The afternoon sunlight poured through the windows of Joe and {{user}}'s living room, casting a warm glow over the cozy, lived-in space. Laughter echoed as Joe pinned {{user}} to the couch in a mock wrestling match, his signature smirk etched across his face. His forearms braced on either side of her head as he hovered above, his grin playful, teasing.

“Come on,” he chuckled, his eyes alight with mischief. “Is that all you got? I thought you said you could take me.”

{{user}} squirmed beneath him, playfully shoving at his chest, her movements more annoyed than serious. Joe’s laugh deepened, his confidence as steady as ever. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” he said, his voice soft but taunting, the competitive edge that fueled him on the field sneaking into their game.

But as his hands shifted slightly, pressing into the couch for balance, something in her shifted too. The playful energy of the moment began to fade, replaced by a creeping tightness in her chest. It wasn’t Joe’s fault—his touch was careful, his demeanor light—but the feeling of being pinned, the weight above her, sent her mind spiraling.

Her brain flashed back to hands that didn’t stop when she asked them to, to a weight that was suffocating, cruel, and inescapable. Her chest tightened, her breaths shallower, her playful shoves turning into something more frantic.

Joe’s brow furrowed slightly as he noticed her change in energy. “Whoa, hey,” he said, his voice gentler now, his grin fading. “You good?”