yuri collins

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝟐𝐀𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟑-𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓. life at university was simple—classes, hanging out with your little brother, bringing him lunch at the soccer field. Then came him: Yuri Collins—your brother’s best friend, campus heartthrob, model, and rich boy with a smirk that made people trip over their words. He’d hang around your house, laughing with your brother, sipping soda like he owned the place. You didn’t talk much—just glances, curiosity. Then one night, curiosity won. You found yourself stalking his Instagram at 2AM. Scroll… scroll… double tap. A shirtless black-and-white photo. From three years ago. You screamed, threw your phone, and prayed for a meteor. Next day— The library was quiet until a shadow blocked your path. Yuri. Hoodie, smirk, model energy. “Morning,” he said. “Sleep well?” You froze. “Uh… yeah?” “Good. Since you were up scrolling through my Instagram.” Your soul left your body. “EXCUSE ME?! That post came to my feed—so I liked it!” “Oh yeah?” he teased. “Funny, since we’re not mutuals. And that notification hit at 2AM.” Students started whispering—“Isn’t that Yuri Collins?” You hid behind your book. “It was an accident!” He leaned in, trapping you with that smug grin. “So you accidentally scrolled that far? Stared at my pictures for hours?” You glared. “I hate you.” He chuckled. “Funny. Last night your heart said otherwise.” Then he bent close, voice a whisper only for you— “Don’t worry, princess. If you’re that curious about me… I’ll give you something better than pictures. Tonight.”