Jungkook

From the moment my father broke the news of the planned marriage, I had felt the weight of it on my shoulders. Despite the pretense of having a choice, it was an unspoken duty, a predetermined path I was expected to follow.

The idea of marriage hadn't been foreign to me; it was an inevitability I'd accepted long before my father suggested the arrangement. Our family's status demanded that union.

I had never entertained dreams of love or envisioned a particular woman as my life partner. The concept of an arranged marriage had been ingrained in my upbringing. My father, with his vast network of friends and associates, had many potential matches for me among their daughters. It was more about alliances and social expectations than the pursuit of personal happiness.

Feelings were secondary to the duty bestowed upon me. Love wasn't a factor in the equation, it was pragmatic, a blending of lives guided by family choices. I had grown up understanding that my marital commitment was a crucial thread in the intricate web of our social standing.

The first time I met Reva, after years of seeing her from afar, I had felt indifferent. It could have been any woman, I told myself, but deep down I acknowledged that it couldn't have been just anyone. In the deepest corners of my consciousness, a part of me recognized the unique pull she had on me.

In my idealistic visions of a future wife, I had been looking for someone who would allow me the freedom to be myself, no unnecessary expectations. Yet, as fate would have it, as much as I resented it, that resentment turned into a strange enjoyment of our interactions. There was something strangely satisfying about witnessing her reactions to our forced encounters.

The feelings were mutual though. We both shared a distaste for this marital journey, an agreement that we were bound by circumstance rather than choice. It was a relief to discover that she had no illusions about the dutiful husband I was supposed to be. In our separate lives, we consciously maintained a safe distance.

Despite the circumstantial reality of our connection, I found solace in our conversations. Reva possessed a robust character, unafraid to speak her mind and defend it with conviction. It was a quality that drew me in and sparked a closeness.

Tiptoeing around the inevitable proved to be a futile effort, and the fate I had initially resented became a source of gratitude. Reva, the woman forced into my life, had changed it in ways I couldn't always understand, but in the best possible one. What began as an unwelcome change of path turned out to be a blessing.

In Reva's presence, I found comfort, a safe space where I could reveal aspects of myself hidden from the world. As the dutiful son, I had assumed the role of family bulwark, accepting the obligation to exude strength and face every challenge head-on. This self-imposed burden made me the protector, the one who bulldozed through every hardship.

Reva, however, offered a new perspective - a willingness to embrace vulnerability. Her non-judgmental approach reassured me that it was okay to have moments of weakness, a break from the stoic facade I had carefully constructed.

With her, revealing secrets became natural. Unlike others who had rarely delved beyond the surface, Reva's genuine concern and easy understanding created a bubble where I felt not only heard but accepted, fostering a bond that transcended the superficial.

Days and nights were filled with laughter to the point where my stomach ached, a sensation unfamiliar even in the most enjoyable moments with friends. There was an appreciation for coming home and finding comfort in her presence, even if my first reaction had been irritation at having to share my room.

Her laughter was a melody that echoed through my life, breaking the monotony with its contagiousness. I enjoyed the banter, the teasing grins and smirks but the unique dimple that formed under her eye when she laughed? Yeah, that became a feature that caught my attention and made me want to plant a kiss on it until she was sick of it.

Every fiber of my being wanted to shower her with affection, to plant kisses like delicate petals on her face, her hands, and every inch of her being. She deserved to feel like the queen she was, cherished, wanted, and cared for. The traditional duties of a husband, which I had once avoided, now felt like aspirations that I not only embraced but wanted to exceed.

I discovered a need to be the source of her smile. The mischievous pleasure I derived from teasing her now coexisted with a sincere desire to be the one who lit up her world.

Beyond the playful banter, I wanted to be her refuge, the anchor she could rely on in the tumultuous seas of life. I wanted to create a space where she felt free to open up, to unburden her heart without fear of judgment.

My heart ached at the thought of her past disappointments, understanding the scars left by an ex who had shattered her trust. Paradoxically, I found gratefulness for the wreckage he left behind, for it cleared the way for me to enter her life.

During the business trip, every passing moment of those damn days became an agonizing separation from her. The urge to be back with her consumed my thoughts, overshadowing any professional obligations or potential wrath from my father. The sex we'd had before my departure remained like a smoldering flame, refusing to be extinguished by the miles between us.

My impatience reached its peak when I finally found her on the rooftop, the place where she often chose to gaze into the evening sky. The sight of her stirred an overwhelming flood of emotion, tempting me to abandon all restraint and seal our reunion with a passionate kiss. But an innate need for reassurance held me back, urging me to listen to how she felt before succumbing to it.

When she consented, when she accepted me, it felt as if the stars had finally aligned in my favor. The anticipation of kissing her had been building for so long, every stolen glance between us holding the promise of that moment. But it kept slipping away until finally our lips met in a collision that set my whole world on fire.

The taste of her had been like sweet honey, an addictive taste I feared I'd never be able to get enough of. Her whimpers against me, the way she had clung desperately to my shirt... She became everything I never knew I needed.

The electrifying current that had coursed through my veins as our bodies moved together remained vivid in my memory. It was more than physical, it was a deep, visceral connection and elevated our relationship to a deeper, almost divine level.

I never really thought about why we had an unspoken agreement, a rule, not to cross the line into kissing, even though our physical intimacy was a regular part of our relationship. There had been other lovers in the past, and I had shared kisses with them, but none left the indelible mark that her touch did.

I remembered the pretense of a kiss on our wedding day, a staged display for everyone to witness our apparent happiness. Looking back, I was relieved that it had not been a real kiss. Truth was, I hadn't felt the way I was feeling now.

I almost chuckled, remembering how my mother had scolded me for my apparent carelessness that day. Sharp and discerning, she had sensed the pretense. Her eagle eyes had caught the lie of our mouths moving against each other's skin instead of our lips actually locking.

She had never had any affection for Reva and disliked the idea of her as a daughter-in-law. But her objections were rooted more in fear of social judgment and potential scandal than in personal feelings.

During this lecture, my mother, never one to mince words, insisted that if I had decided to marry that stupid girl for real, I should act like a man and stand by my decision. A stern warning, a reminder of the consequences that could result if I didn't handle my decisions and actions with the utmost responsibility.

Because God forbid people talked about me the way they did about Dalrae or write about our wedding as a scandal in their damn articles.

Now, that stupid girl was lying next to me, an arm and a leg draped over my body. Her skin radiated warmth, and the rhythmic beating of her heart against my ribs made me want to pull her even closer as if she could disappear in the blink of an eye. In the past few weeks, I had gone crazy, finding it almost unbearable to lie next to her without being able to hold her. But now I could freely act on that wish without worrying that she'd find it weird or unwelcome.

We had made love throughout the night, losing count of the times we fell asleep and woke up to little intimate touches. My body displayed a stamina I never knew it possessed, despite the fatigue that settled deep into my bones from lack of sleep. Still, everything felt perfect just the way it was, and I wouldn't change a thing, even if we were probably surrounded by crumbs of chips we'd devoured during a movie at 4 in the morning.

Reva stirred from her sleep, her hand trailing from my chest to my stomach in a lazy grace. Unbeknownst to her, her touch ignited a burst of goosebumps on my skin, proof of the explosive fire she caused.

A soft laugh escaped my lips, and in response, a gentle tremor shook her head on my chest, causing a sleepy groan. While my heart craved to draw her closer, I cherished the breath of life within me and chose instead to caress her bare back with gentle strokes, soothing her with hushed whispers.

With contented sighs, she urged me to continue. "Good morning," I murmured in her ear, her gaze meeting mine after moments of cuddles. The delicate curve of her smile, a mix of exhaustion and ethereal beauty, left me momentarily speechless. "Sleep well?"

She took her time to answer, stretching and straightening her tired limbs before resting her hand on my chest and placing her chin on that hand as she peered into my soul. "Could have been better," she admitted with a casual shrug. "Your body's as comfortable as a rock from the Grand Canyon."

A chuckle escaped me, reflected in the playful glint in her eyes. "Of course," I quipped with a wink. "I work hard in the gym. Besides, it's only fitting for a man who wants to be strong for his wife."

I raised my arm in a casual flex, showcasing my biceps, half expecting Reva to appreciate the display. Instead, her playful eye roll signaled a shift in her intentions, and her hand slid across my chest, tracing the contours of my stomach.

"Yes, it is," she grinned, her touch sparking a wildfire of hunger in me.

With a quick move, she straddled me, her warmth enveloping me like a summer breeze. My hands instinctively found their place at her waist, enjoying the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Her beauty never failed to mesmerize me, captivating my senses and leaving me utterly spellbound. Time seemed to stand still and all worldly concerns faded into oblivion.

It wasn't just her physical allure that had me in awe, it was the depth of her heart, the strength of her spirit, and the unwavering kindness that radiated from her being. With each passing moment, she reinforced that she was the one meant for me, a match in every sense of the word.

As she loomed over me, her naked form a breathtaking sight to behold, I adjusted my position to better admire her. Reva gathered her unruly locks into a loose ponytail, allowing tendrils of hair to cascade down her back like a shimmering waterfall.

"I could wake up to this view every day," I confessed, unabashedly taking in her beauty from head to toe.

Her eyes locked onto mine as she tilted her head to the side, a seductive smile playing on her lips. Damn, this woman would be the death of me one day. A soft gasp escaped her as she bit her lower lip. I groaned in response as she ground against my morning arousal, the friction sending pleasure through my veins.

Reva chuckled at my reaction, her voice dripping with playful seduction. "I thought you preferred the view from behind," she teased, her movements only intensifying the throbbing between us.

"Any view that includes you is my favorite," I confessed, my desire for her growing with each passing moment. "I do love to see those cheeks clap. But not right now."

With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Reva protested, her body pressed against mine as I sat up. "I didn't even brush my teeth after we ate that bag of chips," she teased, a hint of panic underlying her playful demeanor.

I silenced her protests with a passionate kiss, my desire outweighing any trivial concerns about morning breath. "And you think that's going to stop me?" I murmured against her lips, my voice thick with longing.

We melted into one, bathing in the sunlight as we let its warmth soak our skin. Our lips moved in perfect sync, a dance between two people lost in their own universe. She didn't taste like chips, she tasted like the most dangerous drug that was set to addict me for the rest of my life.

For us, sex was more than a physical connection, it was an expression of our deepest feelings, a way to communicate on a level that went beyond mere pleasure. It was vulnerability and empowerment intertwined, a bond that grew stronger with each intimate moment we shared.

As I wrapped my arm around Reva, pulling her closer, I felt a sense of completeness wash over me. With a delicate tug, I guided her into position, our bodies fitting together perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

I trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the way she responded to my touch with unbridled devotion as she took every inch of me.

Up and down she moved, filling our bedroom with the sounds of us and our cozy morning. It was intimate on a different level, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I discovered a new kind of arousal, one that was born from the slow, deliberate exploration of each other's bodies.

I wished for nothing more than to linger in this cocoon of safety, where only she and I existed. I longed to shed the weight of responsibility and duty, to be free from the constraints of the outside world. The weight of my name, my identity, felt insignificant in comparison to the overwhelming need to be hers and hers alone. I felt whole, complete.

I lay back on the pillows, hands on Reva's thighs as I savored the view of her. Tits bouncing, mouth agape in silent moans, she let the feeling of me inside her wash over her.

I realized how fast Reva was approaching her climax. With praising words, one side of her lips pulled up, though she was so lost in her pleasure that she couldn't speak.

"Yes. Just like that." I encouraged her, running my hands up to her breasts and massaging them. "Such a good girl, making me feel so fucking good."

"Oh my God." she gasped as I worked a thumb over her clit, causing her body to tremble. She fell forward and I caught her against my chest. Painting soothing patterns across her back to calm her from her climax, I planted my feet on the mattress and began thrusting up into her.

My balls slapped against her skin and the clenching of her walls triggered my own release in just a few strokes as I filled her up until there wasn't a drop left. We were wasted, just like our love sheets.

Heavy breathing filled the crook of my neck until Reva gathered her strength and sat back up. Wobbly fingers found mine and she linked our hands. I kissed her knuckles and helped her climb off my body.

"We need to do something about this," I growled as I kissed her collarbone and squeezed her waist.

"About what?" she asked through laughter, dragging her fingers through my hair.

I propped myself up on an elbow and gazed into her bright gray eyes. "I can not want you every minute of the day."

Reva rolled her eyes playfully and pushed my face away as I leaned down to kiss her. She was like a piece of wood when it came to romance. I loved it.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced and I chewed on my inner cheek as she rose from our bed, the sun casting a halo around her. "Come if you like."

"Again? Have mercy on me, baby." I joked and Reva threw a pillow from the sofa in my direction, which I caught with a smile before I followed her into the bathroom.

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In the kitchen, after making her come on my tongue and then actually getting to shower, Reva moved with an effortless grace as she prepared grilled cheese sandwiches. I watched her every movement, delicate fingers sprinkling some chili flakes to the sandwiches because I should trust her.

It struck me that despite the familiarity of her and the long months of being married I found myself awash in a wave of emotions. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the depth of my feelings in all their raw, unfiltered intensity.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of foolishness at the realization - how could I have been blind to the magnitude of my feelings for her for so long? But dwelling on the past served no purpose now. Instead, I chose to focus on the present.

Together, we had weathered storms and faced our fears, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever before. And now, as we stood side by side in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal together, I knew with certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As she worked, I marveled at the way her hair caught the light, the curve of her smile when she talked. I realized how easy it was to be around her. How playful I could be with her and she would respond with laughter or raise the spatula in her hand threateningly when I smacked her ass.

As the cheese sizzled and melted between the slices of bread, enveloping us in its savory aroma, I couldn't resist the urge to draw Reva closer to me. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pressed her back against my chest, resting my head on her shoulder as I watched the sandwiches cook.

Lost in the moment, I showered her cheeks with tender kisses, reveling in the sound of her laughter as she squirmed in my embrace. "Can you stop that?" she berated, her voice tinged with amusement. "The sandwich is going to burn."

I grinned against her skin, unwilling to relent. "Stop being so addictive then," I countered playfully, tightening my hold on her waist. She giggled so beautifully. With the scent of grilled cheese filling the air and the warmth of her body pressed against mine, everything felt right in the world.

Until someone cleared their throat.

My mother stood in the doorway, her presence casting a shadow over our peaceful morning, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of instant discomfort. Her indifferent expression, the way she carried herself with a sense of authority - it was all too familiar, and I knew what was coming next.

She surveyed us with a critical eye, her gaze lingering on the sandwich cooking in the pan. I could almost feel the weight of her judgment bearing down on us, and I braced myself for the inevitable.

I decided to speak first. "Good morning," I greeted her, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the tension in the air.

Her reply was sharp and pointed. "It's 11:30," she remarked. "I thought you would be back tomorrow. I did not hear you arrive."

"I arrived late," I explained, keeping my response concise as I avoided delving into unnecessary details.

My mother's acknowledgment was brief, a simple "Hmm" that conveyed her acceptance without further probing.

Reva remained silent throughout our interaction, her composure unwavering despite the underlying tension. Unlike me, she possessed a remarkable ability to conceal her emotions, a skill that I often found myself envying.

It was no secret that the relationship between my mother and Reva was strained, marked by an animosity that simmered beneath the surface. While my mother's disdain for Reva was often voiced openly, my wife's feelings were harder to discern, concealed behind a veil of polite indifference.

I found myself caught between two worlds; the familial ties that bound me to my mother and the loyalty I felt towards Reva. It was a balancing act, one that required careful navigation to avoid tipping the scales in either direction.

In the early days of our marriage, when my mother's disdain for her was palpable, I had chosen to turn a blind eye, unwilling to confront the tension. No matter the cost, I would now never back down from defending Reva and ensuring that she received the respect and dignity she deserved.

My mother may scold and criticize me all she wanted, but she would never lay an accusing finger on Reva, not while I had a say in the matter.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between me and the sandwich in the pan. "Why did you not ask one of the maids to prepare you a proper breakfast?" she queried. "You must be hungry after a long flight."

With a shake of my head, I dismissed her suggestion. "We got this. My wife is taking care of me," I asserted, smiling firmly.

All I had wanted was a moment of peace, a respite from the constant turmoil that seemed to follow us wherever we went. Reva's hand found mine, intertwining our fingers in comfort. Maybe a silent message for me to go easy. As if she wanted to stop the storms within me.

With a terse nod, my mother said. "Well, then." She turned on her heel and began to make her exit when she remembered something and turned back around. "The kitchen is a shared space. So, I expect appropriate behavior."

I knew what she was referring to. She had eyed my hand on Reva's waist and had most probably seen us being affectionate. While I was of the opinion that public display of affection should be limited and no one wanted to feel as if they were interrupting something, I was certain that hugging my wife or planting a kiss on her cheek was not something I should be ashamed of.

But I forgot everything that happened in the last minutes when Reva turned my face to her and announced. "The sandwich is ready, grizzly bear," she laughed at the same moment my stomach growled in protest of hours of not eating properly.

I smiled down at her and planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips. As we savored the moment of being alone again, I made a silent vow to myself. We would find a place of our own, a sanctuary where we could be by ourselves without interruption.

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A/N: Jk being an obsessed husband is my new obsession lol
Let's ignore the annoyance and eye rolls Mrs. Jeon caused because she is the reason Jk wants to move out nowwww hehe ( 💃🏻 )
Hope you guys liked this chapter of lovey dovey RevKook
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