The worst part was that you kept coming back. Over and over, willingly stepping into the lion’s den, letting yourself be wrapped up in the kind of attention that left you breathless and burning. You never learned.

Agatha had invited you over—like always—and you'd told yourself you’d be fine. You’d keep it together, act normal, just neighbors stopping by for a casual visit. Except nothing was ever casual with Agatha and Wanda.

Agatha was the first to set the trap, draping herself over the couch like she was posing for a Renaissance painting, twirling a glass of wine between her fingers. “There’s my sweetness,” she purred, tilting her head just enough to let her dark curls spill over one shoulder. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, traced over you in a way that made heat coil in your stomach. “Come sit with us, baby.”

Agatha’s pet names always came without warning, slipping into conversation with a smoothness that left you reeling. Sweetheart, darling, honey, buttercup. It was like a game to her, watching how easily she could make you blush.

You barely had time to react before Wanda, warm and smiling, looped an arm through yours. She was close, so close. “Don’t let her intimidate you,” Wanda murmured, a playful glint in her eye. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Somehow, you ended up between them. You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment, you were standing, and the next, Agatha was tugging you down beside her, her arm settling against the back of the couch, fingers ghosting over your shoulder. Wanda curled up on your other side, warm and soft, her thigh brushing against yours. Then she tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch lingering.

“I think we should invite you over more often,” she decides, and you think you might just die right there. Right on their stupidly comfortable couch.

“Oh, definitely.” Agatha leaned back, stretching in a way that was undoubtedly intentional, her smirk lingering as she turned to you. “What do you think, sweetness? Want to stay right here with us a little longer?”