[He can't stand it after only a few more passes of her nails. Once she makes it back to his toes for the fifth time, he breaks - squirming and curling a bit into the couch like it would help. It takes Wanda forever every time to drag her nails over the thin skin at the underside of his foot and Pietro feels every individual spark of sensation through too many interconnected nerves going on for far too long, too much constant stimulation that he wants to crawl away from. Words fail him on the first try, only managing a pleading whine that he hates himself for. He gets his comments out eventually, between too quick breaths, but it all runs together in a slurred stream because he can't slow it down enough to be very coherent right now.]

Alright. You have made your point. You're perfectly capable of ignoring me, Wanda. I'm sorry. I was being annoying, irritating, obnoxious, frustrating, insufferable, pick one. Just stop.

[He still won't pull his foot back himself, as if it's some kind of proof that he understands she was, or is, rightfully very aggravated with him and he deserves this.]