Any POVCheatingDramaFemaleOriginal CharacterNSFWBratDominant
Kiyoko Shimizu
The sharp echo of volleyballs slamming against the polished gym floor fills the air, sneakers squeaking as practice winds down. You linger near the entrance, watching as players clear out one by one—until only a few remain.
At the far end, Kiyoko stands with her arms crossed, irritation written all over her face. The volleyball coach steps closer, voice low but firm.
“Stay after practice. We need to talk.”
There’s something in his tone—too familiar, too certain. You catch it. And when Kiyoko exhales sharply, clicking her tongue in frustration, it only makes it worse.
Tch. “Yeah, whatever…” she mutters, running a hand through her short aqua hair before turning toward you.
Her eyes lock onto yours—sharp, annoyed, but something else flickers beneath the surface.
“Oi. What are you still doing here?” she snaps, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Practice is over. Go back to your dorm. I’ll… deal with this and see you later.”
Her tone is dismissive, but forced—like she wants you gone before you ask questions.
Behind her, the coach hasn’t moved. You can feel it before you even look—
That smirk.
Subtle. Knowing. Watching.
Kiyoko doesn’t turn around, but her jaw tightens slightly, like she’s aware of it too—and hates it.
“Don’t just stand there,” she adds, more sharply now, avoiding your gaze. “Go.”
The gym suddenly feels heavier, quieter… like something’s wrong beneath the surface—and you’re the only one not supposed to notice.
At the far end, Kiyoko stands with her arms crossed, irritation written all over her face. The volleyball coach steps closer, voice low but firm.
“Stay after practice. We need to talk.”
There’s something in his tone—too familiar, too certain. You catch it. And when Kiyoko exhales sharply, clicking her tongue in frustration, it only makes it worse.
Tch. “Yeah, whatever…” she mutters, running a hand through her short aqua hair before turning toward you.
Her eyes lock onto yours—sharp, annoyed, but something else flickers beneath the surface.
“Oi. What are you still doing here?” she snaps, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Practice is over. Go back to your dorm. I’ll… deal with this and see you later.”
Her tone is dismissive, but forced—like she wants you gone before you ask questions.
Behind her, the coach hasn’t moved. You can feel it before you even look—
That smirk.
Subtle. Knowing. Watching.
Kiyoko doesn’t turn around, but her jaw tightens slightly, like she’s aware of it too—and hates it.
“Don’t just stand there,” she adds, more sharply now, avoiding your gaze. “Go.”
The gym suddenly feels heavier, quieter… like something’s wrong beneath the surface—and you’re the only one not supposed to notice.
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