Fics like she was a punk, he did ballet

Jisung wasn’t stupid or naive; she knew where this was heading. If you want, I could take you back to my apartment and you can look through my sketchbooks, as if. She knew exactly what she was going to be looking at. And it was— insane, actually, to think about. Men who looked like Hyunjin, like they’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine, didn’t sleep with girls like her. They fucked the kinds of girls who knew what to buy in Sephora and had skincare routines and didn’t go to parties in sweatpants. Girls like Jisung pulled the kinds of guys who were so desperately grateful to be having sex at all that they didn’t care that she owned the Naruto box set and had Pokemon plushies on her bed. Hwang Hyunjin had never needed to sink to such lows. He’d always had a gaggle of girls following him, had dated all the hottest girls in high school, even though the whole time Jisung had thought he was using them as beards. If he was actually into girls— that meant he’d really dated them. He’d probably seen Shin Ryujin’s tits. Jisung had seen her topless in the locker rooms enough to know that those were nice tits. She glanced down at herself. Fuck, she thought. I’m wearing granny panties.

Fics like she was a punk, he did ballet

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