#Air Bladder
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EXOTIC BAMBOO SHARK / CAT SHARKS / LONG TAILED CARPET SHARKS in Lokaran...
#youtube#Fish#Ornamental Fish#Exotic Fish#Sharks#Bamboo Sharks#Cat Sharks#Long Tailed Carpet Sharks#Elongated Body#Marine Fish#Barbels On Mouth#Gills#Air Bladder#Lokaranjan Aqua World#Underwater Zone Mysore
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I will not even speculate as to the provenance of this brownish green seaweed that I picked up from the sands, that like the lone seashell I had picked up earlier existed in but a single copy. Certainly it couldn't have been any of the surrounding black rocks, none of which had even a single strand of seaweed, let alone being festooned by it as they are in India to the point where a rock can literally be cloaked in green.
It must have drifted from far off, the buoyancy conferring round spherical bladders to be seen like tiny grapes on this stem clearly pointing to this seaweed mass as being a reproductive structure capable of propagating this species across vast stretches of ocean. It could literally have come from anywhere, and need not have been of local provenance at all.
Dawis Beach, Digos City, Mindanao, The Philippines, January 26, 2024.
#seaweed#reproduction#air sacs#buoyancy#bladders#propagation#brown#green#seashore#beach#tropics#rock#fertility#sterility
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i love disabled access spaces where it's blindingly obvious NO disabled people were consulted in the design
#i live in the UK and have a radar key (special key you get from the doctor that allows you to open any disabled bathroom in a public space)#and the disabled bathroom at my local train station has been closed for months for refurbishment#(which has lead to many panic scenarios for me as someone with bladder issues but i digress)#it's finally reopened and it had a new feature#this voice narrates from the speaker that 'if you fall and can't read the panic cord ...#...simply SCREAM and the emergency services will be called from the intercom near the bathroom door.'#cool feature. whatever.#until i go to dry my hands with the air-blowing hand dryer...#AND IT CALLS THE FUCKING EMERGENCY SERVICES BECAUSE IT WAS SO LOUD#and i had to politely explain to the poor operator on the end of the intercom that i'm fine and was just trying to dry my hands#which means the ambulance will be called EVERY TIME SOMEONE DRIES THEIR HANDS.#WHO DESIGNED THIS. BECAUSE IT WASN'T A DISABLED PERSON.#this bathroom had three panic cords and two panic buttons - who the fuck asked for the scream feature ??????
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Neil "Chick" Harding/John B. "Jack" Kidd Characters: Neil "Chick" Harding, John B. "Jack" Kidd Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Love Letters Summary:
Chick and Jack write each other after Chick ends up in London because of illness.
Honestly, maybe one of my favorites I’ve written so far. Snarky fuckos in love.
#jackharding#masters of the air#jack kidd#chick harding#humor#but also how do you walk around with a painful gall bladder for weeks#i didn't manage 48 hours#and i've lived with daily severe pain before#what is wrong with that man
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“So they have... Some slim upper body, with the white meat of some token prey item. Large mouth, likely, bulbous eyes, flexing gills, shiny and overlaying scales, the works... And some lower body like that of something fast and nimble...
I assume they would be benthic, then? Anything like such should not be able to swim very fast, not with so much longer legs and an absence of streamlining... I do not know how such a thing would manage to drown anyone, I would think they should be more of a sessile feeder.”
Ah, right. She’s the only one here who doesn’t think humans look very appetizing, let alone like that of prey. She does think they are particularly velveteen and luxurious to the touch, but that’s a different type of delicious.
“Anyhow! The far more confounding thing is what kind of creature would breathe through the water but not have lungs?”
#Glory and Gore || IC#The rumor mill || Dash Commentary#(( miri vc: humans have a lot of bones and very little fat :( unless theyre rotting they taste Bad#(( ....... also fun fact#(( apparently the ability to breathe air is basal to vertebrates#(( as in. fish with gills that cannot breathe air have *lost* that ability ancestrally.#(( true it wouldnt be through *lungs* and would be a simpler gas exchange#(( but 1. im paraphrasing for the sake of miri#(( and 2. lungs are just specialized air bladders anyways so its fine#(( merfolk lungs are adapted for both types of use but theyre more air bladder than what were used to anyways#(( ....... and yes this is having health consequences for miri#(( this is why she gets such bad cabin fever in her moncamp setting
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Idk WHAT is up with the climate in my bedroom but it's a comfy 63F in here and I can literally make clouds with my breath. Honestly awesome since breath fog is my favorite thing in the entire universe
#tldr: my a/c is whacky#the humidity in my room is weird#there is condensation on almost all surfaces#my bed literally gets wet from condensation building up on the plastic air bladder inside of it#it's whack#but im comfy and get breath fog yay!
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One must imagine sysiphus with a wet mattress and a spine disorder
#context: the air bladder in my sleep number bed accumulates condensation. which means it is extremely wet inside.#i have to disassemble and air dry it like every month which is Bad because i have a severe spinal disorder and cant do that.#so i just sleep in a puddle of water soaked sheets every night because i cant figure out how to fix things 😞
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So a lot of Pokemon like that that you see floating in that way have a specialized organ, similar to a swim bladder.
A swim bladder is used in water for bouyance, helping keeping them afloat in water, and many times these types of mon have a speciliazed version, or a way to seitch between air and water in a larger version, of a swim bladder. Instead of using air in water like a swim bladder, they take particles in the air and concentrate the lightest of those particles, often pure hydrogen, which allows them to achieve a form of bouyance in the air.
Magikarps, however, don't... Really have that ?
Dont get me wrong, they have those organs and the capacity to use them, Gyarados can float like others of course, but a Magikarp's is, as is common for the mon, defective. It allows for a Magikarp to get some Serious air time in their jumps, but their versions act often as a leaky balloon. You can fill it up all you want, but it's gonna leak out either way. Magikarp therefore often just. Don't use it. Unless they're breaching water or jumping real high, it's often left unused, and thus, Magikarp flop instead of float.
Why does my magikarp flop on the ground?
Ive notced everyone elses fish pokemon just float gracefully while mine just acts like its suffocating
don't be rude. it's perfecting its signature move
#pkmn irl#pokemon#unreality#magikarp as a breed is just. so horribly put together#i think the defeticeness has something to do with where the air bladder is placed inside them#dont quote me on that though#Magikarp#biology
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Oppenheimer great film but HOLY SHIT DID I NEED TO FUCKING PEE DURING THAT LAST HOUR MY GOD
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Trying to make myself laugh so I don't like off myself or whoever I need to to give my family some sense of justice rn so tag me in funny shit if you can...
#like im just a nasty mix of anger depression nausea anxiety stress#like im so fucking tired my family cannot catch a fucking break#like its just one fucking horrible thing after another#first my moms family basically isolated us (not all bad frankly but it was real bad at first)#then this shit happened with my sister being abused at school#now my mom probably having bladder cancer#back to everybody throwing their hands in the air about getting my sister some semblance of justice after putting her through so much#like IM TIRED IM TIRED AND I KNEW IF I DREW SOMEBODYS BLOOD ID FEEL A LIL BITTER!! LOOL GOD#*better whatever fuck
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hello there! 21, but going on anon. could i request a pregnant reader who is feeling incredibly insecure about her body. after an instance where a woman openly flirts and asks miguel out in front of her, she breaks down crying. miguel reassures her and they start having the craziest, wildest, hottest sex imaginable
GROWING PAINS
✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader ✭
✭ summary: pregnancy is a challenge, not for the morning sickness or having the urge to pee every other step but for the outside challenges that create tension.
✭ content warning: mentions of morning sickness (if you have emetophobia, skip the first five paragraphs), degenerate home-wrecker, comfort, pregnancy sex, and p-in-v penetration.
✭ word count: +2.1k words
✭ (a/n): let me get a crack at it 😋 I had fun working on this 💜🪻 (if there are errors I missed, please let me know!)
MATURE CONTENT MDNI | MINORS WHO INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED
The nausea of the day came in like waves during a full moon at the beach. The smell of toilet water and bleach greeted your nose while kneeling in front of the toilet before you. Dry heaving became a regular habit as the smell of toilet water didn’t contribute to the nauseating sensation.
“Are we okay, cariño?” His voice sent chills down your spine as you rested your head on the toilet seat. “No…” You whined, sounding like a child who had their toy taken away. “C’mon, don't rest your head right there…” Miguel cooes to you.
A low groan escapes your throat as you wait in anticipation to throw up, already wanting the feeling to pass by. “Do you want some tea? It'll help with the morning sickness.” He suggests to you before kneeling next to you and rubbing your lower back slowly.
“Yeah…” You groaned out before your body lurched another heave out of you.
“It’s okay…” He whispers quietly and holds your hair back. “Let it out if you need to.” He blows air to your face, cooling you down from the warm sensation you feel all over your body. But the salvation in your mouth still lingered.
“Thanks…”
/
“Miguel!” You called out to him from the bathroom, looking down at your swelling belly. “Yes, cariño?” He steps into view, returning from his morning workout. A soft kiss on the forehead gives you small butterflies in your stomach before you remember why you called him in.
“Can you please get more coconut butter at the store? I need some more for the stretch marks.” You raised (his) your hoodie to reveal the glistening stretch marks and slightly swelling belly.
“Hmm, did we run out already?” He makes his way over before he ruffles your hair and looks through the medicine cabinet. “Could have sworn we had some.” He mumbles before his palm rests on your belly, allowing his thumb to caress the marks.
“No, we ran out.” You add, getting on your tiptoes to peek at the medicine cabinet for the umpteenth time.
He nods after his eyes mindlessly scan the pill bottles, toiletries, and some of your make-up items. He clicks his tongue and moves his palm away from your belly. “Yeah, I'll get you some more, cariño. Let me jump in the shower first and then go to the store. I don't need to smell like sweat.”
The comment made you pout. The post-workout smell always lured you in, like catnip. You could cling near him and bask in his smell if you wanted to.
“Do you want to join me?” You nod eagerly, taking off the hoodie and tossing it at him.
/
“Do you want to go to the bathroom, sweetheart?” This is the same umpteenth question he asked you while you walked around your local mall down. “No, I'm fine.” He lightly squeezes your hand and gives you the look. The “you better go” look, as Miguel always fell victim to making frequent stops in gas stations or stores to satisfy your bladder whenever the two of you drove around.
“Just go, baby…” Miguel sighs, patting your lower back before he playfully spanks your rear.
You huff before you shuffle into the public restroom while resting your hand on your swelling tummy.
The sight was always amusing for Miguel; it was adorable—the sundress, the comfy sandals, and your hair neatly done. But the adorable sight was interrupted almost immediately. Two hands grasp his arm with such a grip that it can make anyone’s muscle ache from under the skin, even enough to bruise the muscle. Miguel shrugs it off and looks over to the source. “Aren’t you handsome?” The voice coaxed him before her hands squeezed his bicep. He shrugs his arm away and looks over to the bathrooms instead.
“I’m married.” Miguel’s statement lingered in the air before she looked at his arm and took in the sight of him like he was a tall glass of water.
“So am I.” She giggles before she looks up at Miguel with doe eyes. The discomfort arose in his stomach as if he had had a terrible dinner waiting to be released.
“Where’s your husband then?” He questions, hearing the fear in his voice. He shrugs her hand away from his arm again and waits at the bathroom in anticipation for his little wife, you, to return. But the yapping woman continued to speak, not getting any social signals that Miguel wasn't interested.
“He’s at—” Her words cut off before her features go ghost white, enough to mistake her for a blank piece of printer paper waiting to be scribbled on with a permanent marker.
“Miguel.”
A smile of relief paints his features as he walks over to you and gently takes your hand. Your attention is on the woman, seeing her twirl her hair with her fingers. She only giggles and immediately stops when she sees your swelling belly underneath your sundress. “Oh honey, I bet you can't satisfy your husband while you look like you're about to pass out.” She continues to yap, not caring about the looks of disgust from other women around the area. “Cariño, let’s go.” Miguel urges, not comfortable with the woman now harassing you and, arguably, your unborn child.
“Married men are allowed to cheat on their pregnant wives…”
You open your mouth, only to get tugged away from her by your husband, who does not want you to make a scene in such a public environment.
“Not interested. I love my wife dearly.” He steps in, lightly tugging you away from the uncomfortable space.
But hearing the words wasn't enough. For the past few weeks, you've been down on the stoops. Despite being your second trimester, the morning sickness faded away but lingered like a bug—the stretch marks on your belly, the constant bathroom stops, and the aching feet.
The weight of a burden rested on your shoulders like you were carrying pails of water up a mountain with your heart. It pulled you down into the earth’s core.
“C’mon, baby…” He pleads once again, gently tugging you away from the degenerate woman.
/
The car ride back home from the mall felt like the most uncomfortable situation for Miguel. Sure, it wasn't his fault, but it damn well felt like it was when this woman threw herself at him, having no good intentions.
Despite him pushing her away with his words, she relented nonstop, picking and picking at Miguel like a vet ticking fleas away from a stray cat.
He glanced at you, but you turned away from him while sitting on the passenger side, looking only at the window. He occasionally squeezed your thigh while trying to engage in a conversation. But it always ended immediately with your simple one-word answers.
/
Your portions were smaller during dinner. A small scoopful of your dinner was ‘enough’ for you.
“Cariño,” His voice breaks the silence on the dining room table while you move a small broccoli around with your fork. “Is that all you’re going to eat?”
“Yeah, I’m okay with this.”
He frowns at the meek portions. This was your favorite dinner throughout your pregnancy. Now? You eat as if it were the thing you despised the most.
“Cariño, can we talk about what happened?”
“No, no, we don't.” You intervene, stopping his words.
He furrows his brows, and the subtle pout on his lips says that he isn't going to let this go. “…yes, we do.” He steps in, gently taking your hand in his.
“Cariño, honey.” His eyes soften, allowing his thumb to massage your knuckles in small circles.
“I am sorry—”
You shake your head, looking up from your plate. “No, don't apologize. It’s not even your fault.” You put his words to an end before you slide your hand away from his. “I feel…”
You sit back in your seat and put your hands up in defeat, feeling tears form. “I don't know.”
Nothing came to mind. Your brain was murky like muddy water on the side of the road. “I feel bloated and unappealing and pent up.” You expressed many words, but none nailed the coffin of feelings that were forming in your heart. His palm finds its way to your cheek and lovingly cups it while wiping away your tears.
“Hey,” His mellow tone greets you but doesn't fully envelope you. “Please, cariño. Take a moment to breath.”
“I don't know,” You sniffle a bit before looking at your swelling belly. “I don't like being unappealing.” The words finally found on your lips, spilling out like word vomit.
“No, baby. Look at you. You are beautiful.” He places his hand on your belly, slowly moving the sundress around with his touch. “You are carrying our baby, our beautiful baby. You've been nothing but glowing. You are glowing to the point where you light up a room. You make rooms look good. A room where our family will grow, all thanks to you.”
You laughed through your tears, hearing his ramble. But the simile managed to put the tears to an end. “You make spaces look good, feel good.” He slowly helps you from your seat, easing you to your feet. He stands behind you, bringing you close to his chest. His hands slowly move, soon placing them on the bottom of your swelling belly, lifting the belly upwards, easing your lower back.
You stagger back in relief, resting back on him. “There we go.” He whispers, seeing your brows relax and your eyes close blissfully. “But I think that woman is right. You look exhausted.”
You hum to his statement, caving in to his warmth and touch. “Yeah,” You exhale. “I am exhausted.”
“Do you want me to take care of you?”
“…please.”
/
"Let me know if it's too much, cariño." He whispers, slowly laying you down on your shared bed. Your back decompressed against the mattress, earning a sigh of relief from you. "It's never too much." Your reassuring smile puts him at ease in his lower stomach. "Just let me know, please." He still pleads, taking off his sweatshirt and disregarding it to some odd corner of the room. "Let's lift this..." His hands work their way to the hem of the dress, lifting the skirt up.
"Lay on your side for me, nena." He demands, slowly helping you lay down and surrounding your belly with toss pillows.
The sound of his zipper filled the space, causing you to look over your shoulder and see Miguel immediately taking off his pants and boxers. His hands pull at your underwear, revealing your core, waiting for him and him only. The sound of the bed settling down increased the anticipation, feeling him bring you close to his chest before his hand fondles your breast ever so gently. "Take a deep breath-"
"Just put it in, Miguel."
Your demands come true as you feel the same familiar stretch at your core, earning a low moan from the both of you. "There we go." He groans, grinding his bulbous tip against your cervix.
"Harder, Miguel." You plead to him, feeling the soft grinding and his length rubbing against your puffy clit. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby." He whispers, keeping the soft motions.
"You won't hurt me or the baby. I promise.” You sigh and only push your rear to his hip. “I can handle it.”
That sentence is enough for Miguel to cave in and come to his desires. “Oh my god…” You sigh, pushing down onto his length. The slow strokes savored your gummy walls as if you were the main dish at a fine cuisine. “Look at you, so pretty.”
The slow strokes slowly became harsh and rapid. Gushing and slapping filled the space as you felt your nails claw at the bedsheets. “You like that, huh?” He breaths out before he lets go of your breasts and holds onto your hip instead. The single twitch on his cock sends you into a chokehold, leaving you clawing for more.
“Yes, keep doing that.”
A small smirk forms on Miguel’s lips before he keeps the same tempo before he slows down. “Oh, this?” He picks up the pace, similar to before, but with heavy thrusts.
“Yes, that,” You breathe, crashing your hips against his.
“Only for you, cariño.”
The rapid thrusts are enough to sway the bed from side to side, allowing the bed to creak with every motion. Soft pants from your lips escaped before you took Miguel’s hand. “Are you doing well, cariño?” You drunkenly nod before raising your leg and feeling his hand grasp onto your knee, allowing easier access and movement.
“I’m close, Migs.” You buried your face onto a decorative pillow, muffling the moan that slowly evolved into a soft cry of pleasure.
“Together, cariño. Together.” He groans, keeping the same delicious friction. The sensation of his length against your puffy clit creates mouth-watering friction, enough for you to move in sync with his motions.
“It's so good…!” You babble over and over again, tears of ecstasy rolling down your cheeks. “We’re there, almost there.” He groans out before the two of you collapse onto each other. “Oh my god…” You whined out as Miguel’s rapid breath fans your skin. “You okay, mamás?” He gives you a forehead kiss before he slowly pulls out and only nuzzles close to your neck.
“I feel better than ever.”
#🪻—monarchberrysblog#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#across the spiderverse#miguel fanfic#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel x y/n#miguel smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara#miguel 2099#miguel o hara#miguel spiderverse#miguel o’hara smut#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x reader smut#miguel ohara smut#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o’hara fanfic#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x reader
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Bowfin (Amia calva), family Amiidae, order Amiiformes, Detroit River, MI, USA
This fish was caught as part of a scientific survey, and was released after the photo was taken.
Other names for this species include: mudfish, mud pike, dogfish, grindle, grinnel, swamp trout, and choupique.
This fish is a member of an ancient lineage that dates back to the early Triassic. (This and another species of bowfin are the only 2 members of this group that are still around).
Bowfins are capable of breathing oxygen from the air (with their swim bladder), as well as water (with their gills).
photograph via: Alpena Fish and Wildlife Conservation Office
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‘While bats can only sense the outer shapes and textures of their targets, dolphins can peer inside theirs. If a dolphin echolocates on you, it will perceive your lungs and your skeleton. It can likely sense shrapnel in war veterans and fetuses in pregnant women. It can pick out the air-filled swim bladders that allow fish, their main prey, to control their buoyancy.
It can almost certainly tell different species apart based on the shape of those air bladders. And it can tell if a fish has something weird inside it, like a metal hook. In Hawaii, false killer whales often pluck tuna off fishing lines, and “they’ll know where the hook is inside that fish,” Aude Pacini, who studies these animals, tells me. “They can ‘see’ things that you and I would never consider unless we had an X-ray machine or an MRI scanner.”
This penetrating perception is so unusual that scientists have barely begun to consider its implications. The beaked whales, for example, are odontocetes that look dolphin-esque on the outside—but on the inside, their skulls bear a strange assortment of crests, ridges, and bumps, many of which are only found in males.
Pavel Gol’din has suggested that these structures might be the equivalent of deer antlers—showy ornaments that are used to attract mates. Such ornaments would normally protrude from the body in a visible and conspicuous way, but that’s unnecessary for animals that are living medical scanners.’
-Ed Yong, An Immense World
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Love, Lando, Milo // LN4
Lando Norris x Female Reader
Where Milo turns out to be more supportive than his dad
W. C: 2k
A/N: Milo has become a constant in my Lando fics, but since I don't see anyone complaining, I will keep on including him
MASTERLIST
The night was still. The kind of stillness that should be soothing, but instead, it felt heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back scream in protest. It was nearly impossible. Every time you thought you had it, your bladder demanded attention or a new wave of nausea rolled through you.
You tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb Lando more than you already had. His breathing was steady and deep beside you, the sound normally a source of comfort. But tonight, it only highlighted how restless you were. You turned again, hoping to find that elusive comfortable spot, but it was no use.
Around 3 AM, you got up for what felt like the fifth time. You shuffled to the bathroom, your swollen feet aching with every step. After relieving yourself, you wandered into the kitchen, craving something to eat. Anything to soothe your grumbling stomach and kicking baby. You grabbed a banana and slowly made your way back to bed, hoping this time you wouldn’t disturb Lando.
But as you slipped back under the covers, Lando stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Again?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with irritation.
“Yes, again,” you snapped back, unable to contain your frustration anymore. For the past few days, Lando's been complaining about your midnight adventures around the house as his sleep schedule struggled as much as you did if not even more. At first, you didn't say anything, apologizing and closing your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. However, as the days passed you felt like your were getting lonelier by the hour and evem more responsible for your fiancé's discontent with the situation in your own home, the sleepless night and constant tossing and turning.
“I’m pregnant, Lando. It’s not like I’m enjoying this.”
“Well, I’m not getting any sleep either,” he retorted. “I need to be in top shape during the season. This lack of sleep isn’t helping. No wonder I haven't been able to get anything done for the past week. It's useless.”
His words felt like a slap in the face. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You felt overwhelmed, emotional, and incredibly vulnerable.
“You think I don’t know that?” You choked out. “You think I want to be up all night? I can’t help it! Im supposed to enjoy my pregnancy and relax as much as possible before our baby arrives! In reality, I'm feeling guilty and responsible for both mine and your inability to rest well! ”
Milo, sensing the tension and seeing your tears, started barking at Lando, tugging on the leg of his sweatpants as if to say, “You upset mom! Fix it!”
“Great, now I’ve upset the dog too,” Lando muttered, but his anger was already dissipating, replaced by guilt. He looked at you, seeing the tears streaming down your face, and his heart broke a little.
You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You grabbed a blanket and headed to the spare bedroom, which was soon to be the baby's room. You moved as quickly as possible, your belly preventing you from moving with your usual pace. The room was quiet, and the rocking chair near one of the windows looked inviting. You opened the window next to you to let some fresh air inside the room. You settled into the fluffy cushions on the chair, pulling the blanket around you. Seconds later, Milo trotted into the room after you. He lifted himself onto his back legs, his front paws supporting his weight against the upholstery of the chair.
You lifted the little man onto your lap, smiling as he snuggled against your belly as if he knew you needed comfort.
''There hasn't been a day during which I've regretted your arrival into our lives, my tiny love." You said as you caressed the soft fur between his floppy ears. Milo's cold nose occasionally bumped against the palm of your hand as he sniffed around.
The tears flowed freely down the cold surface of your face, silent and hot in contrast. You stroked Milo's fur, the rhythmic motion helping to calm you down. The rocking chair creaked softly as you rocked back and forth. The movement seemed to help soothe your loud inner voice that kept producing negative thoughts one after another.
Some time passed, and you weren't sure how long. The door creaked open, and you saw Lando standing there, his expression mixed with regret and sadness.
“Baby, ” he whispered, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…I'm stressed. But that’s no excuse.”
You looked up at him, the tears still glistening in your eyes. “I’m trying, Lando. This isn’t easy for me either.”
He knelt beside the chair, taking your hand in his. “I know, love. I know. I’m an idiot. I should be more understanding. Please come back to bed. You need your sleep. We'll solve this in the morning, okay?”
You nodded, wiping your tears. “Just… don’t forget we’re in this together, okay?”
He leaned in and kissed you, soft and gentle, his lips lingering on yours. “I promise. Come back to bed? We can figure this out together.”
You stood up slowly, Milo jumping down to the floor. Lando wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you back to your bedroom. The bed felt warm and inviting, and as you settled back in, Lando pulled you close as much as your protruding belly allowed him.
Milo jumped onto the bed, curling up at your feet where he usually spent his nights. Lando kissed your forehead, his hand resting on your growing belly.
“Goodnight, baby. I love you” he whispered.
“Goodnight,love you too.” You replied, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you as sleepiness began to take over your tired body.
The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You woke up feeling a bit more rested, your body still aching, but your heart felt a little lighter.
Lando was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Morning,” you replied, smiling back. Milo stretched out beside you, having moved up on the bed during the night , now wagging his tail lazily.
“How are you feeling?” Lando asked, concern etched in his eyes.
“Tired, but better,” you admitted. “Thank you for coming to get me last night.”
“I’ll always come for you.” He said, his voice full of sincerity. “We’ll get through this together.”
You spent the morning in bed, talking and laughing, enjoying the calm before the chaos of the day. Milo provided endless entertainment, his antics making you both laugh.
That evening, after a long day of preparing the nursery and spending quality time together, you were exhausted. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the soft surface of the pillow. Lando stayed up a little longer as his mind kept wandering.
He looked over at you, your face serene in sleep, and his heart swelled with love. He gently placed his hand on your belly, feeling the slight movements of your growing baby.
“Hey, little one,” he whispered softly, not wanting to wake you. “I know I need to be better for your mom. She’s doing so much already, and I need to support her more. She needs her sleep, and I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”
Milo tilted his head, watching Lando with curious eyes before settling back down. Lando chuckled softly, patting Milo’s head.
“We’re a team,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mom, Milo, and me. We’re going to be a great team, and we’ll always be here for you. I promise to be better.”
He leaned in and kissed your belly, then your forehead, before settling down beside you. Milo snuggled up at your feet, the three of you finally finding a moment of peace.
As you slept, you felt Lando’s hand still resting on your belly, his presence a comforting anchor. The journey ahead might be filled with challenges, but with Lando’s love and support, you felt ready to take on the journey of being a parent.
MASTERLIST
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GODDAMN BLAZE IN THE DARK
summary — when the ultimate arises of being allowed to orgasm or being allowed to relieve your bladder, the only thing you can do is hope to god that you can be the good girl she expects you to be
warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, alcohol consumption, piss kink, holding/control kink, fingering, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, degradation, praise kink, eventual orgasm, condescending tones/elements, domestic banter, men/minors dni
kinktober
The weather was finally beginning to turn as October earned its keep in the festive beach town you resided within the borders of, no longer blisteringly hot, but rather soft and quaint as a breeze ruffled leaves and blew discarded litter down the streets of Westview. The aesthetic of the world had begun to shift with the incoming breeze of cool air as well, replacing vibrant pinks and muted blues with burnt orange shades and deep charcoal hues. Wanda herself had fallen into the fall frenzy, adding decorative pillows to the couch and styrofoam pumpkins to the mantle despite her mentality that decorating for single day holidays was pointless and a waste of hard earned money. You knew she adored the whimsical magic of Halloween, even if she rolled her eyes each time you suggested watching a film inspired by the spookiest month of the year. That’s just how she was. Pointedly difficult merely to get a rise out of you, and it worked each time you begged to watch Hocus Pocus only to receive an eye roll and an exaggerated huff of faux exasperation. She always caved, always cuddled up on the couch or in bed, but it was never easy to get her there, nor was it easy to keep her interest as her hands began to wander down your tantalizing body and mark its claim on your most sensitive areas.
Tonight, as you cuddled up close, beneath a thin throw blanket printed with jack-o-lanterns and the silhouettes of cartoon bats, it had been painfully easy. She hadn’t protested when you suggested a movie night, hadn’t rolled her eyes when you turned on a film from your childhood that was admittedly horrible at best and downright insulting at worst, and she hadn’t even huffed in overdramatic defeat when you’d turned the subtitles on because that made any viewing experience ten times better. In fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant and willing. She’d collected your drinks from the kitchen, gathered your chosen snacks from the pantry, and lit a candle on the coffee table that had the entire house smelling like sweet notes of subtle maple and addictive vanilla.
Cautiously, you peaked over your shoulder at her side profile illuminated by flickering auburn light from the three wick candle providing a gentle ambience of mood lighting around you, the dancing flame with the slightest twinges of blue and yellow embedded within its fiery existence reflected off of her emerald stare so peacefully that you nearly accepted the gentle nature of the night ahead of you without question, but you knew better. You’d been with Wanda for years, seen her through some of the most trying and difficult periods of her life, and subsequently some of the best and softest. You knew that whenever something was easy with her, then there was something else up her sleeve just waiting to be pulled. She kept things interesting, always had and always would, but you’d become rather perceptive to her motives after such a long game of cat and mouse.
She had you pinned against her chest as you lounged on the couch she’d affectionately decorated with throw blankets and decorative pillows, one arm looped around your waist while the other held onto her glass of chilled white wine, the stem carefully weaved between her fingers in intricate delicacy that you hadn’t quite mastered no matter the years you spent attempting to copy her mannerisms. She dripped with class and exquisite wealth, despite being brought up in a country suffering with poverty. There was an intoxicating energy to her, one that compelled even her most passionate haters to surrender to her spell and seek to know her personally. You’d never quite gotten over that alluring charm about her, but she’d made it painfully obvious that you were the only one she wanted to bring home and into bed each time you left the house, so you didn’t dwell much on the simple fact that Wanda Maximoff could have any man or woman she desired without so much as lifting a finger to flirtatiously wave.
As you reached for your glass of wine that had been thoughtlessly left abandoned on the coffee table besides the slowly burning candle, her arm pressed against your bladder just enough to make an uncomfortable feeling travel through your nerves. Willing to ignore it for a while longer, not wanting to leave her soothing company or risk your film being turning off due to her unrelenting boredom, you stayed against her chest, now gripping your own glass with delicacy, although you didn’t quite have the placement of your fingers right enough to have replicated her eloquence. You’d thought that Wanda was unaware of your subtle wince, however, she’d so easily detected the shift in your body language and the way you maneuvered within her hold to alleviate some of the pressure she was intentionally pressing into your bladder.
When her hand fell to your thigh, her wine glass set to the side as she had only a couple of sips left and didn’t particularly enjoy being drunk without your lighthearted energy to match her pace, you shivered with anticipation, knowing all too well where her soft touch would lead if you played your cards right. Well, you had thought you knew all the moves she was going to make, but when she dug her fingertips into the crevice of your thigh without warning or prior teasing, tickling the sensitive skin that she knew was a no-go zone on your best day, let alone your worst, you truly began to realize what you were in for. A soft whine slipped off of your lips as you wriggled against her, but all she did was tighten her hold on you and coax your whines with sweet kisses against the shell of your ear, her fingers still teasing and tickling your sensitive skin with passion.
“Wanda.” You gasped when one hand splayed firmly against your sensitive belly, and the other moved beneath your soft gingham print sleep shorts to cup your core beneath the frilly underwear you’d picked out that morning. Your attire was nothing special, nothing sexy nor new, but that’s what Wanda preferred. There were times when lingerie worked, where it brought a level of excitement and newness to your already exhilarating sexcapades, but Wanda was sweet, she preferred you as you were, with no reason to constantly be trying to change your comfortability and appearance. Her boldness had always been a turn on, and as you sat trapped between her chest and her possessive arms, you felt merely like a toy at her disposal.
“What’s wrong, my angel?” She cooed against your earlobe, teeth taking claim over that sensitive inch of skin that always provoked your desire to rise to uncontrollable levels. She knows what’s wrong though, it’s not the first time you’ve walked into this trap, but it’s been months since she’s laid it out, months since she’s been so cruel and condescending that you don’t know whether to plead for leniency or for her fingers to claim the sweetest softest spaces of your intimacy. “Hm, be a good girl and tell me.”
“I have to pee.” The words burned your pride as they slipped into the air, your cheeks twinging a flush shade of pink more aligned for the pallet of summertime than fresh autumn. You wriggled in her grasp, attempting to set yourself free, but all you accomplished was adding more pressure against your already sensitive bladder, intensifying the sensation of urgency within your nerves. “Wands, I have to pee.”
Your desperation did nothing to quell her cruelty, rather it feebly landed in the near silent room apart from the voices slipping out of the speakers in the ceiling. “Well that’s too bad, sweetheart. I like having you here. Surely you can wait a little while longer, can’t you? I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”
Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting warm, sticky arousal that pooled at your entrance. You whimpered in need, desperate need that turned your nerves cold with pleasure but warmed your skin deliciously to the touch. You writhed in her lap, torn between staying still, ignoring the pressure being applied to your belly, and squirming against her hold until you could sink onto those tantalizing digits and claim your pleasure. You didn’t have the luxury of choosing, she was already deciding your fate before you could strategize a game plan to secure dominance. You never won when you attempted to overpower her, but it was fun to have those unrefined moments of vicious pleasure while they lasted.
You gasped a broken whine of pleasure when her fingers dug themselves into your core with one finite movement, buried to the hilt if the chill of her rings laying heavily against your pulsating clit pebbled with anticipation was any indication. The pads of her fingers pressed against the softest section of your walls, sparkling sharp sparks of pleasure to shoot up your spine and reverberate off the lining of your sensitive bladder. You gasped again, a breathy, whiney sound that was entirely pathetic but lewdly sweet, as Wanda prodded and pressed against that spongy spot continuously, her fingers curling and scissoring apart within your slick velvety walls.
You writhed in intense pleasure, squirming against her tight, near clinical hold as she kept you confined and at her mercy, only able to take whatever she gave you when she felt like it. The sensations sparking to life in your bladder and core were unimaginable fireworks of pleasure that drowned you in their intensity, covering you in pleasure derived from her; her touch, her words, her eloquently dominant energy. She covered you in her effortlessly, and you surrendered to the flames of passion without hesitation.
“I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it! Wanda! I have to pee! Please let me cum!” As torn as your body was between remaining still and writhing in passionate movements, your mind was an even playing field of indecision. You had to pee, that was undeniable, it was steadily beneath the surface of pleasure, tethered to your orgasm in a terrifying way, but you need to cum, as her fingers scissors your pussy apart, massaged that spongy area within your walls, as her rings nudged and thumped against your clit, you were being driven closer and closer to that beautiful edge of vulnerability and pleasure.
“One or the other.” Wanda’s voice was level, calculated. She wasn’t bothered by your desperation, nor was she feeling generous. Your bones grew cold with anticipation as you shook your head, but it did nothing to win you sympathy. Her fingers that had already been hammering into you at an unforgiving pace took an even harsher approach, and the squelching sounds of pleasure and arousal filled the room and joined the existing symphony of a crackling flame and animated characters. “You can either cum on my fingers like a good girl, or you can go pee and not receive anything. And, I know this slutty cunt never misses an opportunity to cum, so stop acting like you can’t handle what I decide to do to your body, and sit still.”
Your body couldn’t help but oblige by her demand, and with muffled whimpers, your body stopped fighting against her hold. She laughed tauntingly, pressing harder against your bladder. You knew the moment you leaked even the slightest bit against her fingers, her touch would be withdrawn, whether you were in the middle of a blissful orgasm or just on the cusp of falling over the edge. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t show you even the slightest bit of moisture. She had made her ultimatum clear, there would be nothing that could change that.
“I’m close! I’m close!” As your orgasm built, so did that pressure in your bladder that was slowly becoming unbearable. You could only will your body to allow you control, but before you could slip off the edge, fall into a sea of butterflies and pleasure, her fingers were slowing down, her palm pressing harder against your bladder in return for the loss of pleasure.
“Hold it.” She demanded cruelly, voice level and dominating, only luring you further beneath her captivating spell that had you submitting unregretfully. You did as best as you could, your eyes pinched shut as you fought to fight off your orgasm, but eventually it all caught up to you, and your mindless babbling became indistinguishable pleas and desperate begging. “So pretty when you squirm for me.”
“I-I can’t! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to pee! Let me cum! Please, Wanda! Please!” Finally forcing the words off of your tongue, you only hoped they were enough to convince her to be kind. Minutes passed until they became a blur of sensations that ripped you apart from the inside, and when you thought you were going to break, just as you were on the cusp of deteriorating, everything started up again and instead of being denied, instead of loitering on the edge of bliss, Wanda granted you permission. You came with a high pitched moan, squirming and writhing against her hold and the second she worked you down from that blissful edge, you were bolting toward the bathroom, followed by her footsteps and taunting laughter. “Three glasses of wine and you decide to pull this shit! Wanda, I am going to kill you one day!”
“That’s how you repay someone who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?! You threaten them?!” Wanda laughed menacingly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as she watched you attempt to relieve your bladder, although that was slightly difficult in your post-orgasm state, which only made your frustration double.
“Second best! Nothing will beat last Christmas.” You threw her a nasty glare, finally able to pee as your muscles began to loosen and return to normal, although every nerve in your body was still alight with blissful pleasure.
“You’re only making me want to compete with myself here, darling.” She smirked, licking her fingers clean of your arousal in a tantalizing power move that had your cheeks flushing but your eyes rolling.
“You’re impossible.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dom!wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff fic#[ kinktober ] — ⟡#minors dni ৎ୭
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Save a Bike, Ride a Biker
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You plan to surprise Daryl and give his bike a scrub. But before you are able to finish your good work, Daryl walks in on you...
Warnings: TWD stuff, weapons, smoking? fluff, cleaning a bike? suggestive smut
Set in Season 9!
Word Count: 1,9k
a/n: This idea didn't come from me. @erebus-et-eigengrau hit me up with that thought, and I was like: YES, I'm turning this into a fic. I love it! Thank you so much for this, friend!
This song plays an important role:
EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist
Warm, pleasant sunlight greeted you as you rolled out of bed. Smiling, you tiptoed barefoot over to the open window; letting the sun warm your skin for a moment and to take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It was going to be a very beautiful day today in Alexandria, as it seemed - much to your delight. Why? Because you'd be a woman on a mission today.
Of course you didn't fail to notice, that the other side of the bed was already cold and empty. Not quite surprising when your boyfriend was Daryl Dixon. You got used to mostly waking up alone. That made the mornings you did not wake up alone even more enjoyable and valuable.
Stretching your still tired limp, you made your way across the hallway to the bathroom; paying the toilet a quite urgent visit. After relieving your bladder of its burden, you made your way downstairs; actually aiming for the kitchen, but when you noticed the main door being ajar, you halted in your movements. Usually, the main door wasn't ajar - except when... You smiled and changed your direction; heading straight for the door. Peaking outside, your suspicion was proven right. Daryl was leaning against the wooden post, which stabilised the roof over the porch. Smoke was billowing in clouds through the air.
Not giving a flying fuck that you wore nothing more than your panties and one of Daryl's way too big t-shirts, you tiptoed over to him with a smile; running your arms over his back and encircling his waist. "I thought you already left," you prodded; pressing a kiss against his leather clad back. The archer didn't even flinch. He knew it was you. It wasn't the first time you had done this. All that was coming from him was a scoff. "Ain't leavin' withou' sayin' goodbye, sunshine. Ya know tha'." "Mhm," you hummed and rested your head against his back. You didn't say much and just enjoyed to hold him; letting his familiar scent invade your airways and clouding your brain. Daryl didn't have to say another word as well. He kept on smoking; finishing his cigarette, before stubbing it out and - well-behaved disposed the stub in the ashtray you placed on the railing of the porch, like you told him. You had been tired of collecting the cigarette stubs all over the porch, so you taught him to get rid of them properly; saving trouble and your nerves.
The archer turned in your embrace then; calloused hands finding your hips and deft fingertips playing with the fabric of his t-shirt. He raised an eyebrow. "Ain't ya cold, sunshine?" Daryl asked; referring to your - some would say flimsy - outfit. You shook your head. "A little bit. But I don't care. You're warm and I just want to stay like this," you smiled up at him with a cute scrunch of your nose, before you buried your face in his chest. A grunt - very close to a small chuckle left his lips; hands wandering and arms wrapping you up in a hug.
The two of you stayed like that for a long while, until a whistle cut through the air, causing both your heads to turn to the left. Rick was standing down the street, waving at his brother and signalling him that they were good to go. "Gotta go, darlin'," Daryl stated the obvious and loosened the embrace around you - much to your dismay, but knew that you had to let go. "Be careful, yeah? I want your pretty ass back in one piece, understood?" You warned in a loving manner; gently caressing his sides. The archer scoffed at your words. "Ain't pretty." You giggled, "Yes, yes it is." and gave his ass a playful swat - which caused his cheeks to redden. "Y/N!" You just giggled more and shrugged your shoulders. Daryl was so cute when he was embarrassed. "Goddammit, woman..." He groaned and sighed almost overdramatic. You stood on your tippy-toes and pressed a sweet, apologising kiss on his chin; feeling his goatee tickle your lips.
And then you quickly shifted back from playful to serious. "I mean it, Daryl. Stay safe, okay? Look after yourself and Rick." He nodded and gently put his thumb and forefinger underneath your chin; softly angling your head upwards. "I promise. Ain't gettin' rid a me." "Good." You smiled and squeezed his middle softly; wordlessly asking for a kiss - and Daryl granted your wish. He dipped his head and met your lips for a sweet, but quick kiss.
"Think we'll be back 'fore dark." You nodded and let go of him; crossing your arms over your chest and watched the man you loved shoulder his crossbow and disappear down the street.
After starting properly into the day - which included a shower, getting dressed, brushing teeth and having a breakfast, you reported for watch duty; taking over for Rosita.
Once your shift was over, you baked some cookies and then finally had the time for the one thing you had planned today. Like mentioned... You were a woman on a mission... Namely giving Daryl's dirty bike a thorough scrub. The archer's beloved two-wheeler was more than dirty. Dirty was an understatement... Since he was more than occupied with leading the Sanctuary, building a bridge and doing runs, his bike was the one suffering from his busy schedule book. Therefore, that he drove with Rick to the bridge today, his bike was here - and that gave you in return the perfect opportunity to get the second love of his life spruced up. Plus, you wanted to surprise Daryl with it, because why not? He deserved it. And the bike as well.
So, you rolled the bike out of the small garage and on the little courtyard in front of the cute little house you and Daryl shared. "Alright, let's do this!" You said to yourself; preparing a bucket with hot water, some soap you found and a sponge. Before you got started, though, you pulled the little walkman you found out of the pocket of the shorts you wore, alongside the familiar cassette. Daryl found that walkman on a run a few months ago, together with a ton of cassettes and of course, he immediately thought of you - and you loved the archer for it.
You plucked in the headphones, pressed play and started your good work.
The music was loud. Not loud enough to attract any walkers or other possible threats outside the walls, but loud enough to be clearly heard by everybody who'd walk by. You didn't care, though. You were in the zone; somewhere on music cloud nine, all while dancing and vibing - and cleaning your boyfriend's motorcycle.
Therefore, that you were so caught up in your music and the task at hand, you neither realised how the sun started slowly to sink, nor how the archer walked down the street to your shared house; crossbow slung over his shoulder.
Music urged to Daryl's ears as he stopped right in front of the courtyard; eyes locked on you - cleaning his bike. The archer didn't have the time to question himself why the fuck you were doing that, since you started humming alongside to the tunes of 'Whole Lotta Love'. Led Zeppelin... Daryl shook his head; unable to suppress the smirk which wanted to spread over his lips. It was another moment in which he realised that he had fallen in love with the right woman.
It was all fun and games, until you picked up the dancing again - and oh, boy, you were a real good dancer...
It was so cliché. Who didn't know the typical image of a hot chick cleaning half naked a vehicle to preferably sexy music? Lots of soapy foam, sponges and wet bikini tops. If this would be a form, Daryl could tick all boxes - except that the bikini top was a sports bra.
He had to take a deep breath.
Damnit, it was cliché, but Daryl didn't give a fuck. He settled for enjoying the show and see how long it took you to notice him. So, he moved to sit on the porch, set aside his crossbow, lit a cigarette and let his blue-grey eyes linger on you; feeling his jeans just grow a little tighter.
Once the song was over, you gave the bike's saddle a last, finishing scrub, took a step back and admired your work. Smiling, you removed the headphones, from which the next rock song was already blaring; hands on your hips and definitely satisfied with the outcome of your mission. You were sure that Daryl was absolutely going to- "Thing ain’t ever looked tha' good. Not even 'fore I put it together."
The archer's voice suddenly sounding from behind you caused you to almost jump out of your skin. Turning quickly, you found your boyfriend sitting casually on the porch; cigarette pinned between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking hell, Daryl!" You exclaimed; taking a deep breath. "You scared the shit out of me!" The man squeezed an eye shut and ducked his head slightly. "Sorry. Didn't mean ta scare ya."
You smiled, shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest; feeling the wetness of the water and soap soaking the fabric of your bra even further. "How long have you been sitting there?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders; eyes definitely not directed on your face. More like... one floor below. "Dunno, least five minutes or so..." You raised an eyebrow; noticing immediately that he was a liiittle bit distracted. "Enjoyed the show, huh?"
Daryl licked his lips and finally lifted his gaze to meet yours. "Woulda lie if I said I didn't." He jutted his head at you and his beloved vehicle. "Did ya swap the horse fer ma bike now, sunshine?" You giggled; shaking your head. The archer knew that you mostly preferred one of the horses over an vehicle, so he just couldn't let the opportunity slip to tease you.
But you quickly recovered from the scare he had given you and unbeknownst to him ruining his own surprise. So, you had to make the best out of the situation and his forward pass - namely, pot the ball.
"Nope," you started; popping the p, "Just gave it the much needed scrub." and moved to lean against the bike; palms on the saddle to support your weight. "I'm rather saving the horse and steel horse and ride the cowboy instead."
You could've sworn that his jaw was on the verge of dropping, but Daryl Dixon being Daryl Dixon, masked his emotions and opted to play it cool instead. "Pff. Cowboy my ass."
Once more you raised an eyebrow at his reaction. "Oh, apologies, your majesty. I'll rephrase it." You cleared your throat. "I'm rather saving the horse and steel horse and ride the smokin' hot, crossbow wielding archer sitting on my porch instead." Daryl scoffed and merely shook his head. "Ain't 'smokin' hot'. If someone's smokin' hot 'round here, 's you."
You sighed; feeling flattered and a little sad at the same time. Flattered, because of Daryl's cute attempt to flirt, and sad because the wonderful, special, beautiful man across from you still had a hard time accepting compliments.
You'd work on that, but first you had to finish what you started - or might as well both.
Shaking your head, you made your way over to Daryl and climbed the few steps leading up to the porch and reached for the archer's free hand. "C'mon, handsome. We gotta save those bikes and horses..." He immediately shuffled and moved to stand up. "Can't say no to tha'," Daryl took a last drag of his cigarette and quickly discarded it into the ashtray; following you and leaving his crossbow behind on the porch. He wouldn't need it. Not for the next few hours.
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