What Tangled Webs We Weave

[BlackAkuma]

Army was having a fun enough time within Veronika’s legs, but even so, he was having the smallest sliver of panic setting in. Her legs were no joke. He’d had enough powerful ones locked around his neck to know a pair of killer thighs when he saw them, and these definitely fit that bill. The force they put on him was serious,and even more distressing was the distinct impression that she wasn’t giving it her all, that she could do far worse if she were so inclined…

Yeah. Yeah, getting out of these was a priority.

Lucky for him, his little ploy worked, as she had the good sense to get out after the two count, exactly as he’d planned. Army breathed in fresh air, glad for the freedom. ”Nice move, now-”

Wait, Veronika was on the move again, whipping around him like a serpent, easily working her way to his blindside. Her felt her grasp at his leg, then he was falling forward, then he was on his chest, then she was gripping his ankle, then-

”Shit!”

Army’s curse rang through the room as she stood up with his ankle trapped and gave it a good twist. High pain, too much pain, and he found himself reflexively pulling for the ropes. Was this still playing? It didn’t feel too playful.

Gritting his teeth, he looked over his shoulder with a faltering smile, trying to keep this light despite the pain. ”Yeah, yeah, good lesson, bravo.” He reached over and gave her the taps she was looking for. Not the most manly thing to do, true, but you couldn't be too manly with a broken ankle, either. ”I submit, good job, now lay off the ankle. I kind of need that for…” He grunted and struggled, trying to find some relief. ”...ankle-related activities. Come on, come on.”

[Weonna]

Veronika felt the taps. She heard the surrender. And for a moment, it looked like she might show mercy.

But instead—she twisted.

One final, sharp wrench of his ankle, not enough to injure, but enough to spike the pain and remind him—she had him. Fully. Completely. She smiled as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a silken hush.

“Tapping is cute,”

she purred,

“but Coach Army didn’t say ‘please’…”

Then, just as quickly as she’d torqued him, she released the ankle and dropped to her knees—only to slither over his back like a second skin. Her thighs wrapped around his waist from behind in a smooth, swift motion, pulling him tight with a body scissor that locked just above the hips. Army could feel her inner thighs contract, her calf muscles flex and hug around his sides with dangerous control.

SQUEEZE.

Her toned legs compressed his ribs, and before he could even react, her arms reached forward, slipping beneath his to hook his wrists and pull them back, stretching his arms out and up like a caught marionette.

“Mmm, much better,”

she whispered just above his ear, her breath brushing warm against his skin.

“Now I have all of you. Legs… arms… chest…”

Another slow squeeze—tight, pulsing.

She leaned back, her shoulders touching the mat as she locked him in like a boa constrictor.

“Tell me, Coach,”

she said with a sweetly mocking tone,

“do you always train your rookies so rough… or am I special?”

[BlackAkuma]

Veronika had been straddling the fence between creepy and hot since they’d met, but as she worked on his ankle, she was starting to totter more towards the former than the latter. It was clear that she wasn’t a rookie and was messing with him from the start, but he’d been okay with that - even liked it - to a point. A point she reached the moment he gave his ankle a vicious twist, one that had him yelping yet again. ”Okay, fuck, fuck, seriously-”

She let go of him a moment later, but that didn’t mean the pain was over. He started to push up, only for her to drop over his back, draping over him a tight coat. Her legs wrapped around his waist and cut deep, sinewy thighs slicing in his body and compressing his organs. His hands went to pry them apart, only for her to seize them and trap them behind in a single deft movement.

Trapped. Utterly trapped. There was no powering out of this, though damned if he didn’t try.

Gritting his teeth, Army pulled up and tried to plant one foot on the ground, and succeeded. When he attempted for the other one, however, the pain from her ankle lock kicked it - still fresh, still raw, it barely had the power to support him at the moment, much less him and a passenger. He flopped back down, flat on his chest.

Grunting, he tried to pull up again, only to give up after a few second and plop back down. He turned his head to the side and looked back at her, making sure she could see the pain and annoyance on his face. ”You’re special. Super duper special.” He wiggled his fingers to keep their blood flowing. ”Now, let off, please? Let’s reset.”

[Weonna]

Veronika felt the way his body strained under her, the way his muscles twitched and jerked in resistance. She could feel the tension in his breath, the way his ribs tried—and failed—to expand fully under the crushing grip of her thighs. Every desperate wriggle, every aborted attempt to rise, only deepened the pressure.

And she loved it.

His grunt of surrender, his frustrated plea, his sarcastic praise—it all made her grin widen like a cat playing with her prey.

“Super duper special?”

she echoed, giggling, her thighs flexing again with playful malice.

“Mmm… I like how that sounds coming from you.”

But she didn’t release him.

No, instead, she leaned forward again, her chest pressing gently against his back as she whispered into his ear.

“You want reset? Okay. We reset… after one last hold.”

And without waiting, she slipped her arms forward-coiling around his throat with deceptive smoothness. Her gloved forearm slid across his neck, the other hooked behind it, forming a perfect sleeperhold. She locked her grip tight, tucking her chin against his shoulder as she applied pressure just beneath his jawline.

Body scissors. Sleeperhold. All in one.

Veronika was now a full-body vice, crushing and suffocating him in one seamless, practiced motion.

“You are strong, Army~,”

she whispered sweetly.

“But not strong enough to stop me from making you nap…”

She gave a gentle roll of her hips, making the scissor pulse, and her sleeper slowly tightened like a noose.

“Don’t worry,”

she teased.

“I’ll wake you up with a kiss. Maybe.”

[BlackAkuma]

Oh, fuck. Army did not like that smile on Veronika’s face. That was a bad smile. That was the devil’s smile. That was the ‘Your dumbass just fell into a honey trap’ smile, and seeing it now, when he was in a vulnerable position, didn’t fill him with happiness. Quite the opposite.

When Veronika didn’t ease up on the hold and made it even worse, Army’s struggles picked up, fruitless as they were. All the alarm bells were ringing, and they grew louder when she came in and whispered those poisoned words into his ear. This was a setup…no, a web, and he’d flown right into it. The spider tattoo should’ve been a tip off. ”Oh, fuck you, bi-”

His curses were cut off as her arm wrapped around his throat and clamped on, turning his words into withered gasps. The good news was that his hands were free, the bad news was that it didn’t matter. They came up and pulled at her constricting hold, desperate pull his throat free, but he arms were implacable and unmoving. They weren’t going anywhere.

It didn’t take long. First, the strength went out of his arms all at once, then his eyes rolled back, and his body bucked in a spastic fit. The last thing he remembered was feeling her breath on his neck and her fading words, and then…then…

…nothing.

[Weonna]

Veronika felt it.

That moment—the exact second when Army's resistance gave out. His limbs sagged. His body twitched. His breath grew shallow and erratic beneath her. Then came the stillness… that satisfying, total stillness.

Her grip remained locked for a few extra seconds—just to be sure. She adjusted her squeeze slightly, watching for any flinch, any defiant twitch.

None came.

Out cold.

A slow smile spread across her lips, sultry and self-satisfied.

“Poor Army~,”

she murmured.

She finally released the sleeperhold and loosened her legs, letting his upper body slump to the mat like dead weight. For a brief, indulgent moment, she lay beside him, running a gloved hand down the side of his chest, caressing the rise and fall of his pecs… then down over his abs, admiring the hard-earned definition.

Her fingers trailed lower still before she giggled softly and whispered,

“Not yet, tiger… we’re not done.”

She sat up, grabbing his arm and lifting it gently, like handling a prized possession. She positioned herself beside him, slipping one leg across his chest, the other beneath his shoulder, framing his limb for the next trap. But before she applied any pressure, she leaned in close.

A soft tap-tap-tap of her fingers brushed his cheek.

Then a slow, sensual kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth.

“Wakey-wakey,”

she sang sweetly, her tone at odds with what came next.

The moment his eyes flickered open—she fell back.

CRANK.

Her thighs snapped tight. Her hips thrust upward.

Perfect armbar.

Spoiler

She wrenched his arm with precise brutality, her legs pulsing around his bicep as her hands clutched his wrist and yanked down with ruthless control.

“There you are,”

she purred.

“Now let’s see if this gets your attention...”

[BlackAkuma]

Army was not ashamed to admit that this was far from the first time he’d been knocked out, and he wasn’t just talking about a wrestling ring. He didn’t have a perfect record in boxing. 13-3-0, better than most his age, but those three hurt. He’d been choked out a couple of times in a wrestling match, too. Once, even exactly like this.

Going out was always the same, but coming back was always different. Sometimes you came back slow, like waking up from a dream, sometimes it was a sudden start. Sometimes you had memory loss, something everything was clear. Just depended on the situation. A crapshoot.

This, though, was definitely one of the more pleasant ways he’d been rousing. The soft touch on his cheek, that subtle and supple kiss, teasing him with so much more. For a second, Army forgot where he was, or just didn’t care. He was home, or in someone’s bed, with some hot lady who was kissing awake. Felt good. Comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

The second Army opened his eyes, he descended back into hell, as Veronika yanked him back into consciousness with a vicious armbar. His body went into a spastic fit, jerking all about, and he gave out a flurry of taps all of which would likely go unheeded ”Shit, stop, fucking stop, fuck!”

The thrashing wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he defaulted to fight since flight was out of the equation. Rolling over, Army attempted to stack Veronika, hoping to alleviate the pressure, while he slowly pushed up to his feet and lifted her along. Still hurt like hell with his aching ankle, but all the pain in his arm was helping him ignore that for the time being. That and adrenaline.

If he could just get her up, lift her, maybe…

[Weonna]

Veronika felt the shift the moment it started.

His hips shifted. His core tightened. That boxer’s grit kicked in as Army planted one foot firmly on the mat and slowly began to rise, pulling her weight with him. Sweat dripped from his brow, his jaw clenched tight, and his muscles bulged with the effort.

She didn’t stop him.

She held the armbar.

Her thighs remained locked around his upper arm like a steel trap, her hips raised just slightly to keep the pressure angled perfectly on his elbow. Her grip on his wrist was firm, fingers dug in deep, making every inch of motion ache. The tension in his tendons, the torque on the joint—it was all deliberate. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t rush. She just waited.

Watching.

Her back flat on the mat, spine aligned, her entire body worked in perfect control to maintain the hold even as his body surged upward. Her abs flexed. Her calves curled. She made herself deadweight, letting him burn every ounce of energy he had trying to stand.

And if he did?

She was ready.

If he didn’t?

Even better.

[BlackAkuma]

So, what was the plan here? Army wasn’t too sure, being honest. He’d just woken up, his brain wasn’t 100% online yet, still booting up. He was still confused about what was happening - no, actually, that he knew. Veronika - if that was her real name - was jumping him in the gym and was picking him apart, using him like some kind of submission dummy. What he didn't quite get was the ‘why’ of it. This type of thing usually came down to revenge or someone trying to make a statement, but he hadn't been in LAW long enough to piss anyone off or make a big enough name that taking him down would matter.

Whatever, wasn’t important. He could figure it out later, after he got the crazy succubus off of his best arm.

He planted one foot on the canvas, then tenderly planted the other, the one with his protesting ankle. Stung like crazy, but rage was a good anesthetic, and he had a good deal of it to work with it now. Up he rose, with his free arm holding her back to alleviate some of the pressure as he lifted her, rising higher and higher, standing tall.

For a moment, a painful moment, he held her there, looking up her body and finding her face. He stared hard at her and tried to read her, looking for some inkling of what was on her mind. What he could see didn’t build confidence - he got the distinct impression she viewed him like a child with her favorite toy, something to pick apart and play with.

Screw it. With a guttural roar, he surged forward and tried to ram her against the nearest turnbuckle, hoping the impact might be enough to jar her loose. Ideally without tearing his arm off.

[Weonna]

As he charged forward, Veronika released her hold at the last second, twisting her body free and landing smoothly on her feet behind him like an agile cat. A split-second later, he crashed chest-first into the turnbuckles, the impact jarring and loud.

She didn’t hesitate.

The moment his body recoiled and he began to turn—she charged.

Veronika sprinted toward him, she launched herself up the moment he fully faced her. Her legs snapped around his shoulders in one clean motion, and with the momentum of her leap, she flipped backward, executing a flawless monkey flip that sent him tumbling through the air.

Rolling clean through her landing, Veronika flowed into the next motion without pause. She rose, advanced over his downed form, and straddled his chest.

Sliding forward with smooth control, she planted her knees on top of his wrists, pinning his arms down firmly beneath her thighs and sitting confidently in a full facesit pin! Veronika held still—posture upright, composed, and dominant. Her expression calm, her breathing steady.

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