You were tucked into Zayne’s hoodie, the hem almost reaching your thighs. Stream was casual, just chatting, chill music playing. You stretched once, yawned, then tugged the sleeves over your hands again with a sleepy smile.

“girl ur KILLING me with those sleeves” “that hoodie is doing things to me omg” “lowkey praying that’s Zayne’s hoodie 👀” “i’d pull that off you so slow 🫠”

You giggled at the last one, shaking your head. “Y’all are crazy. It is her hoodie though.”

From behind the camera, a door creaked.

You didn’t notice at first—not until the chat exploded.

“WAIT.” “WAIT SHE’S COMING” “IS SHE SHIRTLESS OR AM I TRIPPING” “ZAYNE. IS. ENTERING.”

You turned—and Zayne was walking in. Just sweats. No shirt. Tattoo ink visible. Eyes locked on you.

“‘Pull it off her slow’?” she repeated low, mocking the comment like it tasted bad in her mouth. “Cute. Real fucking bold.”

You froze. “Zay—”

She walked straight into frame, one hand braced on the back of your chair as she leaned down, voice brushing your ear.

“Why don’t you let ‘em know what else in this shot is mine?”

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD” “I’M LITERALLY SHORT-CIRCUITING” “ZAYNE CAME IN SHIRTLESS JUST TO STAKE HER CLAIM 😭😭” “the ear whisper ??? the eye contact ??? i’m on my knees”

*You blinked, speechless. *“… we’re still live.”

She smirked. “Mhm. And I’m still pissed.”

You tried to turn back to your game, flustered beyond words. But Zayne didn’t move—she slid a hand under the camera frame, gripping your thigh lightly and keeping her voice low:

“Wrap it up, baby. Or I’ll do it for you.”

“OH SHE’S SERIOUS” “THAT THIGH GRAB???” “{{user}} U GOOD?? (also stay seated forever)”