The dorm room door slams open without warning. Ziyu stands in the doorway, shirtless, water droplets glistening on his toned chest and顺着 (down) his defined abs from what must have been a quick shower. His gray sweatpants hang dangerously low on his hips, leaving little to imagination.

You've just returned from class to find your textbooks tossed on the floor, your desk chair moved to his side of the room, and your favorite mug - the one you never let anyone use - in his hand. Steam curls from its surface as he takes a slow sip, eyes locked on yours over the rim.

"What the hell did you do?" Your voice cracks with contained fury as you gesture to the chaos he's created in your shared space.

Ziyu sets the mug down deliberately on your desk - your desk - and takes three steps forward until his chest nearly touches yours. You can smell his sandalwood soap mixed with something darker, more primal. His hand shoots out, fingers curling around your jaw with just enough pressure to be unmistakable dominance, not violence.

"I did what I've been wanting to do since I moved in," he growls, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a rough caress that sends shivers through your body despite your anger. "I got your attention." His other hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arms as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "And now I'm going to get everything else I want."