#and everything in-between basically only Compress left to join in the next volume

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[argylemnwrites]

Mortality Rate

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (sometime just after Chapter 10 of Book 1)

Word Count: ~2000

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: Bryce finds an unexpected comfort in a friend after a very rough day.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 3 of the my Autumn writing prompt list (prompt - Falling Leaves) as requested by @andi-the-cat! This started off being inspired by the sight of fallen leaves on the sidewalk, but it kind of took on a life of its own somewhere along the way.

Trigger warning for mentions of blood and death.

Bryce sighed heavily, wrapping his jacket around him more tightly. He didn’t like that it was only October and he was contemplating pulling out his heaviest coat. It did not bode well for him tolerating winter in Boston, that was for sure.

Orange, yellow, and brown leaves coated the sidewalk and crunched beneath his feet as he made his way back to his apartment. Bryce could imagine that for people who grew up with Fall and changing leaves, this was just part of the season. That it seemed like a natural, normal event. But for him, all they did was remind him of death and decay, with their crumbling edges and black and brown rotten holes. The bare branches above him were a similar vision, empty and bleak. All in all, it served as a fitting representation of his day. 

It had been a bad case from the start. Ruptured aortic aneurysms carry about a 50% mortality rate… if they are lucky enough to make it to the OR. Bryce knew that as a fact when he scrubbed in. But this one felt different. The time from collapse to ED to OR was quick. They established vascular access quickly. He really thought Mr. Hendricks was gonna beat the odds.

But the stent occluded the renal arteries and Telana just couldn’t get it repositioned. So they’d had to open him up and recannulate the kidneys with bypass grafts, but his tissue just wouldn’t hold the stitches. It was a bloody mess, culminating in cardiac arrest. V. fib due to loss of blood volume. Bryce had done compressions for 16 minutes before Telana called it. His arms still were sore and burning. The pain made it hard to forget the sheer mess that was the case.

Bryce didn’t know why this one was affecting him so much. He’d had plenty of patients die on him. And it’s not like Mr. Hendricks was a particularly young man or that the outcome was unanticipated given his presentation. But this one stuck with him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been scheduled for repair next week. Bryce remembered him from clinic, signing the consent forms, telling Bryce that he was looking forward to seeing his grandkids in their Halloween costumes prior to his surgery. He’d probably been walking around with this aneurysm for years, and his aorta couldn’t hold out for eight more days? What shitty luck.

He’d contemplated heading to Donahue’s, but he hadn’t really wanted to plaster on a happy face when he inevitably ran into some other residents. So he was headed home. Alone. Listening to the crunching sound of death and decay surrounding him every step of the way.

A new sound joined the crackle of the leaves beneath his feet as his phone vibrated twice in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking to see who was texting him. He sighed. It was Cassie.

Turns out the walls here are hella thin and sienna and wayne have decided to have a massive fight. 

You interested in some company tonight? 😉

Bryce shoved his phone back in his pocket. As much as he liked Cassie, he was definitely not feeling up for that tonight. But not two minutes later, he felt his phone start buzzing again.

Plz so desperate here.

I will make pancakes for bfast tomorrow for our day off.

They are so loud, just help a girl out.

Bryce sighed, digging in his other pocket for his keys, trying to think up an excuse for Cassie. After a few seconds of searching, not only in his jeans, but also in his jacket, he realized it was all a moot point. He must have left his keys in his locker. Hard to host when even he was locked out.

Pulling out his phone, he shot Cassie a quick reply. Sorry, real shit day and just realized my keys are in my locker. Rain check?

He had just taken a few steps back towards Edenbrook when his pocket buzzed again.

How shit are we talking? I got pimped in the OR and didn’t know the answer or I had to hide out in a supply closet?

Bryce paused and sighed. The latter. I’m just gonna head back to grab my keys then crash.

I’ll go grab em. Edenbrook is basically right in between our places.

Her response caught him off guard. His first instinct was to call her up, insist that he was alright and that she didn’t need to go get his keys, that he would be fine on his own. But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his voice calm enough to convince her he was okay. And now that she had this plan, a text from him was not going to be enough to stop her. That was something they had in common; they both preferred action over pacivity. If he were in her shoes, he would be the same way.

So instead, he sank down on the steps of his building, huddled in his jacket, thinking about Mr. Hendricks as he watched the leaves fall and swirl around on the sidewalk, some orange like the light on the bovie, some yellow like Telana’s mask, some red like the arterial blood spilling into the abdomen, all constant reminders that everything dies, and at the end of the day, the mortality rate is always 100%. 

He waited there, going over the case in his mind again and again. It could have been 10 minutes, it could have been 110 minutes, Bryce wasn’t really sure, but eventually he saw her pale skin and dark hair out of the corner of his eye, striding briskly down the sidewalk. She had a cardboard tray with to-go cups in phone hand, her other shoved in the pocket of her jacket.

“Hey, Cassie. You find my keys okay?” He called out, hoping his voice sounded lighter than he felt.

“Yeah, they were right there in your locker. Good thing I found them before some envious surgical resident,” she teased as she tossed him the keys. He plastered on a smile as he caught them, but it must have been a poor imitation, because Cassie stared at him deeply and frowned before joining him as he unlocked the front door. 

She stayed silent with him as they climbed the steps to his third floor apartment, and didn’t say anything at first when they entered. Instead, she placed the coffees on his table before she spoke again.

“Alright, another resident, attending, or patient? And do we need this?” she asked as she pulled a flask out of her bag.

“Patient and no,” Bryce replied, actually smiling slightly as she shrugged, shoving the flask back in her bag. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she handed him one of the coffees before taking hers and moving to his couch.

Bryce took a sip of the coffee, letting the warmth seep into him. He wasn’t sure whether talking about it would be helpful or not. But Cassie took his prolonged silence into her own hands.

“The fact that you are debating telling me what happened for this long probably means you need to talk about it.”

He nodded tentatively as he walked over and sat next to her on the couch. He allowed himself one more sip of his coffee before he purged his soul, telling her about Mr. Hendricks and the surgery. About meeting him in clinic. About how he was one week away from having the aneurysm electively repaired until fate got in the way today. About how he never would get to see his grandkids Halloween costumes. She didn’t say anything, just let him keep talking, but at some point she reached over and grabbed his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles as he poured his heart out. Eventually he reached the end, and simultaneously relieved and embarrassed. “So yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Bryce, you have nothing to be sorry about. This job can be hard. I would know.”

“Yeah, exactly. You have your own horror stories to deal with. You don’t need mine as well.”

Cassie just shook her head. “We gotta look out for each other, Bryce. Otherwise, we’re all gonna burn out.”

He sighed, contemplating her words. He knew there was wisdom to what she said, he understood that intellectually. Hell, he’d listened to other residents vent on numerous occasions, understanding the importance of talking about the disturbing shit they saw. It still just felt wrong to be the one unloading on someone else. “I just don’t know why this case is hitting me like this,” he said, pulling his hand free from hers and running it through his hair.

“Because you’re human.”

“But they don’t all affect me so much.”

Cassie ran her fingers along the lid of her coffee before she spoke. “In M1 anatomy lab, I was completely fine with our cadaver for weeks. Nothing about dissecting it affected me until we got to the leg. The toe nails were painted bright pink, and I don’t know, something about seeing that visual reminder of a choice that had been made, a mark of self-expression that was still there long after death, I don’t know. It just messed with me.

“It’s hard to know which patient or which event is going to resonate with you, but sometimes they do. And that’s okay, Bryce. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a good doctor.”

“That’s easy for you to say. It’s different when you’re in the OR. I have to maintain some sense of-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Cassie said, her voice slightly firmer than it had been earlier. “First, we all have to be objective in the moment, so believe it or not, I do understand. Second, were you overcome by emotions in the OR, or were you able to compartmentalize in that moment?”

“I was just focused on what needed to happen; I was visualizing the next steps.”

“Then your emotional response was fine. You’re allowed to feel things after the fact. It doesn’t make you weak or anything.”

Bryce nodded. “I know. It just doesn’t make it easy.”

“If being a doctor were easy, everyone would do it. It’s the best job in the world.”

He looked her in the eye and gave her a smile. She was right. About all of it. But processing the shit they saw was something he was still working on, and quick frankly, he’d had enough of it for one night.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What kind of liquor does Cassie Vanderfield carry around with her?”

If Cassie was thrown by his shift in conversation topics, she didn’t show it, instead smiling and shaking her head. “It’s not always in my bag,” she said with an eye roll. “I meant to bring whiskey for Irish coffees, but it turns out Jackie finished off our whiskey at our last party, so I had to substitute tequila.”

Bryce grimaced, “God, I’m glad I didn’t say yes to the booze. That sounds completely disgusting, Cassie!”

“I know, but it was either that or Sienna’s blue raspberry vodka, which I think we can agree sounds even worse,” she said with a chuckle, leaning her head to the side as she rubbed her face. A flash of red caught Bryce’s eye. There, caught in the side of her bun was a leaf. So, he reached over and grabbed it, showing it to Cassie before dropping it on the coffee table.

“Oh my God; that was stuck in my hair?”

Bryce grinned at her, then grabbed his coffee from right next to the leaf. The crumbling red and brown still reminded him of death, but somehow it didn’t feel as morbid as it did 30 minutes ago. Sitting there, with an actual friend, well it took the edge off in a way that whiskey, tequila, or blue raspberry vodka never could.

Tags: @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenchoices @octobereighth @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @universallypizzataco @omgjasminesimone @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl

[daydreamindollie]

Feast Your Eyes | k.nj x f.r

Pairing: k.nj x f.r

Genre: n a u g h t y....

Length: 3k

Quick Summary: The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

A/N: First of all, I really have to apologise because this is my first time writing something naughty and so close to smut. I had more planned but I was really unsure about how it would turn out so you could say that this is a little tester. If you guys like it or have any idea of how you want the fic to continue then don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll get to work on, maybe, a part 2???? 

Constructive critisim is always helpful too as I am still working on my writing style. Thank you! 

Anyway, this was requested by a doll of an Anon. Thank you for the request Dollface, I hope this is to your liking. I apologise for the extended wait. Much love x 

W A R N I N G S: voyeurism, masturbation...nakednessssss...

There it was again...the groans and moans of your roommate - Kim Namjoon. 

This wasn’t the first time you had entered the modest space of your modern apartment, only to be greeted by the sinfully delicious sounds that your sexy, sharp roommate emitted when doing the deed, ‘alone’. You could deem this to be, perhaps, the sixth time already. It wasn’t a general, reoccurring event as those occurrences were spaced out over several months; lengthy weeks stretching the intervals between each one. Personally, you had wished for it to be a more frequent event. Having it be a rare circumstance gave you immoral desires but they can’t be helped. 

The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

‘He’s so beautiful’ was always the first thought that verbalised itself in your clouded mind. Everything else disappears and it’s just you and himhimhim. Biting your lip, you smothered a moan as the male, through the crack of the door, whimpered helplessly under the searing touch of red-hot pleasure. ‘How sexy can he get?’ was your second thought, drinking in the erotic expression he was shamelessly displaying in his demeaning condition. The next thought would be: ‘he’s so big...’ as your eyes made their usual route down, from his bliss-compressed countenance, down his (unfortunately) dressed torso, before greedily devouring the image of his solid member. The tip was a painful, swollen pink colour, supported by an impressive length that strained and pulsed with prominent veins. 

You licked your lips. ‘I wonder what it would feel like to trace those veins with my tongue...’. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe how vulgar your thoughts suddenly became at the sight of him in such a state. Every male would’ve gone through the same thing Namjoon was doing, but you know for a fact that he’s affecting you more than any other man could. It’s no surprise either, you’ve always been acutely aware that you’ve had this adoration towards him ever since the day you met. 

It all started based on his appearance. His hair always looked so much more well kept than yours, like fine, silk strands with the volume of fluffy clouds. Naturally, you would often find yourself wanting to comb your fingers through his mass of dyed locks. The skin he had, stretched over lean (but not over the top) muscles, was blemish free and smooth looking, igniting deep jealousy inside you. It was a serious offence as you are someone that’s constantly battling a moody epidermis; sprouting pimples here, there and everywhere, whenever possible. His eyes were gentle but fierce, his lips plump and kissable, a perfect combination to have for each minor but significant feature. Above all, however, was his voice, the pièce de résistance, so creamy-smooth, and possessing the texture of burnished satin. Subsequently, the two of you spent many times together, and you’ve slowly grown a fondness of his variable personality also: silly yet responsible, witty but also earnest, humorous and ethereal. A whole package that you had all to yourself, but only as a roommate. A fact you scoffed at. 

Were you ever going to get out of such a basic ranking? 

Dismissing that thought, you continued to indulge in the rare, but commonplace act Namjoon (Joonie) was participating in as a pool of stickiness accumulated at the flimsy fabric you had covering your weeping nether-regions. You hoped and wished that the sight would persist without ever ending. Nevertheless, such a fancy for an impossible deed was not permitted and you found yourself sighing in disappointment almost as heavily as your breathing became when ogling the episode that had played out before you. Joonie had met his end soon enough, sighing between laboured breaths upon shooting his load onto the sheets of his single bed. It was over far too soon. 

Suppressing the urge to complain openly, you quietly rushed to the front door in order to make it look as if you had just gotten back.

“I’m home!” you announced after opening and slamming the door from inside. 

“W-Welcome home!” there was a faint kerfuffle from the end of the hallway, tugging a smirk of mischief at your rosy lips as you imagined your sticky roommate scrambling around in order to look presentable. 

“What are you up to?” you hummed with innocent curiosity, already knowing the answer. 

“I’m about to take a shower!” 

“Oh alright! I’m starving so I’m going to cook!” making your way into the kitchen, you rummaged around, finding just about enough ingredients to make two servings of a decent meal, “Want me to make you something too?” 

“That’d be great! Thanks (Y/N)!” 

“No problem Joonie!” 

Saturdays were your respite. You would sleep in, share a large brunch with your coquettish roommate before utilising the rest of day’s hours, whether it be through binge eat whilst indulging in K-dramas, reading a book, getting lost in music and dance or going out with your girls. They were the days where the world was appointed to be your oyster. The former of those activities was a very favoured matter of business between you and Joonie so the two of you would, at least, watch a couple together, even if there was something urgent that either of you would have to do - watching K-dramas in each other’s company was always the most important on Saturdays. 

You’ve wanted to become more productive with your time, however, and had expressed this to Namjoon, who suggested limiting the time spent watching the dramas. 

“What are you going to be doing today?” Namjoon hummed curiously from across the table, he already knew the answer but wondered if you really were planning on doing something else. 

“Hmm...” you stopped for a moment of thought, “I have no idea!” you giggled, already adapting to the careless ambience of the day but leaving you open to your choices, earning a deep chuckle. The smoothness of the sound forced your crossed thighs to clench under the shocks of electricity that dared to strike and heat up your already melting core. It was a horrible habit for your brain to turn his chuckles into laboured moans that instantly generated heat deep within you. 

“You haven't decided whether or not you wanted to follow through with your pledge of productiveness then, huh?.” it was a playful jeer, you knew that but his eyes seemed somewhat predatory as he took a tantalising swig of his black coffee, allowing you to meekly watch; his jugular rocked back and forth upon the vertical length of his thick neck as a seductive gulp penetrated your sensitive hearing. More electrifying pleasure shot through you, sending your body jolting forward and almost hitting the underside of the table with your knee. “Is something wrong?” he quipped a curious brow as a teasing tongue peeked past two soft, rosy rims, lapping at the bitter residue upon the pinkness of his lips. 

“Oh, nothing. I actually just realised what I’ve wanted to do with my time.” you lied with a quivering tongue. 

“And what’s that?” he smiled thinly. 

“Binge eat through K-dramas!” you announce as he laughed heartily, “Care to join me in my new pledge of unproductiveness?” your eyes fluttered playfully in a nonverbal invitation. 

“I’ll have to take care of some things first but I’ll be sure to join you as soon as I can.” 

Suppressing a squeal, you allowed only your eyes to reflect the light of your excitement, “Great! I’ll make sure to get your favourite snacks too when I head out for a quick trip to the corner store, then.”

“Thanks.” 

After finishing up your brunch and helping to wash and dry the dishes, you quickly got ready for a step outside before making your way to the door with your keys and purse, where you announced your leaving. There was a brief, nonchalant response from Namjoon’s room, hinting at his current occupation. A trait you really admire about him - his dedication and smartness.

There were plenty of snacks to choose from when you arrived at your destination but you made sure to get an equal amount of yours and Namjoon’s favourites, landing you with a decent variety of sweet and savoury treats. Grinning to yourself, you rushed to pay for the refreshments piled up high in your arms and raced to your shared apartment, where you began setting everything up, understanding that Namjoon might extend his absence in your day-long session of K-drama watching.

He’s a very dedicated soul and you don’t want to get in between him and his studies, which were - basically - his passions. You still hope for his company as soon as possible though. It’s so much more enjoyable with him at your side; you can have someone to cuddle with for the times when you’d get sad or would genuinely crave the heat of another person. 

Like most of your previous sessions, you were reduced to a sobbing mess at times, brought up to hysterics at others, made fuming angry at particular characters that you hold a passionate hatred towards, whilst also being silently content at cute moments. Despite your enjoyment, however, your gaze would, more often than not, wander past the screen of the TV in order to face the clock hung up high. It’s late, really late, and yet, Namjoon still hadn’t shown up to fulfil his word. Granted, he had stepped out several times, seeking food or any cooling beverages, where you’d offer him a sample of your displayed snacks but that was it. There was a dwindling hope that grew weak inside you, optimising that the light meal you were able to offer the male would lure him out of the confines of his monopolising room. 

As the clock ticked past the latest hour and your final episode for the night came to an end, you began tidying up, throwing away empty packets of plastic and sweeping up stray crumbs. Banishing your dilating dismay at Namjoon’s broken promise, you realised that you needed a bath as you frowned at the settled sweat and dried tears caking your complexion. There was no urgency to wake up early for tomorrow, so you’d be able to wallow in a warm vanilla-scented bubble bath before going to bed and sleeping dreamlessly. 

Humming softly to yourself, you purged your mind of everything that had to do with your roommate, succumbing to a state of passive aggressiveness, and set about preparing your bath. 

As the harsh rapping of lukewarm water pounded against the tub, slowly climbing up the bath’s volume, Namjoon was snapped awake, blinking his eyes with exponential fullness. Coming to his senses and adjusting to his surroundings, curses spitefully clicked his tongue against rows of pearly-white teeth when staring up at the tired clock - ticking away precious seconds, minutes and hours. 

He must’ve fallen asleep when going over his material for the final time. There was a genuine intention in his promise because the K-drama session was made into a ritual between the two of you. It was a practice that you both would participate in (every Saturday) and after months of a constant streak, that you had encouraged and made into a habitual occurrence, he had been the first to break it alongside a promise that he made empty. 

Cautiously stepping into the small living room, Namjoon expected to see you, asleep on the sofa as it was your habit to end up sleeping as a way of concluding the session. Instead, he found the space to be vacant of anything: of you, of store-bought snacks and piled-high CDs. You’re definitely going to be having a grudge against him and he hated that. You were, in some ways, closer to him than any of his other 6 friends and the two of you also live together, it’s only going to be tense and awkward if he doesn’t apologise with absolute validity - which he’s sure he’ll be able to express because he was an authentic man.

With the sound of running water, he had been minorly aware of, the male soon came to the conclusion that you’re probably taking a bath and decided to apologise when you were finished; he didn’t want this to extend into the next day so he’ll wait up for you to finish. 

Slowly dipping into the comforting water, you breathed a sigh and began playing around with the bubbles. Humming filled the air again as you lathered your body - anything to keep your mind from straying out of it’s fixed path of resentment, but you were always thinking of the male, no matter what you did. He had taken over your mind with his cute-ass dimple smile, goddamn velvet voice and his scandalous yet sophisticated demeanour. 

You moaned as wandering hands trailed down your curves to roughly caress your sensitivity. Biting your lip, you imagined his proficient hands replacing your incompetent ones and shamelessly wonder about what magic he’ll be able to cast. Surely, one that matched his unique appeal. Whimpering from your dainty fingers teasingly poking at your entrance, you imagined his dominance and tongue, he’d undoubtedly have you begging from a simple touch and the thought set the deepest pits of your dripping cavern on fire. 

How disgraceful...

Before a hand could curve over and fondle the eminence of your breasts, the angel on your right shoulder took control and went to unplug the tub for several moments, stopping halfway just to refill the bath with cold water. That'll teach you a lesson and keep you from your arousals. The bath wasn’t as enjoyable but, at the very least, you were able to calm down. 

It wasn’t until past midnight that you decided to step out in only a small towel and with your hair up in a turban that was already getting to work on absorbing the unwanted moisture in your hair. 

In a twist of fate, you walked straight into the person you had sworn to distance yourself from. With a shriek of surprise, you jumped back, almost crashing into an antique vase that housed an array of flowers atop an elegant, polished table. Fuelled by adrenaline, Namjoon snatched a hold of your forearm and pulled you into his chest, saving you but resulting in the two of you toppling over and into an immodest position - you hovering above him as your towel-turban came undone.

With baited breath, you stared down at the man you’ve mentally claimed to be the world’s sexiest creature; someone you’ve admired greatly for his success in life; a guy with surprisingly, rather similar interests to your own; someone that you’ve grown disreputable fantasies over and a man that you’re unravelled towel has forced you to show your naked body to. 

“Damn...” he cursed, biting his lip with eyes sinfully wandering soft curves. 

Never has it ever been this awkward between the two of you, even when you found out that you’d have to be roommates in a quaint apartment just at the edge of campus. It was fathomable, the petty inconvenience, but that was a time where you weren’t only shoulder-to-shoulder with vex towards the male’s broken promise but were now attempting to repress the redness of embarrassment that kept trying to dominate the hue of your cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday (Y/N).” he mused with timid sincerity over your plate of breakfast. As much as you’d love to discuss his atypical display of personal defect the previous day, you’d much rather avoid the topic. 

“Y-yeah...” you forced through clenched teeth before getting up and making your way to the door with your body fully dressed for your part-time job. Upon slipping your shoes on, you made your usual announcement: “I’m off.” 

Namjoon stared at the unfinished, barely touched plate of breakfast he had worked so hard in making, your plate and his were practically the same in the unwanted condition of their contents. He wasn’t in the mood to eat unless you were consuming a meal your stomach was usually more than greedy to digest. Who was he to think that you would forgive him over a simple plate of breakfast? He wasn’t even a good cook - the two of you knew that - and upon sampling a bite of what he had made, there was an instant wince at the blandness and odd texture.

“Fuck..me...” he cursed breathlessly, only cursing himself further when he helplessly allowed his mind to have devilish thoughts over last night’ s occurrences. 

Today, you were getting off work early, it was an offer your boss had given you a week ago when praising your high-level of service, at the time, it was an offer you didn’t dare decline but, now, under your current circumstances, you’d much rather not go home. There was nothing for you to do though; your friends were either working or hitting the books. 

...Perhaps Namjoon isn’t at home and maybe he’s at the library studying. 

Remaining sanguine, you slowly made your way home, walking slower than your average walking speed and possibly irritating some people in the process. Fuck them whispering about your slowness. You weren’t in the mood today so they can go suck it. 

When you finally reached your door, you silently stepped inside and crept through the halls whilst whispering out to a person that you’re hoping isn’t there. 

“Namjoon?” you called softly.

“Ahh~” 

This was odd. 

He already had a private session only a few days ago and he was already at it again, usually, he would be sated enough to last several weeks but apparently not this time - you wonder why that is. 

Your mind completely disregarding the events of last night, you made your way through the narrow hall once more ending at Namjoon’s door and your eyes immediately widened at the fact that he had been cautious enough to have the door shut completely. This was very very odd. 

What’s gotten into him?

“(Y-Y/N)~” he panted as your mouth parted in disbelief. “Fuck- baby~AH!”

Never before had the touch of magma slicked your nether lips so- 

Many times you’ve imagined him moaning your name and now that he has, all you want is moremoremore...

Again, if you guys want a part 2 or something, please say something. Or if you have any ideas of what I should happen next, message me! I just might include your fantasies *winkwonk* 

BUT, if you don’t like it then tell me as well - as long as it’s constructive please - just go easy on me; it’s my first smutty-ish fic. 

Thank you Dolls! 

masterlist

[technomanish]

If someone sets fire to your trousers once, are you ever really going to trust them with a box of matches again?

That’s just how big a deal the Galaxy Note 8 is for Samsung. Last year’s explosive Note 7 launch (and subsequent recall) was nothing short of calamitous, so its successor absolutely has to restore confidence in the battered sub-brand.

The good news? It’s every bit the kick-ass flagship phablet you’d expect it to be.

With design and display smarts borrowed from the Galaxy S8, software tweaks that give productivity a boost, and an upgraded S Pen that’s learned a few extra tricks, the Note 8 shouldn’t have any trouble shooting straight to the top of Samsung’s smartphone offerings.

And that’s before you start playing with the dual rear cameras – marking the first time the tech has appeared on a Samsung phone.

I got to try one out ahead of launch to bring you some early hands-on impressions. And I didn’t even need my oven gloves.

DESIGN & BUILD: TIME TO GET SERIOUS

With more angular edges and a screen that curves at a much steeper angle, you can instantly tell the Note 8 apart from Samsung’s other top-end phones.

The Galaxy S8 is smooth, soft, and almost pebble-like, but this feels like it means business – even in the jazzy new Maple Gold colour. We get the choice of gold or Midnight Black colours here in the UK, while the rest of the world gets Deep Sea Blue and Orchid Grey.

The metal frame still gives you something meaty to get your mitts around, and the skinny 18:9 aspect ratio screen means you don’t need the hands of a giant to grip it – even with a whopping 6.3in AMOLED panel squeezed in there.

A lot of features have been ported across from the Galaxy S8, including the digital home button – with the screen taking up so much space, there’s no room for a fingerprint sensor up front.

It gets moved to the back, right next to those dual cameras. There’s the smallest of bumps to let you know you’re fondling the fingerprint sensor and not the camera lenses, but it’s still awkward to reach – maybe even more so here because of the sheer size of the phone. Samsung is clearly hoping you’ll use iris or face recognition instead.

The whole thing is water-resistant, you still get a 3.5mm headphone jack, and there’s USB-C charging at the bottom – so the full package, basically.

There’s also the ever-present Bixby button on the left, just below the volume controls. Samsung’s live-in butler still hasn’t found his voice, at least here in the UK, but it is apparently due to arrive shortly after the Note 8 launches.

CAMERA: SEEING DOUBLE

Dual cameras have been doing the rounds for a while now, but this is the first time Samsung has joined the fray. The Note 8 has two 12MP snappers, and is the first phone to give ‘em both optical image stabilisation.

It’s an interesting approach, with the main sensor getting the same f/1.7 aperture and dual-pixel autofocus as the Galaxy S8, but the secondary telephoto lens sticking with f/2.4 and phase-detect AF only.

That means you can toggle between 1x and 2x ‘optical zoom’, to get closer to your subjects without actually moving, only without any nasty digital noise or compression.

Naturally there’s a bokeh-blurring portrait mode, too: Samsung calls it Live Focus, because you can tweak the amount of blur before you press the shutter button. It saves two shots, so you can go back and adjust the effect (or delete it altogether) whenever you like.

The 8MP selfie cam up front is probably using the same snapper as the Galaxy S8, seeing how both have f/1.7 apertures and autofocus.

Everything felt quick and responsive, but how the Note 8 compares to the rest of the dual camera-toting world will boil down to pure image quality. Samsung isn’t really doing anything different from what we’ve seen before, even if it is the first with dual OIS, so I’ll only be excited if it takes fantastic photos.

Of course, the Galaxy S8 is one of the best smartphone snappers around, so that feels like a pretty safe bet.

SCREEN & SOUND: BIGGER IS BETTER

If you’ve seen a Galaxy S8 or S8+ in the wild, you’ll know exactly what to expect here: the Note 8 has an absolute stunner of a screen.

The AMOLED panel has the same super-high 2960×1440 resolution, only here it’s stretched out over 6.3in. That means pixel density isn’t quite as high as the S8, but that’s still loads more pixels than you’ll be able to make out without the help of a microscope.

That extra screen space isn’t wasted with cutesy curves, either. The screen sides still bend around the edge of the phone, but at a much sharper angle, leaving more space to doodle onscreen with the S Pen.

It can crank the brightness up to ridiculous levels when you step outside, so you won’t ever have a problem seeing what’s onscreen, and the contrast we’ve come to expect from OLED screens gives movies and games a gorgeous, cinematic look with deep blacks and vibrant colours.

I didn’t get a chance to properly test out the built-in speakers, so can’t speak for quality just yet, but if the Galaxy S8 is any indication, the Note will be plenty loud enough to catch up on Podcasts and YouTube videos without reaching for a pair of headphones – even if Samsung does bundle a tasty pair of AKG ‘buds in the box.

OS & SOFTWARE: THE WRITE STUFF

Give the S Pen a poke and it pops out of its sheath with a satisfying, spring-loaded pop. This is when Samsung’s Android customisations spring into life, letting you pick from a whole host of different abilities and tools.

All the old favourites return, but new for 2017 are Live Message, a cute way to draw doodles or annotate images for livening up your Whatsapp chats; PENUP, a social hub for sharing your S Pen sketches; and live translation of whole sentences, instead of just single words. The Pen’s 4096 levels of pressure should come in pretty handy for digital artists looking to get their creativity flowing, too.

Beyond the S Pen, Samsung’s spin on Android is a lot more minimal than in previous years. Sure, the icons look a little different, but Touchwiz really is massively improved. You can even swap the Back and Recents keys, if you don’t like the Galaxy way of doing things.

The only real flourish is the Edge panel, which lets you swipe between app shortcuts, contacts and widgets from any screen. App Pairs can be pinned here too, opening two apps simultaneously with a single tap. Think maps and music whenever you get in the car, or YouTube and a web browser for a soundtrack while you browse.

Samsung has also tweaked the software that kicks in when you slam a Note 8 into the DEX docking station, too. A lot more of the keyboard shortcuts that come as second nature on a Mac or PC work here now, and you can finally run certain troublesome apps on the big screen at full-size, instead of in a window. It’ll even play nicely with games now, too.

DEX makes a lot more sense for the Note than it did for the Galaxy, because it’s so focused on productivity. That’s probably why Samsung is bundling the two together, at least for people that pre-order the phone.

PERFORMANCE & BATTERY LIFE: NO SURPRISES

As if there was ever any doubt: The Note 8 absolutely flies. With the same octa-core Exynos 8895 CPU as the Galaxy S8 (at least here in Blighty) there’s nothing that won’t run smoothly on that super-high resolution screen.

With an even bigger emphasis on multi-tasking this year, it makes sense that Samsung would stuff 6GB of RAM inside it, too. Using two apps in Multi Window won’t be a problem, and the S Pen integration pops in and out without any slowdown or stutter.

There’s an ample 64GB of on-board storage for all your apps, plus a microSD card slot should you need more room later down the line.

How long you’ll be able to go between charges is the biggest mystery right now. A 3300mAh battery feels like Samsung playing it safe, but that’s understandable. I’m expecting it to comfortably last a day, but need topping up overnight – at least if you’re using it as more than a glorified MP3 player, anyway.

SAMSUNG GALAXY NOTE 8 INITIAL VERDICT

So, does the Note 8 do anything drastic to shake up Samsung’s now-familiar Galaxy Note formula? No, not really – but then it doesn’t have to. It just has to avoid blowing up.

Sure, the iPhone might have won over a few ex-Galaxy owners when the Note 7 disappeared from shelves last year, but with nothing truly taking its place, it wasn’t going to be too tricky for Samsung to waltz back in and reclaim the throne it had just vacated. The S Pen really is that damn good.

The Note 8 feels like every bit the superphone, with plenty of power, a gorgeous design, and productivity boosts that should keep it the king of stylus-toting smartphones. I can’t wait to get one and give it a full review, to see if those dual cameras can deliver.

The largest display on any Note ever (6.3 inches) If someone sets fire to your trousers once, are you ever really going to trust them with a box of matches again?