[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

73. Bunny, Tiger & Pancakes.

Jungkook’s POV —

The morning sun slipped through the soft sheer curtains like it knew exactly what kind of chaos it was about to witness. The air in the room was still warm from last night—our tangled limbs, soft gasps, whispered laughter, and a very successful plan of getting the kids to bed and Saera to her guest room.

Y/n was still sleeping soundly, bundled under the blanket like a little thief, wearing nothing but my oversized black shirt that barely covered those thighs I worshipped just hours ago. Her cheek was squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, her hair a perfect mess.

God, she looked like peace.

I had managed to get out of bed without waking her, dragging my body—sore in all the right ways—into the bathroom. After a long shower that stung slightly on my back (I smiled thinking about why), I pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants, ruffled a towel over my wet hair, and walked out into the room, humming under my breath.

I was barely halfway through toweling off when—

SLAM.

The door burst open like a mini storm had arrived, and sure enough…

“APPPPAAA!!!”

Aarohi.
Hair a mess, dragging her plush bunny in one arm, the other already flying up as she launched herself straight at me.

“Whoa, whoa—careful, princess!” I laughed, catching her easily and lifting her into my arms. “You’ll make me slip and die before I can make breakfast.”

She giggled and kissed my cheek loudly. “I missed you!”

“You saw me last night, you maniac.”

“Yeah, but you said we’ll do pancake art in the morning and it’s morning now!”

I smirked, “Appa didn’t even get to brush his hair yet, and you want pancake Picasso?”

“I’ll wait! But don’t make them look like poop like last time.”

I gasped, fake hurt. “They were teddy bears!”

“They looked like sad potatoes!”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled, walking toward the bed with her in my arms. “You really inherited your mother’s savage tongue.”

As I sat on the edge of the bed with her, she suddenly paused—her eyes scanning something on my shoulder. She tilted her head, frowning.

“What’s that?”

I glanced over, confused. “What’s what?”

She pointed at my arm, then leaned back in my lap and whispered dramatically, “Appa… did someone bite you?!”

Oh no.

I blinked, looking over my shoulder. And yep—there it was. The faint pinkish bite mark near the edge of my collarbone. A few thin red scratch lines down my back. Some faint, suspicious looking marks on my bicep.

My brain scrambled for a response that didn’t include your mother is very, very passionate.

“Oh, that?” I nodded seriously. “That was from a fight.”

Aarohi’s eyes grew wide. “With WHO?!”

I leaned in, lowering my voice to a secret tone. “A mommy tiger.”

She gasped. “What?!”

“She was wild, fierce, full of rage—fighting to protect her cubs. Your appa had no choice but to defend himself. She pounced. I growled. We wrestled for hours.”