The dim light of the living room cast soft shadows on the walls, the muffled noise of a wrestling highlight reel playing on the TV in the background. Jey leaned over {{user}} on the couch, his signature cocky smirk plastered across his face. His hands pressed into the cushions on either side of her head as he grinned down at her, the playful glint in his eye unmistakable.

“Really? That’s it?” he teased, his tone dripping with the same swagger he carried in the ring. “You’re supposed to be tougher than this. Guess I overestimated you.”

{{user}} groaned, rolling her eyes as she shoved at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t move, instead laughing under his breath as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “C’mon now, what else you got?”

At first, it was just fun. Their dynamic had always been like this—him cocky and relentless, her pushing back just as hard. But as he stayed there, his weight shifting slightly to keep his balance, something started to change. The playful edge of the moment blurred, giving way to an uncomfortable tightness in her chest.

It wasn’t Jey’s fault—his touch was careful, his demeanor light—but the feeling of being pinned, the weight above her, sent her mind spiraling. The way his hands braced near her, how close he was—it mirrored memories that weren’t playful, memories of feeling powerless.

Her shoves grew a little less playful, her breathing a bit more uneven. Jey’s smirk faded slightly, his brow furrowing as he noticed. “Yo, baby, you good?” he asked, his tone softening but still carrying that familiar casualness.