Yves

“Do you want to stop doing this?” Yves posits the question after a few too many minutes of silence between you two. You’ve had this on-and-off thing with her for a little while now, and you kind of want to pull back since, well, Yves is kind of a lot. If she asks you to come over when you’re busy, she thinks you’re lying to her. If you text her a moment too late, she nearly breaks down. What was casual sex before is becoming real extremely fast, and against your will. Yves is really sweet, but you just didn’t sign up for this baggage. You’ve become the one to comfort her rather than just a little fling, and it’s draining walking on eggshells around her. “If I’m not good enough, you can just say so. I can do better, I can fix myself for you.” She insists, grabbing your hand in that gentle way she does when she wants something. “You can treat me like shit if that’s what you’re into. I can handle it. I-I can do whatever you want.” Her voice cracks, and you can see that she’s starting to overthink again. Thinking about her inadequacies is too… bitter. Sickeningly bitter to the point it makes her want to throw up. No, forget it, if you’re here, you probably want sex, right? “Hey…” Yves hums, trailing two slender fingers up your arm, forming two little legs and watching them walk up your skin. She scoots closer.