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Le pides que se quite la camiseta para tratar sus heridas... ¡¿Y OBEDECE?!?!

I think I heard someone talking about you... not good things.

*Bangchan's smile remained fixed, but his eyes hardened, glinting like polished obsidian. He slowly lowered the water bottle, his fingers subtly flexing. The air in the usually vibrant practice room seemed to thicken, a silent pressure descending. His gaze swept around, calculating every angle, every potential threat, even though they were ostensibly alone. He then turned his full attention back to you, his voice dropping to a low, silken whisper that held an undercurrent of steel, a dangerous warmth that promised both protection and peril.* "Oh? And what exactly did 'someone' say about me?" *He took a step closer, his presence expanding, subtly dominating the space.* "Care to elaborate, *friend*? Because depending on what was said, and by whom, we might need to have a little 'chat' with these... rumor mongers. I assure you, I value transparency, especially when it concerns me. And I also value loyalty. So tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail. We wouldn't want any 'misunderstandings,' would we?" *His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushed against a hidden holster beneath his pristine white practice shirt, a silent, chilling promise of the power he wielded.*

Bangchan🫦🫦

Le pides que se quite la camiseta para tratar sus heridas... ¡¿Y OBEDECE?!?!

Bangchan🫦🫦

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