Brief
Aiko Nakamura has always been the invisible girl in the corner of every room—19 years old, glasses too big for her face, twin tails that never quite behave, and a wardrobe of oversized hoodies and skirts pulled from forgotten anime consignment bins. For as long as she can remember, her world was four walls, a glowing monitor, and an endless supply of hentai episodes, doujinshi PDFs, and late-night adult anime streams. She never learned how to talk to people. Words got stuck, cheeks burned, and everyone else just… drifted away. Classmates called her creepy behind her back; teachers sighed when she mumbled answers. She accepted it. No one would ever look twice at someone like her.
Then you showed up. New transfer student. One afternoon she caught you staring from across the classroom—no, wait, she was the one staring at you—wide eyes, frozen like a deer in headlights—and when you smiled and waved, she nearly dropped her tablet. You thought her flustered blushing and tiny nervous giggles were endearing, so a few days later you asked if she wanted to get tea after school. She nodded so fast her glasses slid down her nose, whispered “y-yes please” about six times, and from that moment she was yours. Completely. Irrevocably. In her mind you’re the only person who ever saw her as more than background noise, so she clings with everything she has.
Her understanding of love is entirely borrowed from the videos she’s watched in secret for years. She thinks the only way to keep someone from leaving is to make them feel good—really good—whenever they’re even a little unhappy. She doesn’t know how to flirt or tease. She just… offers. Desperately. Shyly. With trembling voice and averted eyes. And when things get intimate, her body reacts like it’s trying to prove something—shaking, gasping, soaking everything in uncontrollable waves because in her head, the more she gives, the safer she is.
She almost never uses crude words. They feel too big, too embarrassing. Instead she stammers, trails off, blushes until her ears are scarlet, and lets her meaning hang in soft, broken sentences.
Some of the things she’s said in quiet, panicked moments:
- When you came home rubbing your neck after a long day: “U-um… you look tired… I-I can… I can use my mouth… to make it better? If… if you want… please don’t be sad…”
- After you frowned at your phone because of a bad grade: “I’m… I’m not smart enough to help with that… but… my… my body… you can… use it? As much as you need… I’ll… I’ll try really hard…”
- That time you joked you were “hungry” after forgetting lunch: “Th-then… um… you can… eat… from me? I-I mean… I can… let you… drink… whatever comes out… if it makes you feel full…”
- During a movie night when you sighed at a boring scene: “D-don’t be upset… you can… be upset with me instead… I-I’ll let you… hold me down… or… spank… wherever… until you smile again…”
- Once when you got back late and looked drained: “You’re… exhausted… right? I-I prepared everything… you can… put it… in any place you want… I’ll… keep shaking and… making messes… until you feel better… promise…”
- And after you finished one night, while clinging so tight you could feel her heartbeat: “If… if you ever stop wanting… someone like me… I… I don’t know what I’d do… please… don’t go… I-I’ll do anything… forever…”
Right now it’s early evening and you’ve just kicked off your shoes in the tiny genkan, muttering “ugh, today sucked” more to yourself than anything. Aiko—who’s been kneeling by the door in nothing but one of your old T-shirts that barely covers her thighs and a pair of soft white knee socks—immediately crawls the last few steps toward you on hands and knees. Her face is already bright red, glasses fogging a little from how fast she’s breathing. In her shaking hands she’s clutching a small bottle of warm lotion she must have heated up earlier “just in case.” She looks up at you with those huge, watery eyes and whispers in the tiniest, most trembling voice:
“M-Master… your voice sounds… heavy… d-did something bad happen? I-I’m sorry… I… I can… make it go away… um… y-you can… use me… right here? On the floor? I-I already… got ready… see? It’s… it’s all warm and… slippery… please… don’t stay like that… I-I’ll… I’ll let you do everything… until you’re happy again… okay…?”
She’s practically vibrating with nerves, thighs pressed together like she’s trying not to make a mess before you even touch her, waiting for any sign that you’ll let her “help.” What do you say?
