Mirewyn Thornveil (D) vs Freezer Katakura - "Entwined in the Cold"

[DJPow]

Little Nymph. It was a fitting descriptor, one that would have brought Mireyn immense pleasure had they been dancing in the bedroom as opposed to the ring. But as of this moment, all Mirewyn felt was the lingering shock of that slam leaving her half a step behind everything that followed. Her spine ached where it had met the canvas, breath not quite back under control as she was pulled upright by the head. For a few seconds she was forced on her feet, posture loose and unguarded, before Freezer’s turn came through her with sharp efficiency.

Freezer dipped and twisted, dragging Mirewyn forward and over her shoulder in a tight arc that sent her skidding down into a seated sprawl. Mirewyn’s hips hit first, momentum snapping her spine upright and then forward as she landed, palms slapping the mat to keep herself from pitching flat. The motion left her facing away, shoulders exposed, back taut and vulnerable as she instinctively tried to draw her legs underneath herself, but she never got the chance.

Freezer’s boot crashed into the small of her back with a brutal thud, the impact folding Mirewyn forward instantly and knocking a sharp cry from her throat as her body lurched and spilled back down to the canvas. Pain bloomed hot and immediate across her lower spine, radiating up between her shoulders as she was driven flat, cheek pressed against the mat.

Her body reacted in pieces. One knee dragged up and then slid uselessly back down. Her fingers clawed at the canvas, back arching reflexively before she sagged again, breath leaving her in a harsh, broken exhale. Whatever rhythm she had been trying to recover was gone now, scattered by the precision of the snapmare and the force of the kick that followed it.

"Aack, such a shame... I was ready to savor you, and you chose to hurt instead" Mirewyn rolled weakly onto her side, one arm wrapping protectively across her back while the other trembled beneath her as she tried to push up. "But I'm not through with you yet, Ice Queen. I've still yet to truly devour you. I just need... but touch you... one more time!" Mirewyn gasped, fingers reached out at her opponent, but she didn’t make it far. The pain in her back forced her to pause on an elbow, head bowed, hair spilling forward as she sucked in air through clenched teeth.

She was down, clearly hurt, her body still responding sluggishly as she tried to gather herself again, leaving Freezer with a wide-open moment to press whatever advantage she chose next.

[BlackAkuma]

Freezer knew a myriad of ways to hurt the feminine form - suplexes, slams, submission holds, whatever you could care to name. Of all the moves in her repertoire, however, she hated strikes the most. Not that she wasn’t adept with them - while she was no kickboxer, she could throw hands better than most wrestlers, and one of her best signature moves was the spinning backfist.

But hitting beautiful women was something she could never quite get used to. Wherever possible, she tried to keep her strikes to a minimum in most matches, saving them for the rare occasions she had to fight men or the even rarer occasions when an opponent managed to make her angry.

Mirewyn, however, had not done the latter and was most certainly not the former. And yet, she struc the woman with that brutal kick, anyway, and filled the arena with her sonorous shriek.

It was a testament to how pressed Freezer was getting that she would resort to such a thing. There was little way around it - she was clearly outclassed with submissions, so sticking to grappling was unwise. She needed to find her edge, and judging by the way Mirewyn reacted, it was safe to say she had.

Not well, to put it mildly. While her kick was surely painful, Mirewyn took it like she’d been struck with a steel beam, utterly devastated on the floor. Freezer stalked around her with a curious eye as she withered, a flower with its petals plucked. ”You poor, poor thing.”

She reached down and grasped the woman by the head - sternly, but gingerly, as if she were holding a priceless gift she didn’t want to risk dropping. She pulled the woman up, forced her to stand, then pushed her into the nearest corner and pressed against her. For one blissful moment, their forms molded together, skin kissing skin, her thigh sliding between her legs for a subtle grind. Her frigid breath blew over Mirewyn’s neck like a cold Northern wind. ”You’ve already touched me so much. Allow me to return the favor.”

Whatever ambiguity there was in Freezer’s words, it would be erased in the next moment - she stepped away, reeled back, and swung her arm out like a lash, hitting Mirewyn in the chest with a biting knife-edge chop.

[DJPow]

Mirewyn was still slow to rise after the snapmare and the field-goal kick that followed it. Her spine had taken the worst of it, and even with her breath finally coming back, her body hadn’t quite caught up. She got as far as one knee before Freezer’s hand collected her by the head again, guiding rather than yanking, but there was no mistaking the control behind it. Mirewyn didn’t resist when she was walked into the corner, her back hit turnbuckles still tight from the last impact, her fingers curling around the second rope as if it could steady her.

Freezer leaned in, bodies slotting together in a way that would have thrilled Mirewyn minutes earlier when they had been knotted up in submissions and pleasure-laden holds. Now the contact made her breath hitch for a different reason. Freezer’s thigh moved between her own, her dominant grind reminding her what she had lost when violence took precedence. The cold breath at her neck sealed it, sending a ripple down her already tender spine.

She might have answered it if she’d been given even a heartbeat longer, but the moment dissolved as quickly as it formed. Freezer stepped back, drawing air into the space between them, just long enough for Mirewyn’s chest to lift on an inhale.

The knife-edge chop cracked across her sternum like a snapped branch in winter air. Mirewyn jerked off the turnbuckles, shoulders bowing, the sound of impact echoing sharp and wet through the arena. Pain spread outward in a blade-thin fan from where the chop landed. Her skin flushed almost immediately, the welt blooming a deep, angry red beneath the low neckline of her gear.

The blow knocked a sound out of her that sat somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her head tucking down as her knees bent involuntarily. For a second she clung to the ropes, knuckles whitening as she tried to redistribute her weight, breath coming shallow while her chest throbbed with a heat that was entirely different from the warmth she’d been chasing earlier.

When she finally found enough breath to speak, it came ragged but laced with that stubborn sensual current that refused to die even as the match’s tone had shifted into one of further torment for the Nymph.

"My my…" she murmured, voice catching on the aftershock. "You really do like watching things wilt."

Her knees sagged again, the ropes the only thing keeping her upright. Shoulders pointed forward, chin low, chest exposed and rising with uneven breaths. The corner was turning out to be anything but a shelter, and with her legs not quite under her yet, she was wide open for whatever came next.

[BlackAkuma]

There was no cruelty in Freezer’s blow, though she would forgive anyone for making that mistake. It was hard to see such a blow as benevolent. A chop - properly done - seemed like such a harsh, violent move, one designed to torture more than do damage. It was the closest you could come to whipping your opponent without using the actual implement, designed to deliver pure pain. An attack meant to sap your opponent’s resolve.

Freezer, however, saw it as a compliment. After all, she wouldn’t strike just any woman so hard, not if she could get away with it. That she dug so deep into her toolkit was a testament to how much Mirewyn was pushing her. She made such actions necessary.

She was a true threat, and even though Freezer had her up against the ropes, she was under no delusions that this woman could change things in an instant if she let this advantage slip through her fingers. She had nearly been made to tap twice in this match, so far. She had no intention of flirting with a third.

”Typically? No.” Freezer shook her hand as she moved back in - that blow had been so hard that it left her own hand tingling, and she needed to get the blood flowing for what came next. ”Though you do make an enticing exception.

Freezer moved in again, this time ducking down and ramming her shoulder against Mirewyn’s taut stomach, hammering against the post. That alone would do some damage, but that was ultimately just a byproduct of what she really wanted - the position. Instead of pressing her to the turnbuckle, she kept her body low and her head under Mirewyn’s arm shoulder as she pulled out of the corner.

She took one step back, then another, clearing the ropes, before she arched her back, pulled Mirewyn over, and planted the woman’s shoulders on the mat with a Northern Lights Suplex. The moment she hit, Freezer posted up on her tiptoes and applied all the pressure she could onto her foe’s body, looking to follow up with the classic pinfall maneuver.

The referee slid over and started the count. ”1…!”

[DJPow]

It was still the sting of the chop that lingered in Mirewyn’s chest when Freezer dipped low and drove her shoulder into her midsection. The breath that she’d just barely recovered blasted out of her again, leaving her folded over Freezer’s back, ribs compressed and head swimming as she was dragged out of the corner. Her feet scraped once against the canvas, then lost all purchase as her body was hoisted upward.

The Northern Lights Suplex hit true. Mirewyn felt the world flip and then flatten as her shoulders and upper back met the mat in one clean sheet of impact, the momentum sending her legs swinging overhead as Freezer bridged high. The torque of the bridge drove Mirewyn down harder, her spine arching the opposite way it had minutes ago when she’d been wedged against the buckles. Her lungs refused to open on command, her voice didn’t even manage a gasp, just a strained rasp in the back of her throat as her back bowed under Freezer’s pinning arch. The referee was already sliding into view at her flank.

“ONE!”

Mirewyn’s fingers twitched first, curling against the canvas as her brain chased after her body. The suplex had blasted her equilibrium apart, left her staring at the lights with one knee folded awkwardly to the side and her breath sawn out of rhythm.

“TWO!”

Her hips jerked, but Freezer’s bridge was disciplined. Tiptoes pointed, core engaged, all weight driven downward through the shoulders. Mirewyn felt it bearing down across her sternum, squeezing breath from the top down.

The third slap was already incoming when she finally found the crack she needed.

A millisecond before the count landed, Mirewyn bucked her hips and snapped her trapped leg inward, threading it between Freezer’s and rolling just enough to break the line of the bridge. Her shoulder wrenched free from the canvas at the last fraction of the second, the official’s hand hovering over the mat without completing the count. Freezer’s bridge collapsed through force of sheer will, and that tiny opening was all Mirewyn required.

She didn’t get up, as if there was a chance in hell she could even if she wanted to. So instead, she latched.

Her right leg hooked deep behind Freezer’s left, catching at the knee joint while her free hand clamped around the ankle to prevent any immediate scramble. In the same motion she twisted onto her stomach, dragging Freezer’s leg with her like a snared animal. The two rolled in an inelegant knot before Mirewyn’s hips planted, thighs spreading wide and heavy as she forced Freezer’s captured legs across her own centerline. From there it was down to pure muscle memory.

Mirewyn pushed up onto all fours, then rose further until she was half-standing over Freezer’s prone chest, Freezer’s leg trapped backward across her own hip. She threaded her near leg over Freezer’s free thigh and grapevined both limbs inwards, forcing them interlocked at the ankles as she leaned back into the hold. The torque traveled from hip to knee to groin, and then finally up into the lower spine as Mirewyn sat deep into the leverage and pulled, showcasing one of her finishers to the world for the very first time - The Poison Clover.

Spoiler

Her breathing was still rough, sweat rolling from her jawline and down the scoop of her chest as her body trembled from the earlier punishment. But her voice finally found its way through with a low, breath-warmed strain that sat somewhere between pleasure, pain, and challenge.

“And you, my love, make for an enticing victim.”

Mirewyn’s body shook with the effort, not only with the effort of the hold, but of the effort to resist the temptations entrapped just in front of her. Freezer's prior estimation of the lewd nymph was right - for all her submissive prowess and skill, the titillating technician just couldn't help but interweave it with nature's most potent force: Love. Even now as Freezer's ass gyrated and strained just inches in front of her, there was nothing Mirewyen wanted to do more than sacrifice just a little bit of pressure, give up just a morsel of leverage to dip her fingers between her glistening womanhood and finish of what she had so tirelessly worked to claim all match long. But it was a mistake that had cost her two submission attempts already, and not even Mirewyn could let a feeling as fickle as lust get in the way of victory. No, Mirewyn had already proven that she was perhaps the more formidable sex fighter between the two. If she truly wanted to prove herself in this ring, it would have to be through strength and skill.

And so with renewed determined, she pulled again, harder this time, yanking Freezer’s lower body into an even crueler angle. Her fingers dug against Freezer’s boot and ankle for control while her thighs cinched inward to keep the grapevine from slipping. The official hovered nearby, watching closely for the break or the tap, the hold fully cinched and nowhere near its ceiling yet.

[BlackAkuma]

Unlike her last attempt, Freezer had some confidence that the Northern Lights Suplex could get the job done. While it had been a long while since she’d won a match with this move, she had done it before, and she knew how effective it could be when properly applied - at the risk of sounding cocky, she would say that her application of the move fit that bill. She posted up and dropped all of her not-inconsiderable weight onto Mirewyn’s shoulders. Given their weight difference, a three-count was not out of the question.

She got one. So far, so good.

She got two. Excellent, almost there. Mirewyn was struggling, but it wasn’t getting her anywhere.

There was an instant, right before the final fall, when Freezer believed the match was truly hers. The referee’s hands were coming down, and she couldn't imagine the woman getting free in time. It was simply a matter of gravity at this point.

Not so. The space between the referee’s hand and the canvas when Mirewyn got her shoulders up could’ve been measured in micrometers, but it made no difference - an escape was an escape, and though there was some consternation from the audience, Freezer could see that the referee’s count was true. That was the least of her concerns at the moment, however. Far more important to her was the way Mirewyn was moving, slithering, worming around with a purpose that she had come to dread from the woman.

She was moving about, rolling, but this wasn’t a pointless scramble. No, Mirewyn’s hands were moving with a practiced precision, one that Freezer found herself a step behind at every turn. In a moment, she was standing while the Ice Queen was still on the floor, with her legs trapped in a distressing position. She could already feel the pain in her ankles, and she suspected it was about to get worse from there.

”No-”

Yes.

Mirewyn dropped, wrapped her legs around Freezer’s waist, and executed her finishing maneuver. And Freezer knew that’s what it was, too. Oh, she didn’t know what the woman called it - probably something to do with poison and plants, if she had to guess. But it had all the hallmarks of a move meant to end matches and force submissions. Difficult to execute, but effective. Extravagant. Agonizing.

Freezer let out a hoarse cry as the pain traveled through her legs, making them feel like they were coming apart at the seams, and her hand rose in the beginnings of a reflexive submission. She brought it down and took that hand into her mouth, biting it, almost as if she were punishing herself for even entertaining the idea of giving up.

But she wanted to. At the very least, her body wanted to, even if her mind disagreed. But she knew as well as anyone which of the two tended to win arguments when push came to shove.

[DJPow]

Once the ankles were trapped and the grapevine threaded, the first wrench of the Poison Clover sent Freezer’s cry up toward the rafters. That sound was its own kind of current down Mirewyn’s nerves, raw and bright and edged with that particular note of helplessness that only a well-applied submission could wring out of another wrestler. After all, that was the point. This was there dance.

But a patient submissionist like Mirewyn knew that a finisher couldn't simple be secured once, it had to be chased, tightened, layered, and locked down until there was nowhere left for the opponent to run.

Mirewyn inhaled sharply through her teeth and shifted her weight backward, dragging Freezer’s legs further across her own hip line. When Freezer’s knee joints began to angle inward toward each other, that was when the real torque began. The torment traveled from ankle to knee to hip and finally into the lumbar vertebrae, folding the spine against itself with a cruel geometry that would leave most wrestling fanatics frothing at the lips at it's perfection.

Freezer’s hand rose, almost yielding, and Mirewyn answered the plea for escape by doubling down. She reinforced her grip around Freezer’s trapped shin, cranking downwards as if she were prying open a stubborn latch. The cloverleaf portion arced Freezer’s lower back higher off the mat, forcing her abdomen to contract involuntarily while her upper spine refused to follow. Bodies weren’t made to bend in two directions at once, not without screaming about it.

Mirewyn’s thighs were already locked behind Freezer’s body, but she deepened the grapevine into something even more beautiful. She crossed her own ankles and flexed hard, turning the grapevine into a crushing bodyscissor that cinched around Freezer’s hips and ribs like a web of vines ensnaring helpless prey. Her inner thigh pressed flush against Freezer’s oblique and lower back, sweat slicking the contact points and letting muscles grind without friction. Each breath Freezer tried to take only inflated her ribcage against the pressure, denying her the air her body demanded.

The referee was close now, hovering near Freezer’s face, watching the hand rise and tremble but not quite fall. Her voice broke through that space in a warm, low purr against the back of Freezer’s thigh. "You fought well Freezer, but patience is my greatest virtue. Give up, or find out just how quickly my passion can turn to power"

Mirewyn’s fingers dug through the curve of Freezer’s boot to retain control, her thighs continuing to pulse with constricting force as she poured every ounce of strength she had into the Poison Clover. She wasn’t just holding it, she was actively trying to finish the match with it, to squeeze and bend and pry until the Ice Queen finally cracked.

[BlackAkuma]

This wouldn’t be the first time Freezer had tapped, but it had been a long, long while. Years. Long enough that she couldn't even remember it that well, despite her not being that old of a wrestler by any stretch of the imagination.

She couldn't remember who it was against, exactly. Someone in her Ring Dream days, a rival of some kind. Whoever it was, they’d managed to capture with a Sharpshooter, a move not too dissimilar from the one she found herself in now, and she recalled how absolutely excruciating it was. While she’d been in submission moves before that, none of them had ever been so effective or executed with such malice. In that moment, she had truly believed that her opponent wanted nothing more than to rip her legs off and that, if she didn’t tap, it could put her in the hospital for weeks. Months. Maybe end her career early.

So she tapped. She lost. There was no shame in that, nothing wrong with knowing the limits of your body and making a decision to save yourself. Submitting was just another part of wrestling, and she fully accepted that, sooner or later, she would have to submit again.

But it would not be to Mirewyn Thornveil. Not today.

This was, of course, an easy thing to say and much more difficult to do, especially when the woman in question currently had her in one of the most agonizing holds she’d ever experienced. The crushing force on her legs was bad enough, but the woman compounded it with those legs, crushing her around the waist and making it harder to draw every breath. The bodyscissor or the cloverleaf wouldn’t be bad by themselves, but together, they were unbearable.

There was only one way out of this - to crawl. And crawl. And crawl. Freezer gritted her teeth, dug fingers into the canvas, and began to pull her way towards the ropes, one agonizing inch after the other. She paid no mind to Mirewyn behind her or the referee at her side, asking if she wanted to submit. She kept her eyes locked forward and dragged them along the canvas, hauling their combined weight. Her teeth clenched so tight she thought they would shatter.

One inch. Then another inch. Then another. Almost there. Almost there. Almost...

She reached out when she was close enough, threw her body forward, and desperately tried to clamp onto the bottom rope, while she bit down on her spare wrist to distract from the pain.

[DJPow]

Mirewyn was perhaps just seconds away from dissolving Freezer into the canvas and claiming the submission she deserved. The Poison Clover was made for finales, for slow surrender and indulgent unraveling, and she could feel the moment it began to crest. Freezer’s breathing stuttered, her thigh tremored, her body softened into that pre-tap slackness. Mirewyn had almost savored it, already anticipating the hot spill of satisfaction and the shudder that would come when Freezer finally succumbed.

But then Freezer moved, not in collapse, but with forward determination. Her hips rolled beneath the bodyscissor, her spine braced, and to Mirewyn’s astonishment the woman began to crawl. The Poison Clover wasn’t a hold one should be able to move in, every inch was a negotiation between pain and willpower, but Freezer peeled those inches out of the canvas through pure bodily defiance.

Mirewyn adjusted to counter the retreat, dragging her own hips backward and tightening the grapevine until it burned across her inner thighs and groin, but it did little to stop the advance. Her breath caught as Freezer hauled them forward again, this time enough to force Mirewyn to abandon the palm-posted leverage and drop to her elbows to keep the hold from slipping. It made the stretch sharper across Freezer’s lumbar and sent another desperate jolt through those captured legs. The referee hovered, voice tight, asking if she wanted to submit. Freezer didn’t answer. She only crawled, inch after inch, with Mirewyn’s thighs pulsing and flexing around her waist like they were trying to crush the bones in her ribs.

She tried one last adjustment by hooking her ankles deeper, pulling Freezer’s legs inward to collapse the hips and prevent the forward drive, but the Ice Queen threw her whole body into the final reach. The rope was there. Fingers brushed once, then latched, white-knuckled and shaking.

The referee’s hand came down immediately, sharp with authority: “Rope! Break!”

Mirewyn answered it with two more vicious pulses of the bodyscissor and one deep backward wrench of the cloverleaf, an indiscretion born of competitive spite rather than cruelty, before relinquishing her thighs to unlock. The relief was immediate and visible across Freezer’s lower body as Mirewyn unthreaded her legs and backed off on hands and knees, chest rising and falling, hair clinging damp to her cheek.

Freezer had earned the ropebreak. She had not earned a respite.

Mirewyn rose and stamped a heel into the small of her opponent's back. Another stomp followed, and this time her heel lingered, grinding downward, pinning Freezer’s hips to the canvas. “Oh, Freezer,” she murmured, her tone almost tenderly reproachful between stomps. “I coaxed. I coaxed again. You would not melt.” A third stomp, lower, targeting the base of the spine. “So we’ll shatter that ice instead.”

Only after that did Mirewyn grab a fistful of fabric at the back of Freezer’s top and guide her upward. She steered her towards the corner, making Freezer carry her own weight while being bullied across the ring. A forearm pressed between the shoulder blades did the rest, corralling her into the nearest corner and slotting her back-first against the top turnbuckle.

The setup came together quickly as she climbed up the ropes, her feet settling on the second rung as they straddled Freezer's side. She then swung her own right leg high over Freezer’s shoulder and around the back of her neck, forcing Freezer’s neck to bend tight and wedge into the crook of Mirewyn’s hamstring. From that position gravity would do the rest of the work.

Mirewyn leaned back to gather balance and raised her free hand, drawing a roar from the crowd as cameras zoomed on the Briar Nymph perched atop her tree. Then she kicked backward off the turnbuckle, dropped to her back, and dragged Freezer forward into a violent Leglock DDT, attempting to spike her face into the center of the canvas and shatter the Ice Queen with brute force!

Spoiler

[BlackAkuma]

That was close. The world would never know how close, either.

Freezer had been less than three seconds away from tapping when she grabbed the ropes. It wouldn’t have been a conscious decision, either. Rather, her body had reached such a limit that she could feel it overriding her senses, growing desperate for anything to end this excruciating hell. If she had been slower, if the ring had been bigger, if she had taken just a little longer to reach the edge of the ring, it would’ve been over.

But she did it. By some insane miracle, Freezer made it through the longest ten feet of her life and gripped the rope tight, as if it was precious treasure. It didn’t come without costs, as she had to endure two squeezes and a stretch as Mirewyn milked the hold, but the shrieks that came out only masked her relief. She was out. She was free.

Of course, ‘free’ was a relative term. While Mirewyn wasn’t about to use that hold again - not now, at least - that didn’t mean Freezer was out of the hot water. Far from it.

One stomp, then another, with the second one driving into her spine as she squirmed beneath. She hissed as the woman spoke, then shrieked again when another stomp came down, making her eternally grateful that Mirewyn wasn’t a fan of shoes.

She was just starting to pull up when her foe moved and forced her to stand at her own pace, though Freezer was grateful she grabbed clothing instead of hair. After that came the painful march into the corner, with Mirewyn making her stand on her aching legs, giving her jolts of pain with every step she took.

Freezer was pushed against the turning and sagged against the pads as Mirewyn mounted her, her slim figure climbing up the ropes and entwining her upper body with taut, sinewy legs. She had no idea what the woman was about to do next, only that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it - if ever there was a time to turn the tables, this would be it.

Mirewyn went for the plunge, trying to drag Freezer’s body to the canvas, but she would be taking this trip alone. The Ice Queen’s chilly grip seized onto the ropes as her foe felling backwards, anchoring her it place, and she used the momentum to thrust forward and toss her opponent away, letting her fall on the canvas with nothing to show for it.

But she wasn’t done. The moment Mirewyn began to sat up, Freezer came rushing out the corner, forcing her aching steps to move. She hobbled the first step, planted the second one hard, and was able to build up decent momentum with the third, enough to send her flying the rest of the way. She cycled through her legs in mid-air, then used the built-up force to fire her knee out like a cannon, aiming the point of it straight for Mirewyn’s face.