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aliwritex · 8 months

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Can I request protective Oscar which leads to her thinking he’s super hot like that and then that leads to smut please?

here it is, sorry for the wait babes F1masterlist

it was the little things

the way he never let you walk on the outside of the side walk

the way he would rest his hands on the curve of your back, right above your ass, anytime you were in a room full of people or a crowd you had to walk through

But that night specially it was all too hot. Lando had convinced your boyfriend to go clubbing with him after their podium. In reality all he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and maybe have the laziest, most intimate love making session with you. But you encouraged him to go out, it was his first podium in formula one and you felt full with pride, he had to celebrate it the right way.

So after the race you went back to the hotel and got ready to go out. Oscar looked unbelievably hot, it was the most boring outfit you could think of, for sure, but your boyfriend pulled it off perfectly. The black tshirt so tight on his arm, same with his jeans, they weren’t even supposed to be skinny but his thighs had gotten thicker and looked like they were about to burst out of those pants. The watch around his wrist, the chain you had gifted him at the beginning of the season adorning his neck and his cologne, god, that fucking cologne was intoxicating.

He was thrown on the bed, open like a starfish as he waited for you to get ready. You came out of the bathroom with a more casual than not outfit. Black mini skirt, white top and black boots, the star of the show being a vintage Mclaren jacket that Oscar would probably have to hold all night.

“Ready?” you asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed, groaning. “Come on, baby, it’s your first f1 podium, you can’t just stay in and do nothing.” you explained, combing your nails through his hair, trying to get it to sit right.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing, i was gonna do you” he hugged your waist, cheek pressed to your stomach.

“You can do me every day, but tonight i already promised Lando we would be there.” your boyfriend dropped his head in defeat, knowing damn well that the next morning his teammate won’t even know if he was there or not.

None of you were very fond of clubbing, not really knowing what to do. You danced for a bit as oscar talked to his coworkers that were there. The way you swayed your hips pulling different pairs of eyes to watch you. It was Lando that noticed and told him that you were causing a scene. He called you over with a motion of his finger, you obeyed blindly, walking over to him.

“Everything alright, baby?” you asked as he hugged you tightly to his side, the hand that held your jacket moving to discreetly cover some of your ass.

“Yep, perfect” he nodded, taking a sip of his beer before starting to talk to his teammate again. you couldn’t help but stare every time he took the glass bottle to his lips, the way they puckered up against the brim and how his arm flexed when he lifted it. “Want some?” he asked when he realized you were staring.

You nodded, holding your hand out for the bottle but it never met you, instead he took it straight to your lips tipping it so the liquid met your tongue. You drank it till he pulled away, trying not to make a mess but some of it dribbled down your chin anyway. He looked down at you swiping his thumb on the spilt alcohol and kissing you. He was putting on a show for everyone to see. Lando downed the drink the had in his hands with a chuckle before excusing himself to get another one. The second his colleague walked behind you he stretched his arm out, pulling him by the arm.

“Don’t you look, either” he threw his hands up in irony and Oscar started basically burning up, his hand lowering so the jacket would cover more of your legs.

“Don’t be mean” you told him as you threw your arms over his shoulder, his rested on your hips, hands holding your jacket and his beer, too busy to roam around your ass.

“I’m not. It’s just that, everyone was staring. I swear i saw a pit guy look you up and down, he must know who you are, right?”

“Oscar, even though this is extremely amusing and hot, you have to let it go, it’s alright.”

“Hot?” he teased

“Well, yeah, being all manly and jealous and possessive. It’s kinda hot.” you explained before starting to kiss on his neck, each mole of his receiving a peck. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

“Yes, please. Just gotta say bye, c’mon” he pulled you through the small crowd till you met Lando and some other coworkers of his. You two said your goodbyes and walked out of the place, waiting for his car. You got in so quickly after he opened the door for you, waiting impatiently to get back to your room.

His hand was on your thigh the entire ride, getting higher and higher, your skirt doing very little to stop it. You couldn’t take your eyes off his hand gripping tight on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched making it look sharper. The anticipation was killing you but luckily you were finally in front of the hotel. Oscar rushed out of the car to open the door for you and get you out of the car and into the lobby. Because of the late hour the elevator got to you quickly and you stumbled in, his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close.

As soon as the elevator doors closed you pulled him in by the colar of his shirt your arms wrapped around his neck, hands hanging loosely behind him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He was fighting the urge to not grind his hips against you just yet but it was hard when you started kissing down his neck and running your nails on his scalp.

“Oscar” you called “Oscar, we’re here” you pushed him off of you, taking him by the hand and walking to your room. You reached into his back pocket to grab the keycard and open the door, immediately kicking it shut and making him sit on the couch.

You got on your knees immediately, taking off your shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. You could see his outline in them as he lifted his hips to help you. Your lips connected to his thigh, kissing all the way up to the wet patch on his underwear, his dick growing even harder inside it.

“Don’t fucking tease, get to it” he rushed you, hand running through your hair.

Your fingers made their way to his waistband, pulling it under his dick. You watched as it basically bounced against his stomach before kissing the tip. As you looked up you saw that he was getting impatient so you spit down on the head, watching it drip down the side of his length before spreading it around him with your palm. He was watching you, following your moves closely, anticipating but the moment you took his tip into your mouth he threw his head back, closing his eyes tightly.

Oscar’s hand gripped tighter, the other one collecting the rest of your hair, pulling it into a ponytail. As he recovered himself from the first contact with your mouth he lifted his head up, admiring the way your mouth stretched around him.

“Fuck my mouth, baby, please” you asked with him in your hand, leaving your mouth open for him.

He fixed the hand on your head and pushed you down slightly on his dick till your nose gif the hairs on his groin. His hand held you there for a while before pulling off completely. You were already a mess, lips red and plump covered in saliva, small strands of your hair stuck to your face and you had been sitting on your ankles, grinding against them to get the slightest feeling of relief.

Oscar kicked your knees apart, placing his leg between them, he immediately pressed it up onto you. You let out a groan but it was cut short by the way your boyfriend shoved your mouth down on his cock.

“Fuck, baby, so perfect, your mouth is. Always feels so good” he praised as he aggressively pulled your head up and down his dick.

His thrusts had gotten more aggressive making you gag around him but you were so satisfied. After the little show he putt on earlier all you wanted was to be manhandled and it was exactly what he was giving you. You had started bouncing in his foot shamelessly and he was loving the view, your tits bouncing slightly and tears now falling from the corner of your eyes.

“‘M close, love, gonna cum in your mouth, yeah?”

He pulled you away, making you keep only his tip in your mouth, you sucked the hardest, tongue sliding against his slit repeatedly till he spilt in your mouth. Oscar groaned, throwing his head back as you sucked every last bit of cum out of him before it was all too much and he pulled you off him.

“That’s a way to celebrate a podium” you said before dropping your head to his thigh, completely used up.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #f1 #a writes #oscar piastri x reader

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transform4u · 2 months

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Hey, my phone keeps glitching out. Do you think it might have something to do with this "hipsterdouche.mp3" file that got on there somehow? I don't remember downloading anything like that!

As you listen to the "hipsterdouche.mp3," your surroundings begin to shift subtly. Your phone, once a standard device, morphs seamlessly into a sleek new iPhone. You barely register the change as notifications from Pitchfork and the DSA Twitter start to pop up. You scoff at the pretentious reviews and political posts, yet find yourself scrolling through an article, noticing the playlist switch from a mainstream Chappell Roan song to a lo-fi, forgotten tune from The Mountain Goats.

The low-fi quality of the music blends with the environment around you, causing the familiar buzz of your usual spot to morph. The ambient noises begin to change. The hum of the city shifts to the metallic screech of a New York subway train. The train's rhythmic clattering and the occasional garbled announcements over the PA system immerse you further.

“Next stop, Prospect Park,” the voice crackles over the intercom. A wave of disorientation hits you. "Shiiiitt" You suddenly realize that you’re supposed to be meeting friends at a dive bar, but the sense of urgency is replaced by a foggy recollection of an alternative lifestyle you used to pursue.

As the subway doors open, you step out onto the platform. The air is thick with the distinctive scent of subway grime mixed with the faint hint of exhaust and city rain. You notice the flickering fluorescent lights above and the smudged tiles on the walls. The bustling energy of the station contrasts sharply with the peaceful, more predictable vibe of your usual hangouts.

With each step towards the street, your clothes begin to morph. Your business casual attire transforms into something distinctly more hipster. Your blazer and slacks turn into a tight-fitting, faded graphic tee adorned with an obscure band logo or an ironic slogan. Over this, a flannel shirt either drapes over your shoulders or is tied around your waist, both equally cringeworthy. Your pants shift into skinny jeans that are a bit too short, revealing a pair of high-top sneakers or worn-out Converse.

On your head, a beanie that’s a touch too small rests uncomfortably. You adjust retro, oversized glasses with no prescription, and your facial hair transforms into a meticulously groomed scruffy beard. In your hand, an artisanal coffee cup appears, and the warmth of its contents contrasts with the cold, gritty feel of the city air.

As you step out of the subway and onto the Brooklyn streets, you’re surrounded by the eclectic charm of Prospect Park, and your attire mirrors the neighborhoods’ mix of vintage shops, indie bookstores, and hip cafes. The streets buzz with the eclectic energy of Brooklyn, a far cry from the polished but soulless urbanity you once knew.

As you pull out the joint and light it, the initial taste is earthy, tinged with the faint sweetness of the cannabis strain. The smoke curls around you, filling the air with a distinct aroma—rich, skunky, with underlying notes of pine and a touch of citrus. It’s a smell that seems to blend seamlessly with the urban environment, creating a cloud that feels both familiar and alien.

As you inhale deeply, a wave of dullness begins to wash over your mind. Thoughts become sluggish, but there's an increasing sense of smugness that accompanies the mental fog. The feeling is almost like floating in a haze of contentment, where every self-assured smirk and self-congratulatory thought feels right at home.

A sly grin spreads across your face, your expression becoming a mixture of self-satisfaction and aloofness. As the smoke envelops you, your body undergoes a remarkable transformation. The excess fat dissolves, and lean, toned muscles start to replace it. You feel the change as if sculpted by an artist with a distinct sense of humor—an artist who appreciates the interplay of form and irony.

Your physique becomes a study in contrasts. You’re lean and sinewy, with a form that’s both chiseled and effortlessly casual. Your shoulders are broad but not overly muscular, tapering down to a trim waist that suggests countless hours spent cycling through the city rather than traditional gym workouts. Your chest, while not excessively bulky, exudes confidence, accentuated by a perfectly fitted, slightly distressed shirt that clings just enough to hint at the toned physique beneath.

Your face is a masterpiece of angular perfection. High, defined cheekbones and a strong jawline frame your expression, which is perpetually smirking, as if you’re on the verge of delivering a sardonic comment. Your eyes, set beneath carefully tousled bangs, glint with a mix of mischief and depth, conveying a narrative of indie films, obscure vinyl records, and late-night discussions about philosophy.

Your beard, meticulously groomed into a slight stubble, adds a touch of rugged charm that complements your otherwise smooth, fair skin. Your style manages to look effortlessly curated—each element of your appearance a blend of high fashion and nonchalance. The final result is a look that’s enigmatic and alluring, leaving a lasting impression that’s as intriguing as it is meticulously put together.

As you stand there, surrounded by the vibrant energy of Brooklyn, your new appearance and the cloud of smoke create a persona that embodies the essence of a hipster stereotype—confident, self-assured, and delightfully aloof.

As you step into the dive bar, the dim lighting and eclectic mix of vintage memorabilia create the perfect backdrop for your transformation into a douchey hipster bro. The warmth and kindness that once defined you begin to recede, replaced by a carefully constructed aloofness. The thoughts echoing in your mind gradually mold your new persona.

As you walk through the bar’s entrance, you feel the layers of your former self peel away. Your appearance is now a calculated masterpiece of self-indulgent anachronism. Tight, distressed jeans cling to your form, paired with a plaid flannel shirt in hues of forest green and burgundy. The shirt is half-tucked into your jeans, the other half billowing out in a deliberate display of carelessness that signals your disdain for mainstream fashion. Over this, you wear a vintage leather bomber jacket, worn from punk rock gigs and late-night thrift store raids. A beanie sits low on your head, covering disheveled hair styled to look effortlessly tousled. Thick-rimmed, non-prescription glasses frame your eyes, which you adjust with a flick of your fingers, reflecting your perpetual annoyance at the unrefined. A keffiyeh drapes around your neck, a bold statement of selective political awareness and disdain for conventional fashion.

Your personality has transformed into a blend of condescension and misplaced sincerity. Conversations become a labyrinth of niche interests and obscure trivia. You discuss the socioeconomic impact of artisanal cheese with an air of authority, wax philosophical about the differences between microbrews, and extol the virtues of vinyl records over digital music with a smirk. As a vinyl collector on a quest for rare finds, you exaggerate the significance of your acquisitions with grandiose tales. Your weekends are spent hunting for vintage furniture at flea markets, which you proudly repurpose into “artisanal” home decor, much to the bemusement of friends who are more concerned with practicality.

On social media, you present yourself as a fervent activist, with profiles filled with pseudo-intellectual ramblings about environmentalism, punctuated by #SaveTheWhales hashtags and cryptic posts about reducing your carbon footprint. Despite your passionate pleas for change, your actual contributions are limited to purchasing locally-sourced kombucha and posting about it with missionary zeal.

Your memories now consist of pseudo-experiences, like long-winded tales about attending an underground jazz festival in Berlin or the “transformative” experience of reading Dostoevsky in a Parisian café. These stories are punctuated with phrases like “authentic experience” and “cultural enrichment,” serving to remind others of your superiority and deep-seated knowledge. Social interactions become your stage, where you perform as the enlightened soul surrounded by the uninformed masses. Any conversation quickly turns into a monologue about your superior taste in coffee, cinema, or any other niche topic. When someone tries to engage you on a subject outside your expertise, you respond with a patronizing tilt of the head, as though they’re speaking an alien language.

In essence, you’ve become a walking paradox of ironic detachment and pretentiousness. Your existence is a carefully curated tableau of vintage aesthetics and self-imposed exclusivity, where your profound engagement with counter-culture starkly contrasts with your detachment from genuine human connection.

The dimly lit room is filled with trendy patrons sipping on craft beers and cocktails. You spot her right away - a gorgeous girl sitting alone at the bar, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses.

She has long, wavy hair that cascades down her back in shades of blonde and brown. Her body is slender yet curvy in all the right places, clad in a fitted black dress that hugs her every curve. You can't help but feel drawn to her; she exudes an effortless coolness that makes you want to know more about this mysterious woman.

But wait… aren't you gay? Why are you even noticing how hot she is? Your friends wave over from their table near the pool table, calling out your name excitedly as they gesture for you to join them for drinks and dancing later on tonight. As much as part of your brain screams at staying true to yourself and enjoying time with friends who accept and love you just as much for who YOU are… another part whispers temptingly about scoring big time tonight by taking home this stunning beauty! After all… tits are awesome! And suddenly it hits hard - you weren't unique or special enough to be gay. You're a basic ass, straight white boy.

As you make your way through the smoky haze of the dive bar, your eyes lock onto a girl at the bar, her casual charm standing out amidst the eclectic crowd. You approach her with a self-assured swagger, the echo of your inner thoughts lending a brash confidence to your demeanor.

"Hey there," you say, leaning against the bar with a casual air, "I couldn’t help but notice you look like you might appreciate some real music." You give her a once-over, smirking as you continue, "You know, something that isn’t mainstream garbage."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but intrigued. "Oh really? What kind of music are you into?"

With an air of superiority, you straighten up, adjusting your thick-rimmed glasses. "Well, I’ve been into bands that actually matter—bands that have shaped the soundscape of our generation. I listen to bands like Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver, and Animal Collective. You know, the ones that actually push boundaries and have an intellectual depth."

You take a sip from your artisanal craft beer, savoring the taste as if it's a rare delicacy. "I’ve seen Fleet Foxes live, and let me tell you, their performance was transcendent. They played an intimate set at a secret venue in Berlin that only a few knew about. It was so underground, you probably wouldn’t even have heard of it."

You notice her eyes glazing over and press on, becoming more aggressive. "But honestly, I don’t expect someone like you to understand. Most people here probably wouldn’t even get the significance of a Velvet Underground record. It’s like trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler."

Her face reddens with frustration.

"Look," you say with a condescending smile, "I get it. You’re probably into whatever’s trending right now—some pop star who’s more about image than substance. But if you really want to appreciate music, you should be looking at what the real trendsetters are listening to."

Your words are laced with an unspoken implication that her tastes are inferior, and you don’t miss the opportunity to debase her further. "I mean, no offense, but judging by your outfit, I can tell you probably haven’t been exposed to anything beyond the mainstream. It’s not your fault; it’s just how it is when you’re not in the know."

She gives you a withering look, "You're cuter when you don't talk" You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as she pulls you closer for a kiss. Her lips are soft and demanding at the same time, sending shivers down your spine.

As her tongue explores your mouth, she continues to talk down to you, her words dripping with sarcasm. "See? This is what happens when you shut up and let me take charge," she says between kisses. "You're so much cuter when you do that."

Her hands roam over your body, touching every inch of skin they can reach while her lips remain locked onto yours. She pushes against you forcefully, grinding her hips against yours as if trying to assert dominance through physical contact alone. As she downs the rest of her drink, she turns to face you fully and smiles seductively. Before either of us can think twice about it, your lips meet in a passionate kiss that quickly escalates into heavy petting again.

Feeling emboldened by this newfound connection (and possibly fueled by alcohol), you suggest taking things back outside for some fresh air and maybe even a smoke break. Once there under the dim streetlights, your hands wander freely over each other's bodies - yours exploring every curve while hers squeeze tightly around your waist as if afraid to let go just yet. You can't help but notice how soft yet firm her skin feels against yours; it sends shivers down your spine knowing what lies ahead later tonight

As if reading your mind perfectly well despite never having met before today, she whispers into your ear: "Let's just fuck and get this over with." It takes all of two seconds for those words to register within both your brains before reason takes flight from them entirely; why waste time building anticipation when you could be experiencing pure bliss right here right now? So without further ado or thought given towards potential consequences tomorrow morning you both stumble back inside where privacy awaits patiently behind closed doors

#gay to straight #male tf #transformation #douchebag tf #ask #dumber #Hipster tf #jerk virus

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adore-laur · 10 months

Text

GET MINE, GET YOURS

— your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and you still jump his bones on occasion ❤️‍🔥

——

2004

Heavy raindrops cascade off the roof of the mechanic shop, its metal shingles mottled with splotches of orange rust. The sight forms tight knots in your stomach as dreary storm clouds loom over the town. You stall outside for another minute, soaked pebbles crunching under the soles of your shoes as you pace near your car.

After exhaling a quelling breath and rolling your shoulders back, you slowly walk toward the half-closed garage. Harry is running the shop all by himself this afternoon, working gruesome nine-to-fives just about every day of the week. You don't know how he does it, so you try to visit and keep him company once in a while.

Today, however, is different. The brakes on your car have been squeaking incessantly, and you know jack squat about anything car-related, so you had no choice but to ask your ex-boyfriend for help.

Yes, your ex-boyfriend.

You would honestly rather listen to him drone on about all the intricate parts of an automobile than some wise guy who makes you feel stupid when you confusedly nod along and attempt to ask clarifying questions. Harry is much nicer about it. He simplifies terms for you while your mind drifts away to things much more interesting than the anatomy of axels and tires. For example, Harry's pink lips or the beautiful veins protruding from the backs of his hands.

You've gone to him with car problems before, but you mostly visit to hang out with him. It's never awkward since the breakup was mutual, and you are still on good terms. Plus, you find contentment in the routine of bringing him fast food and talking his ear off while he does the strenuous work.

And so what if you still fuck him on the down-low?

There's nothing wrong with having no strings attached, especially since he gives you heavenly sexual experiences each and every time. It's not like it's a weekly thing, either. It's just that whenever you cross paths with him, it always ends up with his body hovering over yours and his cross necklace dangling above your bare chest.

Unfortunately, you're not in the mood for that right now. The stress caused by your shitty car and having to probably pay a hefty amount of cash just to be able to safely drive anywhere has quickly turned your day sour.

As you duck your head to enter the garage, the smell of rubber and oil instantly permeates your senses. The plug-in air freshener on the wall is doing the absolute bare minimum. Soft bass creeps into your eardrums, and a groovy R&B track plays from Harry's boombox sitting beside his reliable red toolbox. You grin and roll your eyes when you recognize the eminent growl of Christina Aguilera coming through the speakers. You're greeted with a song you'd never expect him to listen to whenever you visit.

Turning your head to the left, you spot Harry working under a beat-up vintage Cadillac. He's lying down on a roller with his knees bent, metal clinking from whatever he's fixing. The black skinny jeans he's wearing are faded, and he's not wearing any shoes for some risky reason; only white socks cover his feet.

"Hi, baby." Harry's voice rumbles, jolting you. You've told him to stop calling you that, but it falls on deaf ears every time.

"How'd you know it was me?" you ask, running your fingertips across a stray wrench.

He laughs huskily. "I can see your dirty ass sneakers from under here."

Before you can defend your mud-stained shoes, his hands grip the bottom edge of the car as he rolls himself out from underneath, revealing his face decorated with smears of grease and his long hair tied into a bun. It's been two weeks since you saw him last, give or take, and you swear he gets more physically buff each time. His biceps are practically bulging as he wipes beading sweat from his forehead, the sheened muscles filling out his grubby uniform deliciously.

You break away from your lustful trance and nod your head toward his boombox. "Stripped on cassette, huh? You keep on surprising me."

"Is there a problem?" He slings a soiled rag over his shoulder.

"No, not at all," you reply lightheartedly. "It just isn't really a manly record to fix cars to."

He teasingly sticks his tongue out and saunters over to you, bending down a bit before wrapping one arm around your waist and lifting you in a firm embrace. His mouth breathes warm air against your neck, and you can smell the spearmint gum he's been chewing.

"Came to visit me?" he murmurs as he gently sets you down, keeping a firm grip on your hip and hooking his middle finger through your belt loop.

You pout and tell him, "My car is broken."

He mimics your expression. "Yeah? What happened?"

"I was driving home from the grocery store, and the brakes started squeaking out of nowhere."

Harry stops smacking his gum and furrows his eyebrows. "And you drove all the way here without calling me?"

You grimace. "Please don't be mad."

"You're not supposed to keep driving when your brakes are acting up," he says seriously. "You know better."

"I didn't want to make you leave work," you reply, fidgeting with your hands.

He softly tuts while flinging the rag somewhere behind him. "I would've come and gotten you if you had asked."

You just shrug helplessly and look around the garage, admiring Harry's workspace, which completely encapsulates his personality, even though he shares the space with a coworker most days. Various cassettes are stacked haphazardly on a shelf, ranging from girl groups to classic rock to spa music for meditation purposes. He has an opened bag of organic potato chips on his workbench, the brand he always buys from the gas station just down the road. There's also a shallow pottery bowl in the corner where he puts his rings so they don't touch oil.

He's a moody motherfucker, but you know all of his soft spots.

"I'm guessing I'll be spending the entirety of my last paycheck on the repair," you mutter while wandering around, picking up random tools.

Harry leans back against the car he's working on and crosses his arms. "It'll probably cost around two hundred dollars to replace the brake pad," he says.

"What the hell?" you say incredulously. "You need to talk to your boss about lowering the prices around here."

"I am the boss."

"Oh, that's right."

He laughs through his nose. "Negotiate with me about it, then. Convince me to lower the price."

You stop in your tracks and stare at him, unimpressed with the upper hand he tries to have over you. "Nope. I'm not doing that."

"Why not?" he asks. "C'mon, I'm bored out of my mind."

You groan and stride over to stand in front of him. He's so hard to resist. "Fine. Will you please give me a discount?"

Harry drags out a monotonous hum before plainly saying, "No."

Standing on your tiptoes, you touch your nose to his and whisper, "Pretty please?"

He narrows his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against yours. "You're getting warmer."

"I'll help you fix my car," you plead, willing to do anything to save a little money. "I'm really good at following instructions."

"You are, sweetheart, but absolutely not."

You frown and bury your face in his neck. He's sweaty, yet there's a hint of some pine-scented cologne coming through that drives you insane. "If I let you fuck me," you suggest boldly, leaving a slow kiss near his pulse point, "will you give me a discount?"

Harry moves his head to look at you straight on, smiling smugly and using his teeth to stretch his gum across the tip of his tongue. "That's more like it."

"But don't you have a car to fix right now?" you ask, feigning innocence to get under his skin.

"Baby," he murmurs, "you can't come here and expect me to actually get work done. You're too distracting."

You pinch his thigh through his jeans. "Stop calling me that."

"No," he says softly. "You're still my baby."

"Not anymore."

"Then no discount for you."

You scoff and step away from him. "Stop being a jerk, Harry."

"Letting me fuck you just for a discount, hmm? Is that it?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You know I'd let you fuck me anyway," you admit under your breath.

The muscles in his jaw twitch. "God, you give me whiplash."

You get up in his face and say, "Yeah, well, you give me a headache."

His hand quickly reaches out to push the back of your head toward him, messily smearing his lips against yours. "I hate when you're like this," he mumbles into your mouth. "My baby's so stubborn when she doesn't get her way, isn't she?"

You bite his bottom lip and tug on it before releasing it. "Don't want to be your baby."

His hand gravitates toward the curve of your ass, squeezing just once. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want to be your brat."

Harry's head tilts as he visibly swallows. "Get on the couch," he orders lowly. "Face down, ass up."

You grin, pleased to the max, and stroll over to the black leather couch in the back while Harry shuts the garage door for privacy. The screech of the lock makes you wince, and the sound of the pelting rain becomes muffled. The continuous drops on the roof match the speed of your racing heart.

Placing your forearms on the cold, cracked leather, you bend your knees to get into position and tilt your head so your cheek rests on the cushion. Harry swiftly removes his hairband, his curls messily falling past his shoulders. Next, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his swallow tattoos and chest hair, both slick with sweat. His cross pendant rests perfectly against his skin as he comes up beside you and leisurely trails his fingers down your spine until they reach the waistband of your low-rise bell bottoms.

Goosebumps erupt across your arms when his other hand goes to unbutton his skinny jeans. You can see his bulge strain against the tight material, and it makes you squirm impatiently.

"Sit still," Harry says, pulling down his jeans. His black boxers and thigh tattoo are now directly in front of you.

You pitifully moan when he crouches and grabs your wrists to place them behind your back. "Not fair," you grumble.

"Oh, really? It's not fair that I'm about to fuck you."

"You know what I mean."

Harry tugs down your pants and underwear in one go, the material bunching at the back of your knees. He then takes his boxers off, placing one knee on the cushion and lining himself up as he grips the top of the couch to stay balanced.

"Still on birth control?" he asks, planting a quick kiss on your shoulder blade. The cold metal of his necklace against your skin sends an avalanche of chills down the length of your spine.

You nod, and Harry immediately thrusts into you. You gasp as the burning sensation spreads like wildfire all the way to your thighs, your hands clenching into tight fists as he continuously rocks deep strokes in and out. You whimper with each one, and Harry's hand holds your hair back in a makeshift ponytail to watch every pleasurable change of expression on your face.

"You good?" He pants while slowing down his thrusts, keeping them long and purposeful.

"I want to touch you."

His hips pound into your backside. "Yeah? Where do you want to touch me?"

"Anywhere, just please let me."

"I didn't know brats begged like whores," he says, tugging your hair.

You wiggle your fingers behind your back, trying to touch his stomach, but it's to no avail. Harry stops thrusting, his hair hanging over his face as he looks down at you. "Want it that bad?" he says in awe.

You muster up fake tears and nod pathetically to get your way. "Please, daddy."

It always works like a charm. Harry grunts and instantly pulls out, hastily sitting on the couch with his legs spread and grabbing your waist to make you straddle him.

You kick off your pants and underwear the rest of the way, along with your shoes, then sink down on his cock, slowly grinding on him with your hands in his hair. You want to touch him everywhere, so you rub your palms down his chest and then hold both of his hands as you arch your back and tilt your head up toward the ceiling rafters. The new position tightens your orgasm more quickly, and the way Harry is desperately moaning with his hands clutching your thighs causes heat to prickle all over your body.

"Such a pretty brat for me, right?" Harry praises you, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. "Getting your way like you always do."

"Mm-hmm," you hum, every grind making your stomach rub against his, all sweat and smooth skin. "Only for you."

He nips love bites along your collarbone. "It fuckin' better be. I don't want you doing this with anyone else."

"And what if I do?" you ask, the slickness of your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs.

Harry opens his mouth with a scoffed moan when you circle your hips. "Th-think I'd die from jealousy."

The fact that you got him to stutter makes you grind faster until his jaw is clenched and he's clawing scratches on your back. "What's there to be jealous about?"

"That they get to stuff this tight pussy, and I don't." His eyes roll back as he starts to stimulate your clit with his thumb.

Not only is he a moody motherfucker, but he's a filthy one too.

"You're doing it right now, though," you say, and Harry nods briskly. "Consider yourself lucky."

"But I want to be the only one."

"I know." You suddenly choke out a moan when your orgasm approaches. "I'm gonna come, Harry. Oh, God..."

"Me too," he says, his chest heaving. "Give me a good one, baby."

You hold onto his shoulders and tense your thighs while you release, Harry stilling as well as his hips jerk to meet yours. You feel him fill you up, and after he runs himself dry, you fall against his body from exhaustion, whining into his neck as the pleasure consumes you. His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you in for a lazy hug while his cock slowly softens inside you.

The rain pours outside, and the ambiance calms you down while your body relaxes. It reminds you of a time when things were easier, a time without complicated feelings or unresolved issues.

Harry abruptly begins giggling, his chest raising with each breathy laugh. You join in, but you don't necessarily understand what's so funny. You lift your head to see deep dimples carved into his cheeks and the devastatingly gorgeous crinkles near his eyes.

Once his laughter dies down, he says, "We just orgasmed at the same time to "Beautiful" by Xtina."

"No way," you reply, breaking into more giggles.

Harry starts cackling as the dramatic piano ballad plays from the boombox, possibly the worst song to listen to while having sex. It's so ridiculous that tears form in your eyes and your sides start hurting from laughing so hard.

"We also just fucked with our socks on," Harry adds, resting his covered feet on the couch and wiggling his toes.

"Sexy."

"Super sexy. And quite comfortable."

You smile and glance at his lips, feeling an intense urge to kiss them, but you know you shouldn't. As soft as they look, it would only make things more complicated. Well, besides the fact that you still have sex with him. You're okay with the equal exchange of satisfaction, even though the emotional boundaries seem to blur more and more each time.

"You can kiss me," Harry whispers.

You swallow and shake your head, playing with the ends of his curls. "That's not what we do anymore. I get mine, and you get yours, remember? That's it."

"You let me kiss you earlier," he points out.

"That was a different kind of kiss."

He just makes a disappointed face and lifts your hips so he can pull out. He then stands still, holding you with one arm, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks over to the boombox.

"What should we listen to next?" he asks in your ear, delicately pressing a button to remove the black and white cassette.

You tilt your head sideways and read the names on the stack of cassettes. "Hmm... how about Time and Form: Celestial Meditation? Sounds like the perfect soundtrack for aftercare."

Harry snorts. "Shut up."

You laugh and dig your heels into his lower back, wanting to be even closer to his bare skin. The full-fledged urge to kiss him returns again, this time with a bizarre wave of sadness.

You can't. He's your ex.

It would cross the line that was never really there in the first place, but it's a faint one, and it still matters. To you, to him, and to the stakes of what you are to each other. Yet you spend days and nights lying in bed, wondering if he'll call you on the old wall phone at the shop and ask you to come over just because. Or when he tells you he missed you when you do show up, hugging you tight and thanking you for lunch. Or when he's glum and sulky to everyone else but you, his face immediately lights up when you step into the room.

It all means something, but you'll never allow it to become more than that. Just fleeting moments make up for the emptiness you felt when you stopped being romantically involved with him. It quells the ache, but only in real-time. Afterward, you go home to the apartment you live in by yourself, wishing he could follow you there and stay with you like he used to.

You didn't cry when you broke up with him because you knew there would still be some sort of relationship present, even though it wouldn't involve dating. That's when you both agreed to keep having sex without the strings attached; however, the buried feelings you have always seem to burst into uncontrollable flames when he touches you. You'll never admit it, though, because a purely physical relationship with him is better than not having one at all.

It'd be a shame to lose the fire where the smoke is.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles #adore-laur #get mine get yours

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aestheticsstyleguide · 2 months

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With these ±50 items you can create countless (or around 120.960) of 2014 Tumblr Soft Grunge outfits!

Tops:

- Simple black and white tops in different shapes, like the American Apparel ones pictured. A simple black and white t-shirt is also always good to have.

- Tops with a design. Especially horizontal black and white stripes and grids are a need!

- Band merch! Arctic Monkeys is the most popular one, but e.g. The 1975, The Neighbourhood and Nirvana are also good!

- The alien shirt! I think everyone remembers this one, the OG is from Brandy Melville, but there are a lot of remakes.

- A top with a Japanese word, I found these on Pinterest, but you can find a word that you like :)

- Flannels. Go for a dark colour like grey, green or red. Wear it as usual or around the waist.

- A jean jacket, usually a little baggy. Vintage Levi's are a good option, but any brand works.

Sets:

- Another popular outfit is the Lulu set from American Apparel, this one was available in several designs, but for the soft grunge look we're looking for the black and white versions. Like the ones pictured.

Bottoms:

- Pleated tennis skirts! Specifically from American Apparel, the black and white ones are a must! One with a plaid print is also good to have, especially when the rest of the outfit is a bit plain and you want that little extra.

- Jean shorts, preferably a bit baggy. Washed out denim, grey tints and black are great options.

- Jeans! I'll make a separate list here.

Jeans:

- 2 pairs of blue denim baggy jeans (preferably a bit of a lighter shade). 1 ripped and 1 not.

- 2 pairs of black baggy jeans. Again, 1 ripped and 1 not.

- 1 pair of black skinny jeans.

Shoes:

Shoes are usually black, but white is also seen.

- Chunky heels, like the ones from UNIF.

- Platform sneakers, Buffalo is a good brand for that.

- A pair of black Dr. Martens. High ones are the most versatile in my opinion, but the low ones are cute too.

- Black High Top Converse All-Stars are a must. Checkered ones are nice as well.

- And so are the classic Checkered Vans slip ons.

- Nike Air Force 1, in black and/or white.

- Black creepers.

Accessoires:

- Fishnet tights! You can get them in different sizes :) you can also get fishnet socks

- Kneehigh socks! Get 4 different ones so you have a bit of versatility. 2 plain in black and white, 2 with stripes, so black with white stripes (like the one pictured) and white with black stripes.

- Chokers! There are many different designs but the tattoo choker is iconic! A plain black one is the other most important one. If you got those two you're free to get any choker you like! Not before that tho >:)

- Crystal necklaces, you know? THOSE ones :) in silver obvi

- A beanie for the winter. A black one with white stars or text maybe? It's up to you :)

- Black and white tote bags, specifically The American Apparel cities bag and the one with 'This Bag Contains [some illegal stuff]

This all together can be very expensive, but you probably already have some things in your closet! I suggest going to thrift stores :) also, ofc you don't have to buy these brands, you can look for cheaper look a likes :)

I hope this helped you so that you can dress like THAT Tumblr girl!

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okaerina · 1 year

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𖥻 THINGS — enhypen ◌ ִ ۫ ּ

syn ; things enha reminds me of !

heeseung !

dangly earrings, pendent chains, skinny ripped jeans, rock guitar, clubbing, late studio night, concerts, rainy empty street, love songs, specs, ice cream, deers, rainforest, going over the speed limit, long drive, polaroids, balcony, tattoos, collage campus, basketball, getting into fist fights, breaking rules, warm breeze, kisses, sharing earphones, untied shoelaces, sleeveless tops, cross jewelries, chase atlantic songs

jay !

red wine, ball dance, guitar, empty kitchen, champagne bubbles, tuxedo suits, runaway, black cat, fashion magazines, gold jewelries, camping, eucalyptus, biking, biker jackets, street racing, late night walks, city lights, porsche, cologne, the weeknd songs, loose tie, fancy restaurant, chanel bags, iced americano, home, long hugs, words of affirmation, eye contact, autumn, posh music, v necks, opera, musical recital, marriage, ancient churches

jake !

pancakes, golden retrievers, empty parks, cardigans, picnic, wolf pups, landscapes, abstract art, lip piercings, makeout sessions, mornings, cream, sheets, swimming, sand castles, tree houses, venus, varsity player, rings, clashing waves, sun shinning through curtains, backyard, champagne, sparkly eyes, netflix and chill, forehead kisses, caramel fudge, winter, jb songs, garden, lilies, lipstick stains

sunghoon !

sculptures, greek mythology, snow, ice skating, pointe shoes, swan lake, ice rinks, rhinestones, vampires, sharp canines, royalty, huskies, novels, cruise, 90s songs, ear muffs, moon phase, poetry, dandelions, maple leaves, vanilla shake, pearls, penguins, blush, lucid dreams, confessions, lullaby, archangels, romance movies, boyfriend coats, monsoon, hair blowing because of the wind, moles, tears, old love, unrequited love, ribbons, weddings

sunoo !

sun, tulip field, solar system, marshmallows, tteobokki, street food, shopping, karaoke, smiles, cute stationeries, stickers, secret diary, cheek kisses, mufflers, red foxes, bratz doll, playdate, selfies, carnations, easter, boba tea, bestfriends to lovers, cherry blossoms, lip gloss, skincare, disney shows, late night face timing, gossiping, watching kdramas, sanrio stuffs, blowing bubbles, photo booths, texts, horizon

jungwon !

kittens, valleys, teenage dream, gold fish, aquariums, subways, cds, headphones, empty bus rides, babybreaths, holding hands, first love, taylor swift songs, messy hair, vacation, countryside, group study, constellations, piggyback ride, dimples, converse, empty classroom, sheep cubs, indoor plants, mini cactus, namsan tower, han river, late fall, vintage hand written letters , young love, romcom, kitties

ni-ki !

graffiti, sunsets, baggy pants, late night dance jam, empty beach, bicycling, sea shore, ear piercings, watermelon, summer, slow dancing, grass field, bungeoppangs, duck chicks, disneyland, ps5, arcade, puma cubs, eskimo kisses, bracelets, youth, climbing fences, skipping school, skateboarding, mangas, school festivals, footsies, cute band aids, oversized attires, j-rock, night sky, laughters, slice of life, teenage, playfulness, photo booths, anime, shoujo manga

taglist ; @solarwoniii @shiningstar-byulxx @wtfhyuck @ichiibunztwt @enhawhoreist

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cherrygirlystuff · 1 month

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Grunge Gatherings: Your Guide to Indie Sleaze Socials

Hey babe! 🌸 Ready to throw it back to those epic indie sleaze gatherings that defined a generation? Welcome to Grunge Gatherings, where we’re diving into the social side of the indie sleaze scene. From house parties and underground gigs to DIY events and everything in between, we’ve got all the tips and outfit guides you need to host a gathering that’s straight-up legendary. So grab your friends, crank up the tunes, and let’s get this party started! 🎉🎸

Grunge Gatherings: Bringing the Indie Sleaze Vibe to Your Social Life 🌟

The indie sleaze scene wasn’t just about the music or the fashion—it was about the community, the connections, and the unforgettable nights spent with friends. Whether you’re planning a chill house party, an underground gig, or a spontaneous get-together, nailing the indie sleaze vibe is all about creating a space where everyone feels free to be themselves. Ready to dive in? Let’s break it down!

1. House Parties: The Heart of Indie Sleaze Socials 🎉

House parties were the epitome of indie sleaze culture—intimate, unpretentious, and totally epic. Here’s how to throw a house party that captures the spirit of the era:

DIY Decor: Forget fancy decorations—think more along the lines of DIY. Use old band posters, string lights, and thrift store finds to create a laid-back, eclectic vibe. Throw up some fairy lights, hang up vintage records, and scatter some candles around for a cozy, grungy feel.

Music is Key: Curate a playlist that’s equal parts nostalgic and eclectic. Mix in some classic indie anthems with lesser-known tracks for that perfect indie vibe. If you can, set up a turntable for spinning vinyl—it adds a touch of authenticity and gives your party that extra edge.

Comfort Over Style: Create a space that’s comfortable and inviting. Think bean bags, floor cushions, and cozy blankets. Your friends will appreciate having a place to relax, chat, and soak in the music.

Chill Vibes: Keep the mood relaxed and laid-back. Encourage people to bring their own drinks and snacks to keep things casual. The goal is to create a space where everyone feels at home and can let loose.

Outfit Guide for House Parties:

Grungy Chic: Opt for distressed jeans, oversized band tees, and vintage leather jackets. Comfort is key, so keep your look effortless and cool.

Layer Up: Throw on a flannel shirt over your tee or a beanie to complete your look. Don’t be afraid to mix textures and patterns for that signature indie sleaze style.

2. Underground Gigs: Embracing the DIY Music Scene 🎸

Underground gigs were the heartbeat of the indie sleaze scene—raw, unfiltered, and totally exhilarating. Here’s how to channel that energy into your own DIY music event:

Find the Right Venue: Look for local spots that have that gritty, underground vibe—basements, warehouses, or even your own garage can work. The key is to find a space that feels authentic and intimate.

Lineup and Promotion: Get in touch with up-and-coming bands and solo artists who embody the indie spirit. Use social media, local flyers, and word of mouth to spread the word. The more grassroots your promotion, the more genuine the vibe.

DIY Decor and Setup: Keep it simple but impactful. Use string lights, old concert posters, and DIY signage to create a low-key but lively atmosphere. Set up a small stage area with a makeshift backdrop for added effect.

Food and Drinks: Offer simple refreshments—think snacks, drinks, and maybe a few homemade treats. Keep it casual and easy to manage so you can focus on enjoying the music and the company.

Outfit Guide for Underground Gigs:

Edgy Elegance: Go for something that looks effortlessly cool yet practical. Think skinny jeans, band tees, and sturdy boots. Layer with a denim jacket or a leather vest for added flair.

Statement Accessories: Add some grungy accessories like chunky rings, layered necklaces, and vintage pins. These little details can elevate your look and make you stand out in the crowd.

3. Spontaneous Get-Togethers: Embracing the Impromptu Vibes ✨

Sometimes the best gatherings are the ones that aren’t planned. Embrace those spontaneous moments with these tips:

Easygoing Planning: Keep it simple—whether you’re meeting at a local park, your favorite café, or even just hanging out at someone’s house, make sure the vibe is relaxed and easygoing.

Casual Activities: Think laid-back activities like a DIY craft session, a movie marathon, or just chilling with some good tunes. The goal is to keep things fun and informal.

Flexible Dress Code: Since these get-togethers are more about spontaneity than style, go for an outfit that’s comfy and effortlessly cool. Think relaxed jeans, vintage tees, and your favorite sneakers.

Outfit Guide for Spontaneous Get-Togethers:

Effortless Cool: Throw on a pair of high-waisted jeans, a graphic tee, and some chunky boots. Add a beanie or a bandana for a touch of grunge.

Layer Smartly: Since these gatherings can be casual, layer with a denim jacket or a lightweight sweater for easy changes in weather or mood.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Bringing the Indie Sleaze Vibe to Life 🌟

There you have it, babe—your ultimate guide to hosting and dressing for indie sleaze gatherings! Whether you’re throwing a cozy house party, organizing an underground gig, or just planning a spontaneous hangout, the key is to keep it genuine, relaxed, and full of that signature indie spirit. With the right mix of decor, music, and outfits, you’ll create gatherings that are unforgettable and totally on point.

What’s your go-to for indie sleaze gatherings? Share your tips and stories in the comments—I’d love to hear how you’re bringing the grunge glamour to life! 💕

#2014 grunge #2014 nostalgia #2014 tumblr #grunge #2014 aesthetic #2014 revival #soft grunge #indie sleaze #bring back 2014 #2014core #indie rock #indie #lifestyle

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knnangll · 10 days

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A GUIDE TO FALL- part 1

Long awaited! So let’s get right into it.

Fall is about coziness, ultimate chicness, and to me a wonderful chance for your yearly rebirth. And yes, fashion absolutely does all of that for you.

The Basics of Fall Fashion

I’ve compiled a few pieces that I find to be a staple, the photos are not every single thing, but just a few to start you off. Quality is the ultimate theme for fall. You want the absolute best essence in curated looks. You don’t have to be in the most intricate designs or what not to be considered well-dressed, you just need good pieces that are well fitting. How things fit your body essentially enhance your life and give off a wonderful impression and enhances how you present yourself in the world.

Some of the basics I’ve included our long sleeve T-shirts that are relatively fitted, staple pairs of jeans in multiple washes, trousers that can be worn pretty much at any time, depending on how you want to style them, a couple of jackets that again can be dressed up or down and things that you will find yourself confidently reaching for all fall and parts of winter.

What you see in the collages are kind of your basic every day, quick dinner, quick outing type of pieces. We will get more into the elegant nature of fall fashion in PART 2, but this is what most people in their 20s are going to be reaching for. it’s essentially the “cool girl, it girl” capsule that I’ve sort of made right above.

When it comes to your denim, do not play around. Get yourself some 100% cotton denim that is going to be rigid and ultimately start molding to your body. I personally recommend vintage Levi jeans. I like to get mine and them from ShopAliGrace and AVintageFit. you don’t want your jeans to be too baggy, but you also don’t want them to be too fitted and give a little bit of that skinny straight situation. A really good dad Jean or boyfriend Jean is what you want to go for. I say those types because they look the best with sneakers, boots, as well as heels. they are easily dressed up or dressed down. You’ve probably heard the phrase “jeans and a nice top”- those are the jeans. when you have a solid curation of quality denim, your outfit building becomes so much easier.

your basic tops that you will wear casually or for nice dinners with your friends, those are gonna come from SKIMS, Ralph Lauren, or Aritzia. I love all for different reasons. I find skim to be a little bit more on the casual every day side where a lot of the Aritzia basic lines have a bit better durability with their fabric and give a little bit more of a polished look than Skims will. in my opinion, I do not think the fits everybody T-shirts are worth it. I find the fabric to be pretty thin and you have to have the most perfect bra in the world for it to be seamless. So I would opt for the smoothing line and the cotton line if you’re going to buy SKIMS. For Aritzia, you can go either way their cotton or thicker fabric lines are absolutely perfect and none of them are see-through.

Trousers – 100% head to Aritzia. You don’t need to look anywhere else you can also kind of look at more tailored places, but I absolutely prefer Aritzia trousers. I find them to be extremely flattering and extremely comfortable at that. I would recommend the limitless pants or the effortless pants and all of the neutral and basic colors. These pants are great if you work in the corporate world, if you’re going to a little bit more of a conservative dinner, or if you like the streetwear look with trousers, you can absolutely do that with these pants as well.

FALLS SECOND COMPONENT- PREP

I find the best fall outfit has a bit of a preppy/Ivy based look to it. You’ll see this with pleats, many skirts, sweaters, and layering coats. Excellent places for pieces of that nature would be J.Crew, Ralph, Lauren, Aritzia, Meshki, REVOLVE, Zara. There are plenty of other places, but I felt like those are the staples that are a bit more on the affordable side.

The semi-preppy look is one of my favorites because it commands control and really shows a regalness and polished look. Having this type of look to you can 100% create opportunities and open doors for you. Never in your life listen to people when they say life is not a fashion show, it quite literally is. a lot of people if they play their cards right get places because they look good. Not only is it statement for you as a person, but it commands you socially. You can tell a lot about a person based on the way that they dress, not always but it’s a general rule of them.

now, if you’ve been following me for a while, you know I love to wear black. It is my default color to select in all things. But the fall is home to some of the most beautiful deep colors that can be easily incorporated into a sleek outfit as a statement. The colors I’ve selected are just my personal preference and what I feel truly embodies the sleek yet cozy essence of fall. An example of how I might use one of these colors- let’s say the mulberry color, would be a long line coat to layer over sleek black based outfit letting the jacket be the attention grabber while still not being distastefully over the top.

WHAT YOU WANT

sleek tops and bodysuits in neutral and deep accent color as well

Trousers, various fabrics of pants, and of course, jeans in various washes

Vintage and bomber style, leather jackets, cashmere sweaters are a must, long line suit coats, a leather, long, long jacket

Date night, girls night, dinner night dresses it could be mini midi or Maxi. Again, really look at the richness of fall colors and don’t be afraid of too much black there’s no such thing.

Black boots, Brown boots, some accent color boots, such as a deep reds that will serve as a peekaboo moment of an outfit not the center.

A bit of a modern touch- go ahead and get yourself some Doc Martens. Thank me later. they are the cutest and spunkiest thing that you can throw with a casual outfit.

In terms of your sneakers, the girls are wearing the Dad sneakers. Throw away your dunks, throw away your Jordans, and throw away your sambas. Get yourself some neutral, shiny asics, Nikes. Anything you think that your dad will like, go ahead and buy those.