#avali approved

[nvcr]

Why are hospitals and doctors so difficult I stg

[wahoo-venus]

Short Hilson fic where House plays the piano, mayhaps? 😍

sure thing! it takes a bit to get to the piano part, sorry 'bout that, haha! I hope you enjoy<3

lmk if you have any more requests!

———

1,072 words

Wilson has trouble sleeping, and House knows how to help him

———

Fifth night in a row. God dammit.

Wilson stared at the ceiling with a frown. He was crashing at House's place, hoping that a change of air would help him sleep. It didn't.

For some unknown reason, the last four nights he wasn't able to sleep. This night appeared to be the same.

It was becoming a problem. He tried everything that helped in the past: Jogging until feeling extremely tired, taking a long steamy bath, reading the most boring documents he could find, taking melanin... Nothing. Zero. Nada.

He got up, irritated, and went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet looking for a glass, grabbing the tallest one he could find. He closed the pannel a little aggressively, and then opened the fridge with the same force. After analyzing the liquids avaliable, he opted for some orange juice and, again, closed the door with more aggression than needed. He poured the drink on his glass until it was about to spill, and drank it in one go, but before he could put the glass down he heard a familiar voice.

"Don't you dare break my glass. I think you already broke all other furniture you touched tonight" House entered the kitchen and went past him, eyeing the fridge as to see if there was any damage.

Wilson could only sigh. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" He put the glass down, very carefully now that he was aware of the force he put into his actions before. He glanced at House half looking for approval and half looking for forgiveness.

"No, my sixth sense warned me that if I didn't go to the kitchen right this instant, I would have one less glass in my arsenal." He said this while looking for box of cookies in pantry, side-eying him before actually finding the box. Wilson chuckled at the comment.

"Thank God for the supernatural" He said with a tinge of playfulness in his tone, before switching to a more exasperated one. "I'm just frustrated. I–"

"Still can't sleep" House said with his mouth filled with chocolate chip cookies, raising an eyebrow at him. His attention was now fully on his friend, when he wasn't taking another bite of his sweet snack.

"I've tried everything!" He shook his hands in the air, voice raising an octave. "I don't know what else to do! I feel like I'm going insane!" He turned to look at his friend, who was observing his outburst, almost puzzled. "I going to go crazy if I don't sleep tonight" this last part was almost a plea, as if House could do anything about it. His look changed from pensive to a little annoyed.

"And it's going to be my problem if you don't" Wilson hoped it meant what he thought it did. That House had a solution. That the solution was very, very simple, and that House knew it. If he was lucky, House would even share it.

Wilson took a few wary steps, as if aproaching a wild animal that he didn't want escaping. He didn't dare make a sound, just waited until House said something, hoping it would be useful. He stared, staying very still.

Then House rolled his eyes. "You should go back to the couch. My couch, by the way. You should be thankful i haven't invited some hooker and let her sleep there" He grabbed his cane and marched past Wilson, leaving the cookies behind.

He sighed. Of course he wouldn't help him. He had to pay some bigger price, like 100 Clinic Hours, or Unlimited Chinese Food For a Year. He rubbed his face with his hands and let out another sigh, thinking what he was willing to sacrifice for some sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut, he came up with a few ideas. But his train of thought was interrupted by something that came from the living room.

He opened his eyes and looked up. That... was House playing the piano? Was he playing for him?

He almost didn't dare to move. Then he thought about it, and if he didn't move House would probably shout at him and stop playing. So he slowly went to the living room, stopping as soon as House was in his range of view.

He really was playing. Wilson didn't know what, exactly, he never was one for classical music. But it was beautiful. It was calm yet not slow. And the way House was playing... He feels that if he heard another man play it, it wouldn't be as good.

Swallowing a bit, he took courage to lay on the couch. He tried to make as little sound as possible, and layed in a comfortable position where he could look at the piano.

He couldn't look at House's face, but he supposed it was better. That way he couldn't make fun at him later for making shocked expression with a touch of adoration. Instead, he was looking at his hands.

They looked so rough. They were lanky and long, with calluses from playing the guitar and messing with chemicals every once in a while. And they played marvelously. They went from one side of the piano to the other, swaying and not missing a single note.

The melody was a bit cheery, and the pace wasn't exactly fast, but was not at all slow. He smiled, and chuckled a bit. House took notice, because he turned his head a bit and gave a side-eye. Luckily Wilson was still looking at his hands.

House stopped playing. A beat. Dammit, Wilson had ruined it. He closed his eyes shut. Dammit. But before he could spiral, House started again.

This time it was a very calm melody. Sweet. Tender. Slow, but not boring. Again, it was beautiful. And House was playing it. For him.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, tension leaving his body. He didn't care if he had to pay a thousand dollars in cash tomorrow, it was worth it. He loved this. It was amazing, and almost didn't want to fall asleep just to keep hearing his friend play.

But his worries slowly flew away, leaving him with nothing but a tired body and an exhausted mind. He let the notes enter his body and invade his mind with the same words he used earlier: Calm. Sweet. Tender. Slow. Beautiful. House.

He fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face.

[corrodedseraphine]

perfectly wrong | #4 I am afraid to trust you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: When once again Steve saves your life he sets his goal, to help and protect you, the way he wants to do it is quite…surprising.

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, bruises, near death experience, misscarige, blood, bleeding out, strong medicine use, suicide

The story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

"Where the hell have you been?!" Travis shouted as soon as you entered the house.

"At work." You said without even looking at him, as quickly as possible you wanted to go to the bathroom and then just to bed.

Unfortunately, he had other plans. As you passed by he grabbed you firmly by the arm and pushed you so that you bounced against the wall.

"Bulllshit! I called your work and Buckley said she hadn't seen you there today and didn't even know you were supposed to be there!" he came closer.

You were in complete shock, the lie came out and you had absolutely no idea how to get out of it. Travis, seeing your reaction, did not hesitate and slapped you. "Are you cheating on me?! This is what you need now?! A rich fucker who would take you and that brat in, huh?!"

"N-no!" you screeched. "You know damn well that I hate him, how could I cheat on you with him?!"

He clenched his hand into a fist and swung, this time fortunately his hand landed in the wall right next to your head. "Pretty boys like him don't like sluts like you, do you understand? You are worthless, he wouldn't touch you with a fucking stick! You are mine and no one else will be able to handle you." saying this he looked straight into your eyes. He looked with contempt and disgust. For the first time in your life it occurred to you that Steve's hate-filled gaze, which pierced you to the core, didn't make you feel as awful as Travis' did now. You felt like you were beginning to believe his words, which seemed to burn into your brain. "I'm leaving, I don't know when I'll be back, when I look at you I want to puke." He said and left the house slamming the door leaving you alone.

Your eyes were burning as was the cheek he had just slapped you on. All the nerve endings in your body were crying out for help and at least the slightest relief. You wanted to cry, but the tears would not fly, everything around you seemed to be an obstacle, one bigger than the other.

Without even changing into your pajamas, you lay down on your bed and moments later fell asleep, hoping that at least in your dreams something good would happen to you.

That night when Steve came home he was accompanied by a great feeling of anxiety. On the one hand, somewhere he had always been aware that you hated him as much as he hated you, but lately he had spent more and more time wondering where this hatred really came from, going back in his mind to the very distant beginnings of high school. To some extent he told himself that he didn't care what you thought or how you felt but deep down he knew that wasn't true. Despite the fact that you weren't able to look at each other he always, even in the slightest, looked to you for approval, just like the rest of the people.

Whatever had changed between the two of you over the past weeks also made it so that in addition to your increasing need for acceptance, the thought that he was the villain in your life became heavier and heavier, quite as if it had suddenly become a heavy stone tied to his leg that was slowly dragging him down. The fact that you were refusing to let him help you was like tentacles that were just waiting to grab him and finish him off.

What could he do to help you? How could he convince you to accept it from him at all? Should he give up and leave you alone or keep trying to help you in any possible way?

These questions and his persistent search for answers made him fall asleep full of worry, just as if he sensed that something bad was happening. Something told him that this night would definitely not be one of the peaceful ones.

An uncomfortable pain pierced your body and roused you from sleep. It was getting stronger and stronger, unbearable by the second. Not really knowing what was happening, you sat up on the bed and turned on the lamp that stood on the bedside table. You looked around the room, Travis was nowhere to be found, you closed your eyes listening for other sounds indicating his presence, but you were in the house completely alone. Maybe that's better. You thought. Then you felt another stab of pain, much stronger that before. Your gaze went to the big stain of blood on the blanket between your legs.

Terrified, you wanted to get up right away and run to the phone, but the pain was so strong that you could not move from the bed. Panic began to overwhelm your common sense, fear filled your system, but as a last flash you remembered the walkie-talkie you kept in the drawer of your bedside table.

Steve's weak sleep was interrupted by someone's cry. A cry for help? Is this another nightmare?

Code red, code red, code red.

It took him only a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream, but a quiet cry and a plea for help coming from the other end of the room where his walkie-talkie lay. From the very beginning of his Upside Down adventure, he had always kept it in the same place at night and made sure there were always charged batteries in case something bad happened.

"Robin? Nancy?" Your voice was barely audible, breaking with each successive sound. "Help- p-please, Jonathan? Please, code red, please." He broke off and immediately ran to the device.

"Y/n? It's Steve, what's wrong?" he asked.

"It hurts, it hurts so bad, so much blood." you cried. "Help me, please."

"Be there in ten." he said and putting on only his shoes he ran out of the house. Disregarding traffic signs and speed limits he actually found himself in front of your house in less than ten minutes. Fortunately, the door of the house was unlocked. Without closing it behind him, he moved deeper into the house, calling your name. The smell of alcohol was all over the room, with empty bottles and shards of glass scattered in places, but that wasn't the most important thing now.

"Steve!" you said loudly with your remaining strength to direct him to the bedroom. The sight he found there terrified him, but he had no time for paralysis now, he knew that every next second could decide about your and the baby's life.

"Can you move?" he asked, running up to you.

"N-no, it hurts too much-" you replied, holding your stomach tightly, the pain was intolerable.

"It's okay, I've got you. Both of you." he replied quickly. "We'll go to the hospital, okay? I'll carry you to the car." Feeling his lungs slowly running out of air, he picked you up and carried you out of the house straight to the car all the while calming down in his mind.

Focus, Harrington. This is not the time to panic. Calm down.

The road to the hospital passed a little more cautiously than the one to your house, but still lightning fast.

"I'll go quickly to get the wheelchair and come back with it to pick you up, hold on okay? Just a little while longer." He said hurriedly and ran straight toward the hospital entrance. Hardly anything reached you at that moment, pain and fear occupied one hundred percent of your concentration, the whole outside world became one big blur and background noise. A moment later, the door on the grazing side opened with a jolt and there, in addition to Steve, appeared other nurses and a doctor who transferred you to a wheelchair. Curling up in a ball the whole time you cried every now and then whining in pain, you were unable to stop it, completely giving in to the emotions that were tearing at you.

Steve all the way to the door of the operating room walked step by step beside you, keeping his hand on your shoulder repeating that you are not alone and that everything will be fine, unfortunately the doctor did not want to let him in further explaining that because of your personal relationship he could do more harm there than help. When you and the rescue team disappeared behind the heavy white doors he was left alone in the large and quiet hallway.

For almost an hour he sat against the wall nervously combing his hand through his hair for the millionth time when nurse Judy approached him. She had a plastic cup of water in one hand and clothes in the other, which she tossed into his lap.

"I think you should change." She said, pointing to the blood stains on his pajamas. It was your blood. Blood that looked quite unreal. Tonight was like a nightmare, a vile product of his imagination from which he had no escape.

"Thanks." he replied quietly. The woman sighed and sat down next to him.

"You saved her life, Steve." she said firmly. "If you had shown up here a few minutes too late, neither she nor the baby would have survived."

"Jesus…" At the thought, his throat tightened and his vision blurred.

"Steve I know it's hard for you, but it's not over. Someone has to help her. If she doesn't free herself from her current situation the next time if she gets here it may be too late."

"Do you think it's because of him?"

"We honestly have no idea what caused the bleeding, there are so many causes, and she doesn't want to tell anyone anything."

He suddenly felt anger at you. How could you even at a time like this be so stubborn and not allow help? His clenched fist and tightened jaw did not escape Judy's attention.

"Steve." she said calmly but firmly. "Anger won't help here, the girl is going through hell, and she's clearly lost. She needs someone who will get her back on track and not drive her down a dead end street with no way out."

"How can I force her to let me help her?" helplessness could be seen in his tone.

"Forcing her to accept help can have the opposite effect, my boy."

"Then what should I do?"

"Convince her. Show that she can count on you, prove that you are capable of helping her."

"She's so damn stubborn." he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She is scared, Steve. She's scared and hurt, which is why a huge amount of patience is needed here."

"I really want to help her," he said.

"I know." The woman sighed and put her hand on his shoulder. "Start by changing your clothes and then go to her, show that she's not alone, just be careful, she's been given some pretty strong medication, so she might be a little… unsteady."

The darkness in the room was distracted only by a small lamp near the bed you were lying on. The quiet and rhythmic beeping of the device mimicked your heartbeat, and the IV drip flowed into your veins at a slow pace. Should he be here? He had no idea. He knew he wanted to be here, it was unknown why he felt the need to be with you, but whether you wanted him to be here was another matter entirely.

"Why?" you asked without turning to face him. You were lying on your side with your head facing the window, in which his silhouette was reflected. Under the influence of the drugs you felt heavy but also numb, even if you wanted to at that moment you didn't feel a bit of strength to turn around.

"Why what?" he asked and approached you so that you were face to face.

"Why do you keep saving me?" a sob came out of your mouth, which released a whole waterfall of tears with it. "You hate me. Why do you save my life every time? I don't understand." Even your hand seemed too heavy for you to wipe your wet eyes and cheeks.

"I don't hate you." he said quietly slowly reaching his hand toward your face. "For years I thought I hated you, but the more I think about it I'm less and less sure it was hate. I don't understand either." The tone of his voice was as warm as the touch of his hand on your face. He pushed the wet strands of hair aside, took a napkin and began to clean your face.

"Why are you taking care of me?" his behavior made you even more emotional, and that didn't help stem the tears.

"Stop asking why, y/n." he whispered. This was another question he didn't know the answer to. He had always felt the need to take care of others, especially those he loved, but for the past few years he hadn't expected that you would someday be among those people as well. "Just let me, please."

You didn't know if it was a dream or if the drugs were strong enough to make you hallucinate, but now before your eyes was painted the image of a boy who almost always looked at you with hatred and loathing. This boy now had a worried expression on his face, his pale face and blackened eyes indicated fatigue, but in addition to this time you could see concern.

Is it possible that Steve Harrington cared about you? Was this concern sincere?

"I'm afraid." you said quietly. "I'm afraid to trust you."

He couldn't hide that these words hurt. He lowered his head down wanting to hide the painful grimace on his face. He knew you had the right to do so, if the two of you were in the opposite situation you would probably be the last person he would trust, both of you had caused each other so much pain that it would be hard to forget it just like that. Taking a deep breath he was getting ready to reply that you had the right to do so and try to convince again, but you began to speak further changing the subject.

"I wanted to die, Steve. Every morning I woke up with the thought that it would be better if it was all over, but today I was so scared. When it actually could have been the end-" you started crying again.

"Hey, everything is fine now, you're safe." He knelt as close to the bed as possible. He rubbed your cheeks with one hand and grabbed your hand with the other.

"I wanted to kill myself Steve. I wanted to kill myself and the baby, I'm a monster." you started to get hysterical.

"You are not a monster y/n, we both know very well what monsters look like. We fought them, together, and won. We will win now too. Look at me." He directed your face so that you were looking straight into his eyes. You noticed with a shock that they too were full of tears. "Just let me help you, we overcame the damn end of the world together, we can handle this too." he sniffed. Fatigue and nerves were winning out over self-control, more and more question marks were appearing in his head, he didn't understand anything, he didn't understand why he so suddenly wanted to protect you from all the suffering of the world despite the fact that for the past years he himself had intentionally caused you pain. Looking at you now, he could hardly restrain himself from taking you in his arms to once again become a shield for you. No matter how much something inside him lashed out to be as close to you as possible, he knew that this would be crossing your comfort zone, which was already violated enough by everything else.

He spent the entire night at your bedside thinking of various plans on how he could help you. Each one seemed better than the last however there were too many and he had too little time to do it. One thing was certain - you couldn't go back there. Holding on to that thought when you got into his car after being discharged from the hospital, he took a completely different route.

"Steve what are we doing here?" you asked when you stopped in front of a big house with a pool in the richest neighborhood of Hawkins. You weren't stupid, you knew perfectly well that this was the Harringtons' property, but you didn't know why you were here now.

"You're not going back there." he said as if he was proud of himself for coming up with the greatest idea in the whole world.

"What do you mean I'm not going back there?!" you nervously almost jerked out of the car. What the hell was he thinking?

"Welcome to your new home." his tone was nonchalant, completely as if the most ordinary thing in the world was now happening.

"Are you kidding me? I can't live with you!" "Oh excuse me! Do you have any better idea?!" he shouted slamming the car door.

"Going back to my house?!" you exclaimed, increasingly annoyed.

"I don't even want to hear it!" your annoyance transmitted to him, thus you started arguing in his driveway.

"What is wrong with you?! You can't just make me stay here!"

"Are you sure?! Because you have two choices! Two!" he rested his hands heavily on the hood of the car and looked straight into your eyes. He was angry. "You stay here with me, where this psycho won't even think to look for you, or you go back to your place and the first thing I do is going to Hopper and reporting domestic violence on a pregnant woman!"

That's how two people who couldn't stand in the same room without arguing for more than an hour came to live together. And this was not the end of the surprises that fate prepared in your way.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather @lma1986 @scarletwitchwhore @freezaz123 @ihatepeanutss

[seealandraw]

HELLO! I am opening cheeb commissions for cheap! Open until the New Year I will be offering cheebs at slashed prices! There are currently 5 slots avaliable!

Transcribed prices below the cut!

CHEEB SALE!

Single - $10

Couples - $15

Throuple - $20

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General rules/info are:

Payments are through paypal, I will send you an invoice; payment need not be sent until the first draft is approved, however payment will be needed to see the finished product.

Please be as detailed as you wish with your request, provide as much reference material as possible there’s never too much reference!

I do gore and other subjects, and am open to most everything, however I reserve the right to deny your commission if the material makes me uncomfortable.

please contact me at capealans@gmail.com for your commission interests, any other form of messaging (via tumblr, twitter, etc.) are too easily missed.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S!! i just reread Cant Explain All The Ways You Get Me High and i’m here to give you double the kudos bc god it’s fantastic 🔥 Honestly that one and I’d Fuck Me are some of my favorites—guess I have a soft spot for your solo scenes! Would you ever explore the inverse, with sub!bucky or seb taking care of themselves? What are the differences there between how steve/chris do it?

Can't Explain All The Ways You Get Me High

I'd Fuck Me

You know, I genuinely never noticed that among those solo, jerk off, fantasy scenes, I've only included the tops and/or doms. Huh. That's interesting. I mean, literally, there's also a scene in my "For Beginners" series with Chris fantasizing about Seb subbing for him...

Chapter One of Accept It

Maybe it'd because I'm a dom? So that sort of fantasizing is closer to my heart? Maybe it's just a coincidence, lol. Who knows 🤷🏻‍♂️

Anyway--

I think it would be pretty similar, I mean, the thoughts going on would be different, of course, but very much that same heady, frantic headspace as they barrel toward orgasm.

I'm not taking requests at this time, but sometimes I can't help myself...

Immediately, I had something in mind for Sebastian:

It's been a while for Sebastian--a while since he's gotten off with all of the work he's been doing (what feels like 15 different projects all that once, he swears) and the resulting exhaustion, and it's been a while since he's seen Chris with the way their careers stretches them apart all too often. So... orgasming hasn't exactly been his top priority. However, he's got the afternoon off. Somehow, after the early morning and late nights and their dedication, his director has decided they all need an early end for this Friday.

Thank. god.

And, with his time off, his thoughts unbusied, it's the tiniest thing that sets him off.

With their dynamic and how Sebastian gets, Chris will regularly send him orders when they're apart. It helps keep Sebastian from being overwhelmed with the need to submit here and now and being unable to, shutting down instead. Order this for dinner. Wear that pair of boxer briefs today. Chose this for the premier. Prep your meals for a week. Send me a photo of you when you have a minute. Sebastian eagerly fumbles to do as Chris says, especially eager the longer they've been apart. Craving a moment of calm, both-feet-on-the-ground steadiness that comes with Chris' pride. His approval. Even if it's just a text--

Good boy.

--or if it's more of a treat like a FaceTime call or rumbling voice memo.

"You're such a good boy, Sebastian."

that leaves Sebastian with chills, head to toe, and a helpless erection.

This time, what sets him off is Chris' reminder that he needs to have real food for, at least, one meal today. He's off set, so he should find something other than what he could get at crafty. Some protiens and healthy fats. Then, when Sebastian sends him a snap of his finished plate, Chris sends him another order as if he can feel that Seb needs to occupy his mind, playing into their push pull.

Make sure to clean it up properly.

Sebastian hand washes the fucking plate, silverware, and glass, despite the equally avaliable and usable dishwasher in his rented apartment nearby to the location they're filming at.

Done!

Sebastian texts him back.

Perfect.

It's one word. And yet...

It hits Sebastian like kick to the chest. He stares at the word, biting his lip. He doesn't expect more. He knows Chris is still working himself. It's more than enough that he's even able to send him a few words back and forth. He's not looking for a follow-up. He's just staring at the word.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Sebastian can hear Chris' voice sliding over the syllables in his head. It echoes through him, leaving his toes curling against the kitchen tile while his eyes slide shut, vividly imagining himself at home with his dom. He's just finished preparing dinner for Chris, home cooked--something simple that he can manage without too much thought, but enough that Chris knows he put effort into it--he set the table, he served Chris his food, then he sat at the table with Chris, watched Chris eat with Chris savoring each bite with smooth swallows and heartfelt moans of approval at the taste, he let (what a hardship) Chris hand feed him bites when he so desired, and he cleaned up their dishes and table, hand washing everything. He wants to. And, now...

Sebastian feels a wobble in his knees, so he lets his phone clatter onto the countertop and grasps it tightly instead.

Now, in his mind, Chris is stalking up behind him and Sebastian's heart is in his throat, ready and waiting for Chris to crowd him against the counter and cabinets and put those big, heavy, commanding hands all over his body. Pawing at him. He wants it. He aches for Chris to bend him over the sink and fill him up, fuck him hard and fast and dirty, while he tells him that he's good. He did good. He served him so well. He takes care of him so perfectly, now he's gonna take care of his perfect sub--gonna take him and use him like he craves.

Chris doesn't.

Not even Sebastian's imaginary Chris bends to his will. He's in charge. He will do what he pleases, and Sebastian will obey his word.

Submit.

Imaginary Chris bypasses him and goes to the fridge instead, bending over--oh, Lord, that's a sight--to reach the bottom shelf on the door where the beer lives, happily awaiting to be drank.

Sebastian dries his hands from the dishes... imagined and real. Imagined, he wants to turn and watch Chris' skillful, beautiful hands crack open the bottle. He doesn't. Real, he stands in place, letting his imagination pull him away, deeper, with how imaginary Chris walks right past him again, this time sparing one hand just to proprietorily draaaag his palm against the small of the back, "join me in the living room."

It's not a question, seeking company, maybe. If you like. But, hopefully. Join me? It's a command.

Everything in Sebastian wants to follow. The gravity makes his muscles weak.

Sebastian follows.

He follows Chris like a lovesick puppy, trailing after him and panting when he arranges himself on the sofa. Always so alluring that it's unfair. How is Sebastian supposed to do anything when his lover exists in such a state? Lounging about, casually, but perfect enough to have come straight out of a photoshoot. Thick, strong thighs spread wide, giving himself room, one arm over the back of the furniture, draped and taking up all the space he likes, commanding all of the suddenly humid air in the room with a heavy, dark look in his eyes.

Sebastian swallows, saliva flooding his mouth.

Meanwhile, Chris' other hand, having come to rest on his knee before, now mimes a gesture or two that's irresistible.

Kneel.

Come here.

Sebastian's eyes fly open, shattering the delicious fantasy his mind is painting. The image so real, so much ink, that it's spilling into his real life. He can't. Sebastian whimpers out loud.

Jesus Christ.

Even in the cold light of his real, afternoon kitchen, there's that pull inside him, forcing him from his comfortable center of gravity. Like missing a step on the stairs. Exhilarating. Heart hammering.

He needs.

The ache is now terrible inside him.

More than he needs anything else, he needs to be between Chris' thighs. That's where he belongs. His vision starts to go a little hazy and useless around the corners at just the thought. Chris towering over him. Powerful and authoritative. It's been too long.

And now Seb can feel the phantom heat of Chris' knees pressing against his shoulders and the weight of Chris' hand on his head, his blunt fingernails scratching his scalp, running through his hair and messing it up. He can feel the friction of denim jeans or cotton sweats or mesh basketball shorts against his cheek, muzzling into Chris where he's packed into whatever the fuck he's wearing but shouldn't be. He should never be clothed. He should--

Fuck me.

He should be between Chris' legs.

Sebastian blinks harshly a few times, trying to clear his vision and push away the raw throb that has begun to spread from deep in his gut to the base of his cock.

Impulsively, he snatches one of his hands away from his white-knuckle hold on the counter, intending to press the heel of his palm up against himself, but--

He whines again.

Here?

He looks around, taking inventory of his current situation, Sebastian gets distracted as his eyes land on his phone, and he recalls that damn text.

Perfect.

Glittering pleasure of praise from his dominant crackles through Sebastian like a lightning strike. All over again. Suddenly, he is back between Chris' thighs. Warm and crowded and so close to falling forward and mouthing at the bulge of his hardening cock in his sweats. Overcome by hunger. He can smell his arousal. Jesus. Seb wants to melt. He wants--

He can't fucking jerk off in the kitchen of a rental.

Can he?

Sebastian whimpers to the empty room. It offers him no comfort. Not a sound.

No.

Not here.

Quickly, Sebastian snatches his phone and dashes on clumsy legs to the bedroom. He's intending on texting Chris, asking him if it's possible for him to steal a few moments away. Sebastian just wants to hear his voice. For a minute. He wants it gruff and pressed right up against his ear, telling him he's perfect and good, and, and tell him--

Sebastian flushes hot, just thinking it. Admitting it to himself for the hundredth time. No matter, it always makes him squirm.

He wants Chris to tell him he's pretty.

He wants Chris to tell him he wants to put him on display and show everyone how good and pretty and perfect and odient he is. And--

Sebastian ends up distracted. His phone ends up on the bed, where he intends to also be. Lying back, relaxing, shoving a hand haphazardly down his pants to let Chris talk him off while he incoherently whines and moans and begs, the closest they can get when so, so far apart, but... he doesn't make it.

He doesn't even make it that far.

Instead, Sebastian gasps to himself, embarrassment making his cock pulse, thinking about how Chris would answer the phone and peel the mortifying words out of his mouth, make him admit how needy he is, then tell him he'a such a good boy for admitting it and he bet he looks so pretty, flushed and horny, and... Sebastian stumbles.

He ends up on his knees.

And.

He can't get back up. Aching. He's on his knees in his rented bedroom, near to the bed, but also too far away for it to be worth it to move again when he's so fucking hard.

The back of his eyelids are painted with the sights and sounds and sensations of their living room. Hardwood floors bite sweetly into his knees. Chris' cologne and laundry detergent clinging to his clothes, fading and turned darker the closer Sebastian leans into him, sweat and musk and arousal. Chris' hands on him. Holding his shoulders. Entwinted in his hair. On his throat or the nape of his neck, squeezing. Holding. Chris' voice rumbling through him, leaving him aching. Aching. Sebastian wants--

He wants Chris' cock out of his pants and in his mouth.

He wants to stare up at Chris' face, contorted obscenely into an expression of heat and pleasure, flushed and slack, as the weight and taste of his thick cock fills Sebastian's mouth. Heavy on his tongue. Coating his throat with the taste. Stretching his lips. Chris' hips pressed against his face, forcing him down his throat and making it hard to breathe in the most incredible way. Sebastian doesn't need to breathe. He needs to taste, to suck, to lick, to kiss, to gag and choke and cry.

He wants to cry on his cock.

He wants Chris to stare down at him over the handsome line of his nose and smirk. He wants Chris to tell him he's got such a good fucking mouth through a drawn-out groan. He wants to hear Chris moan through gritted teeth. He wants to have Chris cum down his throat and make Sebastian swallow, then lick him clean, then keep him warm while he finally drinks the beer he brought into the living room with him, watching the game, and keeping his needy submissive busy all at the same time. Multitasking.

Sebastian wants--

He wants--

Frantically, Seb shoves his hand into his sweatpants and cups his himself against his body, hissing with the temperature difference between his fingers and his heated, engorged dick.

In his mind, he's prolonging the moment of Chris' orgasm. The pornographic expression on his gorgeous face. Suspended in pleasure. The intense, incredible twitches and jerks of his cock as he pumps release onto Seb's tongue. The taste. The feeling. The way, oh, God, when Chris is really, really feeling himself, he'll reach down and recklessly plug Sebastian's nose as he shoves into his tight, wet, heat deeply. And Sebastian will spin. Sebastian will get dizzy. Sebastian will fly. His lungs aching to choke and sputter but not being able to. It all makes Seb so fucking hard. He's not in control. Chris knows what's good for him. Chris knows he's good. He's good.

He's so good!

Sebastian can't help but start to actually fist himself now. He's leaking enough to go faster. Faster. The friction is wearing his nerves down to raw wire, sparking and spitting electricity throughout his whole body. He's, oh, oh, he's--

It's so fucking intense, the images flashing through his mind. Now Chris has finished with him and Sebastian's chest is heaving, his lips buzzing, his mouth still stuffed full, tears and snot and spit running down his face, a complete mess, yet still pretty and perfect to Chris--for Chris. Sebastian helplessly cries out and loses his balance, his mind going haywire, imagining sucking Chris' still half-hard cock after he's finished, and grinding against his shin, feeling, feeling--

Good.

Obedient.

Sebastian falls forward, barely bracing himself against his now outstretched hand--the hand not wrapped around his cock--rather than faceplanting on the floor. His heart pounds in his chest. Lust rushes through him. Overpowering the fear. Pleasure rising and rising and--

"Gonna show me how pretty you are, baby? You gonna cum humping me with your mouth all full, jus' like you need, sweet boy?"

In his mind, in his fantasy, Sebastian cums with a muffled moan around Chris' dick. But, in his rented apartment, crumbling onto the floor next to his bed as if he might've been praying before he drifted off to sleep, he moans embarrassingly loudly. It's nearly a wail. It's like he's been hit over the back of the head. It hits him so fucking hard.

He's demolished as the pleasure crashes over him.

White-hot and ruining. Pumping wet, messy release into his hand and the inside of his boxer briefs. Humiliating and so, so good that he doesn't give a fuck.

"Atta, boy," Sebastian hears inside his own head, Chris' voice, as he achingly shakes through the last dregs of pleasure with a whine.

Oh, God.

But, (bratty) sub Bucky is pretty distinctive, too:

Steve's on a stupid fucking mission and he took his stupid fucking super dick with him (like an asshole) but, somehow, he didn't manage to take his stupid nuclear-level sex drive with him, too. Of all the things he has to leave behind! Fucking bastard.

He knows Bucky can't cope! And somehow, he still goes out there and fights the good fight despite being retired. Newsflash, Rogers, that ain't retired.

"Ugh," Bucky half groans, half moans, caught up in his thoughts, but also caught up in the physical sensations he's dealing with. Coping.

Steve's really left Bucky with no choice now. Not with his super libido bleeding over into Bucky, like, like--Bucky shivers, stifling a moan based on principle--bleeding into him like the hot, wet feeling of Steve fucking him with too much lube and then cumming inside him with his hurricane-like super-swimmers, pumping and pumping until Bucky swears he can see it stretching out his abs like he went too hard at dinner. Too much. Those goddamn swollen, heavy balls and...

"Guh." There's no stifling a dumb noise like that. It is what it is.

What is Bucky supposed to do but order via priority shipping and shove the biggest vibrating dildo he can up his ass?

This, this--

Bucky pants, his chest heaving, practically presenting his high, tight pecs and his begging-to-be-touched nipples. If someone was here to touch them! Bucky can't fight back a whimper, thinking about Steve's serum-hot, fever-hot body against his. His fingers--cruel and mean, plucking and twisting and pinching his nipples until they're puffy and raw, and Bucky is painting his belly white again. His mouth. Those lips. Plush, hot, and slick. Always just the tiniest bite of teeth that has Bucky shouting high in the back of his throat.

His cock jumps. Aching.

Fucking Steve.

This started out of spite. Bucky was bouncing on his fake cock, growling to himself, bratty and motivated. But it's devolved into something messy and pathetic and wet.

There are tears tracking shiny, salty paths down his cheeks when they're not being smeared into the sheets. It's really into a pillowcase. Not sheets. Steve's pillow. It still smells like him, and it's perfect for muffling the sniffling, howling moans that Bucky is pulling out of himself. He misses Steve's cock so much. He misses the rest of him, too. He misses the way he holds him down and pounds into him until Bucky is sure he'll finally fucking split into two. Hammering into him. Growling and grabbing him, throwing him around and making him take it. Bruising his hips and ass. Biting his shoulders, pulling his long hair until he's arched into a weak u-shape, every noise that Bucky has enough air to make fucked out of his wet, open mouth, "uh, uh, uh--"

Bucky aches for going dumb on Steve's cock.

He doesn't want to think! He wants to be able to do absolutely nothing. Fucked dumb.

He wants Steeeeeve!

Bucky whines to himself, his thighs quivering.

He's trying to replicate the magical ability Steve has to melt his brain out of his ears by giving himself as many orgasms as he can with the thick, heavy, vibrating toy shoved deep inside him. It's beginning to hurt. There's a puddle underneath him. Overflowing with pleasure. Yet, lust is still racing under his skin. It makes him whimper and squeeze the sheets in his fists.

He can hear Steve in his head, growling at him, smacking him around, goading him into another orgasm. The only one who can take Bucky; the only one who can hold him down and make him take it.

"C'mon, baby, I know that isn't all you got. You can take it. A cockslut like you? You can always take more. There's still spunk comin' outta'ya. I want you cummin' dry, darlin'. Then, then, I'll think about being done with you."

Instinctively, Bucky wants to do it. He wants to give it all to Steve. He has to. There's no other option.

So, he arches his back deeper. Blooming. His muscles complain, hurting with the stretch despite his daily yoga routine. He just can't--he's been at this for hours. He misses his fella bad.

He can't fucking be bothered, he's too frantically horny and too much of a spoiled pillow princess, to reach back and fuck his hot, puffy, wet hole with the vibrating toy. The closest he gets is jacking his cock. Even that's not normal, normally he has Steve to do that for him. Or, if Steve's not doing it for him because he's working too hard at working his cunt out--stringing him out until he's incoherent and stupid--Bucky is grinding against the bed, the couch, the floor, or whatever Steve has bent him over, unable to wait a minute longer. Right now, jerking off, he's so wet. His dick is swollen, and he can feel his pulse throbbing through it. He keens. Arching and spreading.

He feels fucked out and open but he knows he could be more. He could be hotter, he could be puffier, he could be wetter. If he pulled the dildo out of his hungry hole, he would be gaping. He could be gaping more if Steve had his way with him. Fucking him with that thick, thick cock, then getting frisky and sticking in his thumbs in alongside his dick. Prying him open. Wider and wider. Holding his hole open and feeling his own slick shaft thrusting in and pulling out as he ruins him.

He's thinking about Steve ruining him. He's thinking about Steve fucking him until he passes out--it ain't a true Rogers event until that happens, after all. He's thinking about Steve's strong fingers, scratching down his back, shamelessly groping his ass, and opening his hole. He's thinking about that fucking cock. He's thinking about--

Bucky doesn't want to think!

He wants to be ruined.

With an overwhelmed sob, Bucky collapses facefirst into his man's pillow and cums. Again. Crying out and jerking, soaking the bed.

The minute Steve gets home, he's demanding to be fucked within an inch of his life. Please. He'll get on his knees and beg. He'll break out the puppy-dog eyes and pout and beg. He'll offer to do whatever the hell, bendy painful (not hot, definitely, definitely. not. hot.) position his dog of a boyfriend wants. Anything. He neeeeeeeeds that dick.

[holdontwstistakingovermymind]

Crafting With The Dorms Pt 1.

I'm being intentional vague with what crafting implies, because I am the dumbass who does the majority of these things.

This is also polyam!Reader but it's such a small part that it's hard to notice. Sorry for a two parter but I'm doing a lot rn ifbshfkenn

♡

Heartslabyul

Do you think any of these idiots can work a glue gun?

That alone would cause enough chaos in the dorm that Riddle would attempt to collar everyone to calm the situation down. Which would fail miserably, of course, because glue guns obey no laws of magic or man.

Trey at least has the patience to figure out how to do things the right way. Thankfully you have him for whatever task you decide to undertake.

The others aren't nearly as... together.

It's best to keep your projects with this group simple. No special tools, no complicated stitches or knots, ext.

They might be insulted at first but by the time you've all finished your little concrete stepping stones, with everyone covered in the mix and Ace sporting a nasty cut to his thumb after Deuce handed him a sharp mosaic piece, there's an understanding.

Cater takes a video of you guys making it for his socials and tbh most of the comments are laughing at Riddle's red face as he struggles to place a decoration.

Ace and Deuce are going to try and compete to see who has a better stepping stone. They both lose.

(^Ace's cracks because takes it out the minute he thinks it's hardened. Deuce's never sets properly because he added too much water. Yes they are disappointed.)

Cater uses so many decorations that you almost fear the entire top may crack if it's stepped on.

Trey and Riddle are doing a theme together to match the garden. They'd love for you to join them but don't be too hurt if Riddle doesn't approve of your piece in the end.

The standards for the Heartslabyul dorm are incredibly high.

(This doesn't mean he gives it back. Riddle is romantic!! He'd be the type to use one of those little platestands to display your piece if allowed.)

In the end you get at least four stepping stones from this, and a mess that looks like you made twenty.

♡

Savanaclaw

Ruggie is good at some crafts and better at others. There's a few that he can't catch onto, but that's pretty much true with anyone.

Of course this doesn't mean he likes every activity avaliable. It just means he isn't as nearly as lost when you suggest doing something.

Leona and Jack on the other hand...

Jack tries. Really, he does. Anything you throw at him he'll attempt to tackle, and maybe that's the problem.

It's difficult for him to let loose, which is what being creative is all about. If you put instructions for how to make make something in front of him he'll do it by the book every single time.

Which is probably better then Leona, who doesn't do it at all.

The best craft for this group is probably going to be something that's more building based.

Kinda like one of those DIY workshops at hardwear stores for kids.

Perhaps building a cornhole game would be fun.

(^IDK IM FROM THE MIDWEST THIS IS WHAT WE DO. I don't know anything else! What other sport can you build?!?!)

They actually might be better at this then other things. Mostly because the novelty of playing the game after they finished.

Jack seems like he'd be a perfectionist in regards to specific measurements for everything, but sometimes he goes overboard and overcorrects his mistakes. Usually he's going to find a way to cover it up, but if not, you can always suggest blaming it on Leona.

Leona doesn't care.

(In the scenario that you do, in fact, build a corn hole game, throw the corn sacks at Leona and see what happens).

♡

Octavinelle

They probably do some sort of DIY.

(Azul literally enslaved half the school for free labor so it's not hard to imagine that they decorated the lounge themselves)

But don't give Floyd any glitter that's a bad idea.

^Actually most things shouldn't be given to Floyd, as he can always find some unintended use to harass the student body with.

Best option with this group is some sort of

Paint by numbers seem to be something Jade and Azul might do, but Floyd will not abide by the rules.

You'll end up with three matching pictures and one nightmarish terror.

He only does it because it makes Azul (and possibly you too) cringe.

Ugh

[zilluzion]

emote commission for danimineiro! the avali approves :3

[fuck-customers]

I age out of my insurance in a few days so I'm getting all my medication refilled to the max to buy me some time and the only day they had avaliable for this doctor was today. But it was too late to request a day off and I'm scheduled for today. So I'm using my accured sick time for my appointment, as is my legal right in California. I knew full well my work was going to be bitchy about it, so I informed them via email and went ahead and pulled up the Labor Code on Sick Leave just in case they tried anything.

I know they know what the law is, like for example that I cannot be required to find someone to cover me, so they just *very heavily implied* that I need to do so. I did make an attempt after the schedule came out but I was told that any swaps will likely not be approved because "You're the only female on the cleaning crew today and we need someone to clean the women's restrooms" despite them knowing that I'm transmasc and not female, so I decided not to bother putting my effort into finding a replacement 😁. I was also told that they'd "need to check with the GM" about if I can use my sick time for medical care (which I am allowed to do so by law, and also cannot be stopped from so). They also asked for my symptoms and continued to press when I told them that it's not COVID related. So next email they send it just getting a link to the California Labor Code website in response.

Know your rights, people!

[izanagifortune]

So What the Actual Fuck Does That Guy (Izana) Do Anyway?

I (the mun, Vergil, hewwo) wanted to write a post about what Izana actually does at the academy, besides just "being a clergy member".

Officially, he is just a man of the cloth. So pious ! So cool ! He's got youth pastor vibes, ngl. He was hired to simply be a member of the clergy (he shouldn't have been hired) like any other monk around the academy.

But knowing Izana, he wouldn't be happy just standing around, looking all nice and pretty in his fancy little monk clothes. (Not that he wears the clergy uniform but shhhhh don't tell Rhea that.)

So unofficially (with approval from his npc bosses), he has nominated himself a variety of roles! (Quality of work questionable, depending on the work):

Fortune Teller (Totally real fortunes guaranteed, not a scam. Quality varying)

He can give advice to students! It may not always be good advice, but you can certainly ask for it!

Counselling. Same as above, quality not guaranteed. But if you need a shoulder to cry on or just someone to talk/gossip with, he's there for you!

Actual priest work. Yes, believe or not, he's a clergy member.

Garreg Mach's New Official Party Planner! Yippee!!! (Avaliable for all events, including but not limited to: weddings, birthdays, frat parties (?), funerals (can't have a funeral without fun !), and more!)

[moumantaimf]

New direction

=========================

Panel 1: Everyone is drinking juice. Mekari, standing next to the trio (who are sitting down) asks “Hey friends? Is it true that we’ll travel to the Avali homeland? I forgot the name. Apologies for it”. Rowi says “Yup”.

Panel 2: Sher is drinking orange juice with his eyes closed. Meanwhile Rowi continues. “We’re going mainly to buy a new bass guitar for D. Why the question?”. Mekari replies “To be honest, I don’t have a true real reason, but I know that you have technology that’s the envy of a lot of species... Well, I’d like to buy one of these visors you have, but I don’t even know if they’d even sell me one”.

Panel 3: Sher says “Don’t worry, I’ll get you one once we’e there. I was thinking you may need one during the concert to be aware of all the stuff going on anyways”.

Panel 4: Rowi says “Your fur shows you’re still seething. Am I right?”. Sher replies “mhm. I mean... you saw. it. This is intense for me. Until just a couple days I had managed to put Horkers in the back of my mind. But.. no, they returned in full swing. But... unlike other vampire bunnies, I got you. I got not just a new family, but also the chance to tell the universe about what happened, not only to my species but also to the mullous’. I want to let our history be known. Am I too selfish for... just.. wanting to set that as my goal... dragging you along with it?”.

In the panel 5 we see D drinking spezi with an approval expression, while in the background they hear “supportive chirp sounds” and “happy sounding squeaks”.

[eidolonetchings]

I wanted to show off some things I made with loop yarn, and as it turns out, most of the time when I take a picture of my knitting it's because my cat is sitting on it. My cat is cuter and more interesting anyway, and given that what I made here is literally just a tricolor rectangle you can still see it fine.

The reason I wanted to post stuff with loop yarn is because the amount of it avaliable in craft stores varies every time I go to one, and last time I was there the (very cool) cashier told me it's because it's not very popular, but everyone buys things when they become a social media trend. So obviously what I took away from that is that I should post it online.

I really like working with loop yarn, it's really simple. It's for finger knitting, so you don't need needles or any other tools. (except a pair of scissors and a single stitch marker/safety pin.) It's also very soft, and clearly, it's Cat Approved. It's also super easy to switch colors, so you can make some really cool things with it, like, say, this.

I also have some other tapestries (is that the right word? they're flat, fiber arts images so I feel like it is?) but I have progress shots for those so I'm going to give them their own post. Also, I made them by converting pixel art into patterns for knitting, and I didn't make the pixel art. At the time I was making these for gifts and for fun, and had no plans to post them online, so I don't know who the original creators are to give credit. In the future I'll keep track of sources for images.

[maybachnigeria]

PLOTS STILL AVALIABLE WITH

ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED TO BUY APPROVED REGISTERED LAYOUTS AND ESTATES #GILOPROPERTIES #REALESTATEGIANT #THEGIANTBASE #GILOFARM

[coehehe]

1\'im not available' is a interesting way to express that i dont wanna deal with you cope with the stuff response to sb. i think it implies a mind-set that are more dominant and 'aggressive' or selfish compared to my culture. im just not avaliable instead of im busy i dont have time, you dont need to find some excuse to explain the REASONS of your rejection, you simply point out your state or your need, that's it. no further supplement. fabulous and brilliant.

2\ the proper way to convey no need to is 'it's not worth doing sth'? wow it breaks some of my misunderstandings. i thought that not worthing has closer meaning to 'not derseve'

3\ high hope that. wow i have high hope that i should be doing better all the time. its harmful to build my confidence, its devastating actually.

4\ dont believe that you have less to offer compared to people from other 'more developed area' of the world. we re equal. but i recently thought this place has less to offer for me compared to some english/western-biased part of the world. it sucked. it feels like ive been failed for so many years and i could do better. omg back to the old mindset again. you dont need any premise to exist.

5\ ill reach to my destination in any case. i will achieve my goal and target by any means.

6\well m telling this because being born into this reality set me a lifetime mission to prove myself and feel like i was enough.

7\this is the driving force of my entire career.

8\we fight desperately for a room of our own. desperately want freedom.

grasp!

9\write edit film shoot

10/ get the hang of it when i finnaly got the hang of them, i commited to post two comedy videos a week.

11/ i wear my hat backward, and give my takes on relationships popcultures and taboo subjects.

12\ move forward to 2022. fast forward to2944.

13/ theres no reception in the basement?

14\ entrenched gender belief

approval

like one time, i pointed out the

boldly break tradition

identical

i cant put it to words words cant explain how exhausting that was

overdrive last half years. timely.

[popomerrygamz]

Another batch of Whyzzards!

Whyzzards are a closed species, and are only avaliable on my Ko-fi.

Here are the Whyzzard rules:

Do not claim the Whyzzards as your own.

Do not attempt to create a Whyzzard without permission. This will be punished severely.

Whyzzards are allowed to be traded and sold, but please alert PopoMerrygamz beforehand.

Whyzzards can be featured in any project, provided the owner of the Whyzzard approves.

You are not allowed to edit Whyzzards for parts.

[latestinbollywood]

Pathan Movie OTT Release Date, OTT Platform & Rights Sold For?

Pathan Movie OTT Release Date:- Pathan Movie OTT Release Date-related details are in this article. Shah Rukh Khan’s starer Pathan movie OTT Release Date is out now and you can check it in this blog, so continue reading.

Pathan Movie OTT Release Date

Pathan Movie OTT Release is out now. Shah Rukh Khan, Deepika Padukone, and John Abraham are the actors in this movie. From 20 January 2023, advance booking of tickets was open. Streaming of Pathan movies in India will be available from April 2023 and Amazon prime will stream this time from 25 April 2023. After the release of Pathan, this will become the 4rth movie of YRF’s spy universe. The first 3 movies of YRF’s spy universe are “Ek Tha Tiger”, “Tiger Zinda Hai” and “War”. Now Pathan movie is all set to release on the 25 April 2023 on Amazon Prime. It is already released in theatres on 25 January 2023 and within 6 days, this collect 300 crore rupees.

Pathan OTT Rights Sold For

Pathan movie will release in 3 languages including Hindi, Telugu, and Tamil. Amazon Prime Video will be the OTT to release on 25 April 2023. Siddharth Anand directed Pathan with a budget of 280 crores. Pathan is the most awaited action crime drama film which was in many controversies. To stream Pathan movie on the OTT platform, it needs to be re-approved by the Central Board of Film Certification.

How To Watch Pathan On OTT

To watch Pathan on the OTT platform you have to follow these steps:- - Search for the OTT platform on which the movie is released. - If you don’t have the subscription on that particular OTT platform, then purchase it then you can log in to the platform. - Now on that platform's home page, search for “Pathan” in the search bar. - Many options will be avaliable regarding the video quality by which you can enhance the quality and enjoyment. Also, Read About:- February 01 Famous Birthdays In India Read the full article