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i-bring-crack · 1 year

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Cha Hae In: A small introspective on her character (+Goto Ryuji)

Gotta love how her entire character in the game is just "Imma be the very best and no one can stop me" and I love her for that.

On another note she does give me a lot of "Main Character" vibes due to that attitude and the power she displays. Sure she technically got lucky with her power but she still wants to be at the very top of her team by more than just luck alone. As we see with how she has been diligently training with Song Chi Yul despite being an S rank, and she knows her weaknesses very well despite Chi Yul praising her as her student (that she has a long way to go). She is ambitious in her goals and no matter what she gets she will not discard it any way. She is also willing to sacrifice her pain if it means getting what she wants as seen inside the dossiers themselves:

In dossiers 1 and 2 they also tell about how her whole life she had been walking on eggshells and her reputation was always on the constant brink between bad and good, so I could guess that is why (plus her smell problem) we never really saw her smiling outside of the people she was close too (Jin Woo and Chi Yul). The light novel also hints that with Jin Woo she also finally founded some relaxation in her life which only adds on more to the theory that she only cared more about winning, or in her case hunting, than she did about actually living a comfortable life. Probably the only way she could find happiness was by winning.

Her parents, if she had any (most of the dossiers just say 'adults around her') had pressured her to put herself in the spotlight, and she does seem to have at least some spine to reject that at her young age, however it didnt mean that she was able to overcome all of that. The photo above said she still remained strong despite all the anonymous flase rumors spread about her, all the pressure from the adults and the stains from anti-fans on her achivements, but her achievements still dissappeared and she felt resentful about that day for a long time.

Right now as an S rank she does look a lot more capable to stand up for herself rather than simply ignoring the counts and moving on, heck she even values herself to an extent seeing that she tends to confront her guild master about the shares and even bussiness men know her worth would go up much higher than the other guilds if she were to set up a guild on her own:

The mention of being inspired by the other atheletes is also something really cool since it does add well with what her main goal, apart from passion, is in her life and that is, as mentioned in the twitter posts, to achieve victory, to be the first.

And this is what makes it all the better for me to say that, she acts a lot like Goto Ryuji.

No, I didnt expect that either and yes im being legit, both of them share a lot of common trains the more we get to find out about theirselves.

For starters: Its that driving ambition to do what they are good at and excell that makes them such a strong force of power in their own respective countries. Just as Hae-In had been ambitious to persue swordsmanship and become the strongest S rank in South Korea, Goto had done the same thing by assosiating himself with the Japanese Hunters Assosiation and gaining the rest of his powerhouse with the other 10 S ranks that he admitted to his guild. He got to be the founder of the second largest guild in Asia while she got to be famous despite being in the Shadow of Choi Jong In (honestly I might even go far enough to say she was the reason Choi Jong In had been nicknamed the ultimate weapon, since he held the strongest S rank in his arsenal.) But still strong enough to decapitate the S rank Queen, yes even with the help of her own team and the japanese but that is still quite a feat considering the last 3 jeju island raids.

None of them tend to be the strongest overall, bc National Hunters exist ofc, but that doesnt stop them to aim higher. Hae-In we can see her aspiration to become first right in the dossiers, where as Goto had more ambition in wanting to be the king, and basically become the best despite the fact that there would be stronger hunters out there.

Both of them also seem to never back down even against powerful threats like the Ant King. Its kinda funny how it tends to be that Goto is the only one called cocky for this because, 1 he died, and 2 he was more of a villain instead of the female lead like Hae-In, yet when she wanted to fight shadow Beru she wasn't laughed about it for doing it. Sure Jin Woo was there to stop it, but that didnt meant anything still when she knew, first hand, she could have been defeted by Beru nonetheless (and she also didnt know that Beru would be less stronger than the Ant King as extracted shadows tend to be weaker), she actively chose to fight Beru for her own gains, yes far better gains than Goto's yet that doesnt ignore the fact that their attitudes had been the same when facing that giant monster. Pretty sure Goto would have also tried to fight Beru again in order to prove his strenght (but Beru is best girl for a reason, he wont fall under anyone unless its his master.) Had he lived.

There are more physical traits, like both of them being sword masters and having a more profesional stoic attitude towards their personality than others— but i did just wanna draw out those two main characteristics of theirs that literally just passed through my head as I was re reading the novel. The smaller differences would be their reason for their ambitions, like with Goto betraying the S ranks for power and prestige, whereas Hae-In does everything for her own power to protect those around her, i.e why she always looks out for the dungeon boss and takes patrols even on her lunch, why she is also very keen in finding out more about the new S rank who doesnt smell, and why she never really kept a lot of secrets to her, she was never going to hide anyways because her main priority at that point in being an S rank was helping people, and being the most powerful just meant she could protect them even better.

Still, it does seem funny that the ones that share a lot of similar traits with each other are: The female lead of SL, and the literal most hated character (by the author) of SL.

Gotta love that for them, gotta love it even more how Hae-In was acknowledged by Goto, which does make me want to explore their dynamic a bit. Would Goto have offered her to join the guild? Would Hae In have acted more like Goto if she had been more upfront towards the spotlight? Would they have bonded over their share hatred against the Ant King? Them batteling by pure measure of swordmanship skill alone would have been fairly interesting too.

#solo leveling manwha #solo leveling #solo leveling spoilers #cha hae in #goto ryuji #Oh my god no wonder the goto x sung ships also seem to fit well with what ive wanted to see in cha and sung fics #like legit more rivarly for jin woo it would be so fun seeing Hae In and Goto somehow make alliance to defeat Jin Woo due to smth idk #but the three fighting would be hella cool #something even MORE FUN would be Goto and Hae In fighting against the Ant King with the help of their respective magicians and healers yes—#— but also just the two making a brief alliance to deztroy the ant king with his own skills: im picturing Goto going full on tank–#–while Hae In takes Dps; they try their best to get rid of the wings first and with Shimizu and Min Byung Gyu as long as they are protec #protected by Kei And Choi Jong In then its fine. they get a lot of wound son that battle but still manage either way to break off–#Beru's head. or maybe they get yo hold on their own for a long while until Jin Woo contronts the weakened Beru and shit goes WILD #you can see i have too many tjings i want out of those two #maybe another mentor and mentee friendship right there?#Hae-In going to help the japanese with the Japan Crisis arc and her and Goto get to be friends over their sword knowledge #Hae In might also get trapped with being the friend of the rest of the s ranks too tho #especially Kanae and Kei #okay thanks for comming to my long ass ted talk #solo leveling au

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binders-and-beanies · 10 days

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#cops tw #bro I cannot handle one more thing happening istg #got pulled over on my way home after a 13 hour day #was already scared to drive at night and that just confirmed that I’m right to be scared #it was for running a red light n it was one of those situations of just not having time to stop on yellow #I was fully aware as it was happening that I was either going to slam on my brakes in the intersection or run a red and I could see the cop #so I knew I was getting pulled over either way I just hoped the yellow would be longer than .5 seconds. not so lucky #except I also Am so lucky bc he let me off with a warning #ig bc I don’t have any sort of serious history + with it being 420 once he saw I was sober he prob went easier #it’s the second time I’ve been pulled over in my life tho and it’s scary bc this is the first time since the accident #which maybe that was also ok bc it wasn’t my fault #I just know every warning or unlucky moment costs u more in the future if u happen to get unlucky again #like I know I got out of that bc I’m white. it was still a scary moment bc there were multiple cop cars #so it’s like is this guy abt to ruin my life am I gonna lose my license for being at the wrong place wrong time #when I’m already salty to be driving this late involuntarily #so it’s like I got unlucky And very very lucky #I just hate the confirmation that u can get pulled over at any given moment #I constantly rehearse every possible convo w cops in my head bc if u come off disabled u can die #or get arrested or whatever #and then they like don’t follow the script and u didn’t expect this to happen to u today anyway and I get flustered #anyway my point is. I’m fucking exhausted and too many things keep happening #it’s long day after long day w no end in sight rn and I’m like half asleep every day #I just want to sleep. without feeling like I’m already tired tomorrow #it’s too much. just all of it #and on top of it all. it’s 420 so the whole dorm building is basically a cloud of weed #happy u guys are having fun but u are physically harming me in my home #mine #txt #vent post #personal

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dolokhoded · 2 months

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i need to go to sleep right now but i've got zimon in the brain and i know i won't be able to sleep until i do something to get him out of the brain but i can't get up to draw right now and i sure as hell can't get up to write that would take me around 11 years so i'll just sit here and rotate him in my mind like a burnt chicken

#🧅#im remaking the apostle designs too. just. a lot of disciple disease lately.#if there was more aro representation in media i wouldn't cling to the two characters i hc as aro so i can actually do it in a non shitty wa #and I wouldn't be up thinking about them right now and i wouldn't go to sleep late and i'd be abke to study tomorrow and actually get into #uni and get a degree and find a job a d have a life. so if i get nowhere in life it's actually because society hates aromantic people.#man why did i give up on writing. if i could write right now i could just. write all thr concepts out of my head instead of keeping them #up there.#pfft. ''the two characters i hc as aro'' as if i don't cast aro spells on Everyone Ever.#whatever you get james and simon are my blorbos of choice atm #if i could at least get over my current wave if Aromantic Rage so i could actually make ship content and post some jesus/judas along with #all the aro people so people would care about them more :/#queerbaiting you guys so you consume content about Other type of queers #man. i hate when this happens it alienates me from fandom So much . cause like the second people start talking about ships im like 'cool'#*fades out like that giy doing the peace sign*#and i know its not my actual Opinion either i like these ships it's just. auugghfhfh.#not to mention everyone making amazing ship content and not even being able to check it out because i get irrationally pissed #sometimes i wish i weren't aro so bad #sometimes. then i remember it's awesome and aromanticism is god's masterpiece and i love it. but man.

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yukinyaminyato · 10 months

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day no. ? of immense anxiety: start

#i feel so bad lately.... i just wanna go home for even a couple of days but i kinda can't. no point with the prices of plane tickets.#me two weeks ago: i don't wanna go home yet. me now: god i wish i could go home soon #idk it's like im constantly abt to cry #and scared of everything. month will go by quick right i can handle it right #i have italian friends here but idk i still have these persistent feelings that i don't belong anywhere and it's the worst #you know the tiny monster living in the back of your head telling that everyone secretly doesn't like u and just tolerates u? yeah.#idk what i would do in finland either but i miss finnish summer. didn't think i'd ever say that but i really do.#maybe i just need a hug. im so touchstarved. the last time someone hugged me was over a month ago when mom visited.#my posts

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justagaycryptid · 1 year

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Haven’t finished Hannibal yet, on episode 4 of season 3, but I fucking hate how Hannibal is just... good at everything.

Like the bitch doesn’t just play music he composes his own music too. He’s an excellent artist. He’s a gourmet chef. He’s a talented surgeon. A master of words. Somehow just knows fuckin everything. He even swims for gods sake.

I want to see him be bad at something.

Like I want to see him put on a pair of skates and then immediately eat shit.

#shouting into the void #or like put him on a snowboard because I also think that would be funny #I am rotating him around in my mind like a microwave #bitch (affectionate+derogatory)#god hes such a mary sue #and also a flaming homosexual that man is down BAD for will #I don't think gay sex would fix either of them but I think they should have it anyways #I also saw this blooper thing where Mads Mikkelsen said 'shut up bitch' on an outtake #and its literally so funny #Hannibal should be allowed to say bitch #actually now that I think about it does Hannibal even swear #Hannibal the type of guy to say that swearing makes you look uneducated or some bullshit #and will would be like 'no you need to use the right word in the right context and sometimes that word is fuck'#friend and I were also joking that Hannibal would be the type of guy to be like 'weve been dating in my head for a month now <3'#up there in his stupid fucking mind palace #dudes being all angsty and bitchy because he had a fight with his boyfriend #Hannibal the type of guy to trick someone (will) into signing marriage documents #then he'd look over with that expression he has and go 'hmm technically were married now'#though oh my god I liked a single hannibal post on instagram and now my entire feed is mads mikkelsen #like not even hannibal specifically but mads mikkelsen #like yeah I know a lot of people think hes a dilf but oh my god I am not that interested in the guy #he does a fantastic job as hannibal but I do not need to see him everywhere I promise

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strwbrymlkshake · 1 year

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ohh I do want to pass away why am I so stupid

#mine #🎸#why am i such a terrible person 😇 genuinely what the fuck #me when i want to cry and tear my skin off over a minor mistake ufhdshdjfjg can i stop being fucking stupid for once #crying over a mistake right NOW actually everything is so difficult i dont know what im supposed to do in these situations!!!!!!!#i get in trouble for not knowing what to do in social situations then i have to apologize and i didnt know THAT either.#bashing my head against the wall violence maiming killing death torture bloodletting slicing tearing defenestrating murdering annihilating #me anmd my epic autism powers. shouldnt i know better why csnt you understand!!! who is at fault here! i dont even know #ashshsjdksjfklsfke im wanna cry so hard everything sucks right now im too busy for this shit. for Emotions #why are you punishing me do you hate me?! did you never even like me at all are you trying to make me mad!!! why #im so tired and frustrated i want everything to go perfectly but its not nothing can be perfect in this terrible world he is going to hate #me now. hell why do i have urges like this it always ruins everything im being so selfish arent i aren't i arent i !!!!!!!! why cant we #be FUCKING compatible and perfect snd everything what is the problem am i the problem?!?? why cant you understsnd what im trying to tellyou #maybe it really would just be better if i died nothing good has happened or is going to happen to me since he probably hates me and #my life sucks!!!!! my face hurts from crying i cant cry properly it hurts it feels so hot why cant it end already!!!!!!! why cant #we be perfect like we are supposed to why cant you UNDERSTAND it seems easy to understand to ME whwueh i am mortified my throat hurts #my head hurts i hate this world why couldnt i resist why did i have to be vulnerable id be better off if. well i dont know #i do want to crush bones and flesh beneath my hands to be honest i dont KNOW i thought it was going well i thought it was good #the thread i am hanging on by is quite thin actually why do i care so much why do i care so little im going to explode right meow!!!#my mood is so ruined i dont know if im even used to this whole thing i cannot get in particular moods im so. rgrhrhggr none of this post #is going to make sense i just need to say words while crying then itll be fine probably #this is just another one of god's little tests i think that everyone will hate me no matter what in the end so i have to enjoy it while #it lasts. no matter how hard i try everything always ends up the same way. all this started because of my mistakes and itll end with them

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bicon-crange · 7 months

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update on my horrendous situation btw: it is still ongoing and at this point i am considering self sabotage

#IT IS SUCH A. SUCH A 5TH GRADE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL MINDSET IM STUCK IN RIGHT NOW #im like wow im over here so deep in it and this person does NOT fucking think about me at all like i truly am a footnote of a footnote #and its like. would i say something. yeah. if i thought i had a CHANCE. but i so totally do not its an absolutely hopeless situation #so in my head im like ok. either i can be soo super nice to them so they like me more or i can just start being fucking evil #and get my attention fix that way. yknow.#bc im so absolutely convinced that its not reciprocated never ever in my life going to BE reciprocated not even transactional not even #so its like. why not yknow.#IDK IM GOIN NUTS OVER HERE ITS BEEN ACTUAL WEEKS #in all likelyhood ill probably just freeze up again and not do anything and go back to being like haha omg youre so smart ur so cool ♡♡#whenever they say ANYTHING. like a total absolute baby.#but whenever i do that HEY FOR THE RECORD GUYS WHENEVER I DO THAT I WANNA PUNT THE SHIT OUT OF MYSELF #LIKE HOW EMBARRASSING YKNOW. HOW TOTALLY DEGRADING DEAD INTO THE GROUND #ITS LIKE BEING A POP STAR STAN OR SOMETHING AND PEOPLE JUST STARE AT YOU AND THEYRE LIKE HEY.... BTS DOESNT KNOW WHO YOU /ARE/#im going to gnaw my fucking fingers off my hand. i HATE IT HEREEE I HATE IT HEEREE GET ME OUT GET ME OUT

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weidli · 10 months

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oh so 1x22 really is exactly calculated to make me specifically go fucking feral huh

#im sorry i. jxkdkahyeiwiwkskshdhdjsj #i keep phrasing the start of a coherent post in my head and then getting sidetracked by absolutely fjcking losinf it over something else #jesus. jesus h christ on a motorized bicycle on main street. i was SPOILED for this i KNEW what had to happen and im still gojng BONKERS #what the FUCK #i need to watch like the last 20 minutes of this again right now what the fuuuucl #no actually what i need to do is go outsidr and run some fuckin laps or something but it is the middle of the night. woooargh #ugh. dean. crying wailing #the fact that. sam doesnt notice. he doesnt see anything wrong with john reassuring dean and telling him hes important. because he believes #what demon-john is saying is true.#but DEAN. knows damn well what his father thinks of him.#and then the demon confirms it. they don't need you like you need them. (dean in the motel breathes through sam shoving him up against the #wall says some days i feel like i can barely keep it together - you me dad it's all i've got - )#DEAN ONCE AGAIN THROWING HIMSELF BETWEEN JOHN AND SAM. POSSESSED JOHN OR NORMAL JOHN DEAN KNOWS HOW THIS GOES .#okay if i were to change one (1) thing about this episode i would have the demon pin dean to the ceiling when he nearly kills him. REALLY #lean into the dean mary parallels of it all #GOD. so we agree that sam held off from shooting the second time not because dean going sam no appealed to sam's conscience or anything like #that #sam knew damn well he and john agreed on one thing and that's they'd both die to kill this thing #but sam couldn't do that to dean. because dean's only got the two of them and losing either of them would destroy him #(no. says sam. glances into the rearview mirror at dean blood on his mouth gaze unfocused. not everything.)#natural soup

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boyfrillish · 1 year

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I only started playing masters right at the end of october (fashionably late, yes) when I instantly zoomed when I heard about Unova chapter dropping, so I missed out on like every story event ever and am so confused on what’s supposed to be the timelines (but that goes for main series games since around ORAS & Gen VII too tbh especially bc I went hiatus-mode mid Gen VII but anyway) but I cry a lot about masters!Nate because he’s a treasure and I hope he gets an alt soon

Also masters!Cheren adopting every angsty emo rival is my favorite thing

#crystext #really tho i am not getting over how perfectly masters!Nate resonates with how I've seen him since 2013 #same for rosa but also like ... if you fusion masters!Nate and masters!Rosa that's how you have my since forever nate hc mishmash #does that make sense? it makes sense to me lol #anyway father or foe lives rent free in my head i had a meltdown when i played that I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW NATE WAS THERE i cried #me crying over N and the messed up family stuff? nah i'm crying over Nate crying and N saying he has a kind heart that resonates with others #(i had pieced together that Nate is supposed to be the npc role in masters so i expected nothing and then i got everything in that story)#(that's why I was shocked when he showed up and wHEN HE WAS LIKE HE WAS and just go meltdown)#pls forbidden unova villain chapter.2 continue where father or foe left off with his whole “i'll never forgive you” & give him a key role #anyway me when cheren in the pml arc interludes: OH I KNOW IT'S BECAUSE HE REMINDS YOU OF YOURSELF!#and i was right!#the irony is had i picked it up right in june when i came back to pkmn it would've been the rivals event featuring hugh ...#so either way it would have been a win!

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brandybradyrandyandyndy · 2 years

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🤠

#I can't believe this.#Nobody in my entire family treats me with respect.#Nobody takes me serious.#Everytime I have something to say or if I disagree with somebody I'm told not to ''overreact'' because it's ''not that deep'' or ''irony''#and that I'm stupid for not understanding the ''irony'' in the first place #Everytime I criticize somebody's shitty behavior I get to hear that I'm ''no better than them and actually even worse''#Either that or the just blatantly ignore me.#Literally talk over me as if I wasn't even talking at all.#Because who even cares what I have to stay‚ huh?#It's probably stupid anyway because I'm stupid too and only have shit in my head.#I'm lazy for taking a gap year for figuring out what I want to do while my amazing sister's been going to uni and doing everything right #Who cares that I was doing an internship for several months last fall/winter and have been working since december?#Who cares that I always have to do all our chores myself because nobody else is gonna do it because there ''too busy''#I don't have anything to do anyway right?#No uni. No ''real job''. No friends. No social life.#Is this how everyone sees me?#I'm already always so fucking scared to stand up for myself when I'm treated like shit #Because my mother would definitely pull the ''You're so ungrateful! No other family would've been so patient with you!''#Ohne Scheiß ich könnt echt kotzen #Wirklich. Die meiste Zeit ist meine Familie ja echt cool und wir verstehen uns und können Witze machen und alles.#Aber wenns dann wirklich mal um was geht‚ wo sie sich daneben benehmen‚ UND ICH DAS DANN ANMERKE #dann bin ich wieder der Vollidiot‚ der als einziger den Witz nicht verstanden hat.#der Vollidiot‚ bei dem man ''nichts sagen kann''‚ weil ich ja immer alles überdramatisier.#Ich glaub‚ ich geh nen Spaziergang machen.#Ich pack das jetzt grad gar nicht.

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i-deserve-to-bite · 15 days

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#i dont understand the point of anything right now #i like the textures my head hurts and i dont know how i feel #i think im bitter angry guilty and shameful #i think i just need something to devote to then ill feel better but lately its been very #ouchie #ive been awfully emotional #and very attentionsseeking i think?#i dont know. i judt know its awful #i wish i could dissapear from here but that leads to bad stuff and i really dont want them to take me #shudder awful awful #i wish i could remember #it's weird seeing old stuff we wrote #i wish i was dead because then i wouldn't be scared and i would be gone and safe i wouldn't need to feel all of this awful stuff #if i tried i might ruin everything and agh #i don't actually want to die as much as I've been thinking about it #I'm just not content with what's going on #either way i have to live #gah. I'm so tired of it all though.#my birthday is soon and I'm scared and i want this school year to be over already #i will never thrive in this school no matter how much effort i put in i have tried so hard but #I'm just so tired #i plan on taking the GED when possible #i don't think I'll win with anything and i feel i should give up #i am trying to drown out emotions with random things but i genuinely don't know how that's working and also #i want to scream #i don't know or understand anything

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inmaki · 3 months

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gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

Text

How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #social engineering #phishing #ai #swiss cheese security #infosec #finance #fraud #carding

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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

Note

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please."

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.

You wince."...F-Fine?"

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You look… wet."

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"

He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.

"Huh. I guess they do."

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums.

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name."

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily.

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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