Content+ warnings:Messy situationship,
Hard dom Heeseung, rough sex, degradation/praise mix, choking, hair pulling, creampies,Public/risky sex (bathroom, jet, yacht engine room, coat check, etc.),Cheating, flirting & jealousy,Rich kid/chaebol lifestyle, heavy partying, alcohol,Emotional messiness, commitment issues, eventual happy ending
Strong language, detailed smut.Mention of yunjin(lsf), moka(illit as heeseung's sister),ningning (aespa), rei(ive) as y/n's friends and whole enha as heeseung's.
Wc: 1.7k+
Note: not proofread & idk yeah filth.
MDNI
The penthouse in cheongdam was always too loud on fridays. marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the han river, and enough champagne to drown the entire gangnam district. your crew rolled up around 11:00. yunjin, moka, ningning, rei — all in custom pieces that cost more than most people’s rent. moka was already texting her brother heeseung to stop being late like he always was. you didn’t care. or at least you told yourself you didn’t.
you showed up in the black slip dress with the slit that hit mid-thigh, the one that made heads turn even in a room full of beautiful woman. maddy perez energy, yunjin called it once after too many shots. dramatic, expensive, always one step away from burning the whole scene down. you liked the label. it fit.
heeseung walked in twenty minutes later with the rest of the guys — jake, sunghoon, jay, sunoo, jungwon, ni-ki. all of them in that effortless rich-boy uniform: tailored shirts half-unbuttoned, watches that could buy small countries, hair still damp from whatever private gym they’d been in earlier. heeseung’s eyes found you immediately across the room, the same way they always did. sharp. annoyed.
you hated how good he looked. hated more that he knew it.
the situationship had started six months ago at moka’s birthday yacht party. one too many bottles of dom pérignon, one too many arguments about whose family’s jet was faster, and suddenly you were in the master suite with his hand up your dress and his mouth on your neck telling you to shut up and take it. you did. you both did. again and again. no labels, no promises. just the kind of messy that felt good until it didn’t.
tonight was no different.
you were on the rooftop terrace with the girls, wind off the river messing up your hair, when heeseung appeared behind you. his hand brushed your lower back like it was casual. it wasn’t.
“you wearing that dress to piss me off?” he asked, voice low enough that only you heard.
you turned, champagne glass in hand. “you showing up with that new girl from last week to piss me off?”
he didn’t deny it. just smirked. “situationship, remember? i can do what i want.”
moka rolled her eyes from the couch. “you two are exhausting. just fuck and get it over with already.”
yunjin laughed, clinking her glass against ningning’s. “they already do. constantly. rei saw them in the club bathroom last month.”
rei shrugged, unbothered. “i saw nothing. i’m blind when it comes to her bad decisions.”
you flipped them off and pulled heeseung inside before the conversation got louder. the hallway to the guest bathroom was dim. he locked the door behind you the second it closed.
“you’re such a fucking brat,” he said, already pushing you against the marble counter. In control from the very first second, the way you secretly craved when everything else felt out of control.
“and you’re a walking red flag,” you shot back, but your hands were already yanking his belt open.
he spun you around, bent you over the sink, dress shoved up around your waist. no foreplay tonight. just the sharp sound of his zipper and the thick push of him inside you in one go. you were wet already — always were when he looked at you like that. he fucked you hard, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints under the designer fabric.
“this what you wanted?” he groaned against your ear, hips snapping. “me ruining you while your little rich-girl friends are right outside?”
you moaned, pushing back against him. “shut up and make me come before someone walks in.”
he did. deep, relentless strokes that had the mirror fogging and your legs shaking. when you came he followed right after, burying himself deep and staying there, filling you until it dripped down your thighs when he pulled out.
he wiped you clean with a warm towel from the rack, almost gentle for half a second, then kissed the back of your neck. “clean up. we’re not done tonight.”
you fixed your makeup in the mirror while he watched. the hate was still there, simmering under the surface, but so was the want. always the want.
the rest of the night blurred. the guys and girls mixed in the main living room — sunghoon and ningning arguing over whose family owned the better art collection, jake and yunjin playing some dumb drinking game on the couch, jay and rei trading playlist control, sunoo and jungwon taking aesthetic shots of the city lights for their private stories. ni-ki was in the corner with his headphones on, pretending not to watch everyone else’s chaos.
you and heeseung stayed in your own little storm.
later, around 3 a.m., the group moved to the private club downstairs. the vip section was yours — bottles on ice, lights low, bass heavy. heeseung disappeared for twenty minutes. when he came back there was a girl on his arm. some model from last week’s fashion week. she laughed at something he said, hand on his chest.
you felt it like a slap.
you grabbed the nearest bottle and took it to the rooftop with the girls. moka followed first.
“he’s an idiot,” she said, lighting a cigarette even though none of you smoked anymore. “my brother’s always been like this. can’t commit to anything except his ego.”
yunjin leaned on the railing beside you. “you know you don’t have to keep doing this with him, right? there are other guys who aren’t walking red flags.”
ningning snorted. “name one in our circle who isn’t.”
rei just hugged you from behind. “we love you even when you make terrible decisions in six-inch heels.”
you laughed, but it was sharp. “i don’t know what i want. one minute i want to kill him. the next i want him so deep i forget my own name.”
the girls got it. they always did. rich-kid problems looked pretty from the outside, but the pressure was the same — expectations, appearances, the constant feeling that nothing was ever enough.
heeseung found you later that night. the model was gone. he looked pissed.
“you disappear with my sister and her crew every time i talk to someone else,” he said, crowding you against the railing.
“you disappear with random girls every time i breathe near you,” you answered.
he didn’t argue. just grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the service elevator that led to the parking garage. his driver was waiting with the black maybach. the ride to his family’s private penthouse in hannam was silent except for the low hum of the engine. the second the door closed behind you he had you against the wall.
this time it was slower. meaner. he stripped you piece by piece, mouth on every inch of skin he uncovered. when he finally pushed inside you on the massive leather couch he fucked you like he was trying to erase the girl from earlier. hard, deep, one hand around your throat, the other pinning your wrist above your head.
“you think i want them?” he groaned, hips snapping. “i want this. you. even when you drive me fucking insane.”
you came twice before he let himself go, spilling inside you while you shook apart under him.
after, he carried you to the bed. no words. just his arms around you until morning.
the cycle repeated for weeks.
a yacht party in jeju where he flirted with a ceo’s daughter in front of everyone and you ended up fucking him in the engine room to shut him up. a private jet to tokyo for “business” where he ignored your texts for six hours and you rode him in the bathroom mid-flight until both of you were breathless and the flight attendant knocked politely. a rooftop dinner with the whole crew where he spent half the night on his phone with some girl from his contacts and you dragged him into the private lounge after dessert, bent over the table while the city lights blurred below.
every fight, every inconvenience, every time the situationship felt too heavy — sex. it was the only thing that made sense when nothing else did.
the girls noticed. of course they did.
one sunday brunch at the apartment you all shared, moka stirred her oat milk latte and said, “you know he’s been different lately. less random girls. more staring at his phone waiting for your texts.”
yunjin raised an eyebrow. “still a playboy though. last week at the club he had two numbers in his pocket before midnight.”
ningning shrugged. “he wants her. he just doesn’t know how to not be a mess about it.”
rei passed you a plate of avocado toast. “and you? still pretending you don’t want him to choose you?”
you didn’t answer. you weren’t sure.
the breaking point came at the annual chaebol gala in the grand ballroom of the shilla hotel. everyone was there — your parents, his parents, the entire crew dressed like they owned the country because they basically did. heeseung showed up with a girl on his arm again. some influencer with a blue check and a dress that cost more than a car.
you danced with sunghoon for three songs just to watch heeseung’s jaw tighten from across the room. when the girl went to the bathroom he cornered you near the champagne tower.
“stop,” he said, voice tight.
“stop what? existing?”
“stop acting like you don’t care when i know you do.”
you laughed, bitter. “you’re the one who can’t commit, heeseung. you want me when it’s convenient and everyone else when it’s not.”
he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the private coat-check room off the main hall. the door locked. coats and furs hung around you like silent witnesses.
this time the sex was different. not angry. desperate in a new way. he kissed you like he was scared you’d disappear. hands gentle for once, then hard again when you bit his lip and told him to stop pretending. he lifted you onto the narrow counter, pushed your gown up, and fucked you slow and deep while the gala music filtered through the walls.
“i’m done playing,” he said against your mouth, hips rolling. “i want you. only you. no more games.”
you came with his name on your lips, tears mixing with the sweat on your skin. he followed, holding you tight like he was afraid to let go.
after, he fixed your dress, wiped your smudged mascara with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.
“i’m telling everyone tonight,” he said. “no more of these fucked situations,you’re mine. i’m yours. mess and all.”
you believed him this time.
back in the ballroom he walked straight up to the girl he’d brought, said something quiet, and sent her home in a town car. then he found you with the crew, pulled you in front of everyone — your friends, his friends, half the chaebol families in seoul — and kissed you like the world was watching.
the rest of the night was easy. dancing with the whole group, laughing at ni-ki’s terrible dad jokes, sunoo taking a million photos, jay and jake arguing over who had the better vintage watch collection. you and heeseung stayed close, his hand on your waist the whole time.
later, in the back of his maybach heading to his place, he rested his head on your shoulder.
“i’m still gonna be a mess sometimes,” he said quietly.
“i know. so am i.”
“but i’m choosing you. every day. even when it’s hard.”
you laced your fingers with his. “good. because i’m choosing you back.”
the penthouse was quiet when you got there. no parties. no random girls. just the two of you, city lights sparkling below, and the kind of peace that came after months of chaos.
he fucked you again that night — slow, reverent, in his massive bed with the sheets that smelled like him. Desperation there in the way he pinned your wrists and told you exactly how he wanted you, but softer now. like he finally understood what he had.
in the morning the group chat blew up with memes about “finally” and “took you long enough.” moka sent a selfie of all the girls in the apartment kitchen with the caption “our favorite red flag is officially off the market.”
you laughed and showed heeseung. he pulled you back under the covers, mouth on your neck.
“tell them we’re busy,” he murmured.
you did.
the mess didn’t disappear overnight. lives never did change overnight. there were still galas, still rumors, still moments where old habits tried to creep back in. but now there were also quiet nights on the yacht with just the two of you, brunch with the crew where heeseung’s hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, and late-night talks where he admitted how scared he’d been to want only one person.
the girls kept you grounded. yunjin dragged you shopping when the doubt hit. ningning planned girls’ trips to jeju when the pressure got too loud. moka reminded you weekly that her brother was still an idiot but he was your idiot now. rei just sent memes and told you to breathe.
the guys were the same. sunghoon gave heeseung shit every chance he got. jake and jay took him out for “accountability drinks” that mostly turned into them roasting him. sunoo documented every public date like it was a k-drama. jungwon and ni-ki just grinned and said “finally” every time they saw you together.
months turned into a year.
one night on the same rooftop where it all started, heeseung got down on one knee with a ring that sparkled brighter than the han river lights. no big speech. just “i’m done running. marry me. let’s be messy together forever.”
you said yes before he finished the sentence.
the wedding was everything — private island, both crews losing their minds on the dance floor, your dress costing more than some people’s houses. moka walked you down the aisle crying. yunjin, ningning, and rei were your bridesmaids in matching custom pieces. the guys stood behind heeseung looking proud and slightly hungover.
at the reception he pulled you aside during the first dance, forehead against yours.
“still hate me a little?” he asked, smiling.
“always,” you said. “but i love you more.”
the city kept spinning below. the world kept turning. but for once the static felt like home.
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#iron lung
#photography
