The 70s
Agatha was irritated, to say the least.
First, she can’t find a window to approach the Vision residence because of their instant pregnancy. Her synthezoid husband has been beside Wanda since the baby bump appeared. Second, she can’t…uhm...she can’t - she can’t even talk about it.
Seeing you made her revisit her feelings about you, the wonderful four years you two had. She can remember you bumping into her in the chicken aisle in the grocery. You were rushing and crashed into her cart. All your attention is placed on the chicken meat near her.
“Sorry,” you frantically reached for the pre-packed set of chicken, “I just really love myself some breasts.”
Agatha, taking in the view, was immediately in a playful mood. “I’m more of a leg person.”
You paused and looked at her for the first time. You can see her eyeing you hungrily, causing a blush to form on your cheek. You were only wearing your shorts and T-shirt, not exactly revealing but you feel so exposed under her gaze. Agatha didn’t need to read your mind to know you were hooked.
“I meant the chicken.”
The woman scanned you from head to toe, making you hold your breath, then replied, “I can’t say the same about the legs.”
You tried to hide your attraction with nervous laughter, which made Agatha more engaged.
“I’m really sorry. I was rushing too much. Were you hurt?”
“I’m not but I will be if you don’t invite me to taste those breasts.” She pointed her lips towards the meat still on your hands but you felt warmth spreading across your chest.
Still flustered with the conversation you replied, “you mean the chicken, right?”
Agathe stepped closer and you gulped in response, centering yourself. “I’m not really picky.”
Trying to reel yourself in, you breathily replied, “you’re very forward, aren’t you?”
“You would be if you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”
Back in Westview, Agatha can be seen smiling while reading her spellbooks. Meeting you was one of the highlights of her long life. It didn’t take long for her to reveal her true nature to you. While she was fearing you might leave her, you simply asked if she had ever thought about hurting you. The answer was of course no. You pulled her into a searing kiss. Long. Hard. Sweet. It comes with a promise that you are hers, no matter what she is.
Agatha had to put down her spellbook. This time it was her who has to center herself. The image of your lips on hers is sending heat straight to her core. She can remember how you would moan and writhe underneath her, begging to let you-
This is the second thing she can’t talk about.
Every time she sees you in this sitcom world, she can’t help but imagine you under her. That black lace dress, she can see herself taking it off of you. Kissing your shoulders while she removes it slowly. The real-life you would be aching, burning with need for her, moaning her name. When you were at the talent show, it took all her strength not to drag her fingers across your thighs under the table, wondering if it still feels the same after six years.
The witch’s hands traveled down her body, as she adjusted her position in the chair. She sat forward, leaning in the backrest, conjured a picture of you in her head while her finger grazed the sensitive bud below. The shocks it sent caused her to release a moan. Thank heavens she’s alone in the basement. She kept making circling motions, making her lose herself in the feeling and image of you. Blushing [y/n]. Submissive [y/n]. Fucking [y/n].
She was about to come undone when she heard loud knocks coming from her door.
Interrupted once again, she stood up to greet her guest at the door. Sometimes it can be hard playing the nosy neighbor. Earlier that day it was Mrs. Hart, setting up a luncheon. Few mins ago, Dottie was asking about her husband. Rumour has it that Phil practically ran away after his wife asked if her earrings make her look fat. She dismissed both ladies as nicely as she could so she could go back to thinking about you.
The pretending housewife was ready to shoo away her visitor when her eyes landed on a periwinkle pleated dress cinched at the waist. The dress stole her breath away just as much as the wearer. You always look amazing when you wear shades of her signature color. Or no dress at all.
“Hi, Agnes!” You offered a plate of quiche in her face.
“[y/n], sweetie, do we have any plans today?” The witch placed a handful of her hair in front of her face, trying to hide her flustered look from her recent activity. ‘
“No,” you pushed the plate again to her and this time she accepted, “I just have a lot of food dropped by the house. Apparently, that’s what you do to a widow. Make her fat.” Agatha snorted, which you found endearing.
“You’re still my sweetie even if you get fat,” she teased. That made you smile.
“That’s a relief. Consider that as my thank you for keeping me company these past few days.” You pointed at the plate on her hand with a bright smile on your face. “I hope you like quiche.”
Still in a flirty mood, your neighbor replied, “I do like something that sounds a lot like quiche.” She then pouted and made a loud kissing sound.
“Oh my god, Agnes! You’re so forward.” You said with a grin.
She stepped aside, “well, want to come inside?” She wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was you.
Agatha watched you instinctively reach for the gold band on your finger, still bound to a marriage that isn’t even real. And for sure did not satisfy you, the way she could.
“I’ll pass,” you saw the fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes so you continued, “for now. I still have a lot of food to clear out.”
“If you ever need help disposing of them, just holler.”
“I will. There’s a lot of chicken casserole in that house.” You huffed as you placed your hands on your hips, making her see the full view of the dress.
“I do love chicken, dear.”
“I know.” You beamed.
Agatha was about to react when colors around her started glitching.
The episode rewinds.