#high interest loans
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britneyshakespeare · 4 months ago
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you know someday i'm gonna feel so good when i have my student loans paid off
that ain't gonna be soon, trust me, but i think about it
#i've been saving so much for it that i paid off over like $2k in the last 2 or 3 months#it's just thinking about how the amount of interest goes off that drives me literally crazy#and my monthly amount i owe is like just under $120#which to some people as a regular bill is more manageable than others. but as i have an irregular income#as a substitute teacher it's something that gives me a LOT of stress.#which is another reason i've been overpaying. in case something happens/i can't get a lot of work#it defers the next due date.#that way it's not urgent but yet i still *feel* it all the time#debt is a crazy kind of thing#and to think that my loans are from COMMUNITY college. two years. publicly owned#when i start taking classes again soon. i currently have enough saved that if i take like ONE class#i can pay out of pocket. and i think im only gonna take one class to start anyway#which will also help with the deferred payments#see i just fucking hate having to think practically about money like this#tales from diana#idk how ppl leave high school and go straight to live in a dorm room at a private university for four straight years#and rack up tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.#first of all that lifestyle was not accessible for me to begin with. even when paying it was such an abstract put-it-off thought#as it is for so many 18-year-olds who are told not to worry about where they apply.#but i had under $12k to repay when the student loan debt was unfrozen last fall#and it's been weighing on me soooo heavily since then. i think about it every damn day#it's like the money i make isn't even mine. it goes straight to mohela and food#keep in mind i also live w my parents & am on their health insurance so someday there'll be moooore bills!!!!
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blackskorpi0n · 1 year ago
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fuck this country.
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brufinance · 1 year ago
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The role of technology in ESG bond investing
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communist-hatsunemiku · 1 year ago
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my loan got approved, its kinda wild tbh you can just go to your bank and be like "money me" and after you jump through hoops like a dog they give you money.
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goatmilksoda · 1 year ago
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Theres only so much chillhop and homemade fun drinks can do until you start feeling The Weight™️ around you.
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mysdrymmumbles · 2 years ago
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Hello Darkness My Old Friend
My student loans were something like $83k
I have paid $68.6k
I still owe $78k
Fucking interest
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dabluetwat · 1 year ago
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I believe this is what they call: ''having a bank account''
Whenever you visit the dragon’s lair, you give some treasure instead of taking some. People think you are crazy for doing this.
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mortgagebeverlyhills · 16 days ago
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Carlyle Financial is your trusted jumbo mortgage broker in Beverly Hills, specializing in jumbo home mortgages, super jumbo home loans, and non-conforming loans tailored to high-net-worth borrowers. We offer competitive jumbo mortgage rates, interest-only jumbo loans, and jumbo ARM loans, expertly handling complex financial situations such as RSU income, self-employment income, and loan amounts exceeding $10M. With over 30 years of experience and $2 billion in funded jumbo loans, our team provides expert guidance and streamlined lending solutions. Whether you’re pursuing jumbo loan refinancing or exploring super jumbo mortgage options, Carlyle Financial delivers personalized service to meet your unique financial needs.
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loansmee · 5 months ago
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Payday loans and personal loans differ significantly in terms of interest rates, repayment terms, and borrowing limits. Payday loans are short-term, high-interest loans typically due on your next payday, whereas personal loans offer longer repayment periods and lower interest rates. Understanding these differences can help you make an informed choice to meet your financial needs.
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vydumaj · 6 months ago
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like not to glorify going into debt but csn truly is beautiful and I’m glad it lives on while the rest of the ideal of social support is killing itself
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investingdrone · 7 months ago
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How To Qualify Professional Mortgage Loan Programs In 2024?
Professional mortgage loans are designed for young professionals like you, even if you have a lot of debt compared to your income (DTI) or need a larger loan for the house (LTV). These loans help doctors, lawyers, and other high-earning professionals achieve their dream of homeownership. These programs understand you might have high student loans but also have a bright future with a good salary.…
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wormkink · 10 months ago
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tried to reschedule this appt yesterday thru email so i could go pick up food from the food pantry but never got a response then when i showed up for the appt nobody was there until 10min after it should’ve already started only for them to say let’s reschedule so ended up getting barely any food bc i was late getting to the food pantry warehouse & they were running out of food & couldn’t give me enough for my household & now i’m trying to start dinner but i don’t understand ratios at fucking all & i don’t have enough of anything to make this recipe verbatim & i literally cannot afford to fuck up an entire meal <3333
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unmitigatedsuperiority · 11 months ago
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growing older is just looking back on your choices from only a few years ago and knowing you would make completely different ones if current you was there. but past you would never
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suyash-mpower · 1 year ago
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suguann · 6 months ago
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tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]
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You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 
Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 
You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.
All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.
You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.
“The nanny?”
“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”
“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.
You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.
The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.
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Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.
It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.
It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 
Perfect.
The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 
Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.
But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 
You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.
Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 
“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”
“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”
You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.
Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.
“I never say anything I don’t mean.”
You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.
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He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.
But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.
You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.
It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.
In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.
“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”
No, you think, there’s no way he knows.
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You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.
It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.
After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.
“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.
A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.
He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”
The noise in your brain goes static.
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You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.
Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 
When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.
He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.
He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 
“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”
You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 
“I-I want—”
All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 
“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”
You clench, nerves shot.
“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”
Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 
Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 
It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.
His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”
And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.
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Gonna look into a balance transfer card this weekend.
Fucking need it discover's APR is killing me.
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