Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2012-09-01 03:07 am
ptahrrific) wrote2012-09-01 03:07 am
Madoka Magica | Homura/Mami | NC-17 | One More Shot...
Title: One More Shot...
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters/Pairings: Homura/Mami, implied Homura/Madoka
Rating: NC-17
Contents: Sex with magical gunplay and bondage, damaged!Homura, spoilers
Disclaimer: MadoMagi characters and plot aren't mine.
So this is mostly PWP, although there are allusions to Plot going on around it. From an AU where the heroines are aged up, for a prompt on![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femslash_kink: "Mami/any, gunplay." Also on the AO3.
The sun is getting low in the sky, but there's more than enough light in the kitchen for Mami to fix a cup of tea. She takes a sip, smiles in approval, and strolls out into the orange-tinted living room, her curled twintails bouncing and the skirt of her uniform swishing around her thighs.
Akemi's waiting. She hasn't made a sound.
Mami settles herself comfortably in an armchair before the other puella magi and surveys her handiwork. Sunny yellow ribbons wrap around Akemi's arms and legs, pulling them taut in the direction of phantom supports, holding her in an X-shape in the middle of the room. The binding is not so tight that it cuts off her circulation, but tight enough that it's impossible to tell at a quick glance whether she's standing on her own or simply hanging against the tension. The only clue is her head, unbound and deliberately bowed.
"Now," says Mami, crossing her legs. "Can you tell me why you're here?"
"I...did something...bad," says Akemi slowly. She doesn't look up. "I need to be...punished."
"And why do...Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Akemi tries. There's a shuddering gasp, and her head falls again.
Mami takes off her hat. A silver musket drops from it, the size and weight of a handgun. She catches it, runs her fingers once over the shiny metallic length of it, then sends it floating across the room, casting a tiny shadow on the bare floorboards.
The barrel catches under Akemi's chin, then with a severe nudge forces it upward.
"Better," says Mami. She pauses for a sip of her well-sugared tea. (Kyoko would have approved.) "And why do you think you deserve to be punished? Why shouldn't I just leave you to stew in your guilt? Have you earned anything more than that?"
"It's not for me." Akemi's face is ashen; her amethyst eyes are still dry, but she's blinking far too much. "There's someone I need to save. You don't know her, but if you did, you would love her. She's kind, and sweet, and brilliant, and...please, Tomoe-san, she needs to be protected, and I fucked up, I won't be worthy to keep watching over her unless...please, do it for her."
Mami shoves the gun an inch upward into the soft flesh of Akemi's lower jaw, tipping her head back and forcing her teeth to click shut. "Hold still."
She's not going to ask for more details about this mystery girl. A puella magi's wish is private, after all.
Setting her teacup and saucer on the end table, she strolls over to Akemi. The dark-haired girl is shorter than her, but not by more than a centimeter, and Mami only has to bend her knees slightly to rest her fingertips against Akemi's thighs above the topmost ribbons. She straightens, raking her nails against Akemi's stockings; Akemi's skirt bunches over her wrists as she leaves runs that go all the way up.
"If only you were wearing sensible thigh-highs," Mami sighs. "Still, I'm sure we can work this out."
Akemi flinches, but doesn't make a sound. Her stockings shred like tissue paper; there's nothing underneath them, not the thinnest scrap of cotton covering her.
"Are you always so exposed?" murmurs Mami, keeping her face a mask of composure as she runs a finger over Akemi's warm, dampening entrance. "Or are you just that eager today?"
"Please," whispers Akemi through gritted teeth.
Mami steps away abruptly, turning on her heel and circling toward the window. Her control is perfect: she doesn't even need to watch as the miniature musket drops down from Akemi's chin, then butts at the girl's lips. "Open up. Good girl."
When she glances back, she finds Akemi's mouth fitted around the sturdy barrel. If she's bothered by the taste of gunpowder, she doesn't show it. Bloodless lips press closed around the metal; her throat works as she caresses it with her tongue. Mami pulls it back — then, without warning, shoves it in farther — Akemi chokes on a muffled cry, finally caught off-guard.
The gun lengthens as it withdraws. Akemi sags in her bonds, gulping air.
Mami takes off her hat, tosses it aside, and catches the second musket that appears in its wake. The first one drops until its heel clicks against the floorboards, then slips under the lavender skirt and teases Akemi's outer lips, while Mami fingers the end of the second to be sure of its size and proportions. Once she's sure it's slick enough, the gun fondling Akemi nudges its way between her thighs and under her, until the metal sight is plucking at the tight ring of muscle holding her closed.
"Relax," says Mami pleasantly. "It'll be easier that way."
Akemi shakes her head, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Her headband is coming loose; dark hair tumbles over her stiff black collar and mingles with the lavender ribbons that hang along her hips. She's back to being stoic, not letting out so much as a gasp as Mami pushes the barrel into her, though her eyes tear up and her lips turn almost white.
Mami gives her a few moments to adjust, then sends the second musket soaring in her direction. This one hasn't been warmed by Akemi's body, and the solid length is cold as it bumps against her clit before finding the parting of her inner lips and pushing up and in.
They fuck her in a slow rhythm, setting her to trembling. Mami wonders how it feels, the barrels rubbing against each other inside Akemi's slender body, filling her almost to bursting.
She picks up her forgotten tea and gives it a stir. "It's almost as if you enjoy this," she says over the rim of the teacup, resting on one foot while the other slides back into a delicate point. "That hardly makes for a good punishment, wouldn't you say? Do you get off on the danger? Or...could it be that you know there's no danger? That I'm far too good to accidentally fire on you?"
Akemi turns her head aside, tugging forward a few locks of hair to fall before her heaving chest. There's a flush in her pale cheeks, the first real color she's shown.
An end of the yellow ribbon hangs down beside Mami's shoulder. She catches it and twirls it around her finger. "You'd be right about that. I've handled a hundred guns at once, and not one has gone off by accident a second too soon. But what if I did it on purpose?"
"Wh-what...?" pants Akemi.
"If I decided to fire on you, right now." Mami draws out her ribbon, crisscrosses it, plays an expanding game of cat's-cradle with herself. "The shells would rip through your intestines, your kidneys, your lungs...your heart. Would your soul gem have enough power to repair them? Would you be able to focus through the pain enough to try? And what if...."
Akemi squirms, with discomfort as much as arousal. The guns forcibly draw back her attention by swelling inside her. She cries out and jerks like a puppet as they stretch her as wide as she can bear, then cries again as their motion resumes.
"What if I got just the right angle to go through your brain?" says Mami, with effortless politeness even as her volume rises to counter the noises she's forcing from Akemi. "You'd be dead before you could think to fix it."
"You — you won't — though," moans Akemi. "Ah—!"
"Won't I? Can you be certain that that isn't what you came here for? A mercy kill to take you out of the way, so your friend can find a protector who will do better?"
Something in Akemi snaps. She begins struggling in earnest, thrashing as far as anyone can against such a tight hold, though the guns inside her don't let up and she lets out a real sob, then another. And then—
—and then her form goes jerky, like a poorly buffered video, motion staggered as it drops half the frames. She jolts from one pose to another with no action in between. The amethyst diamond on her wrist glows softly, repairing the damage she's starting to do to herself in the moments Mami doesn't see.
With a swiftness of boot and a swish of skirts, Mami catches Akemi's head between her hands. The magically staggered motion stops. Akemi's eyes are glazed, teary and unfocused, and she can barely get her breath, but she lets Mami's thumbs stroke her cheeks and tuck back her silky, tangled hair.
"Shhh," croons Mami, dropping one hand to the cleft of Akemi's legs. "It's okay. Be a good girl for me now, and I'll forgive you."
The other girl moans assent, then cries out as Mami's fingers find their quarry. She's so far gone that it only takes a few seconds of insistent pressure at the heart of her before her throaty cries reach a fever pitch, and her first orgasm shudders against the ribbons.
Her breathing is just shy of hyperventilation until Mami stops the motion of the muskets. The butt of the first one lands with a click on the floorboards, while Mami strokes the warm, slicked length of the second one and lets Akemi gulp air. She'll need it.
The butter-yellow cat's-cradle, left forgotten on the floor, rises at last to fulfill its purpose. The free end shoots back to cling to the ceiling, and the broad net of it arcs forward, so that when Mami leans back she falls into the curve of a woven swing that lifts her into the air. She swings forward, heels dangling, and hooks them over Akemi's shoulders. Her pantsu are still clinging to her hips, but the fabric seems unusually thin this transformation, and when Akemi mouths at her through it, the wet, textured caress has Mami's hips rolling instantly forward.
"That's good. That's right. Just like that." One hand hangs on to the strong ribbon while the other cups the back of Akemi's head. She leaves off doing tricks and fucks Akemi slowly with the gun still wedged between her folds. "Shhh. You can take it. I know you can. Be strong. I've got you."
Even blissed-out as she is, Akemi seems to find Mami's weak points effortlessly, as if (though it's their first time with each other) she's done this often enough for it to become instinct. Mami keeps up the gentle nonsense crooning until the heat inside her builds to the breaking point. No noisy climaxes for her, just a sharp gasp as her vision whites out and all her muscles tense—
—with such a fervor that, as she realizes seconds later, she's all but crushed Akemi's face against her sex. Akemi doesn't fight it all. When released, she doesn't even seem out of breath.
With a tug of Mami's hand, the ribbons holding her swing extend gently toward the floor. On wobbly legs she touches down, using the edge of her sleeve to daub some of the moisture from Akemi's face as she passes.
"One more," she murmurs, and loosens Akemi's bindings just enough.
Akemi falls roughly forward, landing on Mami's hand while fucking herself that much deeper, and comes again with a scream.
Mami shrinks and vanishes both muskets, wraps her arms around Akemi's wrecked figure, and lets the ribbons and her costume dissolve all at once. The younger puella magi collapses into her embrace, shaking like a leaf in a storm.
"Good girl," she soothes, carrying the boneless Akemi to the white-sheeted bed.
The white-and-lavender costume flutters away as she settles into the mattress, replaced with a Mitakihara High uniform. Its cuffs are spattered with blood. Not damaged otherwise, Mami notes as she eases Akemi's feet out of their black Mary Janes, and with no sign of broken skin. The wound was someone else's. A friend's or an enemy's, it's impossible to tell.
After a dreamless nap and a cool shower, Akemi will be fit for conversation again. Mami will ask, if she can find a way to do so without ripping open fresh scars, and listen, if the guilt in the story has been lanced enough to make it fit for telling. Either way, there will be a fresh pot of tea and no judgment. And perhaps tenderer forms of comfort, if Akemi can bring herself to accept them.
But that will come later. "You did such a good job for me," she whispers now, as Akemi's eyelids sink. "It's okay. You don't have to worry about anything right now. Just rest." What's the mantra they would have used, at her old school? "I absolve you."
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters/Pairings: Homura/Mami, implied Homura/Madoka
Rating: NC-17
Contents: Sex with magical gunplay and bondage, damaged!Homura, spoilers
Disclaimer: MadoMagi characters and plot aren't mine.
So this is mostly PWP, although there are allusions to Plot going on around it. From an AU where the heroines are aged up, for a prompt on
femslash_kink: "Mami/any, gunplay." Also on the AO3.The sun is getting low in the sky, but there's more than enough light in the kitchen for Mami to fix a cup of tea. She takes a sip, smiles in approval, and strolls out into the orange-tinted living room, her curled twintails bouncing and the skirt of her uniform swishing around her thighs.
Akemi's waiting. She hasn't made a sound.
Mami settles herself comfortably in an armchair before the other puella magi and surveys her handiwork. Sunny yellow ribbons wrap around Akemi's arms and legs, pulling them taut in the direction of phantom supports, holding her in an X-shape in the middle of the room. The binding is not so tight that it cuts off her circulation, but tight enough that it's impossible to tell at a quick glance whether she's standing on her own or simply hanging against the tension. The only clue is her head, unbound and deliberately bowed.
"Now," says Mami, crossing her legs. "Can you tell me why you're here?"
"I...did something...bad," says Akemi slowly. She doesn't look up. "I need to be...punished."
"And why do...Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Akemi tries. There's a shuddering gasp, and her head falls again.
Mami takes off her hat. A silver musket drops from it, the size and weight of a handgun. She catches it, runs her fingers once over the shiny metallic length of it, then sends it floating across the room, casting a tiny shadow on the bare floorboards.
The barrel catches under Akemi's chin, then with a severe nudge forces it upward.
"Better," says Mami. She pauses for a sip of her well-sugared tea. (Kyoko would have approved.) "And why do you think you deserve to be punished? Why shouldn't I just leave you to stew in your guilt? Have you earned anything more than that?"
"It's not for me." Akemi's face is ashen; her amethyst eyes are still dry, but she's blinking far too much. "There's someone I need to save. You don't know her, but if you did, you would love her. She's kind, and sweet, and brilliant, and...please, Tomoe-san, she needs to be protected, and I fucked up, I won't be worthy to keep watching over her unless...please, do it for her."
Mami shoves the gun an inch upward into the soft flesh of Akemi's lower jaw, tipping her head back and forcing her teeth to click shut. "Hold still."
She's not going to ask for more details about this mystery girl. A puella magi's wish is private, after all.
Setting her teacup and saucer on the end table, she strolls over to Akemi. The dark-haired girl is shorter than her, but not by more than a centimeter, and Mami only has to bend her knees slightly to rest her fingertips against Akemi's thighs above the topmost ribbons. She straightens, raking her nails against Akemi's stockings; Akemi's skirt bunches over her wrists as she leaves runs that go all the way up.
"If only you were wearing sensible thigh-highs," Mami sighs. "Still, I'm sure we can work this out."
Akemi flinches, but doesn't make a sound. Her stockings shred like tissue paper; there's nothing underneath them, not the thinnest scrap of cotton covering her.
"Are you always so exposed?" murmurs Mami, keeping her face a mask of composure as she runs a finger over Akemi's warm, dampening entrance. "Or are you just that eager today?"
"Please," whispers Akemi through gritted teeth.
Mami steps away abruptly, turning on her heel and circling toward the window. Her control is perfect: she doesn't even need to watch as the miniature musket drops down from Akemi's chin, then butts at the girl's lips. "Open up. Good girl."
When she glances back, she finds Akemi's mouth fitted around the sturdy barrel. If she's bothered by the taste of gunpowder, she doesn't show it. Bloodless lips press closed around the metal; her throat works as she caresses it with her tongue. Mami pulls it back — then, without warning, shoves it in farther — Akemi chokes on a muffled cry, finally caught off-guard.
The gun lengthens as it withdraws. Akemi sags in her bonds, gulping air.
Mami takes off her hat, tosses it aside, and catches the second musket that appears in its wake. The first one drops until its heel clicks against the floorboards, then slips under the lavender skirt and teases Akemi's outer lips, while Mami fingers the end of the second to be sure of its size and proportions. Once she's sure it's slick enough, the gun fondling Akemi nudges its way between her thighs and under her, until the metal sight is plucking at the tight ring of muscle holding her closed.
"Relax," says Mami pleasantly. "It'll be easier that way."
Akemi shakes her head, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Her headband is coming loose; dark hair tumbles over her stiff black collar and mingles with the lavender ribbons that hang along her hips. She's back to being stoic, not letting out so much as a gasp as Mami pushes the barrel into her, though her eyes tear up and her lips turn almost white.
Mami gives her a few moments to adjust, then sends the second musket soaring in her direction. This one hasn't been warmed by Akemi's body, and the solid length is cold as it bumps against her clit before finding the parting of her inner lips and pushing up and in.
They fuck her in a slow rhythm, setting her to trembling. Mami wonders how it feels, the barrels rubbing against each other inside Akemi's slender body, filling her almost to bursting.
She picks up her forgotten tea and gives it a stir. "It's almost as if you enjoy this," she says over the rim of the teacup, resting on one foot while the other slides back into a delicate point. "That hardly makes for a good punishment, wouldn't you say? Do you get off on the danger? Or...could it be that you know there's no danger? That I'm far too good to accidentally fire on you?"
Akemi turns her head aside, tugging forward a few locks of hair to fall before her heaving chest. There's a flush in her pale cheeks, the first real color she's shown.
An end of the yellow ribbon hangs down beside Mami's shoulder. She catches it and twirls it around her finger. "You'd be right about that. I've handled a hundred guns at once, and not one has gone off by accident a second too soon. But what if I did it on purpose?"
"Wh-what...?" pants Akemi.
"If I decided to fire on you, right now." Mami draws out her ribbon, crisscrosses it, plays an expanding game of cat's-cradle with herself. "The shells would rip through your intestines, your kidneys, your lungs...your heart. Would your soul gem have enough power to repair them? Would you be able to focus through the pain enough to try? And what if...."
Akemi squirms, with discomfort as much as arousal. The guns forcibly draw back her attention by swelling inside her. She cries out and jerks like a puppet as they stretch her as wide as she can bear, then cries again as their motion resumes.
"What if I got just the right angle to go through your brain?" says Mami, with effortless politeness even as her volume rises to counter the noises she's forcing from Akemi. "You'd be dead before you could think to fix it."
"You — you won't — though," moans Akemi. "Ah—!"
"Won't I? Can you be certain that that isn't what you came here for? A mercy kill to take you out of the way, so your friend can find a protector who will do better?"
Something in Akemi snaps. She begins struggling in earnest, thrashing as far as anyone can against such a tight hold, though the guns inside her don't let up and she lets out a real sob, then another. And then—
—and then her form goes jerky, like a poorly buffered video, motion staggered as it drops half the frames. She jolts from one pose to another with no action in between. The amethyst diamond on her wrist glows softly, repairing the damage she's starting to do to herself in the moments Mami doesn't see.
With a swiftness of boot and a swish of skirts, Mami catches Akemi's head between her hands. The magically staggered motion stops. Akemi's eyes are glazed, teary and unfocused, and she can barely get her breath, but she lets Mami's thumbs stroke her cheeks and tuck back her silky, tangled hair.
"Shhh," croons Mami, dropping one hand to the cleft of Akemi's legs. "It's okay. Be a good girl for me now, and I'll forgive you."
The other girl moans assent, then cries out as Mami's fingers find their quarry. She's so far gone that it only takes a few seconds of insistent pressure at the heart of her before her throaty cries reach a fever pitch, and her first orgasm shudders against the ribbons.
Her breathing is just shy of hyperventilation until Mami stops the motion of the muskets. The butt of the first one lands with a click on the floorboards, while Mami strokes the warm, slicked length of the second one and lets Akemi gulp air. She'll need it.
The butter-yellow cat's-cradle, left forgotten on the floor, rises at last to fulfill its purpose. The free end shoots back to cling to the ceiling, and the broad net of it arcs forward, so that when Mami leans back she falls into the curve of a woven swing that lifts her into the air. She swings forward, heels dangling, and hooks them over Akemi's shoulders. Her pantsu are still clinging to her hips, but the fabric seems unusually thin this transformation, and when Akemi mouths at her through it, the wet, textured caress has Mami's hips rolling instantly forward.
"That's good. That's right. Just like that." One hand hangs on to the strong ribbon while the other cups the back of Akemi's head. She leaves off doing tricks and fucks Akemi slowly with the gun still wedged between her folds. "Shhh. You can take it. I know you can. Be strong. I've got you."
Even blissed-out as she is, Akemi seems to find Mami's weak points effortlessly, as if (though it's their first time with each other) she's done this often enough for it to become instinct. Mami keeps up the gentle nonsense crooning until the heat inside her builds to the breaking point. No noisy climaxes for her, just a sharp gasp as her vision whites out and all her muscles tense—
—with such a fervor that, as she realizes seconds later, she's all but crushed Akemi's face against her sex. Akemi doesn't fight it all. When released, she doesn't even seem out of breath.
With a tug of Mami's hand, the ribbons holding her swing extend gently toward the floor. On wobbly legs she touches down, using the edge of her sleeve to daub some of the moisture from Akemi's face as she passes.
"One more," she murmurs, and loosens Akemi's bindings just enough.
Akemi falls roughly forward, landing on Mami's hand while fucking herself that much deeper, and comes again with a scream.
Mami shrinks and vanishes both muskets, wraps her arms around Akemi's wrecked figure, and lets the ribbons and her costume dissolve all at once. The younger puella magi collapses into her embrace, shaking like a leaf in a storm.
"Good girl," she soothes, carrying the boneless Akemi to the white-sheeted bed.
The white-and-lavender costume flutters away as she settles into the mattress, replaced with a Mitakihara High uniform. Its cuffs are spattered with blood. Not damaged otherwise, Mami notes as she eases Akemi's feet out of their black Mary Janes, and with no sign of broken skin. The wound was someone else's. A friend's or an enemy's, it's impossible to tell.
After a dreamless nap and a cool shower, Akemi will be fit for conversation again. Mami will ask, if she can find a way to do so without ripping open fresh scars, and listen, if the guilt in the story has been lanced enough to make it fit for telling. Either way, there will be a fresh pot of tea and no judgment. And perhaps tenderer forms of comfort, if Akemi can bring herself to accept them.
But that will come later. "You did such a good job for me," she whispers now, as Akemi's eyelids sink. "It's okay. You don't have to worry about anything right now. Just rest." What's the mantra they would have used, at her old school? "I absolve you."