#.indy imagines ‧₊˚

[indigohoneypot]

okay but to my self shippers with f/os who are tough, strong, and hardened—

imagine babying your f/o <3 and them absolutely melting and loving it. maybe they’re more reserved, maybe work makes them closed off or scary or tough…just imagine the way that they melt when they’re the little spoon, when you call them a sweet term of endearment.

maybe they’ve never been spoiled like this before, never been loved gently the way that you love them. i can’t imagine the relief they feel when they can be soft with you and only you.

your f/o must love the way you make them feel like an angel and the most precious thing in the world !!

[retquits]

1.6 is coming—see you march 19th!!! 🥹🌱

[hanasnx]

“ I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU ” — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ suggestive content ノ sexual content: naughty daydreams about pussy eating, nipple play, and groping; masturbation; voyeurism.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, LOGAN HOWLETT. There’s a great protector in him, this compulsion to mentor and house within him that stretches far beyond his own needs. You fall within that range, and as soon as you met him you latched onto him. It didn’t take long at all before your imprint was reciprocated. Now he thinks of you first in everything he does.

He may not always look it, but you’re a factor in all his decisions. Settling down, nabbing a good job—one that didn’t ask for his background—was all to put you up in a house in the mountains. Far away from civilization, an ivory tower made up of wood he cut himself, surrounded by acres of nature. He’s always thought of himself a hair on the wild side, somehow you tame that down. It’s good, he tells himself, you and him.

It’s a partnership, and all he wants out of you is your safety. He likes you where he can keep an eye on you, make sure you stay out of trouble, make sure you’re comfortable.

You wish you could explain just why he thinks he has to protect you, why he married you, why he pays all the bills and expects nothing in return. You wish you could explain just why this relationship comprises all facets of a real marriage except for intimacy.

Logan won’t touch you. You’ll eat off each other’s utensils, fall asleep on his chest on the couch watching a movie—hell, he’ll reluctantly incline in your direction with a roll of his eyes to let you peck his cheek good-bye when he leaves for work. Yet, he won’t even kiss you. Even before he married you, there wasn’t so much as a grope or a stray look.

There’s home in Logan. You live to please him. You’ll cook him whatever he wants, keep the house he built for you clean as a whistle, you’ll spend all your free time with him, grab him his nightly beer and light his cigar so he stays content—but you’ve never even seen him naked. You doubt you ever will. Regardless, you stay, you can’t imagine leaving this life, leaving him.

It’s defied your expectations the fairy-tales of your childhood gave you. Your knight in shining armor rescued you, yet refuses to plant even true love’s kiss. When you’d matured, you’d fantasized about an insatiable husband that found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Logan’s never looked at you that way, even though he calls you his wife without hesitation, married you without a second thought.

“Is it because I’m younger than you? I’m only in my early twenties. That’s not a big deal!” you’ve reasoned with him, but he still treats you like you’re naive. He must want passion, you’re sure of that. Why else are you young and beautiful if not to take advantage of it while you still can? Just once you’d like to see him yearn for you, to show lack of restraint, to come home one day so hungry for you that you don’t make it out of the kitchen.

Those claws… those deadly metal claws… you wish he’d use them in fantastical and deviant ways. Just one would glide through your nighty like sheet paper, bareing you to your husband—a sight for him only. You lie awake next to him at night, envisioning raunchy dreams of him proudly boasting the size difference between you two, demonstrating his sheer raw strength by overpowering you and taking what he wants from you. You’ve run your fingers delicately over his lips and the rough pad of his shaved chin, but you can’t imagine just how good it’d feel against your tit, swirling his hot tongue around your perked nipple while his callused digits pinch the other. You can pretend his head is ducking between your thighs, the sensation of his soft hair tickling your skin and tangling in your fingers as his masculine jaw scratches the fragile tissue of your pussy. As starved as you are, even discomfort like that is enough to make you moan into your palm, only to check over your shoulder to make sure you still hear your husband’s snoring.

You steel yourself at the noise, the low rumbling of his sleep cautions you to stay quiet but to proceed nonetheless. Your hand creeps down your neck, your chest, your stomach… You really should leave the room, but you’d risk waking him up for real at the sound of the door. Instead, you fuck yourself yet again, the soft rocking of the mattress as you hump your own hand filling the ears of your kindhearted husband—who’s been awake this whole time.

[bookished]

( a collection of drunken confessions dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <3 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

"You know, I always look for you in every crowd. Even when I pretend I don’t care, I do. So much."

"If I fall off this roof, it'll be your fault. Because you keep making my heart do stupid things."

"You know, I only came here tonight because I heard you’d be here. How ridiculous is that?"

"No, no, you don’t understand. I would actually choose you over fries. And I really love fries."

"I might regret this after the hangover, but right now, I need you to know that… being with you feels like home."

"This is probably just the drinks, but if I don’t say it now, I might never. You mean everything to me."

"You’re like… my favorite person to get in trouble with. I don’t want to do it with anyone else."

"I only come to these late-night study sessions because I know you’ll be here. Pathetic, right?"

"I know this isn’t the place, and I might not even remember this tomorrow, but… I like you. Like, a lot."

"The real reason I never bring anyone else to these things? Because they’re not you."

"I’ve had enough of watching you talk to everyone else. Maybe I want all your attention tonight."

"I might be a little tipsy, but I’m not too drunk to know that I want you… in a way I probably shouldn’t."

"I don’t want this night to end. I don’t want this moment to end, because I’m not ready to leave you yet."

[boringkate]

It's a scientific fact that Doom would be cooler if Doomguy was a woman. You wouldn't have to change anything else. Just make it about a lady shooting demons. You could even still call her Doomguy.

[froopis]

( ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡˖ ࣪ ּ ֶָ֢. ⋆˚✿˖° ‧₊˚ 🪐༘⋆𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 )

[my-fall-from-grace]

ok yknow what i’m gonna say it

no matter how “bad” logan has been or how “little” he deserves this 2nd year or how he’s a “pay driver” or whatever else y’all always say

he doesn’t deserve this. any of this

since the very first moment he stepped in a f1 car, he’s been treated as a joke. first it was the wtf is a kilometre jokes then rah rah eagles and now logan in the wall / fork found in kitchen / deuxmoi memes. every weekend, the commentators compare him to his teammate, ignoring the difference in experience and the way they aren’t even driving the same car and that logan was literally running last years specs multiple times. they compare him to oscar, who has driven multiple times f1 cars during test runs and is in a mclaren and the situations are not even remotely similar, ignoring that logan was promoted early, that he didn’t have much opportunity to drive f1 cars even for testing, that he was literally tossed into the deep end without any help and told to survive.

the only time they were even remotely kind to him was when they gave his car to alex. which thanks for the support or whatever but that is so backhanded i don’t even have the words to describe it.

i think we’re all coming to the terms with the reality that this will be his last year in f1. and i don’t think that’s fair for so many reasons. you promote him early, you give him a shit car, you talk bad about him in the media and you don’t promote him (lap of legends hello?) and you openly court other drivers for his seat. you disrespect him and allow others to disrespect him and that’s not right.

formula 1 is the dream for so many people. imagine achieving your dream, even if it’s in a joke of a team, even if it’s too early. but then you become the joke of a joke, you become the american, which is a bad thing. the outsider, the one who doesn’t belong. they make fun of you each weekend. they ask every day when you’ll be replaced.

(and yeah i agree. he does need to improve to have any hope of keeping his seat, f1 is brutal and it’s never been kind, and i’m not being naive and thinking oh it’s his dream and so he deserves it despite it all. i’m not saying that. what i am saying is that is a human being, just like nicholas latifi was, and some of you are too comfortable being cruel.)

speaking of being the american. they make fun of you as though that will punish the fia for putting 3 us races on the calendar. as though that will punish all the american fans who came to f1 through drive to survive. as though that will keep f1 pure and european and whatever the fuck else - they do the same to yuki and zhou and checo and lewis and even if logan’s situation is not even remotely similar to what they’ve experienced, there’s a bias to f1 that cannot be ignored.

but that’s not the point i’m trying to make. not today

this was your dream. this was your dream. and you were never allowed to enjoy it because you became the punchline of a joke the minute you accepted the seat. it was always going to end like this. you knew that.

so yeah. congrats to logan for achieving his dream of driving in f1! it’s unfortunate that he was never allowed to live it.

[m00nbap]

　　　　　૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა　　 ୨୧　　 𓈒　　 💭

[thatsdemko]

something bout you - p. o'ward

masterlist | pairing: Pato o’ward x Rossi!fem!reader summary: your love for him is different and he couldn’t love it more. warnings: 18+ content + mentions of Indy500 results + fluff + angst(?) + minor errors a/n: hiiii! Im back :) I’ve been working on this since the results of indy500 and while it’s not perfect I hope you all enjoy!

where your brother was a dark cloud on rainy days, you were the thunder and lightning that boomed across the sky alongside him. its enticing to someone like him.

he’s drawn to the identical to dark like storm eyes, black hair that sways across your back. you were rossi’s identical down to the bone. zak brown used to swear it was traumatizing, now Pato finds it adoring.

where Alexander was millennial humor, and minimal smiles, you were nothing but witty gen z comebacks and a smile once a month. Pato found your personalities jarring in comparison, but made it his mission to brighten your clouds.

“woah.”

it sounded more like a whoosh of air exhaling from his lips. seeing you in a dark blue floor length gown truly took the air and words from his lungs. it threatens the muscles in your cheeks to tug upward, but you refuse to give pato the satisfaction of a smile.

“what?” you whip your head in his direction. navy blue suit jacket, a white shirt that was slightly unbuttoned, and matching pants. he looks heavenly. you hate that.

“you look gorgeous, amor.” the nickname rolls off his tongue, a smirk tugging his lips as he watches red flicker across your cheeks. you didn’t need to show any other signs of affection for him to know that subtle weakness for him.

“and you look like a buffoon. not even a suit can help your case.”

a chuckle escapes his lips, and for the first time since sunday morning he’s actually smiling. leave it to a rossi to lift his spirits.

“you brighten my day, Rossi.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Alex comes up behind you. his black suit and dark blue tie matching your dress like twins.

right, he reminds himself, siblings. she’s not for you.

“other Rossi,” you reply turning to your brother, “you think way too highly of yourself.”

—

a permanent scowl formed the second Josef took the stage. it was a common look for you, though you masked it well during most days, tonight was one of those moments you let it rip.

Josef drove a hell of a drive yesterday, but seeing him on stage was all but a reminder of what Pato lost and for some reason that angered you. having to watch your brother, his sister, and his own team members lift him up from another disappointing loss trickles into your memory. it was a well deserved win for Josef, but your heart ached for somebody else.

somebody you definitely shouldn’t have feelings for, but you find yourself having. someone who opened up the dark cloud and made it a little brighter.

when Pato finally took the stage, all he could see was you. the scowl loosening from your face to a contorted smile. all energy from earlier drained out of him. having to be reminded of his failed efforts, but he did enjoy the view of you practically envisioning what it would be like to strangle newgarden.

“that’s two smiles this month.” Pato whispered into your ear when he passed you to his seat. he could hear a low grumble come from you, and the scowl was back, but aimed at him.

he reveled in it. taking in all your features and how hard you work to keep your vulnerability inside that hard shell. because for a split second when he took that stage he saw you for what you truly were; a fool in love with him.

—

“I like when you get defensive of me.” he says, coming up from behind you. he rests his chin against your shoulder, the hairs that fell out his gel slicked back tickle your skin.

“the scowl was out of annoyance. don’t think too deep about it.” you say, attempting to fight his touch, but it’s too much strength to do so. you just relax your body into his and allow yourself to be held.

“I like to think you actually do love me.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you feel his lips graze the sensitive part of neck. you can feel your knees weaken, ready to crumble into his arms.

love was a strong word and emotion, but it never felt big and scary with Pato. love was different with him. different was good, different was better than whatever you’d read in books. you didn’t need the fairytales, you just needed someone to remind you to smile once a month. or not attempt murder when he lost important races.

“say it,” he mumbles into your skin, teeth running across your flesh, you can feel goosebumps scatter across your skin, “say you love me.” he takes a piece of your skin in between your teeth, the sound of your sharp inhale fuels the fire in him.

“I do,” you swallow, trying to steady yourself against him, “I love you.” you spin around to face him, your dark eyes stare into his chocolate ones.

he nudges your body towards the bed and you comply. seating on the edge of the bed, you watch him remove his suit jacket. the most mundane task, was such a turn on for you. you unconsciously open your legs for him.

“I love you too,” he presses his knee in between your thighs, gently dropping your back onto the mattress, “even when you want to murder me.”

“I’d murder for you,” you say pulling him by the collar of his shirt, “but if you don’t fuck me, I will strangle you.” you growl into his ear before sinking your teeth into the outer edge of his lobe.

“you always seem to have a way with the words.”

[ddejavvu]

i don’t have a headcanon i just have a thirst for sirius black ☝️ at my height of loving him, i used to have the reoccurring fantasy of making out in some dark abandoned corridor he took me to for the express purpose of being alone

oh god indy i got this at work the other day and i saw it while i was in the bathroom and then i had to frantically apologize to my manager who was covering me when i accidentally took like five minutes zoned out daydreaming about it instead of going back up to the front.

--

he's a sleaze about it. he puts on this gaudy rebel persona, smooth talks you out of the great hall after dinner and walks you down a corridor that leads towards the old divination classroom that the professor decided wasn't fit for her class anymore. it's kept clean but there's no risk of anyone finding you there- it's totally abandoned. you're completely alone with him.

you have half a mind to ask him if he always brings people here while he's nipping at your neck but instead of answering he just moves his spit-slicked lips back to your own to shut you up. if you do get an answer out of him he'll say yes but 'you're the best'. you think nothing of it until he drags you down there again, and when you ask if anyone's ever been brought twice he grins down at you and says 'no. 'said you're the best, didn't i?'

he's such a kisser- doesn't even take you there to have sex with you, just wants to makeout. wants spit to be running down your chin and he wants your lips to be practically bruised by the time he's done with you. if of course you sink to your knees and unbuckle his belt he'll let you, but it's an expansion on his plans for the night, it's not a box to check off of them. you can get him in the mood for sex but he'd rather do that on a bed- quickies in the corridor can only sustain him for so long until he needs it proper.

[cupcek]

🧑🏿‍🔧̸᩠໋࣪꣹۫ ▓⃞⃯❀𓈒𓏶ྀི 𝐄ssa ɴão! D🅴 nO͜͡vo ୧🛤️ 𑜞᭄ೃ

🌺ြ░ೄྀ єᴜ 𝕖sq̲ueci que e𝐮 𝙏e esqueci⃟⏤͟͟͞͞✼​ꦽ⬮

[indigohoneypot]

a perfect fall day with your f/o (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

the cold weather always makes me a little warm and sentimental~ ...just imagine how it makes your f/o feel!!

the two of you wake up close together, not exactly cuddling but close enough to steal some of your partner's body heat. some warm giggles in the soft bed, a few forehead kisses to start the day. the two of you chat over breakfast together before putting on your fall attire to head out for the day. are you wearing flannel? did you steal it from your f/o? i bet they commented how you wear it better than them, but sarcastically complained about you taking more of their clothes.

what about your activities? apple picking, maybe pumpkin picking? your partner talks about all the ways to carve the pumpkin, different designs to do, when to do it. if you're apple picking, maybe your partner is putting you on their shoulder to reach the ones at the top of the trees. that's where they're the best, anyways. or so they say. maybe you're the one lifting them. they're holding onto the sides of your head and pleading through giggles not to drop them.

let's finish your outing with a warm drink; a cider, cup of coffee or tea, maybe a hot cocoa. you take a sip of your partner's while they try yours. you mull over a movie to watch to wind down for the night. is it a comforting fall romcom? or maybe it's a horror thriller? it won't matter, as the outcome is the same. you'll fall asleep on the couch, holding onto one another, cuddled under a soft blanket. what a perfect day ♡

[lightning-mclaren]

arrow mclaren stay winning with the sexiest liveries *chef’s kiss*

[hanasnx]

x gon' give it to ya.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: @fuckmyskywalker introduced me to the concept of talking to a pussy i think via an anakin smut post and it changed my life so i'd like to dedicate credit to the idea. WARNINGS: fem reader | sex in the suit | deadpool calls himself daddy ironically and talks to your pussy.

A deep groan reverberates from low in DEADPOOL's throat. "Baby, I can't believe how good you look right now, seriously never looked better." he praises, commending the space between your legs as she's stuffed full of every inch of his dick. Another inexplicable thing about his mutation—he grew.

"'Talking to my pussy again, Wade?" you scoff, amused and breathless as you rock back on him, tossing a glance at him over your shoulder. Your spine is in a deep arch over the bed, and the nine inch heels you're wearing are the only reason you're able to compete with his height bent over like this.

"She needs to know what a good job she's doing otherwise she'll get discouraged. Poor thing needs a lot of love." he refutes your judgement, however playful, lovingly stroking the flesh of your ass with his glove. "Give us some privacy, please. Jesus." he tsks, shaking his head at you while you bury your face in the mattress. If his dick wasn't yanking your brains out along with it, you might have more to say. He turns his attention back where your bodies conjoin. "Thank God I put zipper on this thing. Who knew a onesie would be such a hassle to take a piss in?" The sounds of the room are filled with him running his mouth and your cunt's wet responses when he pulls out and shoves back in. "Now look at us." A particularly moistured sound squirts out, and he laughs knowingly, like your hole's said something entertaining at a tea party. "Zipper makes it too easy, you know? We've gotta stop meeting like this, maybe next time we can just sit and talk—"

"Wade!" you giggle, banging your fist onto the mattress. "Just fuck me, already!"

"Don't worry about her, she's just jealous." he tells your cunt, "You and I have something special, don't we? 'Specially when Daddypool says to christen the suit." A wave of wetness wells up from his comment, and he gasps in pleasant surprise. "Oh, you like that, you dirty thing. Next time I crotch-shot a bad guy he'll smell you all over, is that what you want, you freak? C'mere, I'll give you something real to leak about." Big rough hands grip on your hips, slamming into you so hard your ass ripples from the effect, and your happy pussy gargles around the dick it chokes on.

[darkacademiablues]

Baby we oughta

*takes off sunglasses, intense eye contact*

Fuhck

[austinbutlerslovers]

Austin Butler rugged today… 🥵