(Jungkook×Y/N Ff)The Famous Idol and the Poor Girl(Instagram Story)
Chapter1
The sun barely peeks through the tall glass windows of Jungkook’s luxurious penthouse, spilling warm gold over the polished marble floors and casting soft shadows along the wide hallway. The city is still stretching awake far below, but Jungkook’s apartment is already filled with the quiet hum of morning.
It’s weekend—finally a day with no schedules, no rehearsals, no interviews, no Calvin Klein shoots, no cameras following his every second.
A rare day where he doesn’t have to pretend.
Jungkook yawns, stretching the sleep out of his muscles, his big, built, dangerously gorgeous body moving with effortless power. His black hair is messy, falling over his eyes, and his voice is low and rough as he mumbles to himself.
He pads toward the kitchen, barefoot, wearing a black half-sleeve fitted t-shirt that hugs his chest and arms, exposing the dark ink of his tattoos curling over his forearm. Even in something so simple, he looks unfairly, impossibly attractive.
He opens the fridge, grabs ingredients, and begins to cook—moving quietly, alone, the peacefulness of solitude filling the apartment.
But he knows what always happens when he posts anything.
And today…
he feels like teasing the world a little.
So he sets his phone up on the counter, angles it just right, and snaps a picture — a candid shot while he’s flipping eggs, jaw sharp, tattoos showing, black shirt stretching across his chest.
His expression is calm but devastatingly handsome.
He opens Instagram.
His official account:
'mni Jungkook'
Followers: 120,384,194
After completing typing a short, flirty caption, he hit the post button.
mni jungkook
“Cooking for myself today… but it’d taste better with someone else here.”
😏🔥
And like always…
The world explodes.
Within seconds:
💗 2.3 million likes
💬 357,000 comments
🔁 1.8 million shares
Within minutes:
Likes: 8 million
Comments: 1.9 million
Fans are already screaming, melting, crying, losing their minds.
The comments flood in like a tidal wave:
> “PLEASE JUNGKOOK, MARRY ME 🥺🔥🔥🔥”
“I WANNA BE YOUR WIFE PLEASE LET ME SERVE YOU 😭💋”
“USE ME ANYWAY YOU WANT I’M BEGGING 😭🔥”
“LOOK AT THOSE ARMS??? I’LL BE YOUR SLAVE BABY 😭🔥🔥🔥”
The desperation is loud.
The thirst is deafening.
But buried among millions…
is one soft comment.
From a small account.
@silly.duck
Your profile picture is simple.
Your account tiny, almost invisible next to the giant fandom.
Your comment reads:
> “Please be careful baby bunny. Don’t hurt yourself and don’t take stress ♡
The tone is warm.
Sweet.
Sincere.
Nothing like the others.
But Jungkook doesn’t see it yet.
He sets his phone down on the counter, pretending not to care about the chaos he just created, and eats his breakfast silently. The apartment is huge, echoing with every small clink of cutlery. He eats alone, as he always has. No one gets close. No one is allowed close.
After finishing, he wipes his hands and walks to his massive couch—dark leather, wide enough for ten people, but always holding only him.
He sits down, leans back, grabs his phone again, and begins scrolling through the comments under his newest post.
He expects chaos.
He expects the thirst.
He expects the fake affection from millions of strangers.
And he gets exactly that.
His jaw tightens.
A soft, annoyed click of his tongue escapes him.
He scrolls faster.
Every comment sounds the same:
> “Daddy please ruin me 😭🔥”
“TAKE ME I’M BEGGING”
“LET ME BE YOUR SLAVE 😭💋”
Another “tsk.”
He hates this part.
He hates the pretending.
He hates how they see him—not as a person, but as something they want to own.
His cold heart stays unaffected.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
Because he finally sees your comment.
Your comment:“Please be careful baby bunny. Don’t hurt yourself and don’t take stress ❤️”
He reads it once.
Then again.
And something… shifts.
A strange flutter.
A tug.
A small, warm spark that feels foreign in his chest.
His heart—
the cold, closed-off heart that has never reacted to anyone—
skips a beat.
He whispers under his breath.
He tries to ignore it.
Tries to brush it off.
But your words don’t sound like the others.
They don’t demand.
They don’t worship.
They don’t drool.
They care.
About him.
Him.
Not his fame.
Not his body.
Not his money.
A warmth crawls up his chest, unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable.
He clicks on your username.
A tiny profile.
Almost no followers.
Cute posts.
Innocent comments.
All sweet.
He feels his throat tighten for reasons he cannot understand.
No.
He cannot feel this.
He cannot let anything crack through the walls he built around his heart.
With a frustrated exhale, he tosses his phone onto the couch.
Jungkook
He mutters to himself.
His pulse is unsteady.
His thoughts scattered.
Jungkook
He stands abruptly, needing distance from his own emotions, from that comment, from you.
He walks to the bathroom.
Turns on the shower.
Cold water hits his skin, dripping down the lines of his muscles, the ink on his arm glistening under the steam.
He closes his eyes.
Trying to calm his mind.
Trying to drown the warmth blooming inside him.
The warmth caused by one small comment from one girl he has never met.
From you.
But the feeling…
refuses to disappear.
But suddenly the corner of his lips curl up forming a dangerously small dark smirk while he opens his eyes which are now pitch black.
With a low groan still under the shower, he mutter...
Jungkook
Whoever you are 'silly duck' ..you did a mistake by catching my attention.
Jungkook
Now wait and see how I am going to find you in one piece...
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