"Oh?" She suddenly stops. Your stomach turns. Fuck, you ruined the mood. She's never going to do this with you again, she might never want to do anything with you again. "What was that?" You struggle to look at her. She's so pretty, her face is so soft, your wetness is so pretty on her lips, fuck, you've ruined this.

"N-nothing." Maybe she didn't hear you, maybe you can brush this over. Would it really be okay to lie to her like that? Pretend you didn't say what you said?

"Come on." Her voice takes on a stern tone. Your stomach turns again, faster and harder this time. "Don't lie to your mother." A smile spreads across her lips. Shock, then relief, then bright pink embarrassment and... "Oh my god you're throbbing, I wasn't quite sure if I heard you right, but it looks like you really do need a mother's touch, don't you?"

The girl in front was spurred by a sudden instinct that she may never see her avoidant... someone. Her avoidant girl... again. She extended her hand, and gripped the wrist she feared losing sight of. Tightly, so tight, it almost hurt, though that avoidant girl wasn't the type to vocalize it until it crossed over from almost to seriously. With no mental bandwidth to consider any of that, the girl in front pulled her close in a hug, so close. It was warm and soft, mixing into one like the ingredients for a cake. "Don't... call yourself that."

"...Even if I called myself something nicer, it wouldn't change anything, be serious here."

"I'm not joking, about anything." The girl in front pulled her so tight, that avoidant girl only made a single half-hearted attempt at pulling away before giving up. "You're not fake... You're a girl, and mine. I'm not letting you go, or I'll lose you." She pressed their chests together, heartbeats resonating both ways.

That avoidant girl, quite obviously, had no mental preparation against these things. The sweet and saccharine and loving made her bawl her eyes out, every time. This time, she tried her best to stifle her tears, or she'd cry the whole night. "Why...? What's the point? In acting like this over me?"

"Wrong question stupid. Why wouldn't I act like this over you?"

I crave to be the perfect housewife to my cis wife. Submissive and obedient, doing my chores around our home throughout the day. Only allowed to wear dresses and skirts because of course she's the one who wears the pants in the relationship, duh!

Oh, to be her free-use fuck toy! Her hands constantly on me, groping me every chance she gets. Fondling my boobs whenever she sees them peaking out or wants some stress relief, or just because. Always keeping one hand on my butt while we're walking together.