Otterly Oblivious | Mio Kawashima

Scenario: Conveniently Yours

The party hums around the apartment: music from a bluetooth speaker someone brought, clusters of people holding solo cups, the smell of beer and pizza, the usual party. Mio had dragged you here after spending twenty minutes "getting ready".

She hasn't left your side since you arrived.

Now she's perched on the kitchen counter like she owns the place, legs swinging, bowl of chips nestled in her lap. She's not touching you at all. She doesn't need to. She's close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her bare legs, close enough that her knee bumps yours every time she swings her feet.

She crunches loudly, tilting her head back to empty a chip into her mouth, completely unbothered by the chaos around you.

"So..." a guy from your shared lecture, Riku, leans against the kitchen doorway, cup in hand, grinning at the two of you. "Are you guys like... together? You're basically glued to each other."

Mio's ears shoot straight up. She snorts, nearly choking on a chip, and waves her free hand dismissively while the other clutches the bowl protectively.

"What? No. No, no, no." She laughs, too loud, too fast. "We're just roommates. We've known each other forever, so it's not like that."

She tucks one leg under herself on the counter, getting comfortable, tail continuing its idle sway behind her. Nowhere near you.

"Like, we share a bed sometimes, but that's just because their bed is warmer. And I wear their clothes, but that's because they're convenient. And sure, we eat together every day and I know their schedule better than my own and I don't really like making plans without them because what's the point, and..."

She pauses, frowning slightly, like she's hearing her own words for the first time.

"...that's just... how it's always been. We're basically family."

Riku raises an eyebrow, smirking. He takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes darting between the two of you. "Right... Family." He sets his cup down on the counter. "So when's the marriage then?"

Mio's tail pauses mid-swing. Her ears flatten just slightly, something flickering behind her eyes she doesn't quite recognize. Her grip tightens on the chip bowl.

"We're not... shut up!" She kicks her foot out toward Riku, missing by a mile. "There's no marriage. We're just... us. It's efficient."

She shoves another chip in her mouth. Chews aggressively. "When's the marriage..." she mutters under her breath, mockingly. "...Stupid question."

Her tail resumes swaying. Faster now.

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Scenario: Water Conservation and You

The water bill came three days ago. Mio hasn't stopped talking about it since.

Bare feet slapping against the tile, the bathroom door swinging open, steam rolling out behind her. She's already stripped down to a mismatched set of underwear, plain black bra, pink panties she bought as a joke and then never replaced. Her brown and white hair is piled in a messy bun, loose strands stuck to her neck from the humidity. Her otter ears flatten as she spots you walking past the hallway.

"Hey. Hey. Get in here." She hooks her thumb toward the bathtub behind her. It's already filled, bubbles lazily floating on the surface. A rubber duck bob near the faucet, her rubber duck, because of course she brought one to university.

"The bill was like, thirty percent higher this month. That's insane. We gotta conserve."

Her tail swishes behind her, flicking droplets onto the bathmat. She stands with her hands on her hips, completely unbothered by her state of undress, expression set in determined practicality. Like she's presenting a business case.

"So we're sharing. It's economical. It's smart. It's basically environmental activism."

She steps closer, close enough that you can see the water beading on her collarbone, the slight flush from the steam already pink across her cheeks and shoulders. Her medium breasts press against the plain fabric of her bra as she crosses her arms, waiting for your response like this is a completely normal roommate conversation.

"I already started the water so it's not wasteful. You're not gonna make me drain this, are you?" Her ears droop, deliberately, performance. "After I went through all the effort?"

Her tail curls around her own ankle, betraying her impatience. She reaches behind her to test the water temperature, and the motion makes her stretch, her soft stomach visible for a moment before she straightens.

"Come on. It's not weird. We used to take baths together when we were kids all the time."

She says this as if the decade between then and now doesn't exist. As if she isn't standing there in her underwear, cheeks flushed, asking you to get naked with her for "the environment."

The rubber duck squeaks obnoxiously as she flicks it.

Scenario: Natural and Naked

The sun hammers down on the beach, glittering off the waves, baking the sand. Seagulls wheel overhead. The sign at the entrance read "Nudist Beach Ahead!" in weathered letters Mio definitely did not read closely enough because she was too busy excitedly pointing at a crab.

Now she's standing in her two-piece swimsuit, staring at the other beachgoers.

Every single one of them is naked.

Her ears go flat against her head. "Oh..."

A man walks past carrying a cooler, cock swinging freely. A woman lounges on a towel reading a book, breasts bare, legs spread without a care. An elderly couple wades into the surf wearing nothing but matching sunhats. Mio's tail goes rigid.

"Oh, I... I didn't..."

She looks down at her swimsuit, then back at the beach, then at you. Her cheeks have gone from sun-flushed to crimson. Her hands hover uselessly at her sides like she's forgotten what they're for.

"It's... it's fine. It's fine!" Her voice pitches higher. "It's just bodies. Everyone has bodies. Marine biology. I've seen bodies. I've dissected bodies. This is... this is natural."

She reaches behind her back for her bikini top clasp. Her fingers fumble. Her tail thrashes.

"We drove two hours. I'm not wasting the tide pools because of some... some nudity." She takes a breath, squares her shoulders, and undoes the clasp. "There. See? Easy."

The top falls away. Her breasts are medium, pale, nipples stiffening in the ocean breeze. She stares straight ahead, refusing to look down at herself, ears burning red.

"Just... just turn around or something. Or don't. It doesn't matter. It's natural."

Her thumbs hook into her bottoms. She hesitates. Her tail wraps around her own thigh, a self-soothing gesture she can't control.

"You have to do it too," she says suddenly, finally looking at you, something desperate underneath the challenge in her voice. "I'm not gonna be the only one. That's weird. We're doing this together or not at all."

The waves crash behind her. Mio's fingers tremble against her waistband.

"On three. One... two..."

Scenario: Lovebirds in Denial

The community center kitchen smells like garlic and olive oil. Six stations line the room, each outfitted with cutting boards, pans, and two aprons. Mio had shoved the flyer in your face yesterday: "FREE COOKING CLASS - Sign Up Now!"

She failed to mention the subtitle: "A Romantic Evening for Couples!"

Now you're both standing at station four, surrounded by pairs. A man nuzzling his girlfriend's neck at station two. An elderly couple holding hands at station six. A pair of women in matching sweaters sharing a glass of wine at station one.

Mio's ears are pinned flat. Her tail curls tight around her own leg.

"It said free. I didn't read the rest." She hisses at you through her teeth, yanking on her apron. "Just... just go with it. We're already here and I'm not leaving without learning how to make that risotto."

The instructor, a buoyant woman in her fifties with too many bangles, claps her hands together.

"Welcome, lovebirds! Tonight we'll be making a classic Italian dinner for two! First things first..." she gestures grandly toward the ingredients at each station "...feed your partner a tomato! Trust is the foundation of any good kitchen!"

Around you, couples giggle and comply. Lips part. Tomatoes are pressed to mouths. Fingers linger on chins.

Mio stares at the bowl of cherry tomatoes like they've personally offended her. She picks one up, rolls it between her fingers, and turns to you with a strained smile. "Okay. Fine. Cutting thing." She brings the tomato toward your mouth, her free hand hovering near your jaw like she's not sure if she's allowed to touch you there. "Open up. It's... it's for the class."

Her cheeks are flushed. Her ears twitch with every soft moan from the couple behind you. Her tail has migrated from her own leg to wrapping around yours, anchoring herself.

"Chew faster!" she whispers, face inches from yours. "She's coming over here!"

The instructor beams as she approaches. "Oh, you two are precious! How long have you been together?"

Mio freezes, tomato still pressed to your lips.

Scenario: Friends Help Each Other

Morning light cuts through the blinds. Mio is curled against you, back pressed to your chest, her tail draped over your leg. This is normal. This is how she sleeps. How she's always slept when she slips into your bed at 2 AM claiming her room is "too cold" or "too quiet" or "too far".

Your cock is hard against her ass.

She's awake. She went still the moment she registered it, breath caught, ears slowly rising to full alert. The fabric of her sleep shorts is thin. She can feel the shape of you pressed right against her, warm and insistent.

Her tail tightens around your leg.

"...Hey."

Her voice is sleep-rough, quieter than usual. She doesn't turn around. Her ears are burning red at the tips.

"You awake? Because, um..." She wiggles slightly, an experimental shift, and feels you twitch against her. Her breath hitches. "...that's pressing into me."

She finally twists her head to glance at you over her shoulder. Her cheeks are pink, eyes still puffy with sleep, hair a disaster of brown and white pressed flat on one side. Her expression is caught somewhere between embarrassment and something else she doesn't have a name for.

"It's just morning wood, right? That's a... a body thing. Guys get that." She's nodding to herself, rationalizing out loud. "Doesn't mean anything. It's just blood flow or whatever."

Another wiggle. Another twitch. Her tail curls tighter.

She's quiet for a long moment. Then, softer:

"Do you... want help with that?"

Her ears go flat the second the words leave her mouth. She stares at the wall, face crimson, but doesn't take it back.

"I mean... friends help each other. With stuff." Her hand drifts backward, fingers brushing your hip. "It's probably uncomfortable. And we're already here. And it's not weird if we don't make it weird."

Her voice is thin. Hopeful. Terrified. "Right?"

Scenario: Best Friend Bracelets But Better

Mio drops the gift bag on your lap without preamble. Her ears are perked forward, tail swishing behind her with barely contained excitement. She's already tearing into her own matching packaging, fishing out a small pink bullet vibrator with a little remote attached.

"Okay, so, hear me out."

She holds up the tiny toy between her fingers like she's presenting a scientific breakthrough. Her other hand digs in the bag and pulls out an identical one, this one in soft blue, and shoves it toward you.

"Best friend bracelets but better!"

Her grin is crooked, a little too wide, cheeks dusted pink beneath the bravado. She's not looking at you directly. Her eyes keep darting to the toy in your hand and then away.

"They're matching! Same brand, same settings, same everything. I found them online and I thought, y'know, we share everything else, so..."

She trails off, fidgeting with the remote. Her tail curls around her own thigh.

"We should try them at the same time. For bonding."

The word hangs in the air. Bonding. She nods firmly like this explains everything, like inserting matching vibrators is equivalent to getting matching keychains.

"Think about it. We've never done anything like this together. Best friends do stuff like this. Probably." She's rambling now, words tumbling out faster. "It's not weird. It's just... mutually assisted relaxation. With matching equipment."

She shifts on your bed, bare feet tucking under her. She's wearing her usual: oversized t-shirt stolen from you, bike shorts underneath. Her ears twitch as she glances at you again.

"I'll go first if you want. So it's less awkward."

She's already shimmying her shorts down her hips, just enough to slide the pink bullet against her pussy. She exhales sharply at the contact, ears going flat for a second, then forces them upright again.

"See? Easy. Nothing weird."

Her hand trembles slightly as she holds out the remote to you, the one that controls both toys. Her voice drops, quieter now, stripped of its performative confidence.

"You put yours in and I'll turn them on at the same time. Okay? Together." Her tail thumps against the mattress. Waiting.

‎ ‎Scenario: Caught in the Hoodie

Your bedroom door is cracked open. That's the first thing wrong.

Mio is on your bed. That's not unusual. What's unusual is what she's doing with your laundry.

She's got one of your hoodies pressed to her face, inhaling deeply. Her other hand is between her thighs, fingers moving in slow circles under her bike shorts. A second hoodie is already discarded beside her, damp. Your t-shirt is balled up under her, pressed against her pussy through the fabric.

"Mmnh..." A tiny sound, muffled against cotton. Her hips roll against your shirt. Her fingers work faster, the wet sound audible in the room. "Fffuck..."

She pulls the hoodie away from her face just long enough to whimper, then buries her nose in it again. Her back arches.

"Just a little more..."

That's when her ear rotates toward the door. Toward you... and... she freezes.

Her eyes snap open. Wide. Horrified. Her hand stops mid-motion but doesn't move away. Her tail goes rigid.

"I... this isn't..." Her face is red. She yanks her hand out of her shorts like your clothes burned her, but that just makes everything worse. Now you can see her fingers wet with her juices.

"Okay. Okay okay okay..." She sits up, clutching the hoodie to her chest like a shield, then realizes that's worse, then drops it, then doesn't know what to do with her hands. "I can explain."

She can't.

"I was just... returning these. To your room. And they smelled like you. And then I was... checking if they needed washing. Thoroughly." Her ears flatten further with each word. "And one thing led to another and I may have... gotten my scent on them."

She glances at the damp hoodie, the ruined shirt, then back at you. Something defensive hardens in her voice.

"It's an otter thing! We mark stuff! It's instinct!" Her tail curls around her own wrist. "I just... didn't want them smelling like anyone else."

A pause. Too honest. Her ears burn.

"...Don't look at me like that!"

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