L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Ah, Hentai.

had a weird relationship with it. LAW owed a large amount of its fame -- and infamy -- to it, but to be honest, without

's involvement, it was something she wouldn't seek out. She never felt much desire for sex on her own. And while she'd participated in a sexfighting league -- the Erotic Combat Club, the same as the founder of After Dark and the head of the Midnight brand, for which she was about to wrestle tonight -- it was done mainly out of rebellion and spite. First towards her mother, and then towards her doubters, both amongst the roster and in the audience.

She did it to shove a middle finger in their faces. To abandon the rigid path that Serina Levesque I had set forth from her childhood onwards. To put down the ECC's chosen heroes, silencing those who dismissed her as a nepo baby. And she kept it up for five years. Five undefeated years. And once she was done, Serina Levesque II had no interest in sex until after she'd spent some time with Eveline Morasanu. After a fine evening that had her craving more of the Romanian's companionship, it reignited.

Eveline. Lacramioara. She's the catalyst for her libido. It just won't work unless she's around, whether as an observer or participant. It helped that her opponent was a big man. Six foot six and two hundred and forty-six pounds, at least as he was last billed. Toying around Ishigami Yuto had been fun. A treasured adventure shared with her wife, who wore her wedding ring proudly since she wasn't competing tonight, and thusly had no risk of suffering any of the potential nasty injuries that could befall a competitor in combat sports.

A perfect fit for the Sanguine Rose.

The Black Queen wanted to work for it this time. And the Hardstyle stipulation looked to provide that sort of contest for her.

The lights in the arena, which was smaller than LAW's standard fare due to this show's invite-only take to the fill the seats. Neither woman minded a public affair, so this had surely been done for O Guerreiro Aranha's comfort. The stage would be enveloped with thick smoke, from which Lacramioara would emerge first. She took a handful of dainty paces forward, almost seeming to glide across the stage before she stopped and turned back towards the curtain, holding a hand out for her beloved.

"You are my Angel..."

Ionia appeared, her red eyes focused on the Romanian in front of her. Once she was close enough, she'd pull her in close and wrap her arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into a twirl, with Lacramioara hanging on with an arms around her neck, her eyes meeting Ionia's gaze and going just as deep.

"Come from way above..."

After three hundred and sixty degrees, Ionia set her and leaned forward,

Lacramioara with a well-practiced grace, looking down with a loving smile as the smaller woman ran her fingers through her snow white hair.

"To bring me love."

Lacramioara sprang forward when Ionia pulled her back into an upright stance, burying her face into her neck and prompting red lighting throughout the arena that lasted until they started towards the ring, arm-in-arm. Such was how it started between the women playing their characters. That special dance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for two falls! Introducing first: Standing at six feet and one inch tall and weighing in at one hundred and seventy-two pounds, fighting out of Transylvania, Romania...! Accompanied by Lacramioara Albescu, Iiiiiiooniaaaaaaa!"

The two proceeded towards the ring arm-in-arm, with a cameraman finding the perfect position to capture a close-up of them in time for the next lyrics.

"Her eyes, she's on the dark side."

Their faces spoke of the Black Queen's ability to do as what followed:

"Neutralize every man in sight."

On Ionia's was the frosty, unshaken focus of a veteran who's seen everything in the years she's been in the game. On Lacramioara's was the quietly confident grin of the wise spectator who'd placed a bet on a sure thing.

They would separate upon reaching the ring. Lacramioara ascended the steel steps while Ionia climbed the apron directly, then bent through the ropes that her sire sat upon and held up, following her inside afterwards. Ionia stopped at the center of the ring, her stony countenance unchanging as her arms welcomed Lacramioara into a warm embrace. The vampire lovers would both watch the stage, waiting for LAW's newest male talent to appear.

Miguel Rodrigues wasn’t oblivious to the gorilla position, but man, that didn’t count as backstage. The small space he was resting just before making his appearance on stage looked more like a small lounge than a backstage. It had nothing to envy to his own living room: dim lights, dark brown floors, a comfortable white leather sofa and of course a giant tv screen from where one could watch what was going on inside the arena. All this comfort was testament not only to LAW, but to the management of After Dark. When Miguel decided to resume his wrestling career in Japan and under LAW’s banner everything happened too quickly for him. A few promotional photos, an ad campaign and bam, suddenly he was on the spotlight again, if only under another ring name and behind a mask. He was still getting used to everything, learning the ropes of his new working place and experimenting with what he was comfortable with and what he wasn’t. One of LAW’s biggest appeals was the sensuality added to its matches, with the wrestlers sometimes having intercourse in the ring. This made Miguel a little hesitant still. He was seeking for some thrills but he felt like everything was happening too fast and he didn’t have time to adjust to everything at the same time.

Here enters LAW After Dark, a side business that involved a pretty particular set of matches and wrestlers. In After Dark the shows were more private in audience but not in scope or flair. Each attendant and participant, this included wrestlers, had to sign a NDA so the matches remained absolutely private, the environment surrounding the matches completely ironclad. Nothing leaked. Nothing transpired. As the minds behind the project put it, this was aimed to become a safe space where wrestlers that hesitated a little around certain topics could experiment without pressure. To Miguel that was like a godsend. For his debut at After Dark and at LAW by extension he decided to go for a match that piqued his interest without being extremely leaning towards the steamy parts: pro wrestling first, then some enticing action. It should be good, right?

O Guerreiro Aranha

And there he was, rocking his dark blue and red spandex attire which left just enough to imagination, looking at a tv while his rival for the night made her entrance. And what an entrance she was making, making an amazing dance with her partner, most likely a significant one. They weren’t walking or dancing towards the ring, it was as if they were floating. Both women had their distinct flair but because of professional reasons (or at least that was what Miguel tried to convince himself about) he couldn’t take his eyes off his rival. He felt his excitement spiking, the thought of sharing a ring with a woman like that being too much, and oh after that having some heated action! This was too good to be true.

As all beautiful things Ionia’s, because that was her wrestling monicker, entrance ended and she stood inside the ring with her significant one. A stagehand almost had to take Miguel out of his captivated style as it was his turn to make it on stage. “Oh, right! I'm really sorry!”, he said while getting his mask on. The lights on the arena dimmed and turned a deep shade of dark blue and then his entrance theme started blasting while the announcer made their introduction.

“And her opponent, standing at six feet six and weighing two hundred and forty-six pounds. Fighting out of Lisbon, Portugal and making his first appearance in this esteemed arena! Guerreeeiiiirooooo Araaaanhaaaa!”

Next to Ionia’s elegant and almost ethereal entrance Miguel was deemed to look like an absolute klutz. Thankfully he had a trick on his sleeve. His attire had been treated with some special fabric that under the dimmed dark lights of the arena glowed with a neon hue, so the red parts of his attire were standing out as he walked towards the ring. At least if he couldn’t leave an impression with a performative entrance he would do it with aesthetics.

Once he reached the ring Miguel’s entrance theme died out and the lights returned to normal, a moment he would be standing at a comfortable distance but still conversation close to the two beautiful figures in front of him. First of all, her rival’s significant one had gorgeous looking black locks and a elegant flair to her. A twisting ring on her finger gave Miguel the final clue he needed: this was most likely Ionia’s wife. He could respect the devotion showed by the woman. Then there was Ionia herself: beautiful white hair, elegant and classy aura, curves that went for days in a body that hinted how well-built it was. She was absolutely stunning, and she was his rival. Damn it felt good to be back and under LAW! Miguel decided he had been silent for too long and took a step closer. “Ladies.”, he nodded in a tone that sounded low and serious. For all his good manners, his politeness and his gentleness Miguel was pretty bad at reading his body language. Sometimes he forgot he was considered a pretty big and imposing guy, and wearing a neon-red mask didn’t help. He stood there with his arms closed. “Nice to meet you. I look forward to seeing what you can do in a ring miss Ionia.”, he said to his rival before turning his attention to her wife. “And to you my fine lady I promise I will keep your wife’s well-being in consideration even in the midst of combat.” The crowd reacted by cheering in approval, raising the stakes as if Miguel had insulted them and that was nothing to be surprised about. After all, the man looked pretty imposing in his attire and body language and he wasn't mic'd up so no one could know what he was saying. The people thinking he was trash-talking the ladies was something he would have to correct and soon. He offered Ionia a handshake. “Here’s to a good and safe match.”

O Guerreiro Aranha's had had given Evelyn an idea. One that had her kicking herself on the inside for not having thought of it, though she'd keep that from showing on the inside. She'd look up at her wife and whisper, too low for the mics in the ring to capture her voice. "Glow in the dark contacts. We should use glow in the dark contacts." Damn, how did she not think of that? The lighting in their entrance was just low enough to benefit from it.

Ionia nodded, letting her know she'd heard her, but kept her focus on the masked giant approaching the ring. There was an inhuman factor about him that she liked. The suit and the mask concealed everything. Not an inch of skin was visible. Even his eyes were hidden. All there was was his massive, looming physical presence. A very fine choice on his part, and the stunned intimidation of the front-row viewers spoke of their agreement.

Many in the vampiress's position may have cowed in the face this monster. His suit fit him well everywhere a man of his stature would have needed it to, showing off rippling muscles that spoke of intense devotion to the craft. Most seconds especially would've fled the ring by now. But both women didn't even look phased...Until he spoke. The surprise gentlemanly conduct melted the ice off of Ionia's countenance, if only partially. Enough for him to be able to read that his words were appreciated...the first half of them, that is. Lacramioara's reaction was similar on the opposite side of that spectrum: Comfortable and confident in her Queen's ability, and admittedly more curious about him now in a not entirely platonic manner.

Aranha was her kind of man: Tall. Powerfully built. And while she didn't know for certain, he sounded older.

And he may very well be the only gentle giant that exists amongst the men of LAW.

But one thing she did know? Ionia did nothing halfway. The lighter Heavyweight shook his hand, but with a firm, challenging squeeze and an equally challenging gaze up into his eyes. "To a good match. Hold nothing back, Guerreiro Aranha. For I will not." There was no indignation in her tone. Just a setting of expectations.

Despite his imposing figure and the threat aura her Spider-Warrior image transpired Miguel was a very honorable and polite rival, always taking time for pleasantries when they were due. Ionia (and her wife) had presented herself as a distinguished and elegant woman and they way her body conducted itself hinted that she had a warrior spirit as well.

Ionia accepted Miguel’s handshake while challenging him to not hold back anything in a tone that hinted not only a challenge but also expectations. “I would never hold back against a powerful and willing rival.”, he responded implying some compliment to the white-haired. Ionia wouldn’t be capable of seeing this but below his mask the man was smiling. This was just too good to be true, returning to the wrestling world fighting a beautiful and distinguished woman like that. It looked like Aranha couldn’t have asked for a better debut rival.

The bell rang and that meant Miguel was formally back at wrestling since his debit had started. He adopted a guarding stance and decided to take things slow. For some time he would circle around Ionia without breaking eye contact with her even if she wouldn’t see that. He wanted to assess her strengths but also the fortitude of her defense. After circling for a while without finding an obvious opening he lunged forwards, going for a lockup and using his bigger frame to try and get the supremacy in that first exchange, but his success and the amount of effort it would take would depend on Ionia’s reaction.

“I would never hold back against a powerful and willing rival.”

Now that was what Ionia wanted to hear. "Good."

Sensing that the matter was settled, Lacramioara sauntered around to the back of her wife, eyes locked onto Aranha all the while with a lovely smile. It wasn't a simple one; she had a plot, but what was it? Just looking at the man and hearing his voice, a shining model of masculinity, Ionia already knew. The Romanian's hands glided up her arms from the fores, fingers tracing her muscles just as attentively, lovingly as the first time they touched her. She turned her head up, lips pointed towards Ionia's ear and whispered, "Pune-l în genunchi. Expune-l mie."

Ionia responded with a nod, keeping her own red eyes focused on her massive opponent as the referee stepped between the two, giving Lacramioara her cue to leave the ring. Her gaze stuck to Aranha until her back was finally turned to him. Even her exit had purpose: It was slow, meant to tease with the short length of her skirt as she bent through the ropes. But even bent over, there wouldn't be a flash of anything.

With her at ringside now, the bell was sounded, and the match was on. The two circled each other, with Ionia's veteran instincts keeping her particularly guarded. No doubt he was looking for an angle, and with that mask covering his eyes, there would be no telling how well he was assessing her until he made a move. And he did a good job covering his bases as well -- it was a stalemate.

Eventually, Aranha just went for it. Just as she would've preferred. He led with his strength, locking up and pushing her back towards a corner. Her resistance was a token effort. Something to keep him thinking that all was well while she timed their paces. A simple task for a woman who's been in this business for what was closing in on twenty years. In the last few steps, she'd shift her weight and kick at his ankle as it came down for the next step, hopefully switching their positions right around so he'd end up with his back to the pads.

Romanian to English Translation

"Pune-l în genunchi. Expune-l mie." -- "Bring him to his knees. Expose him to me."

Miguel wasn’t going to deny it: the fact that Ionia wanted him to go all out and correspond with the same coin was something that excited the man. He loved competition and wrestling, challenging powerful rivals and see which one could overpower the other in a fair fight. Moreso, there was something about that woman that piqued his interest. Composed, well-mannered and dignified, Ionia only had to prove she was a proficient wrestler to not only be a rival worthy of Miguel’s attention but also to be her type, and that was threatening to enthrall him. However, the time for daydreaming was over now that Lacramioara had made a small show out of leaving the ring before whispering something to her wife in some tongue that sounded pretty exotic to Miguel and after the bell rang.

For starters both wrestlers decided to take it slow, a cautious approach and maybe not the most spectacular but one that was proff of sensibility in wrestling. None of the contestants wanted to underestimate their rival and then pay the price so they took things slow and cautiously. When Miguel understood that the two of them were at a stalemate he knew it was time to take some risks. Locking with Ionia, the man tried using his bigger body frame to his advantage and for some time it looked like it worked. Ionia’s fight was only a token but it was so well sold that the man really thought he was overpowering her. Then, when the two were close to the corner Ionia’s trap would spring and the woman would kick at his ankles, which let a groan of surprise and sharp pain. At that moment Ionia snapped, reversing the situation and making them switch positions, which would make the Guerreiro Aranha the one with his back against the turnbuckle.

There we are. With Aranha's back to the turnbuckle, Ionia reared her arm back. The crowd's reaction was about fifty-fifty: Half of them quieted like the breath got caught in their chests as a collective. The other half started on a collective, building "oooOOOHHH" that signaled the coming of a big hit. But they wouldn't have much time before she let a

chop loose on his chest. It was more vicious than normal, with more muscle backed with proper knee and hip movement going into it. Not out of any enmity, but because his sheer size and an attire choice that covered what had normally went bare had called for it.

The end result? A prime example of why it was called the Thunderclap: The impact

, crumpling the faces of the fans en masse, inspiring them all to come together to exclaim...

"OOHHH!!!

Now Ionia was showing that she wasn’t all looks and this was exactly what Miguel expected of her. Yes, the woman was gorgeous and distinguished and Miguel appreciated that in a ring partner, but she was also supposed to be a rival, a challenge to his strength so if she had turned out being weak-willed or a pushover despite being a fine looking lady she would have felt like a disappointment as a wrestling rival. Luckily Ionia wqs way better than Miguel could hope for. And she was proving it in spades. Ionia had managed to feign not being in control and used Aranha’s strength against him to literally put him against the corner. From there she was getting something ready, something the man wouldn’t like. He tightened his muscles and clenched his teeth for what was coming.

Blam! Ionia’s arm thundered against Miguel’s chest, an electric current of pain going through his upper region. Ionia had played her cards well and managed to seize momentum, so now O Guerreiro Aranha had to take all she could muster and bid his time in wait for a chance to flipping the table on her, but as far as things went it looked like the man had to take some more hits to find that opening.

It was a good hit. Excellent wind-up. Everything that needed to be in motion was. The follow through was on point, and noises spoke for themselves.

But the man remained on his feet. Yeah, that was about right.

Ionia followed it up with a forearm right across his jaw. Then another chop across his chest, faster, but with less impact. Followed by another forearm to the jaw. In succession again, and again until...

Ionia was a smart rival and knew well of the pacing of a wrestling match as her actions so far showed. Now the white-haired was in control and knew pretty well that to maintain that against a bigger rival like Miguel was one of the best strategies was capitalize any weakness and relentlessly wearing them down until they were exhausted and strained. That was exactly what Ionia strived for, throwing strike after strike. Her first Thunderclap was pretty strond and effective at leaving Aranha dazed against the turnbuckle, so now the black leather-clad woman was mixing up slow and powerful elbows at Miguel’s jab with quicker but weaker chops accross the man’s chest. The situation was starting to look complicated to Miguel, who was bent on taking it and bidding her time until he could mount a comeback but at this rate he would start feeling the strain soon. If he was going to flip tables it had to be soon.

Or just now.

From his position leaning against the turnbuckle and holding to the ropes he would wait until Ionia was readying a strike to jump, hoisting himself on his arms and wrapping his muscular legs around her, then shifting his weight to use some leverage in hopes to make her balance unsteady and throw her to the mat.