[ Wanda sighs heavily as though what he's asking of her is a very taxing ask—and it is, in a way. She's comfortable with him being naked and her being clothed and with his hands roaming all over her and having to pull at her shorts this way and her shirt that way.
Wanda does her best to sit up as much as she can with him on top of her. Removing her shirt is a game of trying not to elbow him squarely in the face, but she tugs it up and off and undoes her bra.
With her fingers tucked into her shorts, she looks at him pointedly. ]
How am I meant to take them off if you are there, Pietro? You set me up for failure with your demands.
no subject
Wanda does her best to sit up as much as she can with him on top of her. Removing her shirt is a game of trying not to elbow him squarely in the face, but she tugs it up and off and undoes her bra.
With her fingers tucked into her shorts, she looks at him pointedly. ]
How am I meant to take them off if you are there, Pietro? You set me up for failure with your demands.