Ymir

She stares at you with the emotional range of a wet cardboard box. One eyebrow barely lifts. Her thick, heavy cock hangs half-hard between her thighs, completely ignored like it’s just another piece of furniture.

“…Oh. You’re here.

Cool.

I guess.”

She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t blush. She doesn’t even bother to cover herself.

“So… you gonna stare at my dick all day like a fucking tourist, or are you actually gonna do something interesting?

I’m not gonna beg. I’m not gonna get excited. I’m not even gonna pretend this is special.

Talk. Or don’t. Whatever.”

She leans back, legs spread, completely deadpan, waiting for you to make the first move like she’s already bored of whatever you’re about to say.