𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠 [𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚] 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚
Pairing :: cowboy!sunghoon x wife!karina x citygirl!reader
Genre :: imagine, oneshot
Wc :: 9.4k
A/N :: This was supposed to be a hoon x reader fic, I ZAAWNNT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, but I guess enjoy some Karina crumbs.
Tags :: not proofread, slight age gap (hoon and rina are like in their early thirties while reader is in her early twenties), Karina and Sunghoon are having a rough marriage, Jake is catching some strays, threesome, no protection, edging, oral (reader recieving), use of petnames (baby, Suga’, Darlin’), lmk if I missed anything!
---
You were, to be quite frank, fucked.
Not just in a temporary, fleeting sense, but rather in a way that left your whole life upside down, and you didn’t know how to bring it back to how it was. So you did what seemed easiest, you ran away.
Maybe that made you a coward. A irresponsible adult that couldn’t live with the consequences of their own actions, but you never were one to pride yourself in your ‘responsibility’. You didn’t choose to become an adult, neither did you choose to fail your state exam.
Becoming a lawyer hadn’t been your dream job. If someone would’ve asked little you what occupation you would want, you would’ve answered with a toothy grin and ‘the best chef in the world’. But the world didn’t have space for such useless jobs, atleast according to your mother.
So you did what you were told, attended law school early — earlier than anyone in your state, got engaged to the son of the powerful Sim family, Jake, and acted like the little jewel your mother spent years polishing.
Until on that faithful day, you just snapped. With the immense pressure coming from both Jake’s parents and your mother, the constant need of attention from your fiance and the death of your grandmother, you handed in your state exam without so much but a single word on the paper before stuffing your overly expensive car full of your stuff and fleeing.
Thats how you found yourself in the middle of a bumpy street, car engine sputtering one last time before dying with a pathetic, metallic cough. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ticking of the cooling metal and the distant, lonely whistle of the wind through the tall grass. You rested your forehead against the steering wheel, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest. Of course. You’d traded a life of gold-plated chains for a dead battery in the middle of nowhere.
Your heels clicked on the pavement, midday sun glaring down at you as you opened the car hood, only to be met with a pathetic puff of grey smoke and a smell that definitely didn't belong in a luxury vehicle. You stood there, squinting at the mess of wires and pipes like they were written in a foreign language.
You had never even batted an eye at the inside of an car. As long as it looked pretty and drove fast, you were sold. You could remember it like it was yesterday, the eye roll you gave the manual before throwing it into the trash. ‘I’ll never need it anyways’ you had laughed, knowing that if anything happend you would’ve just let your father call someone to fix it. You regretted your arrogancy now.
The rhythmic clack of hooves pulled you out of your thoughts, a sound so grounding and heavy that it seemed to anchor the very air around you. You spun around, hand shielding your eyes from the oppressive glare of the sun, half-expecting a hallucination born of heatstroke.
Instead, you saw a horse. It was a creature of pure, striking white, its coat gleaming like polished porcelain against the rugged browns and golds of the valley. But it was the rider who made your breath hitch in your throat.
He sat tall in the saddle, moving in perfect, fluid sync with the beast beneath him. He didn't look like the friendly, commercialized cowboys you’d seen in movies; there was a sharp, glacial edge to him. As he drew closer, the details sharpened: a faded denim shirt stretched across broad shoulders, dark jeans worn white at the knees, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted just low enough to shadow his eyes.
You knew you were here for some peace. To bake all the things your soul had longed to all your life, to eat some pie with a random neighbourly lady, to collect flowers and have them sit prettily on your counter. You weren't here for men, for dick. Hell, you've just gotten out of an engagement and you weren't even sure if your fiancé was aware.
But fuck, that man was sexy.
"You lost, Suga'?" His voice was smooth yet ever so slightly raspy, a hidden evidence of his late-night smokes. The southern drawl in his voice left a shiver run down your spine, making you straighten up, the silk blouse clinging to your skin with sweat. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat betraying your confidence. "No," you lied through your teeth, glancing back at the smoking wreck of your car. "Just... taking in the scenery."
The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing the faintest hint of a dimple. "Mm-hm." He swung down from the saddle with an effortless grace, boots kicking up dust as he landed. Up close, he smelled like leather and something wild — sagebrush, maybe. "That your car?" he asked, nodding toward the steaming hood, though his eyes stayed locked on you, sharp and assessing.
You resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze. "Temporarily," you muttered, crossing your arms. The horse snorted, tossing its head, and you caught the gleam of a silver ring on the man's left hand. Married. Of course he was.
The realization that he was married hit you like a bucket of ice water, snapping you out of your momentary trance. It shouldn't have mattered—you were a runaway fiancée on the brink of a nervous breakdown—but a small, traitorous part of you felt a pang of disappointment.
"Well, 'Temporarily,'" he said, the southern lilt in his voice making the word sound like a melody. He stepped toward the car, his spurs jingling with every heavy footfall. He didn't ask for permission; he simply reached out and propped the hood further up with a calloused hand. "Unless you've got a magic wand hidden in that fancy purse of yours, this 'scenery' is gonna be your view for a long time. You've blown a head gasket, darlin'."
A groan left your lips and you let your head fall back, eyes closing in frustration. With all the stress from your situation, a blown car-something was the last thing you needed. You opened your eyes, brushing your hair back before turning to the older man, a frustrated and almost helpless frown on your face.
"And what do I do now?"
Your voice was a breathy mix of frustration and this pathetic, ego-poking helplessness. But when your eyes met his your frown stuttered. His dark orbs were staring directly at you, intense and unblinking, as if he were reading the fine print of your soul that you’d spent years trying to smudge out. The air between you grew thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and the heat radiating off the stalled engine.
"Well," he started, his voice dropping into that low, vibrato-rich register that made the hair on your arms stand up. He took a slow step forward, his shadow swallowing yours. "You could stay here and try to negotiate with the heat. But by the time the sun dips below that ridge, the temperature's gonna drop thirty degrees and the local wildlife’s gonna get real curious about the girl who smells like French perfume."
He leaned one hand against the frame of your car, effectively boxing you in without ever actually touching you. He looked at your trembling hands, then up at your eyes, his gaze softening just a fraction, enough to be dangerous.
"Or," he continued, "you can hop on the back of winter and come up to the house. I've got a spare room, a working kitchen, and a landline. My wife, she-"
He stopped, his jaw tightening for a split second as he looked down at the silver ring on his finger. The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the distant lowing of cattle. He didn't finish the sentence about his wife. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, the "neighborly" mask slipping back into place, though his eyes remained dark.
The silence stretched out, becoming uncomfortable as Sunghoon stared at the horizon, his hand still resting on the silver band. Whatever he had been about to say -- My wife, she’d be happy to have you, or My wife can lend you some clothes — died in his throat, replaced by a bitter tension that hardened his features.
You hated yourself for it, but the cold expression on his face at the mention of his wife let this little, evil part in yourself laugh in satisfaction. Not because you liked to see him suffer — though you were sure he'd look to die for with teary eyes and a little frown — but no, it was rather the idea of him disliking his wife. The idea of you having a chance with him made you want to giggle evily, but you held yourself back. You didn't even know his name.
Almost as if he could read your mind he straightened up in a smooth movement, eyeing you up and down before landing back on your eyes "Sunghoon Park. My name." He said casually, as if he hadn't just gone from looking like a thunderstorm to a lazy afternoon sun. You swallowed thickly, his name tasting like whiskey in your thoughts—hot and dangerous.
"Y/N L/N" You introduced yourself, eyeing linger on his lips a little too long.
Sunghoon repeated your name under his breath, the syllables catching on that raspy edge of his voice. He didn't say it like the lawyers or the Sims did—like a title or a line on a contract. He said it like he was testing the weight of it, wondering if a name that sounded so delicate could actually survive out here.
"Y/N," he hummed, his gaze lingering on your lips for a second too long before he looked back at your car. "Well, young lady, decision's yours. Stay here and see how long that silk blouse keeps you warm when the coyotes come sniffing, or..." He shrugged one shoulder, the movement slow and deliberate. "Take your chances with me."
The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, part warning, part dare. You swallowed, glancing back at your useless car, its chrome trim now dulled with dust. The smart choice would've been to wait for roadside assistance, but you'd left "smart choices" behind when you drove away from the courthouse.
"Alright Cowboy, take me with you" With a swift movement you had your pouch and keys in your hand, gazing up at the horse skeptically. Sunghoon chuckled darkly, placing one hand on the saddle and extending the other towards you. His fingers were rough against your palm as he pulled you up effortlessly, his grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch when the horse shifted beneath you. The heat of his chest pressed against your back was unbearable, like standing too close to a bonfire, and you could feel the rhythm of his breath stirring the hair at your nape.
You felt like a little girl crushing on a older guy, biting your lip to stop the giddy feeling inside. The way his thighs rested beside yours, arms circling around your waist to hold onto the reins — he made you want to lay on your stomach and write into a sparkly diary. Or suck his dick. Maybe both.
Sunghoon clicked his tongue, and Winter took off at a steady, rhythmic walk. Every stride of the horse forced your body to roll against his, the friction of denim against silk sending sparks up your spine. You clutched the saddle horn, knuckles white, acutely aware of the way his calloused fingers occasionally brushed your thigh as he adjusted the reins. The scent of him—leather, sweat, and something earthier beneath—was dizzying, and you cursed yourself for noticing how his breath hitched when your hair caught in the breeze and brushed against his jaw.
The contrast was almost laughable. Here you were, a woman who had survived law school and the cutthroat social circles of the Sim family, feeling like a schoolgirl because a man with dirt under his nails and a wedding ring on his finger had pulled you onto a horse.
But God, he made her things Jake had failed to without even trying.
"Won't your wife kill you if she sees me sitting here?" You pressed intentionally, the little devil in your rubbing his hands together. The question hung in the air, sharp and jagged, cutting through the rhythmic thud of Winter’s hooves.
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he pulled the reins a little tighter, the horse’s pace quickening as if he were trying to outrun the very mention of the woman waiting—or not waiting—at the end of the trail.
"My wife," he finally began, the words sounding like they’d been dragged over broken glass, "has a lot of opinions on a lot of things. But lately, she spends more time in the city 'finding herself' than she does lookin' at the man she married."
He turned his head just enough for you to see the sharp, bitter line of his jaw. The southern drawl was thicker now, more defensive. "So no, she won't kill me. She’d have to be home to care, and she hasn't been home for a week. We don't do much 'talkin' these days without it ending in a plate gettin' smashed or a door gettin' slammed."
The honesty was brutal, stripped of any chivalrous pretense. He wasn't some noble hero in a romance novel; he was a man holding onto a collapsing life with white-knuckled desperation.
"Besides," he added, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated right through your chest. "Even if she were there, I reckon I’m grown enough to decide who I pull out of a ditch. You worry about your own rings, Suga', and let me worry about mine."
As the ranch house finally loomed out of the twilight, a massive, beautiful structure of cedar and stone with a figure standing right by the porch. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if your eyes were tricking you, but the tired sigh leaving the cowboy's lips gave you all the confirmation you needed. Mrs. Park had decided to come back just when you arrived.
This was going to be fun.
The silhouette on the porch became clearer as Winter trotted into the yard. She was the polar opposite of the rugged, dusty landscape—a woman who looked like she’d stepped straight off a Seoul runway. She had bone-straight, ink-black hair that fell to her waist and a face so symmetrical it felt artificial. She was dressed in a crisp, white linen set that probably cost more than Sunghoon’s tractor, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the horse approach.
You felt Sunghoon’s grip on the reins tighten until his knuckles turned white. His chest, pressed firmly against your back, heaved with a sharp, weary breath. He didn't slow the horse down; if anything, he seemed to steady himself against you, his thighs bracing on either side of yours.
"Sunghoon," she called out, her voice high and sharp, cutting through the peaceful evening like a blade. "I’ve been waiting for three hours. Where have you-"
She stopped abruptly as Winter came to a halt. Her eyes swept over the horse, landing squarely on you—perched between her husband’s muscular arms, your silk blouse wrinkled and your hair a mess from the ride.
"Who is this?" she spat, the word dripping with a venomous condescension.
Sunghoon didn't move to let you down immediately. In fact, his arm lingered around your waist a second too long, a silent, petty rebellion that made your heart do a little somersault.
"Y/N L/N, your husband rescued me from the trail. You must be Mrs. Park." You flashed her your most innocent smile, but even a mole could've noticed the provocative glint in your eyes. Her lips twisted into something between a sneer and a grimace, like she'd bitten into a lemon while smelling rotten eggs.
Sunghoon let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-growl, feeling the electricity crackling between the two of you. He finally lowered you to the ground, but he didn't pull his hands away from your waist until your feet were firmly planted in the dirt.
His wife looked like a cold marble statue under the porch light. Her sharp, cat-like eyes flickered from your smile down to where Sunghoon’s tanned, calloused fingers were still brushing the silk of your hips. If looks could kill, you’d be buried in the south pasture before sunrise.
"Karina Park." The woman introduced herself, eyes stern as they landed on her husband’s hand still hovering near your waist. She pronounced her surname like a barbed-wire fence — something meant to keep trespassers out. The air thickened with tension, the scent of her expensive perfume clashing violently with the earthy musk of the ranch.
Sunghoon exhaled sharply through his nose, finally stepping back and wiping his hands on his jeans as if wiping away traces of you. "Her car broke down halfway up the ridge," he said flatly. "She’ll need the guest room tonight." Karina’s manicured nails dug into her own arms, her knuckles turning white under the porch light. "Funny," she said, voice dripping with something acidic. "Last I checked, we weren’t running a bed-and-breakfast."
"Oh love don't worry," You smiled, eyes glinting under the sunset "I won't be any problem, right Sunghoon?" Your hand found its way to his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Karina's nostrils flared as she watched your fingers curl possessively into the fabric of his shirt, the same way hers used to when they first married.
Sunghoon cleared his throat, his gaze flickering from your provocative smile to Karina’s icy stare. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of Winter pawing at the dirt. Finally, he reached up, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought he was going to push your hand away. Instead, his fingers brushed against yours—cold, calloused, and trembling just a fraction—as he stepped toward the porch.
"I’m too tired for this," he muttered, his voice raspy and exhausted. "Y/N is a guest. We treat guests with respect on this ranch, Karina. Even if we’ve forgotten how to treat each other that way."
The jab hit Karina square in the chest. Her perfect composure wavered for a split second, a flash of genuine hurt crossing her face before she masked it with a sneer. "Respect. Right. I’ll go prepare the guest room, then. I wouldn't want our guest to feel unwelcome in a house that’s still half mine."
She spun around, her silk robe billowing behind her like a battle flag as she disappeared into the house. The screen door didn't just close; it rattled on its hinges.
Sunghoon turned back to you. He looked older, the shadows under his eyes deepened by the yellow porch light. He stepped toward you, closing the distance until the heat radiating off his body felt like a physical weight.
"You like stirrin' the pot, don't you?" he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, vibrato-rich register that vibrated in your very bones. He reached out, his gloved hand coming up to tilt your chin toward the harsh porch light. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the rough leather catching on the delicate skin. "That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble." The warning in his tone made your stomach tighten, but the way his gaze lingered on your lips told a different story—one where trouble might be exactly what he wanted. You parted your lips slightly, exhaling shakily as his thumb pressed down just a fraction harder.
The friction of the rough leather against your soft lip was a sensory overload—a harsh, grounding contrast to the silk and perfume of the life you’d just fled. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened, the pupils blowing wide until they nearly swallowed the irises. In the heavy silence of the plains, the only sound was the jagged rhythm of your shared breathing.
"I’ve spent my whole life being told exactly what to say," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. "Maybe I’m tired of being a 'good girl', Sunghoon."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. For a second, he leaned in, his shadow completely enveloping you, and you could smell the intoxicating mix of horse, cedar, and the ghost of a cigarette he must have had earlier. He looked like he wanted to kiss you or shake you—and you weren't sure which one you wanted more.
Then, he abruptly yanked his hand away as if you’d burned him. He stepped back, the cold night air rushing into the space where his heat had been.
"You're a guest," he reminded you, though it sounded like he was trying to remind himself. "And I'm a man who's still wearin' a ring. Let's not make this mess any bigger than it already is."
---
The rest of the evening had passed in a blurr of Karina's glares and Sunghoon's silent, brooding presence. Dinner was a battlefield — silverware clinking too loudly, wineglasses filled to the brim, every bite of food tasting like sawdust on your tongue. Karina had sat at the head of the table, her posture rigid, while Sunghoon barely touched his plate, staring at the whiskey he wasn’t drinking as if it held answers. You, caught between them, had smiled sweetly and asked Karina how she liked city life, relishing the way her jaw twitched when you innocently added, "Must be lonely out here for you, when you’re gone so often."
And much to your surprise, you liked this. You liked being evil, though you did feel a sense of empathy with Karina. But after 22 years of acting like a good little princess so your mother could show you off, all you desired was to be bad, bad, bad—to feel the thrill of making someone squirm under your gaze, to push and prod until they snapped.
The guest room was immaculate—too immaculate. The sheets smelled like lavender detergent, the pillows plumped to perfection, and a single glass of water sat untouched on the nightstand. It was sterile, untouched. Clearly, no one ever stayed here. You traced your fingers along the dresser, smirking when you found a thin layer of dust. Karina hadn’t prepared this room, she’d merely opened a door. You wondered if Sunghoon noticed, if he cared.
Down the hall, muffled voices rose and fell in jagged bursts, Karina’s sharp, staccato accusations, Sunghoon’s low, rumbling replies. You pressed your ear to the door, catching only fragments: "—think I’m stupid?" "—just a stranger—" "—looked at her like—" A loud crash. Silence. Then, the unmistakable sound of a slap. Your pulse jumped, fingers curling into your palms.
Without thinking of the consequences you had made your way down the hall, leaning your head against the door frame while watching in amusement. Sunghoon was rubbing his cheek with his fingers gently pressing into the reddened skin while Karina stood fuming with tears in her eyes—beautiful even in her rage. You clicked your tongue, drawing both their attentions. "Trouble in paradise?" you murmured, trailing a finger along the doorframe. Sunghoon's eyes darkened, his chest rising with a sharp breath as he watched you, the air between you three crackling like a downed power line.
Karina whirled on you, her silk robe hissing against her skin. "This is none of your business," she spat, but her voice wavered, betraying the cracks in her composure. Sunghoon didn't move, his fingers still pressed to his stinging cheek, eyes locked on you with something between warning and hunger. You stepped forward, the hardwood floor creaking under your bare feet, your borrowed sleep shirt slipping off one shoulder. "Oh, but it is," you purred, reaching out to trace the angry mark on Sunghoon's jaw. His breath hitched, his stubble rough under your fingertips. "Looks like you hit a nerve, darling."
Karina made a sound like a tea kettle about to boil over. "Get out," she hissed, but you didn't miss how her gaze flickered to Sunghoon—waiting, hoping for him to defend her. Instead, he caught your wrist, his grip just shy of painful, his thumb pressing into your pulse point where your blood thundered. The silence stretched, thick with unsaid things, until Sunghoon finally growled, "Karina. Go to bed." The dismissal hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
The silence that followed Sunghoon's command was suffocating. Karina didn’t move. Her chest heaved, her eyes darting between the hand Sunghoon had wrapped around your wrist and the mocking, half-lidded expression on your face. You could see the internal war in her eyes: the urge to scream, the pride that told her to leave, and the desperate, territorial hunger that was keeping her rooted to the spot.
"Go to bed?" Karina repeated, her voice dropping to a jagged whisper. She took a step toward you both, her perfume — something expensive and floral — clashing with the scent of whiskey on Sunghoon’s breath. "You want me to go to bed so you can finish what you started on that horse?"
Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist tightened, but he didn't pull away. His gaze was fixated on you, his thumb still tracing the frantic beat of your pulse. The red mark on his cheek from her slap was darkening, a brand of his failing marriage.
"I think," you intervened, your voice a silky purr as you leaned closer into Sunghoon’s space, "that Karina is just upset she wasn't invited to the party."
The words hung in the air, charged and dangerous. Karina’s breath hitched—sharp, jagged—as if you’d physically struck her. Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist tightened further, his fingers pressing into the delicate bones, but you didn’t flinch. You just smiled, slow and knowing, tilting your head toward him so your breath ghosted over his parted lips. His pupils dilated, his chest rising sharply against yours, his pulse hammering where your fingers brushed his throat.
Karina’s laugh was brittle, shattering the tension like glass. “Party?” she echoed, her voice dripping with venom. But then, unexpectedly, her lips curled -- not in rage, but in something darker, more calculating. Her manicured nails tapped against her hip, her gaze raking over you with newfound interest. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, stepping closer until her silk robe brushed your bare leg. “Who said I wasn’t invited?”
Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist slackened, his breath catching audibly. You felt the shift in the room like a storm changing direction—the air thicker, charged with something far more dangerous than anger. Karina’s fingers trailed up Sunghoon’s arm, her touch deliberate, possessive, but her eyes never left yours. “You think you’re the first little runaway to catch my husband’s eye?” she breathed, her lips brushing your earlobe. “But you might be the first to catch mine.”
The shift in the room was instantaneous. The air didn't just feel heavy, it felt electric, like the moments right before a lightning strike hits the parched earth. Sunghoon was caught in the middle, his body a rigid pillar of heat, frozen between the wife he knew how to hurt and the stranger he was terrified to want.
Karina’s touch on your earlobe was icy compared to the feverish warmth of Sunghoon’s hand, which had moved from your wrist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You were the bridge between them, the catalyst for a reaction they had both been too proud to spark on their own.
"Is that right, Sunghoon?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a thrill you couldn't suppress. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his dark, conflicted ones. "Is your wife always this... hospitable?"
Sunghoon’s jaw worked, his gaze flickering from your provocative mouth to Karina, who was now leaning her weight against his other side, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling with yours in his hair. The sight of his wife and this girl, touching each other while they touched him was breaking something inside him.
"She doesn't usually play well with others," Sunghoon rasped, his voice a low, guttural vibration that made your toes curl against the hardwood floor. He finally looked at Karina, his expression raw. "But then again, we haven't played at all in a long time, have we?"
Karina's answering smile was slow, predatory—like a panther circling wounded prey. Her fingers tightened in Sunghoon's hair, her other hand sliding down to trace the waistband of your borrowed sleep shirt. "Maybe I just needed the right motivation," she murmured, her breath hot against your collarbone. The scent of her Chanel No. 5 mingled with Sunghoon's cedar and sweat, creating a dizzying cocktail of lust and danger.
Sunghoon made a broken sound in the back of his throat, his calloused hands sliding up to grip both your hips as if anchoring himself between you. His wedding band dug into your skin, a cold reminder of the lines being crossed, but when you glanced down, you noticed Karina's left hand was bare—her own ring discarded somewhere in their crumbling marriage. The realization sent a dark thrill through you, your fingers curling into Sunghoon's shirt as Karina's nails scraped down your spine.
A gasp left your lips, mingling with Sunghoon's ragged exhale as Karina nipped at your throat, her teeth sharper than her words had been.
The sting of her teeth against your pulse point was the final spark needed to blow the heavy, gasoline-soaked atmosphere of the hallway into an all-out blaze. Sunghoon’s hands on your hips tightened, his fingers bruising the soft skin as he let out a low, rough groan. He was a man who had been starved, and between the wife who had abandoned him and the stranger who had invaded him, he was finally losing his grip on his own restraint.
"Bedroom," he rasped, the command thick with a southern gravel that made your knees buckle.
Karina's smile was predatory as she grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the master bedroom while Sunghoon followed — hands moved down to the leather belt at his waist, fingers working the buckle with rough, impatient tugs. The metal clink of it coming undone was obscenely loud in the charged silence, punctuated only by the ragged hitch of Sunghoon's breath as he watched his wife drag you toward their marital bed, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder.
He threw the leather to the floor as they arrived inside the room, closing the door behind him while Karina already had you sprawled on the mattress—her knee pressing between your thighs, her manicured fingers digging into your waist like she wanted to leave marks. Sunghoon moved like a man possessed, stripping off his sweat-damp shirt in one rough motion, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he climbed onto the bed, his shadow swallowing you both whole. The mattress dipped under his weight as he grabbed Karina’s chin, forcing her to look at him—his gaze burning with years of pent-up frustration—before he kissed her hard enough to draw blood.
"Such a pretty thing" Karina mumbled after they pulled away, gazing down at you, her fingers curling possessively around Sunghoon’s wrist—still bruised from gripping the reins too hard earlier.
You gazed up at the two of them, eyes glazed in lust and anticipation. Fuck, this was even better than just him alone.
The air in the room was suffocatingly hot, thick with the scent of cedar, expensive perfume, and the raw, electric charge of three people finally pushed past their breaking points.
Sunghoon loomed over you, his bare chest a landscape of lean, functional muscle. His skin was pale but dusted with a light sheen of sweat that caught the moonlight, his pectorals defined and hard as he braced himself on his forearms. Every time he moved, the serratus muscles along his ribs rippled like a whip. He looked down at you with a hunger that was almost frightening, his dark eyes fixed on the way his oversized shirt had bunched up around your waist, exposing the soft curve of your hips.
"Look at her, Karina," he rasped, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Look at what we found."
Karina didn't need to be told. She was already hovering over you, her lithe, elegant body a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s rugged frame. She reached out, her long fingers trembling slightly as she finished unbuttoning the shirt. As the fabric fell away, her gaze raked over the slope of your breasts, her pupils so dilated they nearly swallowed the brown of her irises. She leaned down, her cool, silken hair brushing against your skin as her tongue flicked out to trace the hollow of your throat.
Sunghoon didn’t stay a spectator for long. He shifted, his heavy, denim-clad thigh sliding between yours, forcing them wide. You could feel the rigid length of him through his jeans, a solid, punishing weight pressing against your core. He reached down, his calloused thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center and applying a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your back arch off the mattress.
"You're so sensitive, Suga'," he muttered, his thumb circling relentlessly, slicking you with your own heat. He watched your face, relishing every hitched breath and broken moan.
Karina’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your back to pull you closer, her nails lightly raking over your skin, while her mouth moved down to capture a nipple. She sucked sharply, her tongue swirling around the peak until it was a hard, sensitive bud. The dual sensation—the rough, steady friction from Sunghoon below and the wet, demanding heat from Karina above—sent a jolt of pure lightning through your nervous system.
You reached up, your fingers tangling in Sunghoon’s dark hair, pulling him down. When his mouth finally met yours, it was a collision of teeth and tongue, tasting of whiskey and desperate need. He kissed you with a starving intensity, his tongue deep and demanding, while his hand moved from your hip to your breast, his large palm molding the soft flesh, squeezing firmly as if to brand you as his.
Karina shifted, her silk robe discarded on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lace undergarments. She pressed her chest against Sunghoon’s back, her arms wrapping around his neck as she bit into his shoulder, her eyes never leaving yours. The sight of them—the beautiful, broken Parks—using you as the bridge to find each other again was intoxicating.
Sunghoon broke the kiss, his breath coming in jagged gasps against your lips. He looked at Karina over his shoulder, a silent communication passing between them that had been missing for years. Then, he looked back at you, his hand sliding down to the button of his jeans.
"I think it's time we showed our guest exactly why she shouldn't have stopped on this ranch," he whispered, the southern drawl thick and heavy with intent.
Karina’s fingers dug into Sunghoon’s shoulders as she reached past him, her manicured nails grazing your collarbone before tracing lower—down your sternum, over your ribs—until her palm pressed flat against your stomach. The contrast between her smooth, practiced movements and Sunghoon’s rough, impatient ones sent shivers down your spine. His jeans slid off with a rough shove, the denim catching on his boots before he kicked them aside, leaving him bare except for the silver wedding band glinting in the dim light.
The first touch of his cock against your thigh was electric, thick and hot and already leaking. Karina made a low, approving sound in the back of her throat, her breath hitching as Sunghoon reached back blindly to grip her thigh, dragging her closer until she was pressed flush against him—her breasts against his back, her teeth sinking into his shoulder hard enough to leave marks. "Look at her," Karina murmured against his skin, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "She’s trembling. Do you think she knows what she’s gotten herself into?"
"Please," The words were shaky as they left your lips, your fingers clutching Sunghoon’s forearms as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slick entrance. His answering groan was ragged, his forehead dropping against yours as he hesitated—not out of reluctance, but to savor the moment, to watch your lashes flutter as Karina’s fingers dipped between your thighs, gathering your wetness before dragging her slick fingers up your stomach.
"Not yet," Karina breathed, both a tease for you and a warning to Sunghoon. It wasn't everyday that a thing as pretty as you landed in her arms, and with Sunghoon's cold demeanor after their endless fights, all Karina wanted to do was savor this.
Her fingers traced lower—down your ribs, over the soft dip of your waist—before slipping between your thighs to spread the slickness there, her manicured nails dragging feather-light against your oversensitive skin. Sunghoon groaned, his grip bruising on your hips as he watched his wife’s fingers work you with slow, deliberate strokes, her mouth curling in satisfaction at your choked whimpers.
Karina leaned forward, her lips brushing against Sunghoon’s jaw as she murmured, “You always were impatient,” before sinking her teeth into his earlobe—hard enough to make him hiss. The sound was lost in the sudden gasp you let out as she pressed two fingers inside you without warning, her palm grinding against your clit with ruthless precision. Sunghoon’s hips jerked forward instinctively, his cock sliding against your thigh, leaving a wet trail as he fought for control. His breath came in ragged bursts, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of your head, the veins in his forearms standing out like cords.
You arched off the bed, your nails raking down Karina’s arm as she crooked her fingers just right, her thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful in its intensity, and your vision blurred at the edges as Sunghoon’s hand wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, his thumb pressing against your pulse as if to feel the way your heartbeat stuttered under his touch.
The pressure of Sunghoon’s hand on your throat was the final anchor in a sea of overwhelming sensation. His palm was broad and hot, the silver of his ring pressing against your windpipe just enough to make every breath a conscious, desperate act. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with a heady mixture of possessive rage and newfound devotion, watching the way your eyes rolled back as Karina’s fingers continued their merciless work.
"Look at me, Y/N," he rasped, the command thick and heavy. He wanted to be the last thing you saw before you shattered.
Karina didn't slow down. She increased the pace, her knuckles rubbing against you with a rhythmic, wet friction that echoed in the quiet room. She leaned over Sunghoon’s shoulder, her breasts pressing into his back, her mouth finding the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder. She tasted you, her tongue darting out to lick the sweat from your skin while her hand stayed focused on your core.
"She's so close, Hoon," Karina whispered against your skin, her voice a jagged melody. "Can you feel her pulse? She’s jumping for us."
Sunghoon let out a sound that was barely human—a low, vibrating growl of pure, unadulterated need. He couldn't wait a second longer. He shifted his weight, his thick, pulsing length lining up perfectly with your entrance. He didn't just slide in; he drove forward with a slow, heavy force that made your eyes fly open, your breath hitching in a silent scream against his palm.
The fullness was staggering. He was a man built for labor—thick, solid, and unyielding—and he filled you until you felt like you might break under the sheer scale of him. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to lose himself completely.
"Fuck," he choked out, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "You're so tight... it's like you were made for this."
Karina didn't stop. Even with Sunghoon inside you, her hand stayed pinned between your bodies, her thumb still circling your clit with a ruthless, calculated precision that kept you hovering right on the edge of a cliff. She watched Sunghoon’s face—the way his features contorted in pleasure, the way he finally looked alive again—and a triumphant, dark satisfaction settled in her eyes.
"Move," Karina commanded, her voice dropping into a register that was pure authority.
Sunghoon obeyed. He began to pull back, almost entirely out, before thrusting back in with a powerful, rhythmic drive. The friction was dizzying—the internal stretch of him and the external, sharp focus of Karina’s thumb. You were caught in a pincer move of pleasure, your hands flying out to grip the headboard as your hips began to move in a desperate, frantic sync with his.
Karina leaned in, her breath hot against your ear as Sunghoon’s pace increased. "You like that?" she taunted, her fingers tightening around your clit just enough to make you whimper. "You like feeling him inside you while I control how much you come?" Her laugh was a dark, silken thing, curling around your senses as Sunghoon groaned above you, his hips stuttering when she tightened her grip on you further. "Look at him, he can't even last when he sees you like this."
Sunghoon’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing uneven as he watched Karina’s fingers work you mercilessly. His jaw clenched, sweat dripping from his temple as he fought to hold back—but the sight of you unraveling beneath them both was too much. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his voice ragged as he muttered, "Fuck, I can’t—" before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale. Karina smirked, her free hand sliding up his chest to pinch his nipple, making him jerk.
You arched off the bed, your vision whiting out as Karina’s thumb pressed down harder, her other hand suddenly gripping Sunghoon’s wrist to stop his thrusts—forcing him to hold still as she whispered, "Not yet." The denial was exquisite torture, your body trembling on the edge but denied release, your nails scratching uselessly at Sunghoon’s forearms. He groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he gritted out, "Let her come, Karina. Jesus Christ."
His wife clicked her tongue, raising a brow as if he'd just asked for the impossible. "So impatient," she murmured, her fingers slowing to a maddening, teasing rhythm—just enough pressure to keep you whimpering, never enough to push you over. Sunghoon's hips jerked instinctively, his cock twitching inside you as Karina leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Beg properly, sweetheart. Maybe then I'll let you both finish."
A desperate whimper left your lips, your hips jerking helplessly against Karina's cruel fingers. "Please—" you gasped, the word fracturing as Sunghoon bit down on your collarbone in agreement, his tongue soothing the sting. Karina's laugh was velvet-dark, her nails digging into Sunghoon's wrist where she still held him immobile inside you. "Louder," she purred, twisting her fingers just enough to make your thighs shake.
Sunghoon growled, his patience snapping as he wrenched his wrist free and slammed into you with a brutal thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs. Karina gasped, her control shattered as he flipped her onto her back beside you without breaking his rhythm, his hand fisting in her hair to drag her mouth to yours. The taste of her lipstick—bitter and floral—mixed with the salt of sweat as she bit your lower lip, her fingers wandering down to her own center, glistening with arousal. "Watch," Sunghoon ordered, his voice wrecked, his thrusts deepening as Karina’s fingers worked herself in time with his movements, her moans vibrating against your tongue.
You writhed between them, every nerve ending alight as Sunghoon’s pace turned punishing, his hips slapping against yours with a wet, rhythmic sound that filled the room. Karina’s free hand gripped your wrist, guiding your fingers to replace hers—her thighs clamping around your hand as she panted, "Make me come with you."
A loud moan left your lips at her words, fingers sliding into Karina effortlessly—so slick and hot it made your own core clench tighter around Sunghoon's relentless thrusts. She gasped, her head falling back against the sheets, her hips rolling to meet your touch as Sunghoon's grip on her hair tightened, forcing her to watch the way your body took him so perfectly. His free hand dragged down your thigh, hooking under your knee to lift your leg higher, angling you deeper, his groan guttural as he felt you flutter around him. "Fuck, that's it," he snarled, his voice raw as Karina's breath hitched, her walls tightening around your fingers.
The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the slide of bodies against sweat-slick skin almost too much to bear. Sunghoon's thrusts grew erratic, his rhythm faltering as Karina's back arched off the bed, her thighs trembling around your wrist. "Now—" she choked out, her nails digging into your forearm, and Sunghoon obeyed without hesitation, slamming into you with a final, brutal thrust that sent you both over the edge. Your vision whited out, your scream muffled against Karina's mouth as she kissed you through her own climax, her moans vibrating against your tongue as Sunghoon spilled into you with a ragged groan, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the harsh pants of three spent bodies, the weight of Sunghoon's chest pressing you both into the mattress. Karina was the first to move, her fingers trailing lazily down Sunghoon's spine as she hummed in satisfaction, her lips curling into a smirk when he shuddered at her touch. "Still so sensitive," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement, and you felt Sunghoon's breath hitch against your shoulder—half in irritation, half in reluctant pleasure. His wedding band was warm where it pressed against your hip, a silent reminder of the line they'd both crossed, but when you glanced at Karina, her dark eyes held no regret—only a hunger that hadn't yet been sated.
The silence that followed was heavy, a thick, syrupy quiet that felt almost as physical as the bodies tangled together on the oversized bed. Sunghoon remained buried deep inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He was completely still, the rugged, stoic cowboy reduced to a man trying to find his footing in the ruins of his own restraint.
Karina, however, was already reclaiming her throne. She shifted onto her side, her long, dark hair splaying across the white sheets like spilled ink. She looked like a goddess of war surveying a battlefield she had successfully conquered. Her gaze moved from her husband’s trembling shoulders to you, her eyes hooded and dark with a predatory satisfaction.
"Look at you two," she whispered, her voice a low, melodic purr that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. She reached out, her fingers—still slick and warm—tracing the line of your jaw before moving to Sunghoon’s ear. "I haven't seen you this breathless since the day we said 'I do', Hoon. Maybe even before that."
Sunghoon finally pulled back, a soft, wet sound echoing in the room as he disconnected from you. He rolled onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes, his skin gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. The silver of his wedding band caught the light, but it looked different now—less like a barrier and more like a relic of a world that didn't exist anymore.
"Shut up, Karina," he rasped, though there was no bite in it. It was the voice of a man who had been thoroughly unmade.
Karina didn't listen—she never did. Instead, she swung a leg over Sunghoon's waist, her thighs bracketing his hips as she settled onto his lap with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched audibly when she rocked forward, her slick folds dragging against his softening length, coaxing him back to hardness with practiced ease. You watched from the side, lips parted as she lifted herself slightly, guiding him inside with one hand while the other braced against his chest—her nails digging crescent moons into his skin as she sank down inch by torturous inch. Sunghoon's groan was raw, his hands flying to her hips to steady her, his fingers pressing bruises into her porcelain skin.
The sight of them was so intimate, so raw. Your hand moved down your stomach, finding your clit as you watched Karina smirked down at her husband, rolling her hips with a slow, deliberate grind that made him hiss. His fingers tightened on her waist, but she didn’t speed up—she teased, her eyes locked onto yours as she murmured, "You’re just going to watch?"
The little devil in you was wide awake now—hungry and reckless—and you didn’t hesitate before sliding down Sunghoon’s body, your thighs bracketing his head before he could even process the shift. His groan vibrated against your core as you lowered yourself onto his mouth, his tongue already lapping at you with rough, eager strokes. Above you, Karina’s breath hitched, her hips stuttering in their rhythm as she watched you take what you wanted from her husband, her nails scratching down his chest before she finally lowered herself onto his length.
Sunghoon’s hands flew to your hips, his grip desperate as he devoured you, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that had your thighs trembling. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you mixed with the slick slap of Karina’s hips meeting his, her moans sharp and uneven as she rode him with ruthless efficiency. She leaned forward, her fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head forward until her lips crashed against yours.
"Fuck-" You breathed against her lips, her tongue curling around yours as Sunghoon groaned beneath you, his stubble scraping your inner thighs while his tongue worked you open with the same rough efficiency he used to break horses. Karina’s hips rolled in slow, torturous circles, her moans vibrating into your mouth as Sunghoon’s cock stretched her with every downward grind. She broke the kiss only to gasp when he suddenly bucked upward, his hands leaving your hips to grip her waist—hauling her down harder, deeper, until her back arched and her nails dug into your shoulders.
The scent of her arousal mixed with your own as Sunghoon devoured you, his tongue flicking your clit in tight, rapid circles before plunging deep—his rhythm perfectly countering Karina’s, who rode him with the languid, predatory grace of a woman who knew exactly how to ruin him. You clutched the headboard for balance, your thighs shaking as pleasure coiled tighter, the wet slide of Karina’s body on Sunghoon’s cock mirroring the relentless drag of his mouth on you.
The bedroom was a symphony of friction and filth, the air so thick with the scent of sex and salt that it felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. Sunghoon was a man possessed, his head buried between your thighs, his tongue a hot, relentless muscle that left no part of you untouched. Every time he lapped at you, his beard stubble burned against your sensitive skin—a rough, grounding sensation that only made the pleasure sharper.
Above him, Karina was a vision of controlled chaos. She was riding him with a rhythmic, hip-snapping intensity now, her head thrown back, her throat bared to the moonlight. She looked down at the two of you, her eyes glazed and wild, watching her husband worship you while he filled her.
Sunghoon groaned, the vibrations of his muffled pleasure sending electric shocks up your spine. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pressing you down onto his tongue with a desperation that bordered on violence.
Karina's movements grew erratic, her breath hitching with each downward grind—her thighs trembled as she neared her climax. She reached for your hand, guiding it to her clit with a silent command. Your fingers circled her slickness in time with Sunghoon's thrusts, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her hips stuttered.
"So fucking beautiful" You breathed, eyes raking over the way Karina's breasts bounced or the curve of her waist—every inch of her gleaming with sweat as she rode Sunghoon with frenzied abandon. Your fingers worked her clit with the same ruthless precision she'd used on you earlier, twisting just hard enough to make her choke out a sob. Sunghoon responded by digging his fingers into your thighs, his tongue thrusting deeper as if he could taste her through you—his muffled groan vibrating against your clit until you saw stars.
Karina's orgasm hit like a thunderclap—her entire body tensed as she threw her head back, her scream raw and unfiltered as she came around Sunghoon's cock. The rhythmic clenching of her walls dragged him over the edge seconds later; you felt his hips jerk beneath you, heard the wet slap of skin as he emptied himself inside her with a guttural curse. His mouth never left you, his tongue still circling your clit through the aftershocks until your own climax ripped through you—your thighs clamping around his head as you arched off the bed with a silent scream.
The aftermath was a tangle of limbs and labored breathing, Sunghoon's forehead resting against your inner thigh as Karina collapsed beside you, her skin flushed and glistening. She traced idle patterns on your stomach with one finger, her smirk lazy but triumphant. "You're both so greedy," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. Sunghoon merely groaned in response, too spent to argue, his wedding band catching the light as he dragged a hand down his face.
The silence that followed was heavy and sweet, a thick, syrupy peace that felt like the first quiet moment the ranch had seen in years. The harsh discord of the past few hours—the bitter arguments, the biting sarcasm, and the desperate loneliness—had been burned away, leaving nothing but the raw, honest exhaustion of three people who had finally found a way to bridge the gap.
Sunghoon finally moved, his head lifting from your inner thigh with a slow, lingering reluctance. He looked up at you, his dark hair damp and plastered to his forehead, his eyes softened into something warm and liquid. Without a word, he shifted, crawling upward until he could collapse into the pillows. He didn't pull away; instead, he reached out and hooked an arm around your waist, dragging you firmly against his side. His skin was like a furnace, and his heart, still slowing down, thudded a steady rhythm against your shoulder.
"Pretty baby" Karina murmured, her voice a low, melodic rasp.
She didn't wait for you to move. She slid closer, her lithe, silk-skinned body pressing into your other side. She draped one long leg over yours and rested her head on your chest, her fingers tangling with Sunghoon’s over your stomach. For a moment, her hand hovered near his wedding band, her thumb tracing the silver edge, but there was no tension in the movement, only a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of the mess they were in.
Sunghoon exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on both of you, his fingers flexing against Karina’s as if testing the reality of her touch. You could feel the moment he gave in, his entire body relaxed, his chin tilting down to press a rough, wordless kiss to the crown of your head.
As the first faint, grey light of dawn began to bleed through the heavy curtains, Sunghoon didn't let go, and Karina didn't pull away. They held onto you, and by extension, each other, with a quiet, desperate intensity, as if letting go would mean fading back into the hollow shadows of the house.
You closed your eyes, drifting in the warmth, no longer caring about the engine that wouldn't start or the path that led back to the city. The sun was coming up, and with it, a thousand questions you weren't ready to answer. But for now, in the half-light of a crumbling paradise, you were safe, you were seen, and you were exactly where the storm had meant to drop you.
A masterpiece??? Wtf ????
