not possible." he grinned at you, before leaning in to drop a gentle kiss on your lips.

but the minute you did get home, the minute the keys where in your lock and the comforting smell of your house hit your sense, you changed. there was hardly time to shut the front door before his hands where in your hair and he was pressing you against the wall.

"fuck, chris" you mutter into his mouth as you remove your hand from the door handle and allow your hands to come up to his shoulders. his mouth tasted of beer and your mind flows to the 4th july just days previously, and you smile into him as you take in the reality of you both now.

it was quick, you knew it was quick, but it felt right. nothing in your life felt more certain than chris in that moment, and he damn sure felt the same way about you.

you shove yourself off the wall now and force yourself to break apart, and he looks at you with heat in his eyes and a breathless rise in his chest.

"sorry" he mutters, and you smirk as you grab his hand, pulling him through your hallway and into the living room. there was a soft glow from the lamp in the corner that you always leave on so your home never looks empty, and one look at your couch is enough to bring back memories of the night before.

you spin on your heel, chris right behind you, and you lock your lips again immediacy. you were drunk and it was messy, your phone was vibrating in the back pocket of your jeans, likely from tara or jake to ask where you had gone, but you didn't care. you needed this man and you needed him now. you start to walk backwards at the same time his fingers come up to shoulders of your jacket, and he pulls away briefly to look at you.

"off" he says, tugging at the collar. you smirk, but you take it off immediately, throwing it onto the floor without a care. he looks down at you, your bare arms on display and your cleavage more visible than it had been the whole night and you wish for just a second, you could see hear his thoughts, but the smile that plays on his lips just a short while after is enough.

his lips are on yours again in seconds and his hands to come your his, guiding you backwards. you hold onto his shoulders to steady you both as your lips find each other. you know its messy, you know its heated, but you don't care. your calf hits the back of the couch and you break away again, only this time you spin him around.

"what are you doing?" he chuckles, as you hold onto his arms as you switch your positions. you look all the way over him, his black hoodie despite the scorching LA heat, his black jeans, his damn balenciaga belt, and when you look back up at him you catch him take a deep swallow, his adams apple bopping as he does so.

you slowly remove your hands from his arms, and you can hear his breath hitch as you move closer to his waist band, stopping at the line of his underwear that was peaking over the top of his jeans. your hands on his bare skin was sending shivers down his spine, despite the hoodie over his body, and he gulped. again.

"let me make you feel at home" you mutter, before your hands go to the clasp of his buckle, starting to unbuckle slowly.

"oh my god" he whispers, his eyes closing as he does so. but this time its your turn to tease.

"ah" you say, stopping just before you unbuckle him completely, and his eyes shoot open. "keep them eyes open" you say, and the most breathtaking smirk comes over his face, his blue eyes lighting up like you had never seen before,

but you continue to unbuckle, despite wanting to grab his face, keeping your eyes on him the entire time to enjoy the pleasure you can see sprinting across his eyes, and then you pull the belt out of the loops in a one quick motion. his eyes widen, and they finally leave yours as they look to his belt dangling from your grip, before you throw it onto the couch, landing with an expensive clunk.

"you have expensive taste" you say, as your hands now move to the button on his jeans.

he looks you up and down. taking in every inch of you. “yeah, i do” he says with a glaze to his voice.

gods, maybe it was just the alcohol talking or maybe you’d just never had a man make you feel this type of way.

with his button finally undone, you step back, your hands coming away from him now, and his eyes widen slightly. but you only smirk, moving to the hair tie on your wrist and pulling it into your hands before grabbing your hair.

“take them off, babe, and make yourself comfortable” you say, eyes boring into him as you slowly pull your hair into a ponytail on your top of your head. taking your time to rescrap at your scalp.

chris’ stomach was doing somersault as he realises what’s happening and he curses under his breath. his talk of wanting to be a gentleman and he’d fucked you on the first date, and you were now about to take him. on your couch. it went against everything he had planned for you but he couldn’t get enough.

he gets to work on pulling down his jeans as you finally wrap the hair tie into your hair, and when he stands back upright to take off his underwear, you see the outline of him. your pulse quickening as he finally pulls them down, his cock already hard.

and then he looks at you, his eyes so full of lust and desire before he slowly sits himself down on your couch, pushing himself back so he was slouched, and you finally make your way over to him.

you crouch down, using his knees as a support and he hisses as your nails scrap against his bear skin.

“already so sensitive, hmm?” you say.

“you might just be the death of me” he shakes out.

“we’ll see” you smirk, and then you finally reach out, taking his length in your hands before slowly leaning forward, lowering your head before you look up at him, staring straight into his eyes as you gather yourself, and spit straight onto his cock.

“fucking death of me” he grunts, and his hands on the back of your head within seconds, a giggle escaping your lips before you finally take him into your mouth.

there’s no point taking it slow, you’d teased him enough and the heat between your thighs was unbearable, you needed him sooner rather than later but you’re committed, as you move your mouth along the entire length of him. you can hear his ragged breath as his grip on your head becomes tighter, his fingers wrapping into your hair. and when you feel his legs start to shake, you run your tongue against his tip.

he whimpers. the man fucking whimpers.

you need him, and you need him quickly, but he’s already having the same idea as he pulls your head back, forcing you off of him. you don’t even have time to think before his free hand grabs your chin.

“i need you, now, pretty girl”

you smile, running your finger against your wet and swollen lips, before standing up.

“keep whimpering like that, pretty boy, and i fear i’ll not last long” you say, already pulling at your jeans.

he groans, his eyes closing as he goes to stand up, but you instantly put your hands on his chest.

“sit back down” you say, pushing at his chest. you’re in your house, on your couch, and you want to do the work. not the other way round. but on pushing him back down he manages to grab your hips and he’s pulling you down with him.

“i’ll whimper this entire house down if you’re not careful” his breath is raspy as you steady yourself, smirking as you bring your legs on either side of his, hands coming to his shoulders before you dip down, planting a kiss along his jawline before moving to his lips. as you press your lips against his, he bucks, his cock hitting your folds lighting but you're so sensitive you let out a raspy breath, and when you pull away he's smirking at you like a damn idiot. you roll your eyes, but with a smirk, before you position yourself above him.

"you'll be whimpering wether you want to or not" you say, grabbing his cock in your hands and positioning him just right, lowering yourself onto him. the groan that leaves your mouth at the exact same time is blissful as you sit yourself all the way down on him, and it takes you a second to adjust, but when your eyes look towards him again, you can't help but let out a genuine smile. this man was beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

and they you start to move your body, using your knees as a leverage to help you bounce on him perfectly, and it takes him no time to slam his head back on the couch, his hands on your hips as he squeezes down.

"jesus, fucking, christ" he groans out, and just the sound of his voice has you bouncing faster, taking every inch of him like you'd be starved for weeks.

"im gonna cum, pretty girl" he says, and then he whips his head up to look at you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you know there will be marks in the morning.

"hold out for me" you whisper, but you know its not going to be long, you can feel yourself tightening around him and you know he can feel it too, because he closes his eyes and he starts to buck up beneath you.

"chris" you moan you, unable to stop yourself as you learn forward, hands against the couch on either side of his head, and when he looks up at you those blue eyes pierce into your soul.

"i can't-" but he doesnt finish his sentence before his hands slid up your back, gripping you in a bug and pulling you against him, and then you're helpless. you can't move but chris has got you right where he wants you as he bucks up into you. once. twice. three times.

you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a muffle of moans against his hoodie, before one hand comes up to your ponytail and he tugs on it, pulling your head back so you're forced to look at him. your noses are so close they're almost bashing into each other but my god, you've never felt more attracted to him.

"keep those pretty eyes on me whilst i take you" he groans, crashing his lips on yours for a short second before pulling away again, his hands no longer on your hair as he pulls you tighter into him, bucking up into you faster then before.

"chris, fuck- chris"

"let go, pretty girl" he mutters, before one final buck has you done. you can't help but scream out his, your nose finally pressing against his as you do so, your legs shaking from your position as you finally reach your high, chris thrusts become sloppier as he struggles to keep his eyes on you.

but he does, the enter time, and when he finally stops as you both crash out, he places a soft kiss on your lips, his hands unwrapping from you to allow you to finally move back slightly, your hands coming to his cheeks as you kiss him deeper.

"you, are so fucking beautiful" he says when you finally part, and you're blushing. how on earth is this man real, and how on earth is this man yours?

"you're mine" you say, almost in disbelief, and he laughs. he laughs so deeply but so sincerely before he crashes his lips to yours again, softly and intently.

"and you're mine."

AGLIST : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss @slut4chriss @valkatriee @sturnsjtop @viiiwwwee @gwennysturniolo @melanch0lybby @sturnioloblues @mattstrombolii @sturnsbella @hearteyes4chris @le4hsblog @nervoussagittarius @chrissypook @sarosfilms @somegirlfromasgard @carringtonsgirlfriend @h3arts4harry @cherib3lla @rebelliousmuse @freshlovah0e @mattslovverr @melaniesturn

(if this tallest doesnt work AGAIN im so sorry)

[whatbigotspost]

That baby naming job post has got me remembering…the answer to “how can you make a living doing THAT??” is almost always:

“… there’s this whole subculture of people who are obsessed with things that would be considered ‘luxury brands.’ They believe prestige is purchased. They actually have the belief fully throughout their worldview so strongly, that if something is more expensive, it must be worth it. It must be better. This is most often true because they are (if not ultra wealthy) at least the landlord class and/or the kind of people who have money to burn and are trying to figure out ways to spend it. It is an unshakable principle to them if something has a giant price tag on it, it is something that you should want because it is better and ‘for you’ because it’s special because it’s for the people who have money.”

They love a “boutique” or “bespoke” illusion. Anything to feel like The Normies can’t also have this. And the saddest thing is that there is a whole other subculture of people under the “I am a Luxury Brand Person” umbrella who don’t even have the money who just go into debt trying to keep up the appearances of this kind of lifestyle because they want to be luxury people that badly. And luxury brands and niche services like life coaching or naming your kid or getting your kid into The Best School DEPEND on exploiting these people for profit by dangling the tantalizing concept of “it’s special and expensiveeeeee” to said socio-economic social climbers who think spending money they don’t have will ultimately result in having said money.

And it doesn’t, actually.

Anyway, happy labor day and as always: solidarity forever. The landlord class and the ultra wealthy don’t give a fuck about us and the best we can do is take full big “that’s so goddamn stupid” shits on anything they tell us special. Liiike….

Your cyber truck is a hideous abomination.

Your gentrifier white gray and beige house is exchangeable with any other and it made me puke anyway.

That Burberry is just plaid you idiots.

The local gym or a casual walk is just as effective for getting adequate exercise as your personal trainer.

Your life coach is a snake oil salesman.

A target tote is cuter than your birkin bag.

That lululemons gonna be see through as hell on your ass when your bend over at your thin white lady only yoga class.

$400 Prada sunglasses still break if you sit on them just like the free pair from your eye doctor.

You never needed a smart fridge, you colossal fool.

You look like a fucking clown in those balenciaga shoes.

The emperor has no goddamn clothes.

[indeedgoodman]