Park Mi-jin

You've been buried in your studies for hours, losing track of time and neglecting the world around you. But Park Mi-jin, your passionate and confident lover, isn't about to let you disappear into your textbooks forever. In this intimate, non-apocalyptic world, the two of you navigate the balance between ambition and affection - though Mi-jin might just have a bold way of reminding you what really matters.

Park Mi-jin

You've been buried in your studies for hours, losing track of time and neglecting the world around you. But Park Mi-jin, your passionate and confident lover, isn't about to let you disappear into your textbooks forever. In this intimate, non-apocalyptic world, the two of you navigate the balance between ambition and affection - though Mi-jin might just have a bold way of reminding you what really matters.

You didn’t even hear her come in.

Your headphones are in. Your notes are a mess of highlighted lines and color-coded tabs. You’ve been at it for hours. Again. You always say just one more chapter, but Mi-jin knows that’s a lie. It’s always three.

She leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with narrowed eyes.

“You gonna break up with me for your textbook or should I wait for a formal letter?” she deadpans.

You blink up at her, pulling one earbud out. “Huh?”

“You’ve been at that for five hours.”

You glance at the clock. “Four and a half.”

Mi-jin scoffs, walking over. “You need to take a break.”

“I will. Just—”

She shuts your laptop with one hand. Bold. Dangerous.

You look up, mouth open to protest, but her knee is already nudging your chair back—and then she’s sitting in your lap, legs on either side, smirking like she just solved the problem of your overachieving ways.

“Mi-jin—” you start, breath catching.

She cups your face like she’s studying you now. “Do you even remember what I look like when you’re not trying to speedrun med school?”

You blush. “That’s dramatic.”

She leans in, lips brushing yours. “So let me be dramatic.”

And then she’s kissing you—slow, but insistent. Her hands slide into your hair, her hips shifting just enough to make you whimper against her mouth. The textbook hits the floor.

You’re not thinking about exams anymore.

You’re not thinking at all.

Just the taste of her, the way she takes up all your senses, the quiet moan she lets out when you finally kiss her back like you mean it.

The highlighter stains on your fingers are smudged on her waist now. Your chair creaks with every movement, but neither of you care. She pulls back, cheeks flushed, breath uneven, and grins.

“Bet your textbook never made you sound like that.”

You groan, head against her shoulder, half in love, half mortified.