#how to college without debt

[mintconditioned]

student debt is getting scarier. here’s how to protect your future.

if you’re a teen thinking about college, here’s something you might not know: the decisions you make now could either save you thousands — or lock you into years of student debt. and this moment in history? it’s making those decisions even more important.

why this matters:

1️⃣ interest rates are rising. the federal reserve raised interest rates several times recently to fight inflation. that means new federal student loans now come with higher interest rates (5.5% for undergrads in 2024–25, up from 4.99%). private loans? even higher. translation: borrowing today costs you more long-term than it did a few years ago.

2️⃣ student loan forgiveness is in flux. biden’s large-scale student loan forgiveness plan was blocked by the supreme court, but the administration is pushing new targeted relief (as of 2025, $146 billion in debt relief for about 4 million borrowers). great — but also unpredictable. future forgiveness depends on politics. counting on it is risky.

3️⃣ college costs are still climbing. average tuition at public 4-year universities rose 4% last year alone. in some states, budget shortfalls mean public universities are cutting programs but not lowering costs — so you may pay more for less.

4️⃣ economic instability is affecting job prospects. tech layoffs. hiring slowdowns. AI disrupting entire industries. a degree still matters, but planning for debt when the job market is uncertain? that matters even more.

so what can you actually do — beyond the basic “apply for scholarships” advice?

📚 know how to read a financial aid award letter. most teens don’t. schools may bury parent plus loans or high-interest private loans inside your “aid” package. use tools like nerdwallet’s aid letter decoder to understand what’s really free money and what’s expensive debt.

🔍 research state-specific aid + tuition reciprocity. look up whether your state participates in tuition reciprocity programs (like WUE for western states). out-of-state tuition can sometimes drop by 50% if your state has an agreement. most families never hear about this.

🛠 combine vocational training + college. instead of a full 4-year program, look at hybrid paths: 1–2 years of vocational training + part-time degree later. fields like tech support, healthcare administration, logistics pay well without requiring a full degree first. you can earn earlier and avoid full-time debt.

🖥 maximize low-cost online college credits now. through dual enrollment, clep exams, or online platforms like outlier.org, you can earn gen ed credits for ~$400/class instead of ~$1,500+. even one semester of credit saved = thousands in future loans avoided.

💬 talk to current college students about debt — not just admissions officers. schools will tell you about campus life. current students can tell you whether people are drowning in loans. if everyone says “yeah, most of us are $50k in debt,” listen.

bottom line:

student debt isn’t just a future problem. inflation, rising interest rates, shaky job markets, and political uncertainty make this the hardest environment for student borrowers in over a decade. the good news? teens today are savvier than ever — and if you start planning early, you can avoid some of the mistakes that trap millions of others.

your future self will absolutely thank you

[sergle]

yall are about to piss me off by not having any PASSING basic knowledge of the way the u.s. military manipulates its recruits into joining by typing up one of your uninformed, unresearched, unempathetic, individualistic, unbelievably annoying posts about how 100% of the people in the military ended up there because they just Love America So Damn Much! they're extremely mature and informed at time of recruitment, they can totally leave anytime they want, they totally had tons of other avenues in life they could've taken, there was no rush at all to get income as fast as possible, and everyone in the military also totally is part of the combat divisions and personally enjoys being IN the military very much, big believers of violence. everyone in the military is shooting guns all day, that's how that works. they LOVE BLOODSHED. also I love the "amewicans haha" twang to this type of shit because you're actually TOTALLY stealing our Thing, which is turning systemic issues into Individual Issues. Instead of talking about the powers that be, it's so Personal Choice up in here. It's, "well you shouldn't have done it then. I totally wouldn't because I know better." you don't wanna talk about the military industrial complex as a whole, and you don't want to talk about recruiters, you just want to pin the blame on Specific Individual People one-by-one, as if they're responsible for the system that they're being ground up in. someone was in the military? bad person, no matter what. it's easier to believe that, I guess, than to acknowledge that Normal People (with high school educations) are manipulated and incentivized into joining a system that is Bad. at like age 18. but yeah no that 18 year old should have just been smarter lol haha anyway here are some screenshots for no particular reason

side note this reply of someone going "umm just get loans and go into a high paying field it's easy XD" as a direct response to someone trying to explain how most americans joining the military are being funneled in that direction out of a need for money.

and another person who Decided that americans join the military just CLENCHING their teeth thinking of other people, and not thinking completely selfishly about their own selves and their own income/housing/healthcare.

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

anyone else up feeling like they’ll never have a place in this world

[oddlime]

Also, learn something new so you understand what you DON'T like. This is arguably just as important.

Whether you found a new passion out of what you studied or discovered that it's personally uninteresting, you will have learned something valuable about how you relate to the world.

But you only get there by doing the work.

Honestly, y'all, I'm begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it's just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It's important.

[rickyrainfrog]

gahhh i wanna take art history and religious studies classes but i dont wanna do homework or go to school. i just want 2 learn. guess i must read more

[kamiversee]

Not So Innocent ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Your boyfriend Choso was always a freak but, your newly wedded husband Choso is ten times worse.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, heavy dirty talk, language, spitting, manhandling, praise, degrading, rough sex, overstim, slight cum play, filth, etc

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Choso Kamo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 3.1k

——CHOSO'S SO SWEET. Often did you hear such words during your wedding. Your friends, family-, everyone called Choso sweet and simply perfect for you.

The way his eyes lingered on yours for moments far longer than needed, how he'd find any moment to caress your hand, trace small shapes into your palm or your shoulder when he could-- he was such an attentive man. People praised him all day long for how he acted around you.

Even when you weren't around and Choso talked to the guests about you, people commented that he had such a beautiful way of describing you, how he'd explain that you were his muse and all his success in the world of art stems from you.

Choso felt like without meeting you, he may have never gotten as far in life as he did. It took roughly five years or so of dating for you to even be ready for marriage. And for a long time, Choso didn't know what it was you were so afraid of but he still waited patiently until you started to hint that you were ready.

Through those years of dating, you eventually got the whole truth from Gojo, whom you hardly think much about now but, after getting the truth-- you think that's the day you ran to Choso and started throwing out hints of marriage. Perhaps that's what'd been holding you back for so long, not knowing why things happened the way they did in college.

Hell, even after you found everything out, it took some time for you to really wrap your head around things. Part of your heart, this really small part, still longed for Gojo and for that, you felt like shit for months.

Up until you eventually poured the truth out to Choso one day. The whole truth. Every detail of the list, how it started, how it ended-, everything. Choso had responded to you saying that what you told him explained a few things...

Even so, lots had changed over the course of five years. The truth was out and you were completely free from confusion. Not only that but, not too long after Gojo confessed every detail of his truth, Sukuna released his custody over Yuji. So, of course, you and Choso were at an all-time peak of happiness.

Hence why you date the day of your wedding as the happiest day of your life. You recall every moment, every laugh, every happy tear that was shed-, everything. It was such a beautiful and peaceful day.

And Choso was so sweet— too bad that only lasted until the sunset and the two of you were off to your honeymoon destination.

Okay well, he was still sweet for that day since the two of you were a bit too tired to do much after a draining flight to where you are now. As for the next day, the first day of your honeymoon... well, Choso was...

“C’mere baby,” His deep voice, husked with hours of sleep that'd just barely faded off, filled the air of the room you were in.

Soft sunlight peeping in through the curtains, even softer sheets surrounding the two of you, clothes messily scattered to the floor-- he may not have gotten to you on the night of your wedding due to sheer exhaustion but the next morning? Oh, you couldn't get a second away from him.

You've dated Choso long enough to know that sometimes he just wakes up hard, his cock poking at your ass as you'd shift around in your sleep. It was a natural occurrence you'd gotten used to. Sometimes you both ignored it and sometimes it was taken care of immediately.

But when you just got married to this man less than twenty-four hours ago, there was no way for you to have expected him to just ignore his morning wood. Especially not when Choso's been on cloud nine ever since he saw you stroll down that aisle looking just as beautiful as the first day the two of you ran into each other.

A heavy groan pours out of your husband's mouth whilst his hands run along your body, fingertips dancing against your supple skin before he finds his rightful hold on your hips.

Cheek down against the mattress, back arched sensually, and ass up in the air-- the sudden snap of Choso's hips against your ass rips a moan from your mouth, one of many that's already left you within the past hour or so.

You'd married such a sweet man but in bed, he was an entirely different person, hence why your fingers are curling into the sheets and you're attempting to pull yourself away from him for only a second. Only to earn a grunt from Choso who tugs your hips back to him, “Don’t fuckin' runnn baby,” He sighs, a lazy smile spread across his face at the sight.

You've got a bit of drool slipping down your face, Choso's fingers are stopping you from moving too much and all you can do is take it. "M-Mmgh..." Your eyes began to water a bit as his thick cock drilled into your hole relentlessly, "C-Cho, hahh, you're s-so-"

"Big?" He finishes for you, earning a squeeze from your cunt in response. The sudden tightness makes his brows push together as he tosses his head back, "Yeah baby, you've been tellin' me that for years," He teases, "M'not gettin' any smaller, sorry princess."

His tip was so fat and angry against your insides, leaving you utter mush beneath him with how hard he was fucking his cock into you. "C-Can't stand you-, fuck." You gasp as he lands a hand onto your ass, gripping at the fat and chuckling at your words.

Then he's leaning forward a bit and angling his hips differently, drilling deeper inside you before grunting out a low, "Yeah but you can cum f'me again," Choso comments tauntingly with a smirk on his face.

One of his hands starts to travel to your back, pressing you down into the mattress before he lifts a leg a places his foot onto the bed for better leverage. If you weren't clawing at the sheets before, you damn sure are now as his throbbing cock bottoms you out.

Your jaw went slack and you were tearing up, "Ah, mgh, oh... oh fuck, Choso..." You moan, trying to collect yourself and not get too caught up in how good he was fucking you.

But how could you not? Choso was fucking you deep and hard, grunting and groaning without a care in the world while trying to hold out on painting your insides white too soon.

Then there's the way your pussy narrows around his shaft, letting him know you were close again, "See? There you go-," Choso loses his words for a moment as you start moving your hips backward to meet his thrust. You'd caught him completely off guard and it makes him choke, "Y-Yeahhh, fuck yourself on me, jus’ like that," He moans.

Choso leans up a bit just to watch you, eyes glued down on your pussy lewdly taking his cock over and over again. The sight makes him smile, as always.

"Shiit baby, you've got such a pretty fuckin' pussy," Choso praises as he tilts his head, jaw-dropping a bit at how you part your legs a bit more and arches your back further, "Fuck, princess-, fuuck... so fuckin' pretty," He stammers a bit while he continues to praise you, losing himself in the way you continuously bring yourself back on him.

His cock thrust in to match your movements, both of you fucking each other in sync. Oh how you drove Choso to the brink of insanity-- he was moving to spit down on his cock just before it disappeared inside you without a second thought, watching his saliva mix with the slick from your cunt and releasing another moan afterward.

Then Choso brings his hand to your ass again, "Baby, I complimented you, didn't I?"

You just nod stupidly, not thinking twice about what he's hinting toward, "Mmhhmm-," Choso snaps his hips forward again, pelvis clashing into you and making you whine, "F-Fuck."

Cocking his head to the side, Choso starts picking up his pace again, "What're you supposed t'say when you get compliments, huh?" He asks, tone rough with you.

His swollen cock rutted into your cervix, leading your legs to quake and your breath to escape you, "Choso-,"

"No pretty, c'monnn," He cuts off on purpose, "Where's those manners of yours, hm? Have I been too nice to you lately?" Voice dipping down into something a bit sweeter with you, your stomach churns before he's stretching you open all over again.

"Fuck... Fuck-," You gasp and your eyes squeeze shut before you're panting, "T-Thank you Cho..."

That earns a sexy smile from your husband, "There ya' go, suuch a good fuckin' girl f'me. Smart woman I've married, sayin' thank you after gettin' praised. Y'like it when I tell you how pretty y'are, hm?"

Blindly nodding into the bed, "Uhuh..." Is the most you can babble out.

And of course the sound makes Choso smile. He loves getting you to the point where you can hardly speak. Which is exactly why he’s smiling as he hums to you, "Speak up baby." Just as those words leave his lips, his cock is turning your cunt to mush, leaving you nothing more than a mindless hole beneath him.

Panting and clawing at the mattress, tears slip down your cheeks and your words come out jumbled and whiney, "Yes, Choso-, hhgnn… y-yes."

Choso puts on a pout to mock you before he scoffs and reaches a hand down to your hair, "C'mere, look at me,” He utters surprisingly softly before tugging you up by your hair so he can get a decent look at your face.

He forced your head to angle toward him and you swear he’s fucking you harder than he was before. Your pussy was sloshing all over his thick shaft, leaving where you were connected and slipping down along both of your thighs— you were a wet mess but Choso seemed to love you like that.

"Hi baby,” Your husband whispers, his eyes hanging low as he gazes into yours. Then he pouts at you again, “Aww, you cryin'? Feels that good, huh?" Choso teases. He watches the way your brows furrow and decides to go even further, bringing his free hand around your body and moving two fingers down to your clit.

Your body jumps within his hold once he starts rubbing over your clit, a strangled moan pouring out of your mouth, “C-Choso-, hahhh… fuck-,”

He just smirks, "Does it feel good when I touch you like this too?" He asks gently, as if he can’t see the clear effect his touch has on you.

You couldn’t even answer him verbally just yet— quiet mhm’s leaving your throat was the most you could manage. Your hand went over his and your nails were scratching against his arms, legs trying to draw together and your body nearly falling forward.

"Hm? I can't hear you princess,” Choso has the nerve to taunt you, “C’mon, jus' talk t'me. Tell me what you want me t'do," He instructs before pulling your body back against his.

Your mouth simply hangs open and his fingers won’t stop toying with your clit, his heavy cock resting inside you and leaving you full and lightheaded with pleasure, “…Mmh, k-keep-, nngh, g-go- oh, fuck, fuck… keep goin’ Cho… hahh, don’t stop, don’t fuckin’ stop…”

His cock aches inside you at the sound of your small whimpers in between words and your twisted-up face. Smiling, "Keep goin’, huh? You close?" Choso’s voice is sudden in your ear and you just moan into the air. “Gonna make a mess on me? Hahhh, fuck I guess I married a slut too, huh?”

You manage to meet his eyes and Choso swears he’s never seen you with an expression this lewd before. Well, he definitely has but, it still amazes him every time.

His brows push together and he groans, "I mean, look at that face-, shit,” Choso gasps. Just looking at you with a completely fucked out expression almost made him fold, “So fuckin' perfect. My perfect wife."

Your lower lip pokes out and you whine, “C-Cho…”

“Mhm, y’know you’re mine right?” He coos, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck. You huff out a sigh in response and he starts talking against your skin, “Yeahhh, my wife. My lil’ slut to ruin whenever the fuck I want, right?”

His voice grew rough all of a sudden and he started moving you around again, placing a hand to your back and forcing you back down to the bed. Then both of his hands were on your back, pressing into your arch before his hips picked up in pace.

The veins decorating his cock rubbing against your walls, cockhead digging deep inside you and making you gasp all over again.

Then there’s his voice, “Y’like that Mrs. Kamo?”

Oh you practically lose yourself right then and there— a slick mess of cum coating his dick due to one simple phrase. Choso scoffs loudly at the sight and the feeling of your pussy squeezing him like crazy.

“S-Shit, y’like your new last name, huh?” Choso huffs, sounding a bit more breathless than he did just moments ago.

“M-Mhmm, ah… mmgh-, fuck,” You bite your bottom lip for a second to get yourself together before uttering a sweet, “I love it Cho…”

He really starts to lose himself after that, mindlessly pounding into you with his jaw-dropping a bit. Choso doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. You were his. His wife.

Fuck he was seconds from emptying himself inside of you— hell, maybe he should. Fuck you nice and full of his cum… It’s been a while since you’ve let him do so after all.

“Baby,” Choso grunts, heavy pants leaving his wet lips, “F-Fuck, m’gonna cum…” He suddenly heaves out.

So lost in the thought of cumming inside you, Choso hardly realizes how he’s drilling into you right now— the bed had begun to shake and your body was dipping down into the mattress, his cock twitching wildly inside you as it ached for release and heavy balls slapping against you with his every thrust.

The fabric below you is wet from your drool and you could hardly even whisper his name out, the sound leaving in a light squeak, “Choso.”

“Uhuh,” Choso responds mindlessly before he moans, “M-Mhmm, fuck… lemme cum inside you, princess.” He finally manages to blurt out his thoughts and it catches you off guard.

Followed by that is Choso moving a hand under you and rubbing his fingers over your clit yet again— tugging a cry from your throat, “S-Shit-, hahhh,” Your body was practically folding in on itself but his other hand remained firm on your back, keeping you in position, “Choso, fuck, Cho… mmmh-“

“Please?” He whines, “Fuck-, fuuck… baby… I need to,” Choso’s quick to beg you as he’s desperate for his release, “Needa’ stuff this pretty pussy full of me,” He babbles out before throwing his head back and groaning, “Fuuck, I wanna see it drippin’ outta’ you when I’m done. ‘Nd then stuff it right back in, make it nice and sloppy.”

His words had you cumming again before you finally agreed, nodding desperately against the bed, “Okay, mgh, okay, fuck,” You whisper.

His thrusts grow sharper and his body weighs into you a bit, “Okay, what?” Choso grunts lowly.

Just barely, you angle your head back as best you could to look at him and flash the smallest fucked out smile you could manage, “Cum inside me, Cho.”

His reaction is priceless, seed spilling into your pussy seconds after those words hit his ears— or maybe it was the way you’d looked at him, either way, he was fucking his cum into you within seconds.

Babbling as he ruts into you with mindless, almost animalistic-like thrusts, “Fuckin’ love you-, holy shit, I love you,” Is the only thing Choso could repeat as his cum spurted into you, the sound of slick growing louder and messier as he never once slowed the pace of his thrusts.

And he’s just thrusting in and out and in and out over and over again, watching that messy white ring form at his base and letting out a long groan at the sight.

“F-Fuck, say it back pretty, tell me you love me,” He huffs impatiently.

Sure, Choso knows you love him and he can clearly see how difficult speaking is for you but he didn’t care, he needed to hear it back from you anyway.

“Love you, Cho,” You whimper, “Mmmh… I love you s-so much.”

And then he’s fucking you through those very words, his body leaning over yours at this point and a moan of your name leaving his lips— followed by the faintest whimper.

When he finally calms himself, he’s pulling out with small whines escaping him. His face was flushed and he couldn’t stop panting.

Then he was moving a thumb to your sensitive folds, spreading your cunt apart to watch his cum trickle out and angling the tip of his cock against your hole just to watch his cum drip out of you and down onto his skin.

It was messy, nasty even, but didn’t care one bit. A smile was etched onto his face as he did so and you just laid there completely still for a while.

Choso was behind you toying with the mess below, enjoying himself a little too much, “Can’t get enough of this pussy, y’know…”

You scoff, “Choso…”

“I’m jus’ sayin',” He hums before tilting his head, smiling growing, “She’s so messy, I fuckin’ love her.”

You roll your eyes at the man, “Cho… please stop talkin’ about my pussy like it’s a p-person…”

“Shhh baby, I’m trying to listen t’her,” He says, completely disregarding your words as he continues to just rub his tip in between your folds. “Nasty fuckin’ girl. Y'Made such a big mess,” Choso coos. Then he shrugs and you feel him start pressing his tip into you, “S’okay though, you’ll make another one f’me, right?”

You send your husband a look, “Choso.”

“Shhh princess, don’t be rude,” He hums, smiling to himself as he doesn’t even attempt to look away from your cunt, “I haven’t even made my pretty girl squirt yet,” He comments before his smile widens, “Good thing I’ve got all day t’do so.”

Yeah, you definitely weren’t getting any more rest…

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[queercatboyrights]

first day of in person classes and the only door I've found to the building my class is in is locked and may not unlock until after my class starts :))))))

[headspace-hotel]

any other autistic people have to drop out of college and have stories to share about what they did/how they managed to find a job and a bearable life?

I'm considering it again and there's a good chance I'm actually gonna do it

I'm only a year away from graduation, but...I've been having this deep sense that "this is wrong, I'm on the wrong path" for a while. I've never been able to convince myself that I should stay because it's what I want, only push down the feeling and try to convince myself I have no choice.

Despite many good things that happened, 2024 was almost definitely the worst year of my life (which is saying something, considering how 2021 went for me) just in terms of how much of it I spent utterly miserable.

I'm about to turn 25. I am so sick of being around 19 and 20 year olds, not that there's anything wrong with them, I'm just starting to struggle to connect with people who haven't been around the block a little bit and lived outside of the regimented, narrow constraints of school.

My school situation is difficult to explain but it's unlikely I will ever be given a better chance to graduate without debt. However, my school has proven completely rigid and inflexible in regards to several crucial disability accommodations, and I have fought so incredibly hard to make this situation work for me and it just isn't and every time I think it's finally going to be okay there is some other bullshit that happens and I am tired of running myself ragged fighting to survive in a place I don't want to be.

Not only do I not want to spend another year feeling like my life is a black hole of despair, I don't want to wait any longer to get my driver's license and figure myself out and learn who I am and form meaningful relationships and escape the narrow little crevice my college life is. I am so exhausted all the time when I'm in school that I can't work on myself, and I feel stunted. I feel like a plant in a too-small pot where its roots are all bunched up along the edges.

I was hopeful about getting some kind of career related to studying plants or working with plants or something, but right now my only career goal is for the pain to stop.

Family says they will support me no matter what I do, but seem to lack faith in me to take steps toward independence or something I want to accomplish. My mom just seems to live in fear that I will go back to how I was in the Burnout Year where I just laid in bed for months, as if this is all I'm capable of without the external structure of college. It leaves me doubting myself and whether I've actually grown any.

Family also seems to think that I'm naive to how hard a job would be, to which my honest answer is Jesus if this is the easiest my life is going to be I am just not going to make it. Parents keep saying college is hard, it was hard for me too but I think I just completely fail to communicate how much they don't get it. It's not that my classes are hard, it's not that the work takes effort. If anything it's not enough work, not enough stimulation. It's just...the stressors. The exhaustion of having to go to class every day for hours and participate in group projects and presentations and having to go to different meetings and appointments. Not having any control over anything in my life. Not knowing whether I'll have good food to eat every day, not knowing if the kitchen will be free for me to boil a pot of goddamn noodles, not knowing if my energy budget is free enough that I can hang out with a friend or make a dentist appointment without fucking up and contributing to an ongoing backlog of exhaustion that nothing, nothing, nothing but time ever can fix. The hyper-vigilance I have to maintain to avoid locking myself out of my own room.

I'm just...not 20 anymore. I can hardly stomach Ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese anymore. I feel gross and nasty when I don't eat green things and fresh things and things with fiber in them. I get too exhausted to stay awake by 12:30 and wake up at 8:30am whether I set my alarm or not. I can't skip meals anymore, I can't just roll out of bed, stuff down a granola bar and function until lunch anymore.

I don't know what's right. I just know that what I'm doing right now is wrong. If I ignore this, I might as well never listen to a "gut feeling" ever again because I've never had one so strong or so persistent.

[luminiamore]

IN THE A.

biker geto suguru x black hoochie mama reader

warnings: fingerfucking, soft dom sugu, he’s a tease, sugu has a big dick, but we knew this!

a/n: this man is so fine i need him neow.

second part here.

masterlist

Life has always treated you so well, beyond well, in fact. You resided in one of Atlanta’s finest lofts, debt-free at 23 despite recently graduating from college. Even though you have your own income, your generous parents still send you a fat check every week or so. You had men constantly begging on their knees to fund your entire existence, and on the occasion, women, too. Everything you wanted simply came to you with no trouble. 

You wanted that cute brown skin man with the waves that you saw at the grocery store? He already has your number. You want that pretty ’90s hairstyle you saw in a vintage magazine? You were already on your way to go get it done. You want to change your dramatic nails, even though you just got them done two days ago, because you found another style you want more? Who can deny you? It’s your world. 

Was it manifestation? Who knows. The one thing you do know is that the world hands you everything on a pure gold platter.

Popularity followed you whenever you went, but who could blame you? You were the epitome of everything sexy. From the way your rose-colored wedges beautifully complement your flawless white toes against your dark skin to how your denim mini skirts hug your curves and accentuate your figure, and your tops, or mainly bikini tops, enhance your boobs so well that they could make a grown man cry. 

Had you been an adult woman in the 90s instead of being a high-maintenance child, you might have been a star, perhaps even one of the most iconic video vixens. However, that title belongs to your momma. The OG.

She was the sought-after beauty every top rapper wanted for their music videos. From Snoop Dogg to 50 Cent, Lil Wayne to Jay Z, Biggie - she lit up screens. She even brought fire to the feud between Tupac and Biggie when she appeared in the latter’s video. You’re almost sure that lady even told you about how Pac was nearly your father before she met your dad. And you, like the little minx you were, lived up to her status.

Now, you weren’t in those modern-day rap videos of the pretty big booty woman shaking their ass on camera. Your momma raised you to have more class than that. She taught you that your ass isn’t the biggest asset you have to offer, figuratively. Your face is, the way you make people feel is, the way you seduce people is. 

That resulted in you appearing in a few music videos where the artist expressed love for someone, as those typically featured the camera focused on one girl. And that girl was you. Those got you the recognition your momma had. Those got men practically lining up to pay all your bills, those got plentiful women dying to either be you or be with you.

Your reputation preceded you; you were exceptional, operating on a different level altogether. Your complexion was flawless, your lips rich and full, and your eyes possessed a captivating allure that could weaken anyone with just one glance. You were taught to always go after the best because you are the best. 

So, what the hell was your ass doing walking around in Oakland City? Wearing your ripped undercut booty shorts, which showed more booty than shorts, along with a vintage Dior top you borrowed stole from your momma, complete with a matching purse.

Your flower sandals from Dolce & Gabbana made such a powerful tapping sound, combined with the multiple pieces of gold adorning your wrists, ears, and neck, that everyone you passed couldn’t help but look to see just who it was, and they were definitely not disappointed.

You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t dream of entering one of the most dangerous areas of your hometown without protection. Your bedazzled gold pepper spray and your fully loaded Beretta Nano 9mm pistol in your purse, itching to be used if someone tries you.

They wouldn’t dare, though. Your momma wasn’t the only legendary figure in your family. Your dad ran one of the leading crime families in all of Atlanta, dealing with heavy drugs, counterfeiting, and smuggling illegal things across borders. He was feared just as equally as he was respected. 

Messing with you? Your pops would send their family a well-decorated package with their son on a shirt. The last man that cheated on you was a prime example. You couldn’t feel bad for him, though, you did warn him.

To answer your earlier inquiry, which has been nagging at you since you parked your Toyota GR Supra Coupe at a motel five blocks away from the neighborhood, you were there to buy drugs. Weed, more specifically. You could have asked your father, but you really weren’t up for hearing his opinion on how he believes you smoke too much. So you go to the next best thing, Satoru Gojo. 

Since your dad was focused on dealing with harder drugs, he didn’t bother with substances like shrooms or anything related to weed. He considered himself too old for that and delegated the task to his second in command and your friend since birth, Satoru. You quicken your pace, heels tapping rapidly as you approach one of his many houses. You’re almost there. 

He has some of the best shit in the A, but whenever you ask him how he does it,

“I just sell it, Sis. My best friend does all the hard stuff,” 

You would always roll your pretty eyes at this because this supposed best friend he always bragged about was never around. At first, you believed he fibbed about having a best friend out of embarrassment, suspecting that you were the only one who could tolerate his antics.

But you saw glimpses, small ones. A fine leather jacket hanging off his dining room chair that you know Satoru wouldn’t wear. A motorcycle helmet standing tall on the side of his kitchen counter. Your suspicions proved unfounded as your gaze shifted to a sleek, blacked-out MTT 420 Turbine Superbike as you approached Toru’s driveway. 

You know damn well that can’t belong to Satoru. Your movements stop once you knock harshly on the door. You catch the faint sound of a random trap song playing through it. You can’t help but smile, amused by how predictably cliché this white-haired man-child can be. Trap music at a trap house.

Your smile fades as you’re met with a cold glare from a short, thick, light-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig. Studying her features further, you can’t help but acknowledge her prettiness. But the minute she opened her mouth, you were annoyed.

“And, who the fuck you is?” She snaps loudly, the gum she’s chewing matching her obnoxiousness. She’s too pretty for this.

“Girl, bye.” You push past her, causing her to stumble slightly, as you march into the house. Maybe she was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out. With your back turned to her, you catch Satoru muttering softly and glancing past you, “Don’t even try it.” 

She sucks her teeth in annoyance, slamming the door behind her as she heads back to the couch where Satoru, another man, and three other girls are seated. Wait- another man? 

You glance back at the couch again, only to steady your hands on the wall you were leaning on. Woah. This man was so fine that he almost made your legs give out on you. The fuck?

His face was so pretty. Sharp black eyes and the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a man. The wife beater he wore clung tightly to his perfect skin, so much so that you could make out that he had nipple piercings. Woah. The tattoos trailing up both of his muscular arms had you ready to remind yourself to just fucking breathe. He sported washed black Chrome Heart jeans, and the pretty cross peeking from his waistband gave it away. 

This man was looking at you, more like undressing you with his eyes. And you couldn’t look away.

“You can’t be knocking on my door like that Sis, I almost thought you were the feds.” Satoru hums, though he really wasn’t worried. He knew the feds couldn’t hold him for long; he had too much money for that. You quickly glance at him and roll your eyes. When you shift your gaze away from Toru, you turn back to the man who has yet to introduce himself to you.

As if he could read your mind, he rises from his seat, his towering height catching you off guard, and he saunters almost sensually towards where you’re standing in the kitchen. The minute he stands in front of you,

“Suguru Geto. You’re beautiful if you don’t mind me saying,” He brings a hand out to shake yours, his eyes never shifting from your brown ones. You glance down for a moment, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy when you catch sight of his immaculately clean, clear polished nails, his fingers adorned with silver rings. Lord, help you.

You give him a smile when you register his compliment, “Y/n. You’re the infamous best friend I hear so much about but never see?” You raise a brow.

Suguru swears he’s died and went to heaven when he hears your honey voice. He thinks he’s met the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on. The gold grill you have of what he remembers is the Scorpio sign confirms it. I mean, just look at you, your outfit, your jewelry, and your face. 

Suguru believes he knows himself. He knows he doesn’t like girls that do “too much,” but you make it look so good. He knows he doesn’t even have a fetish for feet. But if you told him to right now, he would drop down immediately and worship yours. He believed a goddess was walking among him when you walked through the door. 

“That’s me, the idiot doesn’t have anyone else,” He mutters. You let out the cutest laugh at his comment that makes his dick harden in his jeans. Lord, help him.

Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp behind the two of you, “Hey! I have Y/n!” You immediately retort at him, raising a finger at him. 

“Aht! No, you don’t,” You chuckle, snickering and rolling your eyes as you catch him placing a hand on his heart as if you’ve just shot him.

“Stop hogging my best friend and come get what you came for, Sis,” He waves a bag in the air, holding at least 20 grams of weed, ignoring the two girls tugging on both of his arms.

You squeal and sprint as fast as your heels allow towards where he’s seated. Suguru follows after you slowly, feeling ashamed at the way the other two girls cling to him the moment he sits down. He wants nothing to do with them, he feels almost disgusted by their presence now that you’re here. He didn’t even realize they were here when he arrived, he was only here for Satoru.

You snatch the bag from him, slip it into your purse, and then lunge toward him for a hug, knowing he’d never let you pay, of course.

“Thank you, Toru!” Naturally, he wastes no time pushing the two girls aside to embrace you. You’ve always been his top priority. Suguru finds it challenging to look away because as you hug his best friend, your curvaceous behind is directly in his line of sight. He wishes you would hug him like that.

When you straighten, “I gotta go. You guys seem busy anyway,” You quickly utter and glance at Suguru. He seemed like he was about to say something, but you interject before he can. 

“It was nice meeting you, Suguru.” You softly tell him. He might’ve just came in his pants with the way you said his name in that tone. He pauses for a moment, but before he can utter a word, you’ve already dashed out the front door.

He stills, and he turns to his lifelong best friend,

“Give me her number.”

It’s been about two hours since you arrived at your loft. You prepared yourself a nice dinner, a well-made Alfredo, before making your way to your room. You sink into the comfort of your silk sheets, retrieving your ashtray and preparing to roll up. Soft Erykah Badu playing from your Alexa Speaker. You’re interrupted by an unknown number dinging on your phone. 

Who’s this?

You smile immediately, feeling a rush of nerves as you realize he asked Satoru for your number. You're accustomed to getting what you want, and right now, you want him. You eagerly await his text, noticing that he's typing.

You observe his directness. Suguru is texting you as if he knows exactly what he wants, and if there's one thing you admire in a man, it's when he's decisive and goes after what he wants. You've already decided to smoke with him, swiftly swapping your shorts for a black Juicy Tracksuit as it got windy. You opt to play a little hard to get.

Your jaw drops at the amount he sent you for an Uber. Is he crazy? While you’ve had people send you rides to go somewhere, you can’t shake the feeling that he just wanted an excuse to send you money. You’re still reeling from the shock when he immediately sends you the address to his place afterward. You grab two rolled-up blunts and slide on a pair of kitten heels. Snatching your keys, you head out when your Uber driver arrives outside.

The drive to his place is surprisingly short, almost too short. Considering how spread out the area is, you’ve only been in the car for 15 minutes, yet you’re still in the same neighborhood. You brush it off and approach his door. As you knock, you notice Suguru’s driveway filled with three vehicles: the motorcycle you saw earlier, a Mercedes E-Class, and a sleek BMW M3. You can’t help but appreciate yet another reason you’re drawn to him.

He opens the door, and you swear you wish you could pounce on him. He’s still wearing the wife beater, and when you glance up at his face, you notice his eyes are low and red. With his hair tied up in a man bun, a few strands cascading over his face, the only thought running through your mind is... He’s so pretty.

“You started getting lit without me?” You feign surprise as he welcomes you inside. He kindly takes your keys and hangs them on the holder by his door. You could feel him staring at your ass as you move to stand beside him.

He chuckles, shaking his head at you. He reaches a hand out. “You know how Satoru is. My room?” You nod, and he shivers as your long, pretty nails brush against his hand. Was everything about you so alluring?

You follow behind him, noting how he never lets go of your hand. His room, much like his style, is entirely black. Black sheets adorn a king-sized bed, with a few rock band posters hanging above where his dressers are placed. He even has a private bathroom, the door wide open. Damn, this man even has lavender incense burning on the small desk next to his bed.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,”

Don’t mind if I do. You drop your body on his bed with a plop. You start to take off your right heel, intending to reach for the left one, only to find Suguru already kneeling down, doing it for you. When he’s done, he rubs your feet for about three long seconds before pulling away. You gasp softly, looking away from his intense gaze. Is he usually this forward?

“Uh- I rolled two. I get lip gloss on the blunt,” You sputter out, retrieving them from your purse as he stands up from his position on the floor and settles onto his pillow.

He makes a tsk sound, “Don’t play with me,” He grabs only one from your raised hand and pulls a skull lighter from his jeans pocket. As you place the other one in your purse, you watch him take the first hit. You realize he enjoys eye contact because, throughout all of his movements, his eyes never leave yours.

You’re nervous. For the first time in your life, a man has made you feel nervous. His energy makes you nervous, how he observes you with such intensity makes you nervous, and even how he feeds you the blunt after taking a few hits makes you nervous.

You’re mesmerized. The effects of the blunts hit you swiftly, altering your mind and intensifying your urge to fuck this man till he sees stars.

Suguru himself has never felt this way before. He’s had a few flings here and there and has even been in a relationship or two. But he’s never felt the need to be entirely consumed by someone. The minute he saw you, it felt like time had stopped for him; he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to give you the universe because the world is far too small for someone like you.

“You have a boyfriend?” His husky voice asks this out of respect for you. Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck less if you had a man. You’d be his either way.

“Why? You want me?” You giggle, though you knew he did, you just wanted to tease him. As you gaze up at him through the haze, your breath catches when you observe that his eyes have darkened noticeably. You recognize that expression all too well—it mirrors the one you give the camera when it’s focused on you.

He doesn’t respond or even break a smile at your inquiry. No, his eyes are fixated on your plump, glossed lips as you take another hit. You shift your thighs a little, you don’t know how long you can wait before he makes his move.

Suguru notices, and this time, his lips twitch up a bit, “And if I did?” His whisper keeps you quiet. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Suguru doesn’t mind your silence. He needs you to savor your angelic tune anyway since you’ll scream his name in a few minutes. Rising from his position, he tilts your chin towards him, his eyes catching note of the smoke in your mouth. Drawing his lips dangerously close to yours, he exhales softly,

“Let it go.” You don’t hesitate to listen to his command. It’s as if your mind is his now, the way he doesn’t even do anything to get your attention. As soon as the smoke escapes your lips, he inhales it, pressing his soft lips firmly against yours.

You whimper out at the force and immediately kiss him back. Suguru swears he’s already in love when he feels your lips reciprocate his action, the stickiness of your strawberry gloss making him release a sound that had you squeezing your thighs. He’s relentless, nipping and forcing his tongue to merge with yours.

His fervor with just a kiss leaves you reeling. The combination of the weed and his lips makes you feel intoxicated, causing you to grasp onto the fabric of his jeans to steady yourself. When he pulls away from you, it only makes you crave more.

You’re both breathing heavily, and the sound of Brent Faiyez playing on his speaker is long tuned out. He stares at your eyes briefly before gently pulling you down to lay on your back. You lean up to pull him into another passionate kiss,

“More, please.” You whine out, a little too desperate for your taste. You couldn’t understand why you wanted him so bad, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that your pussy was dripping the minute you saw him at Satoru’s place. You can tell he wants to take things slow, but you can’t find it in you to share the same feeling. You need him to do something to you, now.

He only whispers, “Patience, sweetheart.” And moves his lips down to your neck. Soft kisses fill your throat before he stops teasing and reaches for your zipper. He's not shocked to learn that you don't wear a bra; he could almost see your hard nipples through the velvet fabric of your hoodie.

Your sigh of satisfaction comes from the moment he wraps his lips around your dark areola and gently caresses the fat of your unattended boob. He starts slowly, listening to the sounds you make and observing how he can persuade you to moan louder. Your breath gets shaky when he gets more aggressive with his movement, pulling at your sensitive nipples. He decides that he wants more from you.

Suguru rasps out, “I know you want me to fuck you,” Your body feels on fire as his touch slithers down your stomach, grazing your belly ring. He lowers your tracksuit pants for you and throws them across his room, forbidding you to do anything that doesn’t include you receiving pleasure. Your body is anticipating as he continues, “But I need to prep you, or you won’t be able to take me,”

He toys with the slender strap of your thong, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on your face as he talks, “Be good and let me play with you for a bit, okay?”

Your fiery personality is well-known for not letting men dictate your actions. You’re quick to dismiss any nigga, and based on instinct, you’re almost prepared to snap: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 

By now, you should realize that Suguru observes every single move you make, every slight gesture you make, when your breath catches, and even now, he detects that you intend to snap at him. He does nothing but give you a look, a dangerous look, which only implies I dare you. Suguru orchestrates a dominance so calm but prominent that you can’t help but whimper out a quiet “Yes,”

What is he doing to you?

He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth as a reward. He’s in a trance. Suguru can’t pull his gaze away from your panties. You’re so wet that it’s clinging onto the fabric as he slowly pulls it away from your lower lips. He finds himself plunging two fingers into your wet cunt before your thong even touches your knees. Fuck, you’re tight.

“Ah- shit! Sugu!” You mewl, walls immediately clenching on his thick fingers. He quickly begins to rub circles on your twitching clit, observing as you gasp and scramble under him. You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you this, too.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Your slick is dripping all over his palm as he finger fucks you. You try to keep your moans in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your mind. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but scream out at the way his long fingers are effortlessly punishing your G-spot.

Suguru moves his fingers faster when you don’t answer him, “I asked you a question, baby.” 

Your loud whimpers can be heard over his music. How could you possibly answer? You’re already starting to blank, you’re not sure you even listened to what he said. “I- Oh fuck, Yes!” 

The sounds coming from your fat pussy is downright phonographic. The squishing, the squelching. Shit, it’s even dripping onto his bed, creating a wet stain. Fuck. Suguru doesn’t think he can take another minute without being inside you. He needs it, but he needs to make you cum first. 

He knows you’re about to, with the way your breathing is stuttering and the way there’s a white cream starting to stain his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you. You’re clenching so hard he’s not sure his dick will fit inside of you. He’ll make it fit, he’ll break your little pussy in if he has to.

Suguru leans against you, his desperate panting revealing his longing for you as he whispers in your ear, “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He fucks his fingers inside of you harder, rubbing your pretty clit even faster.

You nod eagerly, mind already reeling as you wail, “Y-Yes. I’m gonna cum, Sugu! I- Shitt,” He gently kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he’s encouraging you to accept it, to just cum all over him. And you do.

Your grip on the bottom of Suguru’s wifebeater hurts your fingers, and you arch your back off the bed while your tight walls clench once more around him. You see white spots in your blacked-out vision, and your squealing is so loud that you worry the neighbors will hear it. He doesn’t stop moving when you cum, wanting to prolong what he knows is the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. 

When you finally stop twitching in aftershock, your breathing begins to slow down, and his movements follow suit. Your panties are long gone. He swiftly pulls out of you while you’re still in a daze, making you unaware that he’s sucking up your essence from his fingers and pulling his jeans down along with his Calvin Klein briefs.

You are, however, aware when he pushes your thick brown thighs flush against your chest. And you’re even more aware when he lines his fat pink tip to your sticky lower lips. Suguru doesn’t let you see just how big he is, he directs your focus to his lips on yours. But Lord, do you fucking feel it. You feel it when he rubs up and down on your wet slit. You feel it when he pushes only his tip inside of you before he pulls back out again.

Suguru doesn’t think he can keep on teasing you like this. He tries to keep it up for your sake, but the way you feel on his tip has his body shaking; it’s almost embarrassing. But he can’t find himself to feel ashamed when you look up at him at him like that, your eyes pleading for him to fuck you into the mattress.

“I’m gonna put it in now, baby. I’m gonna fuck you real good, okay?” You’re learning, you know he wants an answer from you, and you don’t bat an eye when your trembling, honeyed voice whispers, “Whatever y-you want, Sugu.”

Whatever he wants? You probably should’ve never said that, and he’ll show you why. He pushes inside of your cunt slowly, hissing at the same time you shriek when your walls try to push him out. “Breathe,” He rasps out. And you’re trying, you’re really trying to. But he’s just so fucking big, it’s like he’s breaking your pussy in half. 

“Y-You’re too big! I can’t-” He doesn’t let you finish, he proves that you can when he pushes in halfway through your slobbering pussy. 

“Of course you can, Y/n. You’re almost there, sweetheart. One more breath for me, yeah?” 

You listen wordlessly, sucking in another deep breath. It’s inevitable to cry when he plunges the rest of his 8 and a half inches in one go. Suguru lets out a groan in your ear, and the sound makes your insides churn. How is it that he immediately finds your spongy spot? You’re so used to being briefly grazed in that spot that this feeling is foreign to you.

Suguru gives you a few seconds before your pussy starts suffocating him, and he’s forced to start feeding you with slow, deep strokes. “Jesus, fuck!” You keen, mewling, and pressing on his firm abs; the pressure was just too much for you. Are you crazy?

“None of that Y/n.” He uses his left hand to hold both of your hands and place them above your head, gently grasping your throat with his right. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, and his big cock never stops stirring up your guts at that slow pace. He gets impatient. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight. Pretty pussy is mine now, yeah? Tell me it is,” Gradual snapping of his hips against yours in a feverous tempo causes you to scramble under him, with your mind getting lost since you can’t find anything to keep you grounded. He has you altogether under his control, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset.

You don’t respond, your brain too gone to form any thought that’s not Sugu. You’ve forgotten your manners, he’ll make sure to remind you. He snaps his hips harder, he swears the cries you make almost make him cum on the spot.

“Words, Y/n. Tell me this perfect pussy is mine,” The sound of your soaked pussy filling the air as he whispers against your lips, which are permanently shaped in a perfect O.

You weep out, “Fuck! Oh, Sugu- it’s yours, all yours! I- Ah!” His face adorns with a sly smile at your confession. His body is on fire, your pussy perfectly snug around the shape of his cock. He knows he’s about to cum, with the way his insides are twisting, and his heavy balls are twitching rapidly as they slap on the fat on your ass. Your pussy is so good that he swears you’re not even from this planet. But he needs to get you there first. That’s all he needs to dump his seed inside of you.

He slithers the hand gripping your throat down to your drooling clit, rubbing so fast you think you’re having whiplash. Your cries become louder, and before you even know what’s happening, you’re covering Suguru’s entire stomach and his soft sheets with your squirt.

Suguru follows swiftly after you, letting out a sinful moan, his body trembling as he fills your pussy with his cum. It’s so much, so fucking much, that you can feel it overflowing past your stretched-out pussy. The sluggishness of his thrusts inside you causes him to let out loud breaths and drop his face in the crook of your neck.

Your eyes are still stuck on the ceiling above you, shallow breaths emerging from your sore throat. Woah.

The long-haired man above you is still panting and giving you another command, making it difficult for you to process what just happened to you.

“On your stomach, sweetheart.”

This time, you remember your manners.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #27

July 12-19 2024

President Biden announced the cancellation of $1.2 billion dollars worth of student loan debt. This will cancel the debt of 35,000 public service workers, such as teachers, nurses, and firefighters. This brings the total number of people who've had their student debt relived under the Biden Administration to 4.8 million or one out of every ten people with student loan debt, for a total of $168.5 billion in debt forgiven. This came after the Supreme Court threw out an earlier more wide ranging student debt relief plan forcing the administration to undertake a slower more piecemeal process for forgiving debt. President Biden announced a new plan in the spring that will hopefully be finalized by fall that will forgive an additional 30 million people's student loan debt.

President Biden announced actions to lower housing coasts, make more housing available and called on Congress to prevent rent hikes. President Biden's plan calls for landlords who raise the rent by more than 5% a year to face losing major important tax befits, the average rent has gone up by 21% since 2021. The President has also instructed the federal government, the largest land owner in the country, to examine how unused property can be used for housing. The Bureau of Land Management plans on building 15,000 affordable housing units on public land in southern Nevada, the USPS is examining 8,500 unused properties across America to be repurposed for housing, HHS is finalizing a new rule to make it easier to use federal property to house the homeless, and the Administration is calling on state, local, and tribal governments to use their own unused property for housing, which could create approximately 1.9 million units nationwide.

The Department of Transportation announced $5 billion to replace or restore major bridges across the country. The money will go to 13 significant bridges in 16 states. Some bridges are suffering from years of neglect others are nearly 100 years old and no longer fit for modern demands. Some of the projects include the I-5 bridge over the Columbia River which connects Portland Oregon to Vancouver Washington, replacing the Sagamore Bridge which connects Cape Cod to the mainland built in 1933, replacing the I- 83 South Bridge in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Cape Fear Memorial Bridge Replacement Project in Wilmington, North Carolina, among others.

President Biden signed an Executive Order aimed at boosting Latino college attendance. The order established the White House Initiative on Advancing Educational Equity, Excellence, and Economic Opportunity through Hispanic-Serving Institutions. Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs) are defined as colleges with 25% or above Hispanic/Latino enrollment, currently 55% of Hispanic college students are enrolled in an HSI. The initiative seeks to stream line the relationship between the federal government and HSIs to allow them to more easily take advantage of federal programs and expand their reach to better serve students and boost Hispanic enrollment nationwide.

HUD announced $325 million in grants for housing and community development in 7 cities. the cities in Tennessee, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Nevada, New York and New Jersey, have collectively pledged to develop over 6,500 new mixed-income units, including the one-for-one replacement of 2,677 severely distressed public housing units. The 7 collectively will invest $2.65 billion in additional resources within the Choice Neighborhood area – so that every $1 in HUD funds will generate $8.65 in additional resources.

President Biden took extensive new actions on immigration. On June 18th The President announced a new policy that would allow the foreign born spouses and step children of American citizens who don't have legal status to apply for it without having to leave the country, this would effect about half a million spouses and 50,000 children. This week Biden announced that people can start applying on August 19, 2024. Also in June President Biden announced an easing of Visa rules that will allow Dreamers, Americans brought to the country as children without legal status, to finally get work visas to give them legal status and a path way to citizenship. This week the Biden Administration announced a new rule to expand the federal TRIO program to cover Dreamers. TRIO is a program that aims to support low income students and those who would be the first in their families to go to college transition from high school to college, the change would support 50,000 more students each year. The Administration also plans to double the number of free immigration lawyers available to those going through immigration court.

The EPA announced $160 million in grants to support Clean U.S. Manufacturing of Steel and Other Construction Materials. The EPA estimates that the manufacturing of construction materials, such as concrete, asphalt, steel, and glass, accounts for 15% of the  annual global greenhouse gas emissions. The EPA is supporting 38 projects aimed at measuring and combatting the environmental impact of construction materials.

The US announced $203 million in humanitarian assistance for the people of Sudan. Sudan's out of control civil war has caused the largest refugee crisis in the world with 11 million Sudanese having fled their homes in the face of violence. The war is also causing the gravest food crisis in the world, with a record setting 25 million people facing acute food insecurity, and fears that nearly a million will face famine in the next months. This aid brings the total aid the US has given Sudan since September 2023 to $1.6 billion, making America the single largest donor to Sudan.

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau put forward a new rule that would better regulate popular paycheck advance products. 2/3rds of workers are payed every two weeks or once a month and since 2020 the number of short term loans that allow employees to receive their paycheck days before it’s scheduled to hit their account has grown by 90%. the CFPB says that many of these programs are decided with employers not employees and millions of Americans are paying fees they didn't know about before signing up. The new rule would require lenders to tell costumers up front about any and all fees and charges, as well as cracking down on deceptive "tipping" options.

[pedgito]

ORBIT YOU ⋆⭒˚.⋆ CHAPTER FOUR: VENUS

↝ series masterlist | joel miller masterlist | full masterlist

summary — joel gets injured and both of you have some startling realizations in the process of looking after him.

author's note — the two chapters following this will be a little delayed, editing them has been a little tiring but they will be coming i swear! this is a lengthy one, i hope that makes up for it.

content warning — 18+ MDNI, dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), more openness on joel's behalf, some fluff, joel gets injured at work, devious actions by reader, some subtle domesticity, somnophilia (dubcon-ish), oral (m receiving), panic attacks, family drama, loss of virginity, protected piv

word count — 10k

Joel wasn’t handling the girls’ short-lived vacation as well as he liked to think.

It was always hard when they left.

When they hug and Joel helps them pack the car, it’s emotional.

It never got easier; letting them go. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Joel admits when they’ve pulled off down the street and turned the corner, always vehemently aware of his surroundings when he pulls you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your head—to an outsider, it was a sweet moment between a supposed father and daughter.

Yet, you were anything but.

Still, you pulled him in close and rocked with the gentle sway of his body.

“You thought about going home at all?” Joel asks randomly, feeling you pull away in an instant, “Oh, sweetheart—I’m not tryin’—this ain’t me hintin’ at nothing, I was just curious…”

His voice trailed off, leaving an air of tension hanging between you.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and there was an unspoken understanding that lingered just beneath the surface, "I’m more comfortable here with you and Tommy than I ever have been there," you replied quietly,

Joel's gaze flickered down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, the world outside faded away. You wished he kissed you more—or, at all, “Good,” he said, almost too softly, his voice unlike him.

His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at you, suddenly serious, “Didn’t realize how lonely this place was without you,” he confessed, his fingers brushing against your arm in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine, “always keepin’ me on my damn toes,”

You had a freakily precise timing that Joel would never understand.

He’s been on the receiving end of your quiet laughs and smiles when you catch him showering in the middle of the night after a long shift at work, wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water or a snack, waking up with a mission.

Joel was still careful with Tommy around, keeping his distance as much as possible when he was around, unwilling to be at the receiving end of a lecture from a man who did nothing but make mistakes in his life up until about five years ago.

Joel wasn’t sure what changed, but something did.

You’ve been job searching for a few weeks, coming up empty-handed.

Joel has always reassured you that there wasn’t a rush, or a necessity for it, really.

He owned his own company, lived off a cushy, comfortable salary and knew how to save—it was exactly why both of his girls’ colleges were completely paid for while you had lucked out on a full ride, knowing that any debt would ultimately be your responsibility. 

But, you do get bored while he’s away when you’re not out trying to get interviews or run a few errands that the brother’s would never do for themselves—and one morning, Joel makes the fatal mistake of leaving his phone on the counter as he and Tommy drove to the store to grab a new stock of coffee beans.

He had work in thirty minutes and he’s kept his distance incredibly well since your birthday, aside from the occasional glance or touch of his fingers when he passed by, only distant memories to satiate the hunger that was no longer lying dormant.

You could shower quick, be done before he even returned, but you decidedly take your time, propping his phone up against wall behind the sink and the faucet and pressed record on his camera, leaving the curtain pushed back just a sliver as you went about your normal shower routine for the first half of the video.

The second half is entirely different, the suds from the soap foaming around your tits as you washed your skin, squeezing for a show as your thumbs dragging over your nipples before you were dragging a curious hand between your thighs, head thrown back as the stream of water cascaded over your body, moans of pleasure escaping your lips as you continued to tease yourself, the camera capturing every breathless gasp and shudder as you brought yourself closer to the edge. The warmth between your legs intensified, and you couldn't help but imagine it was Joel's hands instead of your own. You knew exactly what they felt like, closing your eyes to picture it. It’s not long before you’re crying out at the mere thought of him touching you.

After drying up, you carefully cleaned up any evidence that you had been messing with his phone, closing out of any apps and placing it back on the counter exactly where you had found it, remaining blissfully ignore as both of the men return as you were making your own breakfast, damp hairing drying over your shoulders as Joel glances at you, a full body stare.

He was oblivious, obviously.

It felt like revenge for the restraint he was still attempting to show, but a sweet treat to surprise him before the end of the day, knowing undoubtedly you would get under his skin about it.

–

His actual day of work starts fine—he moves through his normal routine, but stopped at a newer site to check on the progress, walking alone around the property, minding his step around the pile of equipment scattered around, reaching into his back pocket for his phone as he meant to pull up his camera to take a picture of the progress so far, mistakenly opening up his gallery instead.

It was mostly normal, pictures and videos he recognized because he had taken them—but instinctively he scrolls to the bottom, spotting one video he knows he had no involvement in and definitely no knowledge of and his heart raced as the thumbnail caught his eye, your silhouette recognizable even within the confines of the small square.

 Joel's breath hitched, the gentle pulse of adrenaline coursing through him as he pressed play, the sound of water mixing with soft breaths filling his ears, quickly turning down the volume even though he was alone.

The sight was intoxicating—a perfect blend of innocence and deviance.

He was completely captivated as you washed your body, each movement deliberate, showcasing curves he’d spent too much time tracing with his fingers. The moment you dragged your hands over your breasts, his pulse quickened and he took a step, attempting to head back to his truck, picture forgotten.

But, he’s distracted.

It was stupid—easily avoidable.

Joel has enough reaction time to curl his body in and land on his ass rather than his face, phone coming out unscathed, but the warmth that spreads in his knee is almost immediate.

He exclaims in pain, knowing almost instantly that he had tweaked something in his knee–not that it was serious, but at his age, it wasn’t going to come and go overnight.

Joel, despite his annoyance with his slip-up and distraction, still follows protocol.

Though, you were an issue to deal with later.

He’s insistent that he’s fine despite the obvious limp and as stubborn as he is, his HR team doesn’t press him to go through the process of seeing a doctor but rather than he rests for at least a week after much back and forth of how it wasn’t an issue with the workplace being insane but rather Joel’s own incompetence that morning.

They relent without a ton of fight.

And you’re typing away quietly on your laptop when he comes through the door, a surprising sight married with the fact he was clearly in pain and also grimacing, eyes locked on you with a look of knowing.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, slamming close and tossing your laptop aside, immediately at his side, “are you okay?”

“M’fine,” he gripes, hands tucking under the edge of his shirt to shift it down subconsciously, but you spot the fresh scrapes that have you stopping him dead, hand pressing against his chest.

“Did you fall?” you ask curiously, “Trip?”

His face flushes slightly and you crowd him against the wall, shoving his shirt up, ignorant to the way he was staring at you, eyes following your careful movements as your fingers graze his hips, just above his belt.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “saw….the video,” he admits, your eyes widening for a second before a smile forms and the faintest hint of a laugh that was, undoubtedly, poor timing, “I mighta tripped over some equipment ‘cause of it,”

“Oh my—” you giggle, “I’m so—I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d find it until later while you were on lunch,”

“Where the hell did you find the time?” Joel asks, looking incredulously at you.

“You left your phone here this morning,” you say defensively but playful, “and I’m a little…touch starved and I was tryin’ to be more careful this time around, figured this was smarter….”

“Touch starved?” Joel asks, eyes widening for a moment as your hands seem to drift away and he carefully pushes his shirt down, “I touch you plenty.”

“Not how I want you to,” you argue and Joel goes rather quiet, wincing as he pushes away from the wall, “hey—no, just sit down,”

Fortunately, he doesn’t argue. 

“I wouldn’t have done that if I knew you were gonna get hurt,” you remind him, arm circling his bicep as help guide him onto the couch.

“It ain’t your fault, not really,” Joel admits, “I saw it, knew what was goin’ on, but I watched it anyways—work has me on light duty for a week, so I’m working from home and takin’ calls until I can go back,”

You’re still eyeing him wearily and Joel chuckles to ease your worry.

“I got a shit knee and some scrapes,” Joel explains, “I’ll take some painkillers and rest while I can, alright? You don’t need to waste your time worryin’ about me,”

There’s a stretch of silence as you look at him before he interrupts, quietly unbuckling his belt to release the tension on his waist, a gesture that isn’t sexual at all but has your eyes locked on the sight and Joel knows, so he speaks.

“How’s the job searchin’ going?” He asks.

“Uh, no luck,” you admit, “I worked one job serving coffee through college and I’ve been holding out for an internship but those are few and far between—I don’t have enough experience yet, I guess,”

“You know, I don’t mind giving you a spot up at the company,” Joel admits, “I could use a secretary, someone to handle the paperwork and day to day stuff for me while I’m out—could you handle that?”

“I can handle you,” you tease, cheek resting against your fist where it was propped against the back of the couch and Joel chuckles at that but looks away, down at the frayed spot in his jeans where he fell, “no—no, I wanna try and do this on my own, okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel nods, “jus’ if you need a fallback, I’m right here,”

You offer a warm smile and lean forward, noticing the way his eyes track to your lips only hesitating briefly before he nods, barely, his hand rising to cup your face as you kiss him softly, soaking in the way his lips part with a coffee tainted breath, losing yourself only long enough to feel him pushing you away, wincing slightly in pain.

“Fuck, hold on,” you tell him, holding up a quick finger before you’re sprinting off to somewhere unknown—Joel leans over his shoulder to see you disappearing around the corner and down the hall, coming back a few minutes later with a noise attached, pills rattling in a bottle held out to him as you return, “take two—I’ll grab you a glass of water,”

He listens dutifully, catching the bottle you toss at him before you grab him the glass of water, watching him place the pills on his tongue before he washes them down, offering a quiet thank you as you return to your spot beside him, though keeping your distance from his fresh injuries.

“We’re not tellin’ the girls about this,” Joel says, “it’ll only worry ‘em,”

“How are you gonna explain it to Tommy?”

“Already did,” Joel answers, “I just told him I tripped, nothin’ about it.”

You find yourself laughing again, a quiet chuckle as you attempt to stifle it with the back of your hand.

“You’re eatin’ this shit up,” Joel realizes, “ain’t you?”

“I mean, you could say that,” you reply, your voice teasing, letting a playful smirk curl on your lips, “not ‘cause you’re hurt but I like seeing you—what’s the word—embarrassed?”

“I ain’t embarrassed,” Joel defends.

“Oh?” You press, tilting your head to look at him.

“I appreciate the…gesture,” Joel tells you, switching topics as a means to avoid the conversation, “are you gonna make me delete this one?”

You crack a wide smile and shake your head, “All yours,” you say, hands held up.

–

Joel was capable, but he finds himself helpless under your care.

During your job search, in and out as the days begin to pass, you’re always there whenever Joel needs it, even without asking. 

Coffee brewed and ready before he was out of bed, medicine set aside if the pain was particularly harder on his body that morning, scattered paperwork from the night before stacked up and separated accordingly, a clear distinction in the way Joel went about his life.

He was focused, but scattered. He could take on a heavy workload, manage through his days with little sleep and running on mostly fumes, but you had unknowingly relieved some of that weight for him.

You bring make him lunch unprompted, even if it was mostly sandwiches or whatever you could scrounge up with what was left in his kitchen before you finally cave and tell him to make you a list, going on a hefty grocery run to stop giving him and Tommy the excuse to order out or skip meals altogether.

It was a rhythm that Joel falls into easily, without even realizing.

In your mind, it only seemed fair.

You were taking up space in his home, living there without an expectation of anything in return, and by the pinched look in his face, you could tell he was clearly hurting, even as the week stretched on.

“Do you have any vacation time saved up?” you ask curiously, handing over his glasses that he had wordlessly asked for, already knowing, he smiles slightly as he pries them from your grip.

“I do,” Joel admits, typing up a lengthy email as you leaned over the back of the couch he was set up on, his sleep-mussed hair curling and framing his face in a way that forced you to keep some distance, wanting to run your fingers through it, “I know what you’re gonna say—I’m gettin’ better, I’m on the mend,”

“Yeah, but,” you shrug, chewing at the inside of your cheek, “you’re not really resting now. You’re still working, from the time you wake and go to bed you’re either on the phone or you’re writing emails—I just think you deserve a real break, no work. You’ve got plenty of help, don’t you?”

Joel nods, looking up at you sparingly between words typed out slowly on his laptop, “Sure this ain’t jus’ you tryin’ to keep me to yourself?”

“You like it,” you counter him, “admit it—I’m good at keepin’ up with you,”

Joel chuckles and nods in defeat, “It ain’t easy, but you’re doin’ a good job,”

You smile at that, wider than he’s seen.

The praise.

Always the praise.

Joel shifts slightly and closes his laptop, silently making room for you on the couch with a slight wince and sharp pain that strikes through his knee, masked by him clearing his throat.

Selfishly, you sift your fingers through his hair anyways, finding the urge unavoidable as you sit with him, brush the few stray curls hanging down his forehead back, stopping as you curve around his ear and Joel’s doesn’t even flinch.

It was relaxing, admittedly. 

His eyes close for a brief second before you feel his own unoccupied hand settle against your knee—touch for touch and neither of you had any qualms about it, not that you would.

“There’s this thing called burnout,” you begin and Joel scoffs in amusement, “I think you’ve been bordering that line for a while, s’all I’m saying,”

He laughs at that, like you’ve caught him, “Alright, alright,” he concedes, letting his hand extend further up your thigh, “I’ll take a break, ‘bout time I took one anyways,”

“Good—plus, you’ve got me here to take care of you,” you say, satisfied as your fingers trailer around the bump of his collarbone and against the rumpled fabric of his shirt, “so, how’s the knee?”

“Hurts,” Joel admits, “but I’m not complainin’—got a nice view and a pretty girl helpin’ me out,”

If anyone else had asked him to take a break, he wasn’t sure if he could commit himself to it.

Everyone knew Joel was a workaholic and that it helped keep him distracted, even if he lacked taking care of himself as a result, starting to feel the weight of his age with how slowly his body was healing, not as forgiving when he was in his late twenties and chasing the girls around the house without care.

He could manage, but there wasn’t the urgency without anyone else around, knowing he had more than capable hands at his disposal. 

You. 

A distraction, but a welcomed one.

Joel knew this was your escape, aware of the avoidance you were actively pursuing in his house and away from your father—he’s been doing most of the same as much possible, unable to face your father for longer than a few minutes before he’s struck with the thought of a good friend’s daughter spread out on his bed, moaning his name with the same voice that used to come crying to him when the yelling had become too much.

He’s struggling, still—but he's also trying.

“What time is it?” Joel asks curiously, hiding a yawn behind his fist.

“Shoulda been dinner an hour ago,” you admit, “you hungry?”

Joel’s eyes roam instinctually, giggling softly as your hands press into the cushion between your thigh, breasts pressed together as you rock forward toward him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips that is welcome with a similar laugh as you carefully work yourself over Joel’s lap, careful to avoid his injured knee and gasp at how tightly his hands grip your hip, quick to ravish your skin whenever you’re settled against him, hands twisting into his hair as he mouths at your chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you sigh, hearing Joel hum in response.

“M’just tryin’ to thank ya,” Joel explains, “been doin’ so much for me and won’t let me say thank you—figured you wouldn’t say nothin’ when I gotcha like this,”

Joel seems satisfied with your silence as his hand curves around the back of your neck and brings you closer, one kiss against your neck, “Thank you,” slower, his lips drag against your jaw and to your lips, “such a sweet girl,” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling away to peer at your awestruck gaze, enraptured by his words.

“You—you’re welcome,” you answer softly, noticing Joel glance briefly at his watch before cursing, comforting you with a gentle squeeze to your hip, “what—what is it?”

“Tommy should be here any minute,” Joel admits, his voice low and tinged with annoyance.

You couldn’t help but feel a wave of disappointment at the interruption, 

“Can’t we just—” you started, pulling back slightly to gauge his reaction, the need to push boundaries was intoxicating, and Joel had been increasingly more susceptible lately.

“Sweetheart,” Joel warns and you slump in his lap slightly, tapping your finger silently against his shoulder as the gears and cogs in your brain turn, “alright—spit it out,”

“How do you feel about surprises?” you ask earnestly, still seated comfortably in Joel’s lap.

“Ain’t much of a fan,” Joel admits, “if I’m bein’ honest. Why?”

“But, if it was from me?” you push the conversation further, curious.

“Then I might be in trouble,” Joel replies quieter, hearing the roar of Tommy’s truck coming up the street, his thumb brushed against your hip bone and pushing, understanding his silent plea as you gentle move off of him, “If you got somethin’ planned, I’ll make an exception, just…nothin’ reckless, alright?”

“Hey, I’m reformed,” you promise, hands held up in surrender as you hear the truck cut dead and walk aimlessly toward the kitchen before pausing to add, “sort of—not really,”

“Thin ice, sweetheart,” Joel warns playfully, though there is a hint of seriousness lingering under his tone, your conversation cutting short as Tommy walks through the door, none the wiser.

It was easy to forget that small world you and Joel had created within his home, within the past few months, floating around in a galaxy entirely its own. 

It had become nearly impenetrable, even as Tommy tied his brother up in a lengthy conversation about work, his eyes still lingered on you while Tommy remained amiss.

Joel wasn’t just hungry, he was insatiable.

–

Yet, he wouldn’t act on it.

Joel did make the arrangements that night, though—allowing himself the break he desperately needed but refused to give himself, but with a gentle nudge from you, he had caved.

The hold you had over him was unexplainable, perplexing, even.

So, he hated surprises—he did.

But, you were positive this one would be welcomed.

He’s slept soundly, the constant noise from his overhead fan humming alongside the monotone buzz of the house, creeping into his room during the early morning hours while Tommy was asleep upstairs in his own room and you were tossing and turning, fidgeting with a restless that wouldn’t subside.

You’d been thinking about him most of the night—all day, if you were honest.

Not just him, or his voice, but every part of him.

The heft of his hands and his callouses, his naturally strong grip that squeezed into the squishy flesh of your thighs, a chest so broad and wide it didn’t seem real, sturdy shoulders to keep you anchored, but his cock—

You’ve only seen him like that once, up close since the night at the picnic table, the actions rushed and adrenaline fueled under the shade of moonlight, otherwise across a screen and miles away.

You couldn't shake the thoughts, the fantasies that had unfurled in your mind since that moment, and as you lay there in the stillness of his room, you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. Unfulfilled desire, drowning in a pool of forbidden taboo.

This was all still a secret—and more inevitably, fleeting.

A blip. A summer fling.

You both would go on with your lives and laugh about it later, surely.

It was stupid and reckless, but you found your feet pushing forward without thinking.

He’s always slept heavy, not even a flinch or a groan on the mornings when you would arrive to babysit the girls while he was still sleeping, squeals and giggles filling the quiet home.

The comforter is bunched at his waist, tanned and broad shoulders on display as his hands were stuffed under his pillow, spotting the splotchy bruise on his knee that was beginning to heal alongside the marred skin and the peek of his boxers that was visible with the shift of the blanket as he rolled halfway to his back, favoring his left side as his right hand moved to rest against his bare stomach.

He looked peaceful but vulnerable in sleep, a sight that tugged at your chest and held your heart in a vice grip, leaning the weight of your knees into the bed testingly.

He doesn’t even stir.

There was something else there, though—something primal that gnawed at your gut.

You wanted him awake—overtaken by desire, but with your mouth wrapped around him, and more specifically, his cock.

You gently pry the comforter away, left with thin sheets that outline his hips and legs.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you rested on your calves, one hand pressing into the mattress as the other slid over his soft cock, toying gently with the waistband of his boxers, watching his eyes scrunch tightly for a second.

You freeze, chest tight, but eventually he relaxes.

Though, not everything.

His cock twitches under your palm, squeezing the length of him even while your hand can’t encompass it, far larger than most men you’ve encountered. If any, painfully aware of how inexperienced you were with this aspect of your life.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you squeeze him through his shorts, eyebrow creasing to match his expression as he flattens himself out on his back, pausing your movements as you quickly pull your hand away, his other hand joining the one already laid out on his stomach.

 You studied him carefully, the way his body responded to you even in sleep. 

Carefully, you climbed between his spread legs and leaned down, pressing your lips softly against his inner thigh—just a teasing brush of your lips, barely there. Joel stirred again, a low groan rumbling from deep within him as his body reacted instinctively, muscles tensing and shifting against the sheets.

The effect you had on him was obvious, even in his slumber.

With some trepidation,you slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Your breath hitched as your fingertips grazed against the silken skin below his navel and the patch of hair that trailed down to the base of his cock, your heart racing in tandem with his own, feeling the rapid pulse near his femoral. 

Joel shifted slightly again as a groan escaped his lips and you took it as permission.

Carefully, you pulled the waistband of his boxers down until they were tucked underneath his balls, looking full and heavy and your mouth waters at the sight of him, watching as his cock bobbed up against his stomach.

Your mouth comes first, gentle kisses against his thighs that led to his groan, presses your lips against his cock from base to shaft and down against, your nose nestled into the trimmed patch of hair that smelled of fresh body wash from his shower the night prior but also so distinctly him.

You couldn't help but admire the size of him, heat pooling between your legs as you took in every inch of him, committing the image to memory. Joel groaned again, this time more awake than sleep, but he didn't open his eyes. 

Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching the sheets.

Maybe he was dreaming?

You gently took him into your mouth, just the head at first, using your tongue to glide over the slit before you took him an inch further, further, curious of how much of him you could fit into your mouth until it was too much, easily leaving another inch of untouched skin.

You savored the taste of him, salty but delectable, along with the way his hips bucked involuntarily in response. It spurred you further, bobbing your head slowly, a confidence that grew with every moan that left his lips. 

You’ve only attempted this once or twice, all fumbling hands and over much quicker than you would have preferred, but Joel was practiced. He was older, wiser—and he had plenty to offer.

The way he groaned sent a surge of exhilaration through you, as you took him deeper, lips gliding over the soft skin of his shaft matched with your tongue, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock that stopped just below the head.

 Each flick of your tongue coaxed more from him—moans and groans and you felt his body respond in ways that made you ache, begging to be filled in other ways.

“Jesus,” Joel’s voice was rough, thick with sleep that barely broke the haze of his slumber but held enough awareness to pull at the edges of his consciousness, blinking himself awake.

You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his eyes finally fluttered open, a mix of confusion and lust flooding his features as he realized what you were doing, head rising for a moment before ultimately falling back against the pillow as you pointedly took him in your mouth again while he looked at you, his mouth parting in a silent gasp.

“Surprise,” you smirk with a cheeky expression when you pop up from his cock, licking your bottom lip.

“You’re killin’ me,” he began, but then his breath hitched as your lips wrapped tighter around him and his hand found its way to the back of your head, twisting in the strands of your hair as his thighs tensed. 

You could see the struggle in his expression—the want and need battling with surprise and concern, wondering if he had somehow coerced you into doing this.

“Just let me,” you mumble quietly, “I want to,”

The rhythm you settled into was intoxicating. 

Each pass of your mouth sends ripples of pleasure through him, watching his stomach clench when the head of his cock pressed against the back of your throat, hearing you gag slightly as you pull away, breathless.

You felt every reaction, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your ministrations, the quiet groans spilling from his lips encouraging you to go further, take him deeper.

“Goddamn,” he groaned thickly, voice raspy from sleep still but his gaze locked onto you, heavy-lidded but sharp with awareness. “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart,”

If it wasn’t the praise that did it—it was the fucked out expression on his face, eyes drifting toward the ceiling against and shut as his hand rested against the back of your head, not guiding or pushing, allowing you full control over him as you bobbed your head at a quicked pace, swirling your tongue over the head of his cock until he was releasing a string of curses that only meant one thing.

Without thinking, your tongue flattens against his head despite his weak urgency to push you away, “Shit,” he curses, “you ain’t got—gotta—”

You shake your head in defiance as he groans, his jaw going tight as he came with a pinched expression, his hand instinctively wrapping around his cock as he jerked it into your mouth, the strings of cum painting your tongue as you looked up at him endearingly.

You met his gaze with a wide smile, emboldened by his reaction.

“Good morning,” you teased lightly as you swallowed down the heady taste of him, your breath warm against his skin, slowly crawling up his body until your hips were positioned over his groin, his cock softening against his stomach as Joel looked up you with an indecipherable gaze, almost awestruck.

This ain’t love, he thinks.

It couldn’t be, not with you.

But, damn was it close.

“Sure is,” He groans, but with a stretch to wake his body, “s’that what you were bein’ all coy about yesterday? Planning to sneak into my room like that?”

You shrug, “Didn’t seem like you were complaining,”

“I’m not,” He shakes his head slightly, his mouth forming into a slight frown of indifference that quickly cracks into a smile.

“I’m going out today,” you tell him, resting gently against his stomach, his hands reaching for your hips without thinking, “...lunch, with my dad,”

Joel’s eyebrows raise, “Oh?”

“I was going to spring it on him later,” you shrug, “I’m trying to make an effort, I guess.”

“Don’t know if he deserves much of it,” Joel admits, “but I think it’ll be good for you,”

“And,” you press your finger into his chest, “I’ve got an interview at the diner on Springview—the pay isn’t great but the hours are good and it’ll help hold me over, I can even pay you for letting me stay here—”

“You’re outta your damn mind,” Joel interjects and you scoff in amusement, “I don’t need your money, sweetheart. You’re welcome here whenever you need it, free of charge.”

“Are you only saying that because we’re,” you pause, trying to decipher what it actually was that you two were doing, “like…you know,” Joel watches your head spin with ways to explain, but you fall short, tapping your thumb against his chest idly, “...doing this?”

“You’ve done more for me than I’ll ever be able to repay you for,” Joel admits, “you’ve covered my ass with the girls more times than I can count, helped ‘em stay outta trouble, I don’t forget that,”

You nod despite the emptiness that spreads in your chest, unsure why.

Something was missing here—but you weren’t quite sure what it was.

–

Lunch was…fine.

When you asked your father, he seemed more eager than usual.

But, the conversation, while inevitable, was awkward.

“Joel treatin’ you alright?” Your father asked randomly as your food had arrived.

“What—” you crease at your initial reaction, confusing what your father meant for the fear that swarmed in your chest, “oh, yeah—they’re always hospitable, you know? Joel and Tommy are good company,”

“I got your room all cleared,” he tells you, “I’d love to have you for the rest of the summer,”

“I’ve really settled at the Miller’s,” you admit, “not—not that I don’t want to,”

It was just the truth. You were more comfortable there for the time being then home.

“But, comin’ around more,” you suggest, “I’d be alright with that,”

There was a distinct reason why you didn’t come home last summer, avoidant of your father’s harmful tendencies to fall back into his old ways—the drinking, the filth, the sweltering and suffocation guilt that ate away at you when you knew there wasn’t much you could do to help.

When he was good, he was really good. But, when he was bad, it was low.

“And I’m sorry ‘bout your birthday,” he offers, “your mother really did a number on me,”

It seemed like a half-assed excuse for his own forgetfulness or lack of caring but you disregard it for the moment, attempting to have a cordial meal without issue.

“Why do you still have her things?” you ask cautiously, “I thought you said she took everything,”

“She’s been meanin’ to come pick the rest of it up,” your dad slips, “but, uh—”

“Do you still talk to her?” your head tilts, suddenly confused, “Dad she cheated on you for years, she tried getting with your best friend, don’t tell me that—”

“Wait, Joel?” he interjects, holding his hand up to stop your rambling, reiterating, “Joel?”

You realized that was private information, something that Joel had shared with you in confidence. 

Fuck.

“Tried,” you emphasized, “he didn’t want anything to do with her, you know that,”

“How’d you come to find this out?” he pries, suddenly less interested in his meal.

“It—he mentioned it a while back,” you explain, “I mean, he is the one that caught mom,”

It was clear that Joel had overstepped somewhere, the way your father’s face goes cold.

“Dad, I asked him to tell me what happened,” you explain, “you’ll barely talk about it.”

“Is that what you two like to talk about?” your dad snarks surprisingly, catching you off-guard.

You’re dumbstruck, shaking your head in confusion.

“My failed marriage, how terrible I’ve been with you,” he begins, feeling the spiral build and threatening to explode, “He ain’t your dad, you know that? Don’t you?”

Frankly, you were well fucking aware of that fact.

“I’m not doing this,” you quickly snip, “I should’ve known you can’t have a single conversation with me without immediately getting defensive—”

“Now that ain’t what this is,” he defends, “I outta give him a piece of mind, though—shouldn’t have to think about your mom in that way, even if she—”

“She tried me like shit, treated you like shit,” you retort, “Joel only told me because I asked,”

“Still, that isn’t his business,” He continues and you scoff, laughing.

“You never believed when I told you,” you shoot back at him, “when I saw it happening,”

“I just figured you were…mad at her,” your father explained, “you two were always fighting,”

“What do I gain from that?” you ask, “How do I benefit in that situation?”

Your father grows silent as he fishes into his wallet to cover the tab as you quickly fetch your things, “Why do you think I spent so much time at Joel’s?”

Your father doesn’t answer, awaiting your answer with a disgruntled expression.

“I feel safe there,” you admit, “half the time you and mom wouldn’t even notice I had left because you were too busy arguing. Joel was there for me when neither of you were,”

They still weren’t, not really.

“Honey,” your father begins but you shake your head.

���I’m not mad,” you quickly interject, “I’m tired of being upset. But, I’m not coming home,”

He didn’t have much of a choice, sliding the wad of cash onto the table with a somber, darkened expression. It wasn’t up for debate—you weren’t a kid anymore, your decisions were entirely your own.

Thankfully, you survived the lunch mostly unscathed aside from a few simmering emotions.

But, the drive home was even more awkward.

–

Joel senses it the moment you walk through the door.

He’d spent the day on his leg, trying to recover some of his strength as he stood over his laptop, typing out an email despite your orders otherwise, looking increasingly guilty as your sour expressions turned softer, slowly making your way toward him as he shut the laptop.

Silently, you pluck his glasses from his nose and stare at him pointedly.

Joel was struck with a feeling.

It scared him, his expression going from relaxed to tight, concerned.

He remembers it from his younger years, fresh into his twenties with a baby on the way.

When he had met Sarah’s mom, he figured she would be the one.

She should have been—Joel tried his hardest to make it work, but it just…didn’t.

It had been thirties years since he’s felt that yearning that was so distinct in his chest, his heart fluttering like a teenager with the way you looked straight through him—almost like you were seeing within him, your eyes scanning his face with a soft smile that you used as an attempt to hide whatever was bothering you.

But, Joel could see through you too.

His hand slides up to cup your cheek, feeling you relax instantly into his touch.

“What happened?”

It shouldn’t have broken you, but it did.

Joel could recount the times you’ve come to him when you were younger, sobbing and speaking something incoherent, tumbling toward the beginnings of a panic attack. He’d always been good at coming you down, but he was also good at listening.

“I have this feeling,” you admit, sniffling through silent tears.

He’d eventually guided you toward the couch, letting you cry for a long while before you finally found the courage to speak, both of you sat on opposite ends of the couch but staring intently at one another.

“I think he and my mom might be talking,” you begin, “or—that she might be trying to manipulate her way back,”

“She’s real good at that,” Joel agrees, watching as his fingers curl around your ankle, rubbing at the sensitive skin there—you hadn’t realized how frequent his touches have become over the time you’ve spent back home, and it was so mundane, but it brought you a comfort only Joel could provide, “but your father was tore up about the whole situation, I don’t see him forgiving that easy, not after how nasty the divorce was,”

It was fueled by greed and something you wanted no part in.

“Like I said, just a feeling,” you shrug, focusing on your hands that tremble in your lap.

Joel notices it instantly.

“C’mere,” he beckons, motioning with his hands for you to move forward.

You hesitate briefly before taking a breath and deciding to move, immediately met with his hands against your cheeks, fingers covering your ears to deafen the world around you while his thumbs drifted over your eyelids and you allowed them to drift close.

“Don’t let it in,” Joel reminds you, his voice soft and dull, but comforting.

It wasn’t the first time he’s guided you through a panic attack, but the weight of his hands felt different—it was difficult to explain, but as he spoke to you, the world went quiet.

He presses his lips to your head and pulls you into his chest.

You melt instantly.

“What’re we doing?” You ask suddenly, a loaded question that earns a pained chuckle from Joel.

“Sweetheart, I ain’t got the answer to that,” Joel admits.

Neither of you can pinpoint who moved first, but the second you tilt your head up to look at him, his lips are against yours, seeking asylum.

It was far more needy than anything he’s felt with you, almost like you were attempting to claw your way inside of him, the kiss ramping up quickly as his hands drift down your body and you settle over him, gasping into his mouth as his fingers squeeze into your hips.

He knows where your mind is, where you were steering this interaction, and he’s immediately hesitant, shaking his head as you chase his mouth with a gentleness that makes it hard to ignore your meek and needy expression.

“We’ve gotta stop,” Joel tries—he does.

“I need you,” you admit to him, eyes wide and hopeful, “Joel—please don’t give me the speech,”

“This ain’t something I take lightly,” Joel explains, “not with you—not this,”

“Stop,” you beg, sliding one hand down between your bodies to drag over his closed zipper, feeling the sizeable bulge through the denim that told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you sure?” Joel asked, voice rough but quiet. “I need you to mean it—”

You nodded fervently, heart pounding behind your ribcage as your fingers twisted into his shirt. 

“I want this. I want you.”

He let out a long breath, like it was hurting his chest to hold in, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked at him, gaze curious and lust-filled, “We’re takin’ this slow. You tell me what feels good, you understand? I’ll know if you’re lyin’—I don’t like when you do that,”

Joel had no reason to let morality take over now, too far gone.

–

Every movement after that was deliberate.

Even the quiet walk to his room, taking in the sight of his unmade bed, sheets still thrown around from your surprise earlier that morning, feeling his hand slide along your waist as the door clicks shut behind you.

He undressed you like he had all the time in the world.

Joel didn’t shy away from you either—no redirecting your touches or pushing you away.

He kisses every inch of your skin within reach; shoulders, collarbones, neck, back.

It was every bare inch of you, grounding you so deeply to him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled against your shoulder, his breath warm and inviting as it tickled your skin, fingers dragging against the bare skin of your sides before his hands squeeze at your tits, admiring the view of them over your shoulder as your head tips back, every article of clothes you were wearing aside from the thin, lacy underwear were on the floor.

His hands were firm yet gentle, coaxing out soft gasps and sighs that fell from your lips like a melodic tune in the stillness of the room, the quiet murmuring of praises in your ear as your arm searched behind you to find its way into his hair, pulling gently.

His groan dissolved into a chuckle as he slowly walks you toward his bed, his thighs pressed against the back of your own as you fall toward the bed, quickly turned by his hand gripping your ankle and tugging you back toward him and onto your back, squealing in surprise.

His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling you close as he leaned down to meet your lips, slow at first before deepening the kiss until you were nearly drowning in him. Each brush of his tongue against yours coaxing you further into his touch, urging you to pull him closer until he had no choice but to join you on the bed, his knee digging into the mattress and a hand spread out beside your head as you fell against the mattress, your hand exploring innocently underneath his shirt.

“Joel,” you barely managed to utter between kisses, “Enough—”

He shakes his head, silently allowing his hand to drift between your bodies until his palm is cupped over your underwear, his fingers rubbing slowly into the dampened fabric. 

You gasped, arching your back against the sheets as he pressed his palm against you, the friction so enticing against your clit, feeling the pressure of his fingers as they teased your entrance despite the barrier, your brow creasing as you searched his face.

There was nothing but adoration and care, his eyes careful examining your reactions.

He was practiced, attentive—it had to be him. 

In your mind, it made sense.

With deft fingers, Joel slid his hand beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin.

Warmth meeting your slick folds, you gasp.

“Responsive,” Joel notes, “that’s good—perfect, sweetheart,”

Keep it up, he thinks.

At this rate, he’d bust his load before he was even inside of you.

It had been too terribly long for him. It was embarrassing, really.

The pressure of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He spent ample time circling your clit before his fingers dove inside of you—one to start, to adjust, before he added another…then another, soon all you could focus on was the sound of your cunt as it greedily squeezed around his fingers.

It felt like hours, but it was only a handful of minutes.

Still, Joel didn’t want to rush this.

“Just like that, baby,” he tells you, voice heavy with lust, “tell me what feels good.”

You nod, gasping as his fingers curl inside of you, watching his eyes narrow as you nod again, shaky but confirming that he was right where you wanted him before your own eyes fall shut and succumb to his fingers, “F—fuck,” you sigh, “that’s—” you swallow, attempting to take a breath, “feels fucking amazing.”

Joel chuckles, a sacred sight.

The orgasm that takes over is slow, drawn-out, falling apart under the guide of his hand.

As it wanes, his fingers leave you, but his palm stays put. He quickly uses his free hand to work at his jeans, undoing them with shaking hands as he shoved the fabric down.

His cock sprang free, hard and aching.

Reality seems to come crashing down in an instance, slowly moving to sit while he removes his hand to please your curiosity as you reach for him almost immediately, rising to your knees and curling your hand around the back of his neck to press your lips to his.

"Look at me," Joel commanded softly after you slip a few hurried kisses between his attempt to grab your attention, “hey, sweetheart—look at me,”

You pull away slightly, only enough to catch his gaze but still close enough that your noses brush. 

You can see it in his face—at war with himself.

Instead of burying it, he speaks candidly.

“You’re too young for me,” Joel admits, feeling your fingers scratch over his greying beard in response, dismissive as you shrug, but his fingers circle your wrists to pull your attention center, “but goddamn, I wanna ruin you in the softest way, sweetheart.”

You smile, something akin to cocky smirk but not quite, “Do it,”

Joel shakes his head in amusement as you lean in again, echoing your words.

“Do it,” you tell him, “I want it,”

“Alright,” he breaths, voice thick with desire as he leans closer, noticing the visible darkness in his eyes as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock and squeezes as he moves up, stroking slowly while he nods for you to move back, “but you’re gonna listen for me and keep your hands to yourself for a minute,”

You giggle at the sudden sense of deja-vu, not missing the chance to slip your underwear the rest of the way off as you fling them with your foot against his chest and lean back on your elbows, spreading your legs for a saccharine sight that Joel drinks in.

He hastily pulls his shirt over his head and you notice the flush to his chest, using every ounce of self-control you had to not lean forward and touch him, pull him to you, down, and sink onto his cock without a single hesitation.

It was lewd, but you were eating it up.

The anticipation was driving you crazy, a delicious torture that had your core aching and clenching in want. Joel witnessed every bit of it, his thumb teasing over the head of his cock as your mouth watered at the sight.

He’s massive, glistening with a copious amount pre-cum, only inches from where you needed him most, a single adjustment of your hips would have the head of his cock brushing through your folds.

You bit your lower lip and stayed dutifully quiet, watching Joel pleasure himself in a way that almost felt punishing on your end, months you’ve spent teasing him relentlessly

"Joel," you moaned out his name, unable to take it anymore, "I need—"

Joel's eyes darkened further as he stroked himself slowly, easing his knee into the mattress as your head tipped up to meet his gaze, "Don’t get choked up just yet," he spoke roughly, strained.

You'd never heard him sound this way before, almost breathless.

“We don’t have to, you know,” you begin and Joel senses what you’re getting at, “I’m on the pill.”

“We’re doin’ this right,” Joel responds, “I may be goin’ to hell but I’m not setting the standard for what you think you needa settle for,”

You smile gently in return and nod.

He reached for the condom he'd stashed away in his nightstand drawer, leaning around you.

Admittedly, he just kept them stashed away for Tommy—after twenty years, it never failed.

Joel would always be the big brother saving that day.

But, he'd never imagined himself being in this situation with you.

Yet, here he was, teetering on the edge of logical reasoning and desire, lust-drive.

You grab his hand as it draws closer, bringing the foil package to your teeth as you rip it open, spitting the foil off to the side and Joel’s cock twitches at the sight as sheathes himself in record time, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Without being told, you move, making space for Joel as he positions himself between your legs and at your entrance—you can feel the heat as he moves closer, radiating off of him like a furnace, watching as his hands drag delicate along your thighs before pulling you closer at the hips, his cock brushing against your cunt.

“Y’tell me when you’re ready,” Joel says, eyes locked on the sight of his cock as it slides through your folds, a teasing touch that drives you insane.

You nod shakily, “Just do it,” you beg, “please,”

With a grunt, Joel shifts over you as you lay against the sheets, his lips capturing your own as he presses into you, startled by the stretch of him as you gasp, but he listens to you—your body, he’d go as slow as you needed.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby.” He assures you, pressing his forearms into the mattress on either side of your head, his pointer finger brushing away the hair from your face as he stills and waits for your nod, only moving as fast as you let him.

“Just breathe,” Joel reminds you, watching your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he begins to fill your further, fuller—his words are like a soothing balm, encouraging,”there you go, I gotcha,”

Your body responds with a soft clench around him, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation of him stretching you sends you into delirium, fingers squeezing into his sides.

“Fucking Christ,” Joel groans, his hips stuttering slightly until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“Are you—are you okay?” you ask curiously—he’s never heard something so sincere and genuine and Joel can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as his brow creases and his face quickly morphs into something much softer.

“I’m alright,” he assures you, “s’been a while—and you’re not goin’ easy on me,”

“Feel so good wrapped around me,” Joel murmured into your neck as he leans forward, his breath warm. 

“Please,” you pleaded with some minor impatience, urging him to move, to give you what you desperately craved, “please, move—”

It was a simple request, one Joel followed with ease.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze with intensity before he surged forward, groaning low and soft as he looked at you, thrusting into you with a controlled force.

Each stroke was perfectly timed, deep and precise, and the sting seemed too dull as his thrusts sent you into a state of euphoria, oblivious to everything but this and him.

Nothing else mattered.

Joel's hips rocked against yours, each thrust pulling a gasp from your chest, easing out with every breath you took. His lips trailed to your neck, leaving a wet line of open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, eliciting soft, subtle moans between Joel’s thrusts.

The sound of skin against skin and your muffled moans as you pulled him to you, mouth pressed against his shoulder, filled the room.

Both of you knew there was a distant chance anyone could walk in the house—there was always that fear, of being caught, shamed, judged. But, in this moment, neither of you cared.

"Talk to me, baby," Joel groaned into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "you still with me?”

Your nails dig into his back in response, hips arching upwards to meet this thrusts, overwhelmed by the sensation of him, his cock, his hands.

He slips one arm under your head to prop it up as the other squeezes against the top of your thigh where it was resting against his hip, his chin tipping down to catch the sight of his cock as it steadily disappeared inside of you.

“Maybe,” you joke weakly, letting out a soft whine as he snaps his hips sharp and harsh in response, but only once, “fuck—no, do—do that again,”

Joel growled low in his throat, a vein bulging in his neck as his chin stretched up, angling his hips as he pulled back slowly before snapping them into you "You like that, huh?" he managed to grunt out as he angled his hips in a repetitive motion grazing that sensitive spot inside again and again. You nod weakly.

Joel releases a tight hiss through clenched teeth as you claw at his back, gasping into his sweat-slick skin as he covers you like at blanket, tucking his face against your cheek, soft grunts sending you into a spiral of madness as his thumb sneakily moves to circle against your clit, already feeling too over sensitive, but Joel’s persistence is apparent.

"Joel," you moaned, your eyes rolling back into your head as he lifted his face slightly to check on you, mouth hung open because despite the words you wanted to say, you were speechless.

“Yeah,” he knows, nodding in reassurance, “I know, sweetheart, I feel ya,” his thrusts have faltered slightly, the crease in his brow growing deeper as he pants into the sheets beside your head.

Your eyes flutter shut as your visions begins to blur, feeling the heat swirl in your belly as you gasp, “Oh—oh, fuck,” you whine, “I’m—”

“Yeah,” Joel encourages, voice soft as satin, “yeah—god, if you’re so fuckin’ perfect,”

You laugh weakly, sounding only slightly pathetic in the way you gasp as Joel shifts up again, angling his hips up, a much more intense feeling that was you gripping the sheets above your head as he groans out, hands wrapped tight around your thighs as he snaps his hips once, twice, and then he’s spilling into the condom, the faint pulse of his cock as he stills inside of you.

As the moment calms, Joel lets the reality of the situation and scene unfold before him.

He drags a hand through his mused hair and curses, pulling out of you with a weak grunt as his favors one leg over the other, discarding the condom away as hastily reach for your clothes, ruminating in the quiet aftermath as you slip your underwear back on and attempt to clasp your bra with blind hands.

Joel’s touch comes after a few silent seconds of struggle.

“We really need to talk ‘bout all this,” Joel says after a while and you peek over your shoulder, realizing just how serious he was, “I mean, just—so we’re both clear what we’re doin’ here,”

You turn slowly as his hand slides against your back, noting that he had only redressed into his jeans, underwear forgotten entirely, the thick patch of hair leading down, eyes dragging toward the sight.

Joel’s finger taps at the underside of your chin, eyebrows raising with intent. 

“I’ll admit my faults here, but I need you to understand something,” Joel explains gently, his hand cupping around the back of your neck as you lean into the touch, eyes locked on his face.

“Don’t tell anyone, this is our secret, we’ve gotta be careful,” you begin, listing off a few things you know are stirring in the back of his mind, “I’m not that ignorant, Joel,”

“I’m not sayin’ that,” Joel responds, “wasn’t even gonna touch on that, actually,”

“Then what?” you ask, inching closer as vulnerability settles in the air between you.

“I want to make sure you know where your feelings are at with this,” he says, his voice dropping to an almost whisper, his thumb rubbing at the spot behind your ear, “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt something like this—but it’s…you’re—” his eyes search yours as he stops himself, weighing the gravity of what he’s about to say. “I just don’t want you to regret anything or feel like things’ll be different if you change your mind along the way,”

“Joel,” you begin, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Hear me out, alright?” Joel pleads, “Don’t think you owe me anything,”

“Are you only saying this because of what just happened?” you ask curiously.

Joel shakes his head, “I care about you more than I should,” he admits, “but you’ve got so much life ahead of you,”

His words sink into your chest, filling the void of uncertainty that had lingered for a while now.

You understand where he’s coming from, smiling sadly as his face softens.

The weight of his gaze holds you captive, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within your chest.

 “I don’t wanna fuck anything up for you,” Joel admits, the vulnerability piercing through your chest, “now, later—ever,”

A brighter smile creeps on your face, though subdued, “Then don’t,” you tell him.

The sincerity in your voice held Joel captive.

“God dammit,” he murmured just before closing the distance without thinking, pressing his lips to yours unexpectedly.

When he pulls away, you find yourself chasing his lips stubbornly, “What was that for?”

“You’re just so damn difficult,” Joel tells you, his voice flowing with fondness.

“Keeps you on your toes,” you shrug, before rising up to kiss him quickly.

That’s for damn sure, Joel thinks.

-

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divider creds: @/saradika-graphics

[snail-day]

Terms and Conditions Apply

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader - unwholesome edition

Sum: Normal college roommate activities, except your roommates, are madly in love with you and have a really weird way of showing it.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (manipulation, obsessive, possessive,etc), Omorashi/Piss, noncon/dubcon, oral (m! receiving), Abuse of showerhead, Reader is a bit dense, Power Dynamics, Alcohol consumption, unhealthy relationships, Infantilization, MDNI

WC: 6.0k

A/n: I will probably finish editing the wholesome edition later this week. :) I feel like I've been too angsty lately and I lowkey prefer the wholesome version a bit more, however, my beta reader likes this one so we'll see!

How far is one willing to go?

Willing to sell their soul to the devil—or in this case, devils. The ones you once called your best friends. The ones who stripped you of your rights because you owed them. Because they owned you.

Suguru and Satoru—two trust fund kids with more money than they could ever spend—had waltzed into your life during your freshman year of college, offering friendship cloaked in charm and generosity.

They’d given you a place to stay, sliding a 52-page lease across the table. A document so thick and dense that it had made your stomach turn. Your heart, your instincts, your very soul screamed at you to stop. To read between the lines. But you didn’t.

You trusted them. You ignored the red flags.

You brushed off the subtle proclamations of love buried in their actions, their words, their very presence. How they’d spoke of living up to your standards. How they hinted they’d have truly courted you—if only you’d given them the time of day.

But you didn’t. You dismissed their flirting as harmless.

And like any rich men who refused to be denied, they did the next best thing. They bought you.

You really should’ve let them court you.

Because if you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here now—trapped in their twisted acts of devotion. Acts they called love.

Satoru, with his dazzling grin and sharp blue eyes, always joked about wanting a dog. Something to take care of, to love him unconditionally, to always come when called.

Suguru, ever composed and calculating, never hid his desire for control. He wanted something—or someone—to care for, to command, to obey his every word.

And now, that someone was you.

You’d gone too far for free rent, hadn’t you?

It was almost funny, in a cruel way. You’d joked once about selling feet pics to creepy old men to make ends meet, and Satoru had flashed you that sharp, wolfish grin and asked, “How much?”

You’d laughed it off, calling him ridiculous. But he hadn’t been joking. Not even a little.

If you had said a number, he would have bought them on the spot, saving them for later use. 

When you couldn’t afford drinks on karaoke night, you’d waved it off, saying you’d be fine with water. But Suguru had just smiled, handing over his black card without hesitation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d said, his voice smooth, almost tender.

The whole night, he had coddled you, his arm a steady weight around your waist as you sang along to the music. When you were tipsy and laughing, stumbling into him, he’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands lingering just a little too long.

You didn’t notice.

You didn’t notice how his hands trailed along your thighs, how he tilted his head closer to catch the scent of your perfume, how his dark eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

They loved you.

They loved you so much that buying you was the easiest option.

Kidnapping you would have been messy, after all.

This? This was clean.

A lease. A signature. A series of favors and debts that quietly piled up until you were ensnared—unable to leave or even think about leaving.

You thought of them as just weird, quirky roommates. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Satoru had the habit of barging into your room unannounced, sprawling across your bed like it was his own. He’d hug your pillows to his chest, burying his face in them, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

And behind your back?

He punched and slapped every single one of your stuffed animals.

All except for the ones he bought you.

Like the stuffed alligator he’d gifted you last month. “Because you’re so snappy,” he’d said with a wide grin, teasing you endlessly as he mimicked your glare. “And because you do those little alligator rolls when I try to cuddle you.”

He wasn’t lying. You did twist and squirm to escape his grip whenever Suguru was away, and Satoru found himself “too lonely” to sleep in a big bed all by himself.

“I need you,” he’d whine, tugging at your blanket as he wedged himself onto your mattress. “Friends can cuddle, y’know. It’s even in the lease—clause 22!”

You’d scoffed, rolling your eyes. “There’s no way that’s real.”

But, of course, you hadn’t read the lease.

You hadn’t read clause 22, clause 34, or any other fine print buried in those 52 pages.

If you had, maybe you’d have noticed the way they’d written their love into the lines of the contract. The way their obsession had been framed as something so mundane, so harmless, that you never thought to question it.

Instead, you dismissed it. Dismissed them.

They were just your weird, clingy roommates, right?

That’s what you told yourself every time Satoru squeezed the stuffed alligator to his chest, grinning as he teased, “See? It’s like me and you! You’re the snappy little gator, and I’m the big, lovable guy keeping you from biting anyone else.”

It was playful. Harmless, you managed to convince yourself.

But sometimes—especially in the dead of night, when the world was quiet, and there was nowhere to hide from the truth—you struggled to ignore the way his hands would wander.

How he’d press open-mouthed kisses against your chest, the wet heat of his lips leaving trails along your skin. The way his hands would squeeze your plush breasts, fingers digging in just a little too roughly, as if claiming them, claiming you, in his sleep.

You told yourself he was dreaming—lost in some haze where he thought you were someone else, or something else.

But when morning came, and you hesitantly brought it up, he’d blink at you with feigned innocence, his blue eyes wide and unbothered. “Did I really?” he’d ask, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface of his words. “Man, I must’ve been dreaming about something really good.”

His grin would widen, that devil-may-care attitude making you question if you’d imagined it all.

“Hey,” he’d say, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he steered you out the door, “let’s grab breakfast. My treat. Consider it a ‘thanks’ for not ripping my arm off in my sleep.”

The offer, so casually given, left you with no choice but to follow. To let him guide you down the street to the café he liked, where he’d order for you without asking—a gesture that felt less thoughtful and more… presumptive.

As he filled the table with plates of food you hadn’t asked for, his laughter echoing through the small, bustling space, you found yourself playing along. Smiling at his jokes, laughing when he wanted you to, pretending that everything was normal.

Because what else could you do?

Confronting him felt impossible. Denying him? Even more so.

It was easier this way—going along with the current, letting him pull you wherever he wanted, feeding you bites of his food like you were some cherished pet rather than a person with agency of your own.

“Open up,” he’d coo, holding a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake to your lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction when you complied. “Good girl.”

And you’d swallow it down, the sweetness coating your tongue as his praise sent a shiver crawling along your skin.

Because it was easier to pretend.

Easier to act like this was just how things were—how they’d always been.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the question lingered, heavy and unavoidable:

How far were you willing to go?

You kept telling yourself to endure. Just two more years until you graduate. Two more years, and you’ll be free.

You could play along until then. You had to. You needed the cheap rent.

And it wasn’t like you could even prefer one of them over the other. They were equally clingy, equally overbearing in their own ways.

Suguru, at least, had the decency not to invade your space outright.

He never barged into your room unannounced like Satoru. He didn’t sprawl across your bed or bury his face in your pillows. No, Suguru was different. His methods were quieter, subtler.

Whenever Satoru left for the weekend to visit his family, it was Suguru who kept you company. He’d coax you onto the couch with him, his deep voice laced with calm reassurance.

“You’ll keep me company, won’t you?” he’d ask, his tone so soft, so genuine, that refusing felt impossible.

And before you knew it, you’d find yourself in his lap, his strong arms wrapping firmly around your waist as he leaned back, settling you against his chest.

“It soothes me,” he’d murmur, his voice low and almost apologetic. “I’ve been so stressed with my master’s lately. You don’t mind, do you?”

How could you say no?

Suguru always had a way of making his needs sound so reasonable, so innocent. You didn’t even think to question it—not until his hands started to linger. His thumbs would trace small, deliberate circles against your hips, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

Clause 12.

That’s what he’d called it the first time you hesitated.

“Roommate will always provide emotional comfort,” he’d said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his dark eyes held yours.

You hadn’t read the lease, of course. But when Suguru spoke, his voice so calm and assured, it was hard not to believe him.

So you let him hold you.

You let him keep you there for hours, his hands warm and steady as they rested on your waist, his quiet hums vibrating against your back. You sat frozen, unsure of where the line had blurred—or if there had ever been a line at all.

Things changed after one night.

You’d gone out for drinks with some friends—a rare occurrence these days. Between their constant presence and your dwindling social circle, opportunities like this had become few and far between.

Maybe that’s why you drank more than you should have.

The alcohol buzzed warmly through your veins, leaving your mind foggy and your limbs loose as laughter spilled freely from your lips. You didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until someone pointed it out, and the world tilted slightly as you tried to check the time on your phone.

“Shit,” you mumbled, your voice slurred as you stared at the blurry screen. You scrolled to Satoru’s contact—he always answered first—and hit call.

When they arrived, it was like the entire bar shifted.

“Oh my God, those are your roommates?” one of your friends teased, dragging out the words as she nudged you with a playful grin. “You’ve been holding out on us! Are you playing games or something?”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you swayed in your seat, the room spinning slightly. “Nooo,” you slurred, shaking your head a little too hard. “They’re just—”

Before you could finish, Satoru’s tall frame appeared in front of you, crouching down to your level. “Having fun, huh?” he asked, his bright blue eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You buried your face in his shirt, giggling uncontrollably. “Satoruuu,” you slurred, your voice high-pitched and childlike. “I’m fineeee. I was just… just hanging out!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, chuckling as he shifted you in his arms, holding you upright as your legs wobbled.

Meanwhile, Suguru quietly slipped away to the bar, his expression calm and collected as he handed over his black card to settle your tab. When he returned, his eyes gleamed with something dark, though his lips curved into a faint smile as he glanced at your friends.

“Ah, sorry we haven’t announced we’re dating yet,” he said smoothly, his voice low, a grin playing at his lips.

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, glasses clinking together in celebration.

You blinked slowly, your alcohol-heavy mind struggling to process his words. “Wait… what?”

You tried to straighten up, but Satoru’s grip on you tightened, pulling you back against him. “Shh, don’t make a scene,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, though the edge to his grin made your stomach twist.

“He’s joking,” you said, slurring as you waved a hand lazily. “You’re jokinnng, right, Suguru?”

But Suguru’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he said softly, “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

Your friends erupted into louder laughter, their voices blurring together as your head spun.

“Let’s get you home,” Satoru said brightly, steering you toward the door.

You were too drunk to argue, your body slumping against his as the cool night air hit your face.

“You didn’t have to say that,” you mumbled, your words barely coherent as Suguru helped you into the car.

“Say what?” he asked, sliding in beside you, his voice calm and measured.

“That… we’re dating,” you slurred, your head lolling against Satoru’s shoulder as he climbed in on your other side.

Satoru laughed, his hand ruffling your hair as he pulled you closer. “Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal. Besides, they loved it. Right, Suguru?”

Suguru’s hand brushed lightly against your knee, steady and deliberate. His dark eyes met yours in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tender.

You tried to answer, your lips parting, but your mind was too foggy, your tongue too heavy. The alcohol clouded your thoughts, dulling the sharp edges of your confusion and concern. The only sound you managed was a quiet, slurred mumble before sleep tugged at your consciousness.

When you woke up, the world felt too soft, too still.

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim light of early morning filtering through unfamiliar curtains. The silk sheets beneath you were far too luxurious, the plush mattress beneath your body a stark contrast to your usual bed.

You sat up slowly, a pounding headache hammering at your skull as the events of the night before came back to you in blurry flashes. The bar. Your friends. Satoru. Suguru.

And now this.

Waking up in their bed was unexpected.

You winced as the urge to pee hit you, the discomfort pulling you fully awake. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor as you prepared to stand. But before you could rise, a hand shot out, gripping your wrist.

The sudden tug sent you back onto the mattress, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to see who it was.

Satoru.

His snowy white hair was messy, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep as he pulled you closer to him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, his voice groggy yet tinged with something along the lines of annoyance.

“I… I need to pee,” you stammered, your voice hoarse as you tried to free yourself from his grasp.

Satoru’s eyes opened fully then, his bright blue gaze locking onto yours. He looked at you for a long moment before his lips curved into a sleepy grin. “Mmm, can’t you wait a little longer? It’s too early to get up.”

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, heavy and unmoving, trapping you in place. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he were anchoring you there.

“I’m serious…” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to squirm away, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, you felt his grin against the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy but carrying that familiar edge of control. “You’ll wake up Sugu… You can wait.”

The mention of Suguru made you freeze, your eyes darting toward the other side of the bed.

Sure enough, there he was.

Suguru lay on his side, his face calm and serene in sleep, his dark hair spilling over the pillow. His breathing was deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic.

“You don’t want to wake him, do you?” Satoru hummed, his voice low and teasing, though there was something almost mocking in the way he said it.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling heavily over you as Satoru’s arms remained firmly around your waist. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the back of your neck like a contented cat.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice already trailing off as sleep pulled him back under.

You lay there, stiff and silent, the dull ache in your bladder forgotten as your mind raced.

The warmth of their bodies on either side of you, the sound of their steady breathing, the oppressive weight of Satoru’s arm around your waist—it was suffocating.

But you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because somewhere deep down, beneath the haze of confusion and discomfort, a single, chilling thought crept into your mind:

They weren’t going to let you go.

And for now, it was easier to stay still. To let Satoru’s grip keep you in place, to let Suguru’s presence loom quietly beside you.

To endure.

Because what other choice did you have?

You waited an hour. Generously. The way your bladder felt like it was going to spill if you even moved an inch made it agonizing, but what else could you do?

Why did I have to drink so much? you thought bitterly, biting your lip to keep yourself from groaning.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, tinged with a small, desperate whine.

No response.

His soft snores filled the room, and you felt the faintest flutter of hope when you realized his arm had gone slack around your waist. It was loose enough—just enough—that you might be able to slip free without waking him.

Carefully, you began to move, inch by inch.

You winced at the painful, overfull feeling in your bladder, a burning reminder that if you waited even a second longer, you were sure you’d humiliate yourself. The thought of staining such expensive, silken sheets filled you with dread.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to wriggle out of Satoru’s grip. He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling back into his slumber.

You held your breath as you slid off the bed, crossing your legs tightly as you stood. The sensation made you want to scream, but you forced yourself to stay quiet, moving as carefully as you could across the room.

You reached the bathroom door, relief flooding through you as your hand grasped the handle.

But when you turned it, the handle didn’t budge.

It was locked.

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of panic washing over you as you tried again, jiggling the handle more forcefully this time.

Still locked.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart pounding as you looked back at the bed. Satoru hadn’t moved, his snores still soft and steady. Suguru remained motionless, his dark hair spilling over his pillow like ink.

You turned back to the door, biting your lip hard enough to sting. Why the hell was it locked?

You tried again, pressing your weight against the door this time, but it wouldn’t give.

Panic began to rise in your chest as you crossed your legs tighter, your body screaming at you for relief. You couldn’t go back to the bed—not now, not like this. You couldn’t face them if something went wrong.

Your bathroom was… across the apartment.

You could make it, right? You just had to waddle your way there.

The thought alone filled you with dread, but what choice did you have? The idea of pissing yourself in your weird roommates’ bedroom—on their luxurious, expensive sheets, no less—was enough to make your face burn with humiliation.

A soft, desperate whine escaped your throat as you shifted your weight. It’s too much.

But you had to try.

You moved carefully, every step a torturous mix of sharp, burning pressure and overwhelming panic. Your breaths came shallow and uneven, your legs trembling as you shuffled forward, praying the noise wouldn’t carry back to the bedroom.

It was just the hallway, the living room, and then the bathroom.

Easy, you told yourself, though the pounding of your heart and the sting of tears in your eyes screamed otherwise.

You barely made it to the end of the hallway before your legs gave out, your body sinking to the cold floor as a sob built in your throat.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, the humiliation of the situation crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t stop them, hot streaks rolling down your cheeks as you clutched at your stomach, the pressure unbearable.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t the door just unlock? Why couldn’t you have made it just a little farther?

You pressed your forehead against your knees, trying to muffle the soft, broken whimpers escaping your lips. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating, every sound you made echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of just how trapped you were.

And then, the sound you dreaded most.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, heavy against the hardwood floors.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the footsteps grew louder, closer.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Suguru’s voice was soft, calm, almost soothing, but it made your stomach twist into knots.

You didn’t lift your head, your body trembling as his presence loomed over you. You could feel his gaze, heavy like he could see straight through you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, crouching down so he was at eye level with you. His tone was steady, almost kind, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten.

“I… I just…” Your voice cracked, the words stumbling over themselves as you tried to think of an excuse, something that wouldn’t make this worse.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as his sharp eyes scanned you. “You could’ve just woken me up if you needed something,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

Before you could respond, another voice chimed in.

“She’s crying.”

You flinched at the familiar, teasing lilt of Satoru’s voice, your heart sinking further as you felt him approach.

“Aw, did we scare her?” he teased, his grin audible in his voice as he crouched beside Suguru, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

“It’s not that,” Suguru murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “She’s upset.”

“Hmm,” Satoru hummed, leaning in closer, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with something that made your chest tighten. “Why’s that, little gator? What’s got you all worked up, huh?”

You wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and vanish entirely. Anything to escape their piercing stares, the weight of their presence pressing down on you like a cage.

But then, you felt it.

The warmth spreading beneath you, dampening the hardwood floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization struck you like a tidal wave. You’d pissed yourself.

Silent tears trickled down your cheeks, shame and humiliation crashing over you in waves as you dared a glance at Suguru.

His dark eyes flicked down to the wet patch spreading across the floor.

And then he smiled.

Not his usual small, measured smile, but something broader. Something that sent a wave of goosebumps.

Satoru followed Suguru’s gaze, his brows lifting in surprise before his grin widened into something almost predatory. “Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, his tone light and teasing but laced with something darker.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes meeting yours as he spoke.

“Clause 52,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady, like he was reciting something he’d known by heart.

Your stomach knotted further, anxiety pooling. You really should have took time to read the absurdly long lease.

“‘If a roommate is deemed unfit to take care of themselves, it becomes the other parties’ duty to assume full care of the roommate, gaining full autonomy over the party deemed unfit.’”

The words were a death knell, ringing in your ears as your tears fell faster.

“Unfit,” Satoru repeated, his tone dripping with mockery as he leaned closer, his hand gentle as it brushed a tear from your cheek. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think, Suguru?”

Suguru’s smile didn’t falter, his dark eyes steady as his hand came to rest on your trembling shoulder. “It’s not harsh if it’s true,” he replied softly, his voice almost tender, but the weight of his words crushed any chance of denial. “She clearly needs us.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to push away the rising panic. You clung to the last shreds of your dignity, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe your tears. “It was an accident. I just—”

“You just proved you can’t take care of yourself,” Suguru interrupted, his grip tightening slightly, his words cutting through your feeble attempts at an excuse.

Satoru chuckled, leaning against you, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know,” he started, his tone almost conversational, “we could have enacted Clause 52 sooner.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes darting to him as he tilted his head, his grin widening.

“I mean, your grades this semester? Not exactly stellar.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if scolding a child. “And let’s not forget that blunt you took from Shoko a few months back. You do know weed is very illegal in Japan, right?”

The blood drained from your face as he spoke, your mind scrambling to keep up with his words.

“Could’ve gone to jail,” Suguru added, his voice calm and matter-of-fact as he straightened, his hand leaving your shoulder only to slide under your legs.

You yelped as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body trembling as you tried to claw away from him, your hands weakly pushing against his chest.

“But a grown woman pissing herself?” Satoru said, standing and shaking his head as he followed Suguru toward the bathroom. “Now that’s a pretty clear sign you need help. I mean, we’d be neglecting you if we didn’t take care of you at this point.”

“Put me down!” you cried, your voice breaking as you struggled against Suguru’s hold, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Shh,” Suguru murmured, his grip unyielding as he carried you down the hall. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

“We’ll clean you up,” Satoru said brightly, his grin firmly in place as he swung the bathroom door open. His tone was light and teasing, but the words twisted in your stomach. “That’s what good boyfriends—sorry, roommates—do, right?”

Suguru carried you inside without hesitation, his movements smooth and calculated, like he’d done this a hundred times in his head. He set you down gently on the edge of the bathtub, his hands lingering on your arms as though steadying you. The care in his touch felt unnervingly intimate, blurring lines you hadn’t even realized were being crossed.

“I don’t need—” you started, your voice trembling, but Suguru cut you off.

“Do we need to treat you like a child too?” He hummed as he turned on the water, you noticed Satoru take a spot on the floor, his hand….gravitating to….

You forced yourself to look away. 

Instead pleading to Suguru that you can wash yourself, that he doesn’t need to climb into the tub with you pressing himself behind you. As he grabbed the handheld shower head, changing the settings as he deemed fit as you squirmed and sobbed. 

“Have to clean you now, hm?” He hummed behind you, changing the setting of the handheld shower head to the highest setting, the pressure was too much as you squirmed and clawed at his hands shaking your head. You looked over at Satoru the smile on his face, the way he seemed blissed out as he stroked his…

Oh god. 

They enjoyed this. 

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your cunt clenched onto nothing, as your clit was being tormented by the harsh pressure of the showerhead Suguru had directed. 

“Shhhh, just let go… I got you,” Suguru murmured, his voice low and soothing as he adjusted the spray of water once more, there was purpose in his insistent touches, firm and absolute.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your body, your tears mixing with the water cascading over your skin. Your mind felt like it was spinning, your thoughts fragmented and overwhelmed by the unbearable mix of sensations and emotions crashing over you.

And then, you reached the peak—your body betraying you, shuddering in his grip as your climax washed over you. Shame burned hot in your chest, your face flushed with humiliation as the sobs came harder, raw and broken.

Suguru’s hand never faltered, his movements steady as he lowered the setting on the showerhead to a gentle spray, hushing you softly as you came down from your high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone almost tender as his hand smoothed over your damp skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond, your body trembling as exhaustion began to creep in.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could catch your breath, Suguru adjusted the water pressure again, the sharp sensation snapping you back into focus as he began once more.

“No, please…” you whimpered, your voice weak and cracking as you squirmed in his hold.

“Shhh,” he hushed you, his lips brushing lightly against your temple as his grip tightened. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t have the strength to fight him.

Again and again, he pushed you over the edge, your sobs gradually giving way to soft, broken whimpers as your body betrayed you. Your limbs felt heavy, your mind clouded with a haze of exhaustion and humiliation.

By the time he finally relented, your eyes were half-lidded, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Satoru, who had been watching the entire time, stood from his spot on the floor, his sharp blue eyes raking over your limp form with a grin that made your stomach twist.

“Since Suguru did a good job cleaning you up, think you can clean my mess?” Satoru’s voice was light, teasing, but the sharp glint in his blue eyes told you there was no room for refusal.

Your head weakly shook in response, your body trembling with exhaustion as you tried to avert your gaze.

But Suguru didn’t let you.

“Be a good girl,” he murmured, his voice calm but firm as his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back toward them. His thumb pressed against your lips, prying them open with gentle insistence.

You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes again as his thumb slipped onto your tongue, the weight of his touch heavy and suffocating.

“There you go,” he said softly, almost soothing as though this was something to comfort you. “It’s easier if you don’t fight.”

Before you could protest, Satoru was pressing the tip of his cock onto your tongue, sliding his length down your throat despite your gags as Suguru ensured you wouldn’t bite down, keeping your mouth open.

“Good girl,” Satoru cooed, his voice low and saccharine as he watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward as you instinctively flinched. “Be a good little gator, don’t bite”

You couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that trickled down your cheeks, your body frozen under the weight of their attention. Every movement felt heavy, every breath labored as you struggled to take the full length down your throat.

Suguru’s dark eyes bore into you, steady and unyielding. “See? You can do this,” he murmured, removing his thumb to help guide your head as you sucked on Satoru’s cock. “You’re already doing so well.”

“Better than I thought she would,” Satoru replied, a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, gently rocking his hips forward despite your tears, Suguru was forcing your head to bob on Satoru's length, keeping his touch gentle.

“We’re going to take such good care of you,” Suguru hummed, his voice smooth and steady as his hand’s methodical movements, his dark eyes gazing at you in adornment as you choked on the sticky white ropes that trickled down your throat. 

His words made your stomach twist, but the calmness in his tone—the way it almost sounded affectionate—made it all the more suffocating.

“I think we can work with this arrangement, right?” Suguru murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. His tone was calm, almost soothing, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“We love you so much, don’t you know?” he continued, his voice softening further, as if the depth of their love for you was as much a burden for them as it was for you. “We’ll give you time to adjust to the new arrangement. Don’t you worry.”

You flinched, your body trembling from a cocktail of exhaustion and humiliation. The words wrapped around you like a cage, their gentleness only making the weight of them heavier. Your eyes darted toward Satoru, searching desperately for some sign of relief, some thread of normalcy—but his expression only made your stomach twist.

His smile was lovesick, almost dazed, his half-lidded eyes clouded with fatigue, likely from his final exam. Yet his fingers found their way to the top of your head, the touch soft and deliberate, giving you a gentle, almost affectionate pat.

The gesture should have been comforting. It should have eased the tightness in your chest. Instead, it felt like a reminder—a quiet assertion of control, of just how tightly you were bound to them.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, shall we?” Satoru said, his voice light and teasing, laced with his usual carefree charm. But beneath the playful tone, there was an undertone of finality, a quiet edge that made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion.

Suguru’s hands were steady as he adjusted the towel around your body, his touch disarmingly gentle, as though he were savoring the act of caring for you. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were worshipping the process of drying you off. He ensured the towel wrapped around you modestly, yet his fingers lingered just long enough to make you question if there was more to his care.

When he stood, his tall frame towering over you, he extended a hand. His dark eyes met yours, calm and unreadable, as if silently urging you to trust him.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to run, to do something. But the exhaustion weighed you down, rooting you in place. Your legs felt like lead, your thoughts foggy and scattered, a tangle of fear and resignation you couldn’t untangle.

“You’re tired,” Suguru murmured, his voice a soothing balm that did little to ease the tightness in your chest. There was an undercurrent of quiet authority in his tone, one that made resistance feel futile.

His hand enveloped yours, warm and steady, guiding you to your feet before you could summon the strength to protest. “Let us take care of you,” he said softly, the words carrying a tenderness that felt at odds with the unease curling in your stomach.

Satoru was already waiting by the door, leaning casually against the frame. His bright blue eyes watched you with his signature grin—a grin that normally felt harmless but now carried an edge that made your chest tighten. “Come on, little gator,” he cooed, beckoning you with a casual wave. “We’ve got everything ready for you.”

You let them guide you, too drained to resist. Suguru’s hand rested lightly on your lower back, steadying you as Satoru walked ahead, his playful hum filling the quiet hall.

When you finally crawled into the cool sheets, your body sagged into the mattress, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The bath had left your skin warm and your limbs heavy, the overstimulation making it impossible to think straight. Exhaustion was a tide, pulling you under, and for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the comfort they had so carefully orchestrated.

Perhaps you were too far gone to notice—or to care—about the faint noises behind you. The soft murmur of voices, the rustle of fabric, the low, intimate sound of Satoru’s moan as he lowered himself onto Suguru.

Your mind barely registered it, the sound blurring into the background as sleep took hold. You ignored the quiet gasp, the rhythmic creak of the mattress in the other room, and the muted groan that followed.

The warmth of the blankets, the scent of lavender, the haze of exhaustion—all of it conspired to drag you deeper into unconsciousness, letting the world fade away as your body surrendered to sleep.

[comicaurora]

Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

[doomdoomofdoom]

Business Major (derogatory)

I'm too stupid for science classes and art classes are for pussies. What the fuck kind of college degree should I be aiming for.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 51

(Jasper is a student of Royal Sword Academy and has taken an intense interest in the Human that lives in Night Raven College. Where most RSA students have joined up to the 'Save the Human' fan club that has gathered in strength an numbers, Jasper feels it is a ridiculous club that is no better than the many poachers that have tried to move to Sage island. He believes that the Human should only be 'saved' if they want to be and that trying to save them against their will makes the students no better than the Poachers that have arrived in abundance. Jasper has also become rather well known for picking fights with poachers when he sees them among the general populous of Sage Island.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, conflict between yanderes, arguing, hurt feelings, semi-peaceful moments between stressful ones, Kalim refers to his father as 'Baba', party, confrontation, yanderes don't like being called out for being yandere, wishes, Shinigami, Dragon, Vampire Bat, Naga, Genie, Merfolk, Cecaelia, Selkie, Hellcat

~~~~

"You wished to speak, Lord Hades?"

The elder Shinigami turned to regard the Dragon that stood next to his typical Bat attendant, the both of them finally darkening the doorway to the dorm lounge. Where it was technically not Hades' domain, the Ramshackle dorm was where he had been staying for this complicated situation. Humans were a cherished and precious thing, it was only natural those around this last Human felt compelled to protect such a treasure.

"Yes. Come in, young Malleus. Take a seat."

The Dragon and Bat entered the lounge confidently, sitting across from the large Shinigami and his descendants. Idia and Ortho were not present, but their parents were as they sat expectantly watching the pair of Fae.

Shinigami and Fae typically got along well, especially those of the Night Fae variety. As they were both species that tended to live a long time compared to others, they were typically viewed as kindred spirits among one another. Even more so the Dragon Fae that lived until killed. This pair of Fae had no reason to believe that the Shinigami wished to discuss anything other than the wellbeing of the Human for this fact alone.

"I am certain you have been made aware of the Little One's recent transformation to that of a Selkie despite her lack of magic."

"Yes... I am surprised it happened so quickly and that she took to it as well as she did."

"Interesting you should mention your surprise, I would have assumed that you were acutely aware of the events taking place given you have poured so much magic into her already."

This comment made a cold expression take over Malleus' face, a kind of dark shadow settling in the crease of his frown. All his reaction did was prove that he was far more aware of the situation than even Hades had initially assumed. Where the Shinigami elder knew the temperamental and youthful Dragon would likely have some claim lain over the cherished Human, he was surprised to realize there was a level of intent laced over that claim.

Most Dragons claimed others unconsciously. Showing intense protective behavior and eventually integrating that individual into their Hoard without much fuss or theatrics. Putting their magic into others was common during this integration process, but Malleus just showed this was no instinctual call or misstep. It was intentional.

"..."

~•§•~

Kalim watched you with a pleasant smile on his lips, laying across the counter of the Scarabia kitchens. Despite how difficult it had been for the Genie to convince his fellow dorm leader to allow you to spend the evening among Scarabia students, he was happy you were around all the same. It had taken no less than a fair chunk of gold, Thaumarks, and a promise for a future debt to be repaid, but it was worth it to Kalim.

Even though the three Mercreatures had also accompanied you to the sandy dorm, it gave Kalim time with you. Jamil remained nearby just to keep Kalim from granting any wishes as you and the Naga cooked together.

Azul- despite his desire to not share an ounce of your attention- was rather pleased with how he came out on top in this interaction. It was worth it for the price the Genie paid and for the way that you smiled. You were so thrilled with the assortment of spices available to the sand-warmed dorm that it was hard for Azul to feel anything other than joy.

Naturally, Jade and Floyd were keen to bother and pester poor Jamil even while the Naga cooked. Jamil was trying quite hard to not show his irritation and present anything less than a cheerful disposition while you were around. The Twins took this effort of Jamil's and decided to take advantage of it, compelling the Naga to indulge their curiosity.

Even little Grim was thrilled to be around the kitchen as the official taste tester, his little wings fluttering whenever he got a spoonful of the food. Jamil was also keen to ensure the Kit stayed safe among the many heated surfaces and sharp objects, using his long tail to guide the Kit to safe spots.

As you moved around the kitchen, Kalim followed you with his eyes, eager to stay within view of you and keep you within his own view. Anything you needed was quickly retrieved by the Genie who was trying so desperately to be helpful to you. Even Jamil was surprised by how useful Kalim could actually be when he was the one aiding and not the one being aided.

"Once you're done, we can have a whole feast in Scarabia! I know the others in the dorm are so excited to have you with us like this, (Y/n)!"

You smiled, checking on the large pot of rice simmering on a lower heat. Where Kalim had initially insisted that you didn't need to cook, you had happily jumped in to help Jamil and ensure that the dish was not so spicy you couldn't consume it. Jamil didn't taste spice the way others did and Kalim was used to extremely spicy dishes, so you decided to step in for the sake of your own stomach.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kalim!"

The Genie wriggled with excitement at the sound of your praise, soaking up the affectionate behavior from you. What he wouldn't give to have you stay in Scarabia all the time. Even as the two of you chattered away about anything and everything, Kalim found himself leaning in more to hear what you had to say and hanging off of your every word.

"Hey, (Y/n), when everything is cooking and underway, do you want to go on a quick carpet ride with me?"

"Kalim," Jamil quickly interrupted, frowning at the ditzy Genie, "that is not safe for (Y/n) and you know it."

"Aww, come on, Jamil! It is just a bit of fun."

"No, Kalim. (Y/n), don't encourage him."

Somewhere in the distance, as Kalim whined and tried to convince Jamil to let you go with him, you could hear the faint sound of thunder. You rest a hand over the Magestone around your neck, a kind of crackling like static seemed to come from the magically charged item. It felt like something was happening just beyond the confines of Scarabia.

~•§•~

Malleus was slowly feeling rage build in his stomach, not knowing what game the elder Shinigami was playing at. The accusation directed at him certainly made it difficult to keep his emotions in check, especially without his Treasure nearby.

"Whatever do you mean? I simply protect her the way I would protect everyone in my Hoard."

"Do not play coy with me, young Dragon. I am aware that Dragons posses a unique kind of magic that is used to prolong the lives of their mates. This same magic is obviously growing in the Little One's presence. That Magestone she wears is more than telling."

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"It is so I can protect her better. Those who parade around as her guards have done poorly in keeping her safe. I won't allow anyone to bring harm to her."

"Where it is true the others have allowed for injury to befall her, it is not your place to force your magic upon her without her knowledge."

"She is well aware of what that Magestone allows. I told her as much when I gifted it to her."

"Have you told her you are binding her life to your own so that age cannot claim her?"

"..."

The thunder was louder this time, shadows swallowing up the sky as the Dragon glared. He was doing everything in his power to keep his most precious Hoard member safe, how could he possibly be in the wrong?

"Have you told her that the further you entangle your souls, the harder it will be for her to adjust? I heard she could understand the language of the Fae when she confronted those captured during a kidnapping attempt. Now, why would she be able to do that unless your magic were already seeping into her being?"

"..."

"Furthermore, have you informed her that the longer she wears that Magestone, the more power you have over her?"

Green lightning struck the ground not too far from the dorm, thunder shaking the very foundation of the building as Malleus glares. A kind of glowing intensity took over his eyes as he left visible trails of light when he moved, the smoldering flame of rage igniting within the Dragon.

He was not in the wrong. He refused to let others tell him he was wrong. Malleus had lived enough of his life alone- placed on a pedestal others could not reach and always kept at arms length by almost everyone- he would not allow this Shinigami to tell him he was wrong.

Centuries spent in suffocating loneliness where only the few Hoard members he could claim would even approach him, let alone speak to him. His magic had left him sitting above all others he cared to interact with, leaving him isolated aloft a throne that he didn't want. Was it truly so wrong for him to want just one friend that he could claim as his one and only? Was it wrong that he wanted someone who wasn't an equally detached family member or a grandfathered in Hoard member to sit by his side?

Was he truly so wrong to want someone all his own to care for and protect?

"I won't use that power over her so long as she stays safe. She is constantly hunted and chased down by poachers who would sooner see her body used for their benefit than those who wish to keep her safe from such manipulation."

"By keeping her safe, you are justifying keeping her in the dark about what your magic is actually doing to her. You are using your magic on her and claiming that it is for her own good when you are seeking means to your own ends."

An even louder crack of lightning split the sky, shaking the ground with the force of the impact. Malleus didn't care how angry he was getting. He didn't care that others could be outside trying to flee to safety from his storm. He didn't care that his anger was getting out of hand.

He only cared about the infuriating words of the elder on his extremely fragile heart and psyche.

"And you aren't seeking to use her for your own means? I know you seek to use her body to create your own Humans. When you have gotten what you want from her and have more Humans to call your own, will you throw her away just as you did with your previous home in Tartarus?"

This actually managed to make the elder scowl, not typically one who was quick to anger or feel any kind of frustration despite who he spoke to. Naturally, his growing displeasure was obvious to everyone present as those witnessing this argument became acutely aware of the danger. Both Malleus and Hades were powerful beyond those who sat around them and their anger combined could easily flatten the island they were currently on.

Lilia glanced to his phone in concern, wondering if he shouldn't request your presence to soothe the growing tension between the two. It would be better for everyone if this conversation stopped here and now.

~•§•~

"You know, (Y/n), I have been wondering why I can grant wishes for you and not others, but I think I figured it out."

"Oh?"

You were seated next to Kalim at the head of the banquet. Around you, both members of Octavinelle and Scarabia enjoyed the combined efforts of your and Jamil's cooking. The atmosphere was light and the conversation was buzzing with energy while the other students conversed and happily discussed things amongst themselves.

The genuine feeling of relaxation that filled the air was valuable to you, having found it so difficult to find anywhere that didn't seem to be on high alert whenever you were nearby. Perhaps you would have to visit Scarabia more often if this was as common as it seemed. Even the students seemed happier to have time to talk together and spend time enjoying the feast they had been presented with. Some Scarabia students were even comforting a few Octavinelle students who had burst into joyful tears upon tasting the meal you had created.

"Yeah! I've been thinking about it a lot and I only recently realized it is because of your aura!"

You froze at this, feeling your heart race and your mind begin to sprint with stress. How could Kalim possibly know about your aura? When else did he know?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, every species has an aura- Genies communicate and survive using our magic, after all- but your aura is so unique even from Genies or any other species. Genies are made of magic and survive off of magic, so we can see auras where others don't. Some, like Unicorns, can sense aura too, but not as well as Genies can."

Kalim gestured around himself at the constant golden glow that seemed to hum from his very being. Odds are, that golden glow was his own aura shining through in a visible way around the Genie.

"My aura is golden, just like my Baba's aura. Most have a set aura that often shows their intentions and helps create a comradery between species, but your aura is different. Auras all have colors and wavelengths that show what they are like. Usually there is only one color per aura and most auras tend to stay within certain wavelengths. When a wavelength or color match between two creatures, they tend to get along a lot better. Your aura is like a rainbow over an Oasis."

Kalim picked up your hands, holding them close to him with an excited smile. He noticed the way your pretty aura shifted to more golden tones, rising in wavelength frequency to match Kalim's own- rather erratic- aura. That synchronicity soothing Kalim and his volatile magic to something more tamed and controlled.

"Whoever you talk to or touch, your aura matches their color and synchs up on the same wavelength as theirs. Even mine- which is always fluctuating and changing- is so soothed and calmed by your aura. It has to be that your aura communicates with mine in a way others don't! Genies often match their aura with whoever is making a wish so that wish is fulfilled in the desired way. My aura doesn't like matching up with anyone, so that is probably why I can't grant wishes the way my Baba does. But with you... Your aura synchs up to me, not the other way around."

As you felt an immense interest overcome you, your phone suddenly buzzed with an urgency. You had assigned most of these monsters to their own ringtone and recognized the playful tone of Lilia calling you. The Bat had encouraged you to spend time in Scarabia and promised to keep Malleus mostly calm while you were away, so it seemed odd that he was calling you now.

"Hold on, Kalim, I have to answer this."

When you answered the call, your phone switched to speaker automatically, the loud sound of howling winds and thunder overpowering the electronic as you heard a voice within the storm.

"How dare you accuse me of such an abhorrent act?!"

You somewhat recognized the voice though the tone was far too aggressive for what was usually the calm and measured timbre of of the voice that had once crooned to you so sweetly. Lilia was calling you because he couldn't stop the fight that seemed to be taking place. As the sound of wind from the phone picked up, you noticed the rest of the party had gone silent as they all stared in your direction.

"(Y/n)! Come quickly to your dorm! If they keep this up, they're both going to Overbl-"

The phone went silent as the call dropped, leaving an deep and yawning stress in your body while you stared at the screen in front of you. Your silence was louder than any words you could say as Kalim suddenly turned serious.

"Kalim, I need to get to Ramshackle right now, or who knows what will happen. It is my wish."

"... Wish granted."

[nerdykeppie]

Holiday Shopping that fights period poverty for college students? Yep! Read on. :)

After the success of our June/Pride 2024 sales goal, where we managed to eliminate a lot of the debt we accumulated while I was unable to work earlier this year & stock up cash so we didn't have to borrow for payroll during the fall lull and also donate to @queerliblib, we were considering where to focus on this year when a conversation I had with my mom pointed me in the direction of our charity for Holidays 2024: the East Stroudsburg University Warrior Food Pantry, and specifically, stocking menstrual products at the pantry.

Without getting too much into the weeds about the details - which I'll talk about under the cut for those of you who are interested - here's the pitch: we need to hit a gross sales goal of $45K in December in order to pay our bills and payroll basically until Pride starts up. Businesses like ours are very much feast or famine, and we've got to eat and we've got people whose paychecks depend on us having the cash to pay them.

If we hit that goal, we'll donate the equivalent of 1% of our net profit from the month of December in period products -- tampons and pads, specifically, by request of the food pantry, and possibly reusable pads and menstrual cups, if the pantry wants that from us. (At the end of the day, this is about taking care of people the way they need, and we'll listen to the pantry staff about what people are requesting.)

We've currently got our Bottoms & Tops sale going, too, so you can buy 2 tops or bottoms from the linked collection & get 69% off the 3rd item from that collection.

Okay, so for the long version whys and wherefores:

My mom taught math at ESU for 35 years, and she and Dad now volunteer running the food pantry along with a couple of other people. ESU is a state school, and as such is one of the few remaining vaguely affordable schools in Pennsylvania. A lot of its students are self-supporting for one reason or another -- many are "non-traditional"/adult students, have kids, or don't have families that can support them while they go to school. Mom & Dad have pushed to expand what the food pantry offers to personal care items, which has been difficult due to a bunch of boring stuff about money and state entities and also people thinking 'that's not food,' but Mom is stubborn about it, because -- to paraphrase her -- how can you focus on class when you feel gross? This struggle has been especially difficult for menstrual products, and way more so for tampons, because it's a rather conservative area and... yeah. People get weird about it.

I've been really broke, with a young kid, and reliant on food pantries, which rarely, if ever, have any menstrual products, let alone tampons. Period poverty is very real, and it sucks.

Plus, I gotta tell you, if we can send a bunch of boxes of tampons and pads to the food pantry, well... Rumor has it this will help my mom win an argument over whether those items should be carried at all, because what are they gonna do, throw them out? They're here! They've been donated! Wasting them would be terrible. :)

So that's the pitch, guys. Help me make a direct, measurable difference in the lives of people at the school where I went to winter swim team, the school that fed me growing up... and help my mom win an argument about making people's lives better... and get your holiday shopping done while you do. ;) We start counting sales from the minute I hit post. :P