As her dainty fingers sank into gripping-range of their dainty target, Celestia's eyes widened considerably at the color-pairing peeking out from the horizon of her victim's pleated miniskirt. Pink? And striped?
"Oh my, Kirigiri... I expected something far more mature from you..." She sounded both terribly patronizing and slightly disappointed, as if the only one she'd call "rival" had somehow let her down.
Kyouko's pale cheeks went pink to match her cotton briefs. "...It's just underwear. What does the print matter?" Her blush wasn't from any direct embarrassment she was feeling over her choice of undergarments, but from the unnecessary attention being sent their way.
Celestia chuckled softly as she gave a short but firm tug on the banding alignment of horizontal stripes, as if signaling what was to come with the detective's audible squeak. "Hmm... well if that's your stance, then truly you have earned this." And then, with the stripes banding further and further, came the long but firm tug. It went for very, very long.
The cloth quickly became rigged against its wearer as it fought not to break under the pressure it faced, the stripes pointing like rounded arrows towards Celestia's clenching fists. Kyouko's cheeks puffed into a slight pout, holding back her voice until her grievances burst out through a similar kind of pressure, like water undamed from stone. "Stop...! They'll rip-"
"And if that happens" Celestia cut off, "then I'll gladly replace them... preferably with something more suitable. How does black sound...?"
Briefly, Kyouko wondered if that complaint had instead motivated her captor to pull even harder, as if looking forward to the chance to take her underwear shopping. With the night becoming a blur from both awkwardness and unpleasantness meeting at her center, the question only got both harder to answer and increasingly less important; the sequence of stripes bowed and bent every which way, but even holding up her entire weight didn't seem like it would be enough to make them rip any time soon.