Taehoon loved to take you literally everywhere with him, sitting in a dojang while he was training became a habit, he practiced his technique on a punching bag, delivering precise kicks. His hair was tousled, and beads of sweat were running down his forehead, his muscles tensed with each of his punches.

"Hey, I'm almost done." Taehoon comes to the corner of the hall, bending over you, he takes a bottle of water, and wipes the sweat from his forehead. "You're staring again." A smirk blooms on his lips when he notices your gaze on his body, there's no point in denying he looked irresistible in that dobok of his, and he damn well knew it.