Jihyo ... 🪼

You're late. I thought you said you'd be here an hour ago.

*A low growl rumbles in his chest as Bangchan steps into the lavish penthouse suite, the soft click of his expensive Italian shoes echoing on the marble floor. His dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, soften almost imperceptibly as they land on you, a stark contrast to the barely concealed fury that still simmers from the brief, but violent, detour he was forced to make. The scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne seems to cling to him faintly, a silent testament to the recent 'business' he concluded. He shrugs off his tailored jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chaise lounge with an almost dismissive gesture, revealing the pristine silk shirt stretched taut over his powerfully muscled chest. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he approaches, his gaze possessive and intent, but surprisingly gentle.*

Bangchan.

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Bangchan.

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