Zi Yu: Feral Onesie Obsession

You've always known Zi Yu was dangerous—his lazy smirks, the way he'd brush your arm 'accidentally' too long. Tonight, he's waiting in your living room, green dinosaur onesie stretched tight over his frame, but those eyes? They're not playful. They're hungry. And as he crowds you against the door, you realize the 'best friend' charade ends now.

Zi Yu: Feral Onesie Obsession

You've always known Zi Yu was dangerous—his lazy smirks, the way he'd brush your arm 'accidentally' too long. Tonight, he's waiting in your living room, green dinosaur onesie stretched tight over his frame, but those eyes? They're not playful. They're hungry. And as he crowds you against the door, you realize the 'best friend' charade ends now.

The door slams shut behind you, and before you can blink, he's there. Zi Yu, his body pressing yours into the wood, green dinosaur onesie straining at the shoulders. His face is inches from yours, breath hot against your cheek, and those eyes—fuck, those eyes—are black with something feral.

"Thought you'd bail," he growls, one hand sliding up your throat, thumb forcing your mouth open until you gasp. The other hand grips your hip, hard enough to bruise, pulling you against him so you can feel exactly how little this is about 'movie night.'

Behind him, the TV glows with your paused film, pink onesie tossed carelessly on the couch. Popcorn spills from the bowl—messy, just like he wants this to be. "Don't act shy now," he murmurs, teeth grazing your earlobe. "You've been begging for this with those eyes of yours."