L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

His laughter proved to be deeply infectious, right down to the strain to try to hold it back. That effort failed, but the important one didn't. Timber! And down he went. Onto all fours, with her crotch up against his rear. Her mind had far too much dirt on it to be able to ignore the reality of how it must've looked. Bella's first impulse was to say something about it, but she decided to hold her tongue. At least for the moment.

She already knew what she wanted to do. Scramble up the marvel beneath her, and-

Crap! There goes her hold on him! And the next few seconds were a great show of what's going to make this difficult: Domino was not only bigger and stronger than her, but he was fast and technically sound too.

And then it happened.

Intimate positions are part and parcel of wrestling. There's no avoiding it, and normally, it's no big deal. But this? Having an over half-naked, rock hard body on top of her -- not rock hard everywhere, thank God -- with the man kneeling between the legs that she'd spread out when she began to lose her balance. He pulled her way back into him, lining them up far too well, too intimately for her liking. And he bore down on her, cuddling -- this felt like some aggressive cuddling -- up with her like he was about to start moaning or whispering sweet-nothings into her ear. He squeezed real tight too, to the point where breathing was starting to take effort.

And this was a league where that, and so much more would be allowed. Even in matches that weren't supposed to have that kind of action.

It wasn't the first time that Bella Pirata has been in a situation like this. In Proxima Generacion Lucha Libre, a promotion filled with hormone-addled teenagers belonging to the Mexican people -- some of the most passionate on God's green Earth -- that too was an inevitability. Intergender, female vs female, male vs male...The horniness was everywhere, and they were always finding ways to sneak things past the strict rules regarding sexuality.

She wasn't an angel herself, using that to her own ends in many a match. But when an opponent starting taking it too far, she'd end the match early with a good kick between the legs. It'd put an L on the board, but it would get the message across loud and clear. And the adults and those of her peers who weren't slaves to their libidos were on her side.

But the reality of the situation, being in an entirely different environment as an adult now -- as fresh meat -- surrounded by people who saw things very differently...

For the briefest of moments, Beatriz was back. Her mouth dropped open, and thank God she fell forward the way she did. It came down onto her forearm, stopping the cry that was threatening to leave it. Her reasonings for wanting that snuffed out were both practical and for the sake of staying true: On the practical side, she did not want this guy to start thinking that he'd have the edge where teasing goes. Lose the psychological game, and this thing will be going down to the dumps, fast. The other side of it was that Bella Bonny was supposed to be a woman who's been there, done that. This wouldn't be getting her all flustered inside like what was happening to Beatriz.

Not that she'd just let a guy hop on like this without a fight. With the use of her arms generating additional upward force, she'd throw the back of her head into his face. Once. Twice. See if that loosens his grip, at least enough to make a move.

In fairness, the move was intended purely for a technical advantage. Control the waist, control the bridge between the upper and lower body. Crush the abdominal region, and you take out the core support for basically everything. It's partly why he preferred targeting the midsection of opponents and breaking them down. Kicking out of a pin requires abdominal muscles!

Also in fairness, Bella is a severely attractive girl. Big blue eyes, golden blonde hair, tight body largely on display - for practical reasons, he's sure! Less to grab onto, not going to overheat so much, and sweat can help slip a lock! Plus, wearing shirts and stuff while wrestling gets terribly clammy and distracting. Whatever, the point is, it's also her fault. And that's a hill he'll die on! Because, frankly, his grip on her may be intended for positional control, but in execution, he can't ignore the results.

Bella's a slender, toned little thing; a veritable heartbreaker in a girl-next-door package. Smooth skin, tight belly, curved but not too curved, as he could plainly see from the start and now directly feel against his hips. The warmth of her body against his as he compresses inwards against, palms pulling in against her defined stomach, feeling her shift and squirm with every adjustment causing them to brush together - it would be easy to get lost in the moment, to indulge in it at least for a couple extra seconds. The audience certainly seems to think so.

She pushes back into his chest, bringing him more onto his knees with her on his lap. Her head swings back, catching him on the cheekbone. With a quiet growl, his biceps flex and he pulls in harder along her waist in the reverse bearhug. But the second and third insistent shot causes him to lose his focus there, tilting his head far to the side to try to avoid further backwards headbutts.

Bella didn't look back to see how he was taking the head she was giving him. Doing damage wasn't the entire point; she just needed to do enough to create a crack that she could slip through. The moment his grip on her midsection loosened was the moment she'd make her move, planting a foot down flat on the canvas for leverage to push back against him further. Experience had taught her that a lapse there meant that his eye was off the ball. Maybe even his head was turned.

And when that happens, maneuvering the opponent around becomes an easier task. She'd use the second or two she had to try to get out: Get him down on his back, roll over him, and break the hold in the process.

It was, in fact, both of those things! Domino had his eye off the ball, because his head was turned. And that was specifically to avoid letting those swinging reverse headbutts pummel his face. Even though the first few weren't particularly forceful, it didn't mean the next one wouldn't be when she had a solid idea of where his face was hovering.

Still, he tried to maintain the grip and compress her midsection for the scant few seconds remaining that he'd have it. Though once they were up - that was that. She was suddenly thrusting back against him, toppling their balance with her slipping free of his grip to tumble right over him.

Twisting on the mat, Domino gets to all fours first, trying to race to his feet to mount a defense before her!

As he was doing that, Bella took hurried steps backwards, into the ropes. A little hop, a little bit of a fall back into them to better apply her weight and gain more momentum when she bounced off. It wasn't top speed that she was able to blast off with, but it was enough for the job she was on. She'd wait until she was close, then jump low. Long, smooth, stocking-clad legs outstretched, boots looking to find a new home in her opponent's world-class face.

It would be a shame to sully it, even if temporarily, but them's the breaks.

Them's the breaks.

Domino is just starting to get to a knee when Bella returns to his side in a flash and pops into the air. Her legs extend, boots catching him right on the cheek. The first thing to register is the jarring, dazing pain, naturally, accompanied with the forced whipping of his head to the side. Then the confusion and immediate concern for the very same fleeting thought she had before executing the attack. Wrestling and modeling, he's embraced both - but shots to the face are always a concern, and unavoidably so.

Still, it's difficult to think about that as all he can see in the immediate moment is a swirl of vaguely star-shaped impressions. He hits the mat on his shoulder and tumbles over quickly onto his back, expression contorted in wincing pain. His arms instinctively raise, huddled around his head protectively.

Success! But Bella wasn't done just yet. She was already starting in her chosen direction as she hopped back to her feet, towards to the ropes to the side of him. After

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g67QKQivi1k&t=3960s

to stand on the apron and taking hold of the upper ropes, she gave them a good tug as she leaned her body back, as far as she could. The ropes would do half the work from there, and the rest was technique. Technique that any luchador worth their salt would have so deeply ingrained even before their very first match that the timing of the leap would come as easily as breathing.

Up and over, with a front flip to bring more momentum down across those statuesque abs, getting a quick pop from the fans as the air was driven out of Drake's lungs. Bella hooked a leg underneath one arm and brought her other one into the effort, gripping the elbow for a tighter pin. But she was fully anticipating a kick out, still.

The referee started slapping the mat. "One!"

It wasn't doing Domino many favors, languishing on the mat in this state. And what's worse, he knows it. He's very aware of it. Even in his stunned, stupefied condition from having his bell rung, his years in the ring has endowed him with enough awareness to keep abreast of not only his position in the ring, but estimating his opponent's.

She didn't go directly for the pin. She's either preening, or preparing. He can't devote enough mental capacity to figure out which one yet. And just as he's starting to come back into focus, the aforementioned opponent's lithe body comes hammering down across his sculpted abdominals. "Ungh!"

He curls inwards immediately upon impact before dropping flat on the mat, feeling her modest weight leaning back into him. The crowd gave her a pop, so it must have looked good. He can't really enjoy it at the moment, though, the inwards, hard ache of his midsection drowning other things out.

The referee slapping the mat, however, cuts through it.

There's the one count. His leg is bound in her arms, raised, pinning him down against the mat.

The hand slaps again. "Two!"

Despite the throb in his midsection, Domino tenses his abdominals and the muscle of his captive thigh flexes, both working in tandem to thrust out of the hold in a sharp and dramatic kickout!

"No pin! Only two!," declares the referee on her knees.

And Bella was right back to it. She couldn't afford to let too much slip against an opponent like Domino. He was the worst kind of heavyweight to fight: An all-rounder with mass. So with one hand gripping his chin and the other at the back of his head, taking control of his melon entirely, she twisted and manipulated as she rose to her feet, bringing him with her. Maybe it would've been easier to just grab a handful of hair, but it was a touch too dirty for the pirate. Especially considering he had such a nice head of it.

The moment he kicked out of the pin, Domino knew things would keep going. Bella didn't strike him as the sort to linger and languish. But he still needed a second to recuperate himself, or an opening to fight his way back into the swing of things.

Feeling her hands on his head, guiding him to sit up despite his straining abdominals, Domino compliantly shifts first to sit up, then onto his knees before her. But that's enough of an opening for him to try to work. His left hand quickly moves to her waist to steady himself. Then the right hand balls into a fist and rockets forward, seeking to plunge deep into Bella's unprotected stomach once. Twice! Three times, using her navel as a bullseye!