champagne problems

“You’re sure about this, right?” you ask Karina, clutching her arm as she walks you through the hotel. “I dunno, everything just looks so fancy.” 

“Doesn’t have to be here.” She muses, inhaling your hair and kissing a knuckle. “We could go somewhere else if you’d like.” 

“And you’d be willing to splurge money on me-” 

“Because I want to.” 

(It’s a wonderful exchange of communication: where the offers are tempting and impressions have been made. Nothing could possibly get complicated between the two of you before this interaction.

Spoiler alert: the plot goes sideways so quickly before you realize it.) 

–

A part of your brain starts to wonder: well, shit. how the fuck am I getting another dinner with someone I barely met? 

(Opportunities like these aren’t difficult to come by, especially for those struggling to make ends meet. 

If there was a pedigree in that regard - you, my friend, would be the cream of the crop.) 

–

Instead, let’s lay it out this way. 

–

You keep rolling your eyes at Jang Wonyoung, who continues to laugh at you while she lays out the overlooked proposition: 

“The dating app itself isn’t a bad idea. If you really stop thinking for a second, you’d be making money.” 

This isn’t the first time you’re hearing the money convos from her, and it certainly won’t be the last time you decide to listen either. 

“Money,” you say, eyeing your best friend who’s treating herself to the assorted makeup items in your box, tossing a color back having no care - which is how she usually is with most things in her life. “Don’t you think that’s related to sex-” 

“Sex work?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“Sort of, but-” 

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

“You’re too close-minded,” Wonyoung tsks in correction. “Point being: you’re a sugar baby. That’s what it’s called. Honestly, it could be worse. Sex is only half the conversation; maybe the company is all they need. They take and treat you out for dinner and that’s it. Exclusivity isn’t even supposed to be an afterthought.” 

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” You tell her flatly. 

“Who, me?” Wonyoung snorts. “Pfft, of course not. But I’ve heard good things about it online.” She looks up at her fingers and shifts her gaze to you. “I’m not telling you to do it; but if you’re looking to get some paper in your pockets, the option’s there. You won’t know until you try.” 

There she goes - her underlying pretense which leads to more and more misfortune - as always, with a peaked brow and a soft sigh of defeat. Wonyoung pretends to let things go, but deep down she knows you’ll come back around to reconsider. 

Your phone buzzes on the bed and that changes your attention instantly. Among the messages between your tutoring gig to the rescinded application of the restaurant Wonyoung insisted not to work at, her face goes smug and she has a good guess as to who’s texting: 

attitude diva: shoot’s ready. where r u? 😔

attitude diva: you better not leave me alone with just my hands tonight 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🫠🫠

Wonyoung clicks her tongue, “Is that who I think it is?” 

You completely ignore her question and slip on your sweats and hoodie at the door. “Let me think about it, okay? Then I’ll see where I stand with the offer.” 

“If you really need it, then Yujin wouldn’t be on top of you in ten minutes-” 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear the rest of Wonyoung’s plea - nor bear the mind to wave her off into the sweet breeze of the night. 

–

They should’ve put this on the pamphlets, talk about it on the campus tours, hear it from a random professor on their way to class - the pursuits people fall into within the four-to-five years of obtaining their degree; using their education for bigger endeavours and typical jazz to reel in more students, implement numbers on graphs and personal destinies with some meaning behind them. Amongst the pack, you’re ambitious in one part - mostly lazy on the other, but willing to get by any means necessary without putting too much effort into the work required. Cutting corners, essentially. Because who wouldn’t? 

(Take Jang Wonyoung for example: 

Yes, she’s got the looks, fashion brands lining up to sign a deal with her when the time is right; even her brains is also a plus -  if she feels like it - she wants to waste her time paying no care  pleasing her peers with her smiles and light-hearted pick me demeanor (if she deems you worthy of getting to know her). 

In short: She’s the kind of girl you’d want to be close with from the get-go. Someone to stay by your side through thick and thin when the balance between work and classes are in disarray.) 

As for An Yujin:  

“Bet that feels amazing, hm?”

The sound ripped out from your lungs is all confirming. A meld of being tense and pliable: just how she wants you. 

“Shhh,” she murmurs into your sweat lined neck, “Lay back down for me, hun. I’ma fuck you good.” Her eyes are clearly blown out, lidded. Lips tiredly placed across your skin and the purple lighting on the ceiling above is all too hazy. “Lemme hit like it’s mine.” 

“You can because it’s yours,” you rasp, gasping from the slide of her silicon cock slipping inside, parting your walls. Yujin’s already made you cum from her fingers - that wasn’t even ten minutes upon arriving. Soon after, you returned the favor by letting her ride your face, making you chase that reward until she eventually lets go. Now, she’s getting off at the sound of your breath stuttering, dragging back and slapping the rubber at your swollen folds. She’s already ruined you once, now she wants to do it again. 

Yujin angles the phone up toward your chest, ensuring that your face isn’t in the picture. Thank god you made that agreement with her. Considering how word travels fast around the school and only very few people know about this secret side hustle. Her hair’s already a mess, running a hand through, biting her lip when she sees you wince at the dildo being halfway in - stomach clenching in reflex. “You look so good for me baby,” she says while gripping your breast, pinching a nipple. 

“Fuck- please.” You sigh, mindlessly moving your hips to meet her thrust in the middle, eliciting a small whine past your teeth. Yujin’s hand then goes to your waist, fingers pressing down and pulling you towards her more. “Yujin, oh my god-” 

“Yeah? You like that? Gonna be a good girl for me?” She asks, laughing at the expletive.

“Yes, yes-” 

Yujin sees through your pained expression, pressing her body down, lifting the arch in your back to go higher, dip her fingertips in the small divots right above your ass. “Hold still - just like that, there we go.” 

Her pace picks up in small increments, little by little for it to not hurt. Just the way you like them: slow and steady - get a rhythm going, let her earn the edge she desperately craves. 

(It’s a bit ironic, thinking about your words and Wonyoung’s insight, because all the evidence Wonyoung needs to see are the marks where she imagines them to be on you and prove herself right.) 

“Oh my god, oh my god-”