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( 심재윤 ) In which - You finally leave your toxic ex after catching him cheating, only to be dragged to a rival hockey party where you meet Jake Sim. One reckless night of revenge
Warnings / Tags: smut, mature content, dirty talk, jealousy, heavy sexual tension, oral sex( female rec), praise kink, rough sex, phone sex interruption, fingering, aftercare, cheating, possessive ex, jealousy, manipulation, football vs hockey rivalry, rebound romance, party scene, drinking/alcohol,
now playing ‧₊˚♪ : Call Out My Name by The Weeknd
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I used to think relationships were supposed to hurt. After three years with Kang Daniël , pain had become normal.
Everyone on campus knew Daniël. Football captain. The kind of guy people feared almost as much as they admired. Girls wanted him, guys followed him, and professors looked the other way whenever he caused trouble.
And somehow, he picked me. The quiet girl nobody really noticed.
Our relationship had always been messy. Daniël was jealous, controlling, and way too comfortable using his fists when he got angry. He cheated constantly too.
We'd break up, he'd cry and beg for another chance, swear he loved me, and somehow I always ended up taking him back.
Finding my best friend Vanessa in my bed with him had finally destroyed whatever love I had left for Daniël.
So this time, when I broke up with him, I meant it.
For two days straight he'd been blowing up my phone with calls and messages, but by Friday night I was determined to ignore every single one of them.
I’m sitting cross-legged on my dorm bed, pretending to study, when my door suddenly slams open hard enough to make me jump.
Sunoo walks in like he owns the place. “Get ready,” he announces.
I frown at him over my textbook. “Absolutely not.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“I’m serious, Sunoo. I don’t want to go out tonight.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically before tossing clothes onto my bed. A tiny skirt lands on top of my laptop followed by a cropped top that shows way more skin than I usually wear.
“You’re acting like your life ended,” he says. “Meanwhile your toxic, ugly, annoying ass ex is probably somewhere punching walls and writing pathetic drunk texts.”
“He is writing pathetic drunk texts,” I mutter. Sunoo snatches my phone from beside me and groans loudly at the screen. “Thirty-one missed calls?! Oh my God. He’s actually insane.”
I grab for it, but he holds it above his head.
“Nope.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not spending another Friday night crying over Daniël freaking Kang.”
“I’m not crying over him.”
“You were literally listening to sad music in the dark when I walked in.”
He laughs. “Yeah; Sure it is.”
I sigh, dropping my face into my hands. “I just don’t wanna deal with people tonight.” For a second, Sunoo softens. “I know,” he says quietly. “But staying locked in this room isn’t helping either.”
Sunoo has been my best friend since freshman year, before Daniël gets possessive and starts deciding who I can and can’t spend time with. Even then, Sunoo never fully leaves me alone. He always finds ways to check in.
And right now he’s giving me that look; the one that means he isn’t taking no for an answer.
“Fine,” I groan. “But if this party sucks, I’m blaming you.” His face lights up instantly. “ I Knew you’d come around.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m shoved into the outfit he picks, my hair loosely curled, lip gloss freshly applied, and dragged across campus toward his car.
I buckle my seatbelt suspiciously. “Okay… where are we actually going?”
Sunoo smiles. Not a normal smile either. A dangerous one.
My stomach drops immediately.
“It’s Lee Heeseung’s birthday party!!”
Because there’s one thing everybody at Seorin University knows; Hockey and football don’t get along! The rivalry is ancient at this point; fights at games, broken noses at parties, public scandals. It’s basically campus history.
And Daniël hates the hockey boys most of all.
For Three years, he practically forbids me from going anywhere near the hockey fraternity.
The hockey team has their own reputation on campus.
Campus loves them of course.
“The boys are way more fun than those stuck-up football assholes anyway,” Sunoo says as he pulls up outside a massive fraternity house glowing with lights and music.
Sunoo is good friends with the hockey team. He was 2 years a member before he found out he had to share a house with 6 other boys and only ONE working bathroom.
Now he just trains with them, and in case of emergency, he can step in as a team member if needed.
I stare at the crowd outside in panic.
“This is a horrible idea.”
“No,” he says, dragging me out of the car. “This is your hot-girl healing era.”
The party was already in full swing by the time Sunoo dragged me through the front door of the hockey house.
I hadn't wanted to come. I'd been curled up in my dorm with a textbook, trying to ignore the twenty-seven missed calls from Daniël, trying to forget the way Vanessa's moans had echoed through my own apartment last week.
"This is a bad idea," I muttered, sipping the cheap punch. It was already spiked; heavy on the vodka, light on the juice.
"It's a great idea." Sunoo beamed, his hand on my lower back, steering me past a crowd of bodies that pulsed with bass. "You broke up with that piece of shit. You deserve to live a little. And the hockey boys are way more fun than those stuck-up football assholes."
I flinched at the mention of the hockey team. For two years, I'd been forbidden from even looking at them. Daniël's jealousy had been suffocating, his fists quick when I so much as glanced at another guy. But Daniël wasn't here. And I was tired of being scared.
There were two kinds of ‘kings’ on campus.
The football boys ruled loudly; parties, followers, rumors, girls hanging off their arms like accessories. Daniël and his crew practically owned the social scene. Shawn, Minjun, Ji-ho, Jin, Do-hyun; all rich smiles and cruel egos, the kind of boys who loved attention almost as much as they loved themselves. They were hot, untouchable, and mean enough that nobody dared cross them.
Then there were the hockey boys.
Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Jungwon and Riki. They somehow managed to be just as infamous without even trying. They didn’t chase popularity; They’re effortlessly popular without even trying to be. There attractive, cocky, flirtatious; definitely players, but not in the cruel way the football boys are. Hockey boys do aftercare. They walk girls home. Remember names. Make sure you drink water before passing out at parties. Campus loved them.
For three years, he’d made sure I stayed far away from the hockey fraternity. Said they were players. Said they wanted one thing. But honestly? So did the football boys.
The only difference was that hockey boys smiled while breaking hearts. Football boys crushed them.
The house was huge! A crumbling fraternity mansion reappropriated by the ice hockey boys. The walls were lined with vintage jerseys, framed photos of the team hoisting trophies, and a shattered goalie stick that someone had mounted like a piece of art. The living room was packed with students grinding to some new remix, the air thick with sweat, cologne, and the sweet haze of smoke and vape clouds.
I spotted a few familiar faces from campus. Park Sunghoon leaned against a pool table, his arm around a girl with long black hair. Yang Jungwon was laughing at something on his phone near the kitchen. And there; in the corner, surrounded by a small crowd was Lee Heeseung, the birthday boy, smiling that killer smile that made every girl on campus weak.
I shook my head, trying to focus on Sunoo as he introduced me to a few of the hockey players. They were surprisingly nice! Not the cold, arrogant assholes Daniël had always described.
Riki offered me a shot of soju. Jay asked if I was okay, noticing my nervous energy. Heeseung gave me a simple nod of recognition. He knew who I was; probably also heard the rumors that had spread after the breakup.
I relaxed a little. The alcohol helped. After two more cups of that lethal punch, my limbs felt loose, and the edges of my anxiety softened into something almost warm.
And that's when I bumped into him.
I turned around from the makeshift bar in the kitchen, and my elbow collided with a solid chest. The cup in my hand tipped, spilling punch down my front and onto the white T-shirt of the guy I'd slammed into.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry—" I stammered, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at his shirt. It was already ruined, a dark pink stain spreading across the cotton.
"Don't worry about it." His voice was low, amused, that made every word sound like a smirk. "It was getting too clean anyway."
And my breath caught in my throat.
Jake Sim stood in front of me, his dark hair messy, his eyes glinting under the kitchen lights. He had that jawline that could cut glass, lips curved into a teasing smile that made my insides flip. Up close, he was even more overwhelming; broad shoulders, toned arms, and a presence that demanded attention without asking.
“Jake,” he says, extending a hand toward me.
I reach for it automatically, his grip was firm, warm. "I'm—uh—" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat.
He chuckles softly and lets his hand fall instead.
“I know who you are Sweetheart.”
My stomach tightens. He tilts his head slightly, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes heat creep up my neck.
“Ex-girl,” I correct immediately.
Jake raises a brow at how fast the words come out of my mouth.
“Oh?” he says, clearly interested now.“ We broke up.” I said awkwardly. A slow grin spreads across his face, dangerously pretty.
“Well, damn.” He leans against the kitchen counter beside me. “That explains why you’re standing in a hockey house wearing that look on your face.”
“The ‘I’m either about to ruin my life or heal emotionally’ look.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. Jake’s eyes light up like he’s proud he got the reaction.
“So,” he continues casually, taking a sip from his drink, “what’s Daniël’s ex doing at a hockey party? Thought football boys kept their girlfriends on a leash.”
I nearly choke on my drink.
“To everyone except him, probably.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Sunoo dragged me here.”
“Smart guy. He never really brings someone.” Jake steps a little closer, lowering his voice over the pounding music. “Honestly? Seeing you here is kind of shocking.”
“Because Daniël hated us.” He smirks. “Especially me.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
“Well,” I mumble, looking down at my cup, “he doesn’t exactly get a say in what I do anymore.”
Jake goes quiet for half a second. Then his smile changes. Less teasing. More flirtatious.
He’s already looking at me like he’s decided something. “You know,” he says, eyes dragging slowly over my face, “you’re really as pretty as everyone said.”
My face burns instantly. “Everyone said that?”
Jake huffs out a laugh, shaking his head a little. “Sweetheart, do you really think a campus full of boys didn’t notice Daniël dating a pretty girl?”
I stare at him. “That’s mildly terrifying.”
“Nah.” He moves even closer until I can smell his cologne over the alcohol and smoke in the room. “What’s terrifying is how Daniël let you walk around looking like this and still thought nobody would flirt with you.”
Jake notices immediately.
He tilts his head, that grin still playing on his lips. "And I think you need another drink. That one is half on my shirt."
He takes the cup from my hand, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. He's gone before I can protest, weaving through the crowd toward the keg. I watch him go, broad shoulders, confident stride, the way people naturally part for him.
When he comes back, he's holding two fresh cups. He hands me one, our fingers touching again.
"To new beginnings," he says, clinking his cup against mine.
We drink. The alcohol making my head spin. It's the way he's looking at me, like I'm the only person in this packed house.
"So," he says, leaning against the counter beside me again, close enough that I can smell his cologne; something clean and masculine, undercut with the faint scent of sweat. "What's the story? Daniël cheated, I'm guessing. He always had wandering eyes."
Jake lets out a low whistle. "Ouch. That's a double betrayal."
"Yeah." I take another long drink. "Found them in my bed. My bed. While I was supposed to be at the library."
"Fuck." He shakes his head. "That's cold. Even for Daniël."
"You sound like you know him well."
"We played basketball together in highschool. He's talented, I'll give him that. But he's always been entitled. Thought he could have whatever he wanted without consequences." His eyes meet mine. “Looks like he’s finally facing the consequences.”
I don't know what to say to that, so I just drink.
We stand there for a while, talking about nothing and everything. He tells me about the season, about the rivalry with the neighboring college's teams, about the time Sunoo accidentally set the kitchen on fire trying to make ramen. I find myself laughing, actually laughing! For like the first time in weeks.
We finish another drink. Then another. The kitchen gets louder, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floor, making my chest thrum in sync with the music.
Suddenly, someone stumbles into me, splashing a cold wave of beer across my thighs and shoes. I gasp, looking down at the mess, but Jake is already there.
His hand lands firm on my lower back, his fingers splaying across my spine, pulling me flush against his side.
"Come on," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my ear. "Let's go clean that up."
He leads me through the crowd, his grip possessive as he steers me past groups of laughing players and girls dancing on couches. The hallway is dimmer, the air cooler, the walls lined with team photos and forgotten jackets. The noise of the party fades into a dull roar as he pushes open the door to the bathroom and steers me inside, clicking the lock shut behind us.
We stand in the small space, the fluorescent light humming overhead. Jake grabbed a towel from a cabinet, put it under the water, and cleaned the sticky beer from my bare legs.
When he’s done, he stands up and looks down at me. His eyes are dark, blown out with a hunger that mirrors the ache in my own gut. He doesn't say a word. He just leans in, his breath hot against my lips, hovering for a heartbeat, teasing me. Before he finally closes the gap.
Jake crashes his mouth onto mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s a collision, hungry and desperate, years of pent-up frustration pouring into a single, bruising kiss. His tongue forces its way past my lips, claiming me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.
I let out a low, needy moan right into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip his hair, pulling him closer as if I can't get enough of him.
His hands slide down from my waist, yanking my hips hard against his. I can feel the thick, rigid length of his cock pressing firmly against my thigh through our clothes, pulsing with every heartbeat. He groans deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through my entire body.
He pulls back just an inch, his lips swollen and wet, his chest heaving. He looks at me with raw, unfiltered lust, his voice a rough growl.
"Fuck this," he pants, his forehead resting against mine. "Let's go to my room."
His room is big! King-size-bed in the corner, hockey gear scattered on the floor, a desk under the window cluttered with textbooks and a empty Gatorade bottle. He kicks the door shut behind us, and the lock.
In the dim light from the window, I see him clearly. He's beautiful, sharp jaw, full lips, eyes that seem to see right through me. His chest rises and falls quickly, his shirt stretching across broad shoulders.
I barely had time to breathe before his hands were on me; cupping my face, tilting my chin up, pulling me into a kiss that started teasing and turned ravenous. His tongue swept against mine, tasting of alcahol and something sharper. I moaned into his mouth, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
He walked me backward, step by step, until my spine hit the edge of the desk. The wood bit into my hips through my skirt. He didn’t stop kissing me, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs, hoisting me up onto the surface. His body pressing between my legs.
“Fuck,” I gasped, breaking the kiss. “You’re eager.
He grinned, that cocky, lopsided grin. “What can I say? You’ve been doing that thing with your eyes all night. Driving me crazy.” His hand slid up my thigh, pushing the hem of my skirt higher. “And I got a good look at you in that skirt. Been thinking about bending you over this desk since I saw you.”
“Then stop thinking and do it.”
He laughed, but it was dark, hungry. “Bossy. I like it.”
I reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. “You talk too much.”
He caught my wrists, pinning them behind my back. “And you rush too much. We’ve got all night, princess.” His mouth found my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear. I shivered, my head falling back. He bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark. “I wanna hear you say my name before we’re done. And I wanna hear you beg.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my clutch. Loud. Insistent. I ignore it, pulling Jake back to me, but he pulls away, raising an eyebrow.
It buzzes again. And again.
Jake's eyes narrow. "Is that Daniël?"
He reaches into my clutch before I can stop him, pulling out my phone. The screen glows with Daniël's name.
But he's already swiped to answer. But he doesn't say anything, just holds the phone to my ear, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Hello? Hello?! Why did it take you so long to answer?!" Daniël's voice crackles through the speaker, angry and slurred. Drunk, probably.
I glare at Jake, but he just smirks, his free hand sliding to my hip.
"Daniël, we're broken up. Why are you calling me in the first place?"
"Don't give me that shit! People are texting me that you're at the fucking hockey boys' party! Are you trying to humiliate me?!"
Before I can respond, Jake's mouth is on my neck. I inhale sharply, my hand flying to his chest to push him away, but he doesn't budge. His lips suction against my skin, tongue tracing the column of my throat.
"I—Daniël, it's none of your business where I am—"
"None of my business?! You're my girlfriend—"
Jake bites down, hard. I let out a small moan and quickly cover my mouth. He pulls back, his lips brushing my ear.
"Not too loud," he whispers, his voice a low rumble. "You don't want your stupid ex to hear you."
I shove at his chest, but he's solid, immovable. His hand slides under my skirt, fingers pressing against my pussy through my panties.
"Are you there with someone?!" Daniël's voice is furious now.
Jake's fingers hook my panties aside, I slowly lift my hips to help, and he shoved them into his pocket with a smirk. “Souvenir. Don’t worry, I’ll give ’em back later. Maybe.”
He drags his fingers through my folds, collecting the wetness that's been building since the hallway. I gasp, my hips bucking into his hand.
It took me a second to collect all my toughest again.
"And what if I am at a hockey party? We're broken up, leave me alone!"
"You literally cheated on me with my best friend!"
"She threw herself at me! And you were home studying or something, so it's your—"
"WHAT?! IT’S MY FAULT YOUR DICK FELL IN HER PUSSY?!"
"NOOOO, not like that! I still love you, I miss you—"
As Daniël rambles on, Jake sinks to his knees in front of me. I look down, confused, my mind still half on the phone.
But he cuts me off by lifting my skirt, baring me completely to him. The cool air hits my wet pussy, and I shiver.
"I know. You’re there with someone!" Daniël's voice is shrill now. "I'm gonna come get you!"
Jake looks up at me, his eyes locked on mine, and then his mouth connects with my pussy.
I let out a loud moan; can't help it. His tongue slides through my folds, lapping at my clit, and my knees buckle. I grab the edge of the desk behind me, steadying myself.
"What was that?! I knew it! I'm coming over there right now—"
Jake stands up in one fluid motion, takes the phone from my hand, and brings it to his own ear.
"She's busy, Daniël. As you can hear." He hangs up, tosses the phone onto the bed, and turns back to me, his lips wet with my arousal.
"Where were we?" he asks, stepping into me.
I don't answer. I grab his shirt and yank him into a kiss, tasting myself on his lips. He groans, his hands gripping my ass, lifting me beter on the desk.
He stands between my legs, pushing my skirt up to my waist. I'm completely exposed to him, my pussy slick and ready.
"You're so fucking wet," he says, his voice rough. "Look at you. Dripping for me. And your ex just heard you moan. That's going to eat him alive."
"Stop talking about him."
"Fine." His fingers find my clit, rubbing slow circles. "Let me talk about you instead. How beautiful you look like this. Skirt up, thighs spread, waiting for me."
I whimper, my head falling back.
"Eyes on me," he commands. I obey. "That's it. I want to see your face when I fuck you."
He unzips his jeans, pulls out his cock. It's thick, heavy, the tip already glistening. He strokes himself once, twice, then lines himself up with my entrance.
He thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. I cry out, my back arching off the desk. He's so deep, so full. I feel stretched, claimed.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. "So fucking tight. squeezing my cock like you never want to let go."
He sets a rhythm; deep, measured strokes that hit a spot inside me that makes my toes curl. He leans over me, one hand gripping my hip, the other tangled in my hair.
"You like that? You like being fucked on Daniël's rival's desk?"
"You like knowing he heard you moan for me?"
"Good." He pulls out almost completely, then slams back in. "Because I'm going to make sure you forget his name. By the time I'm done, you're only going to remember mine."
He picks up the pace, his hips slapping against mine. The desk groans, shaking with each thrust. I'm gasping, moaning, my nails digging into his shoulders.
"Harder," I beg. "Please, harder."
He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back until my spine arches.
"Yeah? You want it harder?" He drives into me with brutal force, and I scream. "You want me to fuck you so hard you can't walk tomorrow?"
He pounds into me, his rhythm losing control. He's grunting now, his forehead pressed to mine. "You feel so good. This pussy was made for me. "
His hand drops between us, fingers finding my clit. He rubs roughly, in time with his thrusts.
"I can feel you clenching. You're close, aren't you?"
"Yes—please, let me come—"
"Not yet." He slows, pulling almost all the way out. I whimper in protest. "I said I want to make you forget his name. We're not done yet."
He keeps that maddening pace, barely moving, just enough to keep me on the edge. His lips find my ear.
"You're going to come when I tell you. And you're going to scream my name so loud the whole house knows you're mine tonight."
"Please what?" He thrusts once, deep and slow. "Tell me what you want."
"I want to come. I want to come on your cock."
"That's my girl." He kisses me, sloppy and passionate. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let go."
He drives into me, hard and fast, his fingers working my clit. I shatter; my orgasm crashing through me in waves. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him.
He follows a second later, thrusting deep, groaning as he spills inside me. Hot, thick, filling me. His hips stutter, and he collapses against me, both of us breathing hard.
We stay like that, tangled on his desk, his weight a comforting pressure. His forehead rests against mine.
He laughs, breathless. "Yeah. Holy shit."
He pulls out slowly, carefully. I wince at the emptiness, but his hands are gentle as he helps me off the desk. My legs are jelly, and he steadies me with a hand on my waist.
"Easy," he murmurs. "I've got you."
He leads me to his bed, sits me down. I watch as he disappears into the bathroom, hears the water run. He comes back with a damp washcloth and drops to his knees in front of me.
I obey, and he gently cleans between my thighs, wiping away the mixture of both of us. His touch is tender, reverent, nothing like the rough manhandling from minutes ago.
"Shut up," he says softly. "I want to."
He cleans me thoroughly, then tosses the washcloth aside. He finds a t-shirt in his drawer: soft, worn and helps me pull it over my head. It's huge on me, falling to mid-thigh.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He strips down to his boxers and climbs onto the bed beside me. He pulls me against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist, his lips pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Good." His hand strokes my hip, tracing lazy circles. "You were amazing, you know-Fucking incredible."
I blush, burying my face in his chest. He laughs softly.
"Shy now? After all that?"
He kisses the top of my head. "Never."
We lie there in comfortable silence. The party hums faintly downstairs, but it feels miles away. His hand never stops moving, stroking my hair, my back, my arm.
"Can I get you anything?" he asks. "Water? Something to eat?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
I feel safe. Warm. Wanted.
"Thank you. For... not making it weird after."
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes serious.
"Hey. Listen to me. I know we just met, but... I felt something.”
“It's different. You're different."
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