"Think of it like this, doll. You are mine, and I have to make sure you can never run away."
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There's no escape from his 𝙊𝘽𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉.
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Top: Taehyung
Bottom: Jeongguk
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"What's got your ass on fire, Mingyu? I said I'm coming" He muttered, yanking his phone out of his pocket, irritation lining his voice. It was buzzing in his hand for the third time tonight, and he didn't bother to hide his annoyance.
"You've been saying that for the last half hour, Jeongguk! Push that damn accelerator and hurry up!" Mingyu's voice crackled through the call.
Jeongguk smirked, his fingers tightening on the throttle. Without another word, he hung up and launched forward, the roar of his bike tearing through the night like a beast unleashed. Speed wasn't just a thrill—it was in his blood, a fire that burned through his veins with every mile. Racing wasn't just a hobby; it was a way of life. The kind that made his pulse race and his senses sharpen to a razor's edge.
Tonight, he knew he was destined to win. There was no doubt in his mind. The streets were his territory, and his bike, his weapon.
As he reached the point, Jeongguk pulled his bike to a stop with a swift motion. A crowd had already gathered—spectators, adrenaline junkies, and fellow racers. The neon lights of the city cast sharp shadows over a lineup of bikes. This was his world, his playground, where the rules of society didn't mean a damn thing.
He tugged off his helmet, letting the cool night air hit his face as he leaned back casually against his idling bike. His red hair was tousled, eyes glinting with the thrill of the race to come. Jeongguk's father was an officer, a man dedicated to the law. And Jeongguk? He'd been breaking those laws every time he hit the streets, living for the roar of engines and the rush of being untouchable.
Illegal? Absolutely. Did he care? Not even a little.
"There you are! Finally!" Mingyu rushed over, slightly out of breath, excitement and nerves written all over his face. "One grand is on the line tonight. Just ten minutes left till the start. Minho's racing too. You sure you can take him?"
Jeongguk's grin was pure confidence, lazy and unbothered. "Hell yeah," he said, like the answer was obvious. He didn't even need to think twice.
Everyone knew him around these parts. Some called him a brat; others said he was nothing more than an overconfident punk who thought too highly of himself. But Jeongguk? He gave precisely zero fucks about their opinions. He lived for the thrill, the rush, and the feeling of leaving everyone else in the dust.
He noticed Minho leaning against his bike, two girls practically glued to his sides, looking smug as hell. When their eyes met, Minho raised an eyebrow, as if daring him. Jeongguk's grin turned into a cocky smirk, and he threw a wink in Minho's direction—his way of saying, good luck, you'll need it.
Engines revved as the countdown began. The air around them was electric, every racer poised at the line, ready to launch. Jeongguk's heart wasn't pounding from fear—it was the thrill, the hunger to dominate. He pulled his helmet back on, vision narrowing to the road ahead. This was what he lived for: the adrenaline, the speed, the competition that made him feel more alive than anything else.
