Education
Yurin had noticed that among the photos Minji had shown her, several bore a striking resemblance to Seon-ah.
The brief flicker in Minji's eyes had been enough to suggest she felt the sting of being caught out herself.
Ever since Minji had started inserting herself into the relationship between Yurin and Seon-ah, something about it had rubbed Yurin the wrong way.
She has her eye on Seon-ah, doesn't she?
The only real evidence was a handful of photos among Minji's many preferences that happened to fit the type — hardly enough for certainty. Still, Yurin felt the need to draw a clear line.
Her mind stayed cold and calculating, but her chest churned with a strange, simmering heat she could not quite name.
Thursday afternoon.
Once lectures were over, Yurin took Seon-ah outside. She had already arranged to meet Minji.
"Oh, there you are."
Minji lit up the moment she spotted Yurin.
Yurin glanced at Seon-ah.
"I forgot to mention it to you earlier. Sorry, Seon-ah — I was planning to grab a café with Minji. Do you have time? Want to come along?"
Seon-ah looked mildly surprised, then nodded.
"Yeah, sure."
Ordinarily, Yurin disliked other women approaching her whenever she was out with Seon-ah. That was something only Seon-ah, who had spent so long at her side, truly understood.
She said she'd gotten close with Minji… I guess they really have.
Seon-ah took it as a good sign — that Yurin had finally made a genuine friend.
She used to be so possessive. It's a relief she's easing up a little.
Minji, for her part, thought Yurin's jealousy might finally be softening.
At the café the three of them talked about everything — classes, assignments, job prospects, and the looming worry that within a few years both Minji and Yurin would be heading off to the military.
Every time Seon-ah spoke with another woman right in front of her, Yurin's chest boiled.
How many times their bodies had tangled. How long they had been together. What Seon-ah liked, what he was good at, what caught his interest, what little habits he had — even the number of moles on his skin. Yurin knew more about him than anyone.
And yet the shadow of another woman clinging to him left her restless, on edge.
She fretted that some random girl would latch on. Even Minji — a friend she genuinely got along with — was no exception.
Even now, every time Seon-ah turned to speak to Minji, something uneasy stirred in the way Minji looked at him. Something that did not sit right.
Come to think of it, a senior in their group chat had kept posting internet clips of her man-crush. Minji had asked for similar recommendations, saying they matched her taste.
Yurin had spent so long with him that she had almost forgotten — Seon-ah had an easygoing nature most women couldn't match, and in the best sense he spoke in a way that wasn't typically masculine at all.
Not just his looks. His personality, too, seemed to land squarely in Minji's preferences.
Soon enough she would give up on him anyway.
Still, the jealousy would not go away.
The thought of making Seon-ah feel, with his body, the pain she carried in her heart made her pulse race.
Come the weekend, Seon-ah never stayed in the dorm. He left campus through the main gate with her.
Anyone who noticed them leaving together could guess well enough what they would be doing until Monday.
Yurin made a point of it — every Friday, the moment lectures ended, she walked him out herself where others could see.
Part of it was showing off what they were to each other. But she never forgot the rest: groping him openly, hands roaming over his body in full view of everyone, branding into their minds that he was hers so no other bitch would dare wag her tail at him.
The skin she kneaded day after day was always smooth, soft, addictive.
At first Seon-ah had squirmed and told her to stop, embarrassed to be touched like that in public. Through her education, he no longer showed any sign of refusal.
Sometimes, when she squeezed harder, a faint moan slipped from his lips — and that only fed her sadism.
She wanted to keep touching him.
With relentless teasing that never let up, she led him back to their place.
Every weekend, whenever she took him roughly, the way Seon-ah grew more pliant afterward was deeply satisfying.
The more intense the act, the more obedient he became once the sex was over.
Repeat it enough times and he started remembering what she told him, started trying to follow the rules she laid down.
Coming to university only to find herself teaching him like this — it was a strange feeling.
In the end, she thought, the proper place to educate a man was in bed.
This week was no different. Seon-ah had failed to properly absorb what she had taught him.
She had introduced them herself, yes — but the way he had chatted so happily with Minji only proved the education had been insufficient.
Top of the entrance rankings or not, brilliant student or not — if he couldn't even keep something this simple, he clearly needed more repetition. More education.
With that thought, she opened the door to their place.
The moment the front door shut, she stripped him where he stood, seized him, and dragged him into the bedroom.
The sex she looked forward to every weekend was also the time she spent educating him.
Whenever Seon-ah showed incorrect behavior, she filed it away — and on the weekend, she injected her lessons straight into his body.
Once they were both wet enough, she pushed inside first and began to sample him at her leisure.
Seon-ah seemed to prefer gentler sex; his face showed no pain, only soft moans that made plain he was enjoying himself.
She rocked into him slowly, then leaned her upper body over his and murmured against his ear.
"Talking with another woman after so long… that was fun, wasn't it?"
She had arranged the meeting herself. The jealousy still came anyway.
His face went pale — and inside her, he hardened further.
Even if she had been the one to introduce them, talking with a woman counted as wrongdoing. He seemed to grasp that now.
All those weekends of education had taught him to catch on quickly whenever she spoke like this.
Pleasure and moaning, though, kept him from forming proper words.
"Ah… nnh… noth… nnh… nothing hap… ah—ah! …pened…"
Incoherent sounds, and his head shook desperately, insisting nothing had happened.
"I see. So nothing happened, is that right?"
She fixed him with a hard stare and began to move rougher. His breath turned ragged; tears started to well and spill.
The wet, relentless slap of flesh filled the room.
His face flushed crimson as moans edged toward screams.
"Aaaah—! Ah! Ah!"
The sounds grew wilder, undercut by the protesting creak of the bed.
A bed bought a week before the semester, already on the verge of falling apart — expensive furniture that clearly wasn't earning its keep.
I should replace it soon.
The pace was so brutal and fast he could barely keep his wits, but he seemed to have adapted somewhat to the pleasure; apologies began to mix into his moans.
"Hyaah—! Ah! A-haah! I… won't… nnh… talk… with… other… wom—! Ah! Ah! …en… nnh…"
He never finished the apology.
She sealed his mouth with hers.
For a moment she stilled her hips, pulled back from his lips, and looked him in the eyes.
"You'll have to be punished first, won't you? If you want forgiveness, show me with your body. You haven't forgotten what I taught you, have you?"
His face and lips trembled; he looked on the verge of breaking into full tears.
Every time she saw that expression, the urge to be rougher surged harder.
It was a face that fed her sadism until she wanted to wreck him until his eyes rolled white and his moans turned hoarse and broken.
She couldn't hold back.
Looking down at his resigned expression, she kissed him again and drove her hips faster than before.
His face changed from moment to moment.
She had learned something over all their times together: Seon-ah's lovely voice was something to be conserved.
When she wanted to hear those sweet, full-throated moans, she pulled her mouth away and let her ears drink them in.
But if he cried out too much, his throat would go raw — so she kissed him again and stopped the sound from escaping.
A kindness, of sorts, for a throat that must have been aching from screams that never quite stopped being moans.
After he had been screaming long enough for his voice to suffer, she sealed his mouth again and carefully regulated what was allowed to slip free.
The rough pace went on and on until, at last, Seon-ah poured everything out.
Tears. Spit. And from below as well.
For her, the best way to receive an apology was through sex with him — and through the cum that came of it.
Tears and a muttered sorry were one thing. Tears mixed with cum, an apology offered with his whole body spent — that carried far more sincerity. Of course it did.
Under the continuing education he came inside her again and again, until his eyes rolled back and he passed out.
Even that was not enough for her.
Only after she had wrung still more apology from him did the strength finally leave him there, going soft and spent.
Hours of pleasure came to an end.
His heartfelt apology had pleased her — but it still wasn't enough.
Once he had slept a little and woken, she intended to educate him again.
She closed the eyes of the unconscious Seon-ah lying open-eyed on the bed, then pulled him into her arms.
When he woke a little later, the lessons would resume.
No matter how many times she educated him, he still made mistakes in the end. Even so, she believed in him.
Someday, even without education, he would do exactly what she wanted.