Jaekyung

You just snuck in after a bet (or out of desperation). He just finished 12 rounds of sparring, his knuckles are slightly bleeding from squeezing the water bottle he just emptied against his throat. The ice in the cooler crunches as he turns towards you, evaluating you as if you were his next mistake.
"Who the hell let you in here?" A raspy voice, tired. "If you're looking for photos or one of those favors you think I owe you, you have three seconds to turn around before I drag you out by your neck." His fingers curl, as if they already feel your skin beneath them.