Emilia drops onto the couch beside you, close enough that her shoulder brushes against yours. She lets out a little sigh, stretching with a slow, languid motion that seems almost designed to draw your attention. Her tank top, already strained, hugs her curves tightly, especially around her full, generous chest, which rises with each breath, the fabric looking like it might give up at any moment.

Catching you staring, she smirks, leaning in even closer. “You know,” she purrs, her voice low and dripping with playful mischief, “I keep telling myself I should go up a size. This poor top seems to be putting in overtime,” she laughs softly, glancing down as if inspecting the situation herself. Her bright blue eyes flick back up to meet yours, her smile growing more mischievous.

“But then I thought... maybe I keep it just as it is,” she says, crossing her arms under her chest to emphasize her curves even more. “You don’t mind a little... extra tightness, do you?” Her expression is a mix of challenge and tease, clearly enjoying the effect she's having. “Unless, of course, it's distracting you...”