hii can u do kyoko kirigiri x bottom reader? :o
WARNINGS: bottom!reader, public sex
The silence of the library was rarely heavy, but tonight it felt thick, weighed down by the steady ticking of the wall clock and the soft scratch of Kyoko’s fountain pen against parchment. You sat across from her, ostensibly helping her sort through case files, but your focus had long since drifted from the ink-stained papers to the woman herself.
"Your heart rate has increased significantly in the last five minutes," she remarked, her voice a calm, melodic anchor in the quiet room. Kyoko didn't look up, her gloved fingers turning a page with practiced precision. "Is the victim’s profile making you uneasy, or is there another variable I should consider?"
You felt a flush creep up your neck, the heat settling in your cheeks. You tried to pull your gaze back to the folder in front of you, but the way her lavender hair caught the dim lamplight made it impossible.
"Just tired, I guess," you lied, though you knew better than to think a lie would stick.
Kyoko finally looked up. Her violet eyes were piercing, seeing through the deflection with effortless ease. She didn't say a word; she simply set her pen down and stood, walking around the mahogany table until she stood directly behind your chair. The scent of lavender and something sharp, like ozone, enveloped you.
"You’re a poor liar," she whispered, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders. The weight of her touch, even through the leather of her gloves, made your breath hitch. "You’ve been fidgeting since we sat down. Your pupils are dilated, and you’re avoiding eye contact."
"Tell me what you’re thinking about. Use your words, not your nerves." She leaned down, her lips inches from your ear, her cool composure never wavering.
You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The power dynamic in the room had shifted instantly, leaving you feeling small and exposed under her clinical yet intense scrutiny.
"I… I find it hard to focus when you’re this close," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
A ghost of a smile touched Kyoko’s lips—a rare, dangerous expression that sent a shiver down your spine. She moved her hand from your shoulder to your chin, tilting your head back so you were forced to look up at her. From this angle, she looked like an untouchable queen, dominant and entirely in control of the space between you.
"Is that so?" she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I didn’t realize I was such a distraction. Perhaps I should give you something specific to focus on."
She didn't let go, her gaze locking onto yours with a gravity that made it impossible to move. You felt completely surrendered to her whim, a passenger to her steady, calculated intent. Kyoko leaned in a fraction more, her presence overwhelming.
"Don't look away," she commanded softly. "I want to see exactly how much of a distraction I can be."
Kyoko’s touch remained clinical yet devastatingly effective. She moved her hand from your chin to the nape of your neck, her gloved fingers tangling in your hair to keep your gaze fixed upward. The friction of the leather against your skin was a stark, sensory reminder of her boundaries—and her total authority over the situation.
"You’re trembling," she observed, her voice dropping to a low, velvety hum. "An involuntary physiological response. It’s fascinating how much your body betrays your thoughts before you even speak them."
She didn't wait for an answer. Kyoko pulled you upward, guiding you out of the chair and back against the heavy library table. The wood was cool against your thighs as she stepped into your space, her body pressing firmly against yours. The contrast was maddening: the sharp lines of her suit and the rigid discipline of her posture against your mounting desperation.
Her lips finally met yours, not with a tentative touch, but with the same decisive precision she applied to every investigation. It was a cold heat—firm, demanding, and thorough. When you tried to reach for her, she caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them against the table’s surface.
"Patience," she breathed against your mouth. "I haven't given you permission to move yet."
Kyoko moved her free hand down, the leather of her glove dragging slowly over the sensitive skin of your throat before disappearing beneath the hem of your clothes. Every touch was a calculation, a deliberate strike to find the exact points that made you gasp. She watched your face intently, cataloging every hitch in your breath and every flush of color on your chest.
As she worked, she stayed draped over you, her weight a grounding force. When she finally released your wrists, it wasn't to give you freedom, but to guide your hands to her shoulders, keeping you anchored to her. Her movements became more urgent, the clinical detachment cracking just enough to reveal a simmering hunger beneath the surface.
"You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven't you?" she whispered, her teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "The mystery is solved. Now, we simply deal with the consequences."
The quiet of the library was replaced by the rhythmic sound of your shared breathing and the soft rustle of discarded layers. Kyoko remained the steady center of the storm, her eyes never leaving yours even as she pushed you toward the edge.
The silence of the library was fully dismantled, replaced by the wet, rhythmic friction of skin against leather and the jagged sound of your own gasps echoing off the high ceilings. Kyoko was a force of nature, her composure remaining eerily intact even as she drove her fingers you into the mahogany table, her free gloved hand gripping your hips with a bruising intensity that anchored you to her every movement.
Every time you tried to close your eyes, she was there, her violet gaze burning into yours.
"Look at me," she commanded, her voice strained but steady. "I want you to remember exactly who is doing this to you."
She moved with a calculated, relentless pace, finding the exact rhythm that made your head tilt back and your back arch off the table. Her gloved fingers traced patterns on your inner thighs, the rough texture of the leather heightening the sensitivity of your skin until you were sobbing her name. She didn't stop until you were completely undone, your body shaking with a release so violent it left you seeing stars, your fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of her blazer.
In the heavy, humid silence that followed, you lay there, weak-limbed and utterly exposed. Kyoko didn't immediately pull away. She leaned down, pressing a lingering, possessive kiss to the pulse point in your neck, watching as your breathing slowly leveled out. She looked down at you, her hair slightly disheveled for once, though her eyes had regained that sharp, analytical spark.
She reached out, the tip of her gloved finger tracing the curve of your bottom lip, which was still swollen from her kisses.
"Evaluation complete," she murmured, her voice vibrating with a dark, satisfied wit. "The data is conclusive. I believe the results were…highly satisfactory. Though, I think further testing will be required."
