#mma days

[llstarcasterll]

I suffered from some pretty severe MMA fighter Kevin Day brain rot a couple months ago

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[jimimn]

for @jiminswn​ ♡

[theanticool]

Happy International Women’s Day

Here’s a handful of my favorite active martial artists to celebrate!

MMA - Natalia Silva

Boxing - Caroline Dubois

Wrestling - Yui Susaki

Kickboxing - KANA

Muay Thai - Smilla Sundell

Judo - Clarisse Agbegnenou

(I’ll probably add more later)

[cloacacarnage]

[mosneakers]

. . .

Erik: Pers... Time to head in, kiddo. It's getting dark.

Persephone: But... but Daddy! We didn't even get to the final act! Our grand finale!

Erik: You heard what I said. Tomorrow always comes back around. Now hurry up, before I have to get your mama out here to ask. And that won't be pretty. For you.

Happy Love Day 🥰💘

[uppercut-athletics]

Body Shot K.O. (Exhibition Match)

[guysshowingofftheirmuscles]

[goldiipond]

im feeling very okay about ray

[sukunasun]

i haven't stopped thinking about drug dealer choso he's plaguing my brain everything you say about him is so true. if you're up for it could we get some more thoughts about him? if not, no worries 💗 your writing's amazing and i've read through your masterlist so many times, ufc sukuna is the one i seem to come back to all the time

you admit you've always been on the outskirts. the audience looking at actors play out a scene that you were never a part of, these were the ones 'living' life and you were just observing it. never given a second thought, skipped over, tossed to the side. why did you even dress up for this lame party when not a single guy glanced your way, talked to you, or even noticed you. could have just studied and finished your homework with those precious hours given away.

maybe you should feel lucky, you were never cheated on, nor had sex with someone and regretted it...theres a luxury of privacy and being on your own. the freedom that comes when there's no one to answer to, no one to be responsible for, no one who could break your heart...

despite knowing you should just keep your opinion to yourself, you can't help but say it, "you know those things will kill you," you say matter of factly, in that know it all tone you've become so accustomed to using around him. or rather people like him. it's no secret choso's got one thing on his mind, making deals and running a business, maybe beating up a few individuals in between. with money to make and a family to feed, he's a grown adult allowed to do whatever he wants to his body, what's with this sudden possessiveness, this need to intervene.

you don't try to fantasize about the possibility of more, he's not someone worth getting involved with. dates in hidden spots and having to sneak around like this, choso having to watch his back at every turn, only calling or texting when he's got that tiny bit of free time in his packed schedule, on the run from everyone and everything.

he probably doesn't even hear you over the music, and will probably ignore you the way everyone else does. but choso turns to you then, just in time to exhale a slither of smoke from his lips, "it's just weed," he replies, raising an eyebrow at you in lieu of a challenge. and surprisingly, you persist.

"whatever, i wouldnt know, ive never touched weed. ever." and you're so proud of it too, there was no time or energy to get involved with such things. you were always so good, so reserved.

"would you like a hit?" he asks, smoke lingering around him. "c'mere, just once, it won't hurt a bit.." he doesn't wait for your response, pulling you into his lap with practiced ease instead, a tug on your legs and you're fitted against his hips like you belong there. loves the little surprised squeal that leaves your lips and the way your shorts ride up and stretch snugly around your ass, your hips, but choso glimpses at the knee socks fondly, they're the best part.

he reaches out for the rolled blunt before inhaling, eyeing your nervous expression all the while. your chest rising and falling with pupils blown wide as you take him in. he looks so sinful like this, bet he tastes like it too, with his half-lidded eyes and mussed-up hair. that scar across his face calling out for your fingers, for your gentle touch. “comfy?” he asks, and god, his voice is so deliciously low your thighs start clenching, a throbbing at your core making itself known when pressed so close to him. heartbeat so loud he can feel it thumping, oh you want him so bad, you want him and you'd do anything he’d ask. you know he feels it, a man like him must have had plenty of women in your position, a slight jab to the chest when wondering if you're just another one in a long line of escapades. how many more were lured by his offer.

"i don't even know how you do that," you chew on your lip, feeling like a loser that never did anything remotely exciting, all the experiences you've missed out on.

"i'll show you," choso brings the blunt up to his lips, taking a hit while keeping the smoke in. you shiver when he comes closer, lips hovering over yours, and then he kisses you. with a fragility, a tenderness, who knew choso was capable of such. at the first touch, he gently pries your lower lip open with his thumb, his tongue grazing and licking for a taste. slowly then, a puff of smoke flows into your mouth, your breaths sucking it down your throat and it burns a little, warm and green, definitely too strong for your liking, but he kisses you through it. white drifting from where you meet, pulling and swirling all around along with your gentle whines, keening, and pleading for more.

your lips fit so well together you think and hope he’s enjoying it as much, he’s your teacher after all, your only teacher, from this first kiss to every other chaste peck and languid drag thereafter.

“fuck..." you whisper when he pulls away, lips swollen and a line of spit bridging the space in between. choso chases for one more kiss, one more taste, even after you've parted. the music continues to play through the speakers and the lights stay dimmed, his apartment's small, and a little messy, but he's been occupied with thinking about you, wanting to get close, with no time for moving boxes and vacuuming.

but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, it is this exact paradise of old worn out couches and a window overlooking the city, a stage for your belated coming-of-age rituals, smoking for the first time and it hadn't been bad or harmful, you weren't coughing up smoke and sputtering over the detriment of your health. only tasting just what makes him so addictive, so much so you wonder why you're still not up and running far, far away from this man.

"that was...nice..." you say, breathless, you can hear your teenage self gasping internally, appalled but so tempted and driven mad with excitement, with thrill. a younger you would be eating out of his hand in a second.

it was sexy and hot and so fucking exhilarating, what else would he make you do, how many more things could he show you, and if only the rest of tokyo could do anything about it, bearing witness to this tricky, undefined balancing act, watching just how eager, how willing you are to give in, to take the risk, to the ease with which he calls to you and you limp into his arms like lamb unknowingly being carried to a slaughterhouse.

he doesn't say anything then, speechless, mind empty except for thoughts of you, “wanna do it again?” he heaves, and you nod—eyes wide and lustful, longing. biting a moan back at his touch when he finally grabs at your bottom, rough hands against smooth, plump skin, your hair tied up, t-shirt bunching around your chest when he can't help himself, burrowing his nose there and sniffing in lungfuls of your scent like some wild animal, like he's been starved of it, feeling the cool press of the necklace he gave you, sitting nestled in your cleavage. you're so fucking pretty like this he thinks, and who is he in comparison, a terrible influence, tainting you with weed one day and the rest of his fucked up ways the next, kissing you like his life depends on it because it does, who is he to make you fall, he has no other choice, he needs it, he needs your lips more than you'd ever need a brute like him, would you ever forgive him— “yes, always yes,” you reply, you beg, all until the joint's at its end and then some.

[kinasin]

Dai Mahou Touge

[recursive360]

🇺🇲 | The Main Event! 💥🥊💥

*Return of the Fly? 🪰

[mmabymilikin]

Stamp.

Two sport champion from Thailand.

One Championship Atomweight(115lbs) MMA grand prix winner.

[gumpistol]

His roommate is ruining his fucking life. Can't even have fucking Tiffany anymore. Agitated grumbling.

    ❝ stop being so cranky! you started it! it's your fault! ❞ 

   if Jaggy had just let him ‘dance the night away’ instead of kicking him in the legs and making him fall, then maybe Luffy wouldn't have flailed and crashed into the TV and maybe they would be watching Ryan Gosling's Kenough performance right now instead of watching pigeon videos on instagram. if only one of them was a professional athlete with a sizeable salary, then MAYBE they could just get a new one.

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃. / from @ferromagnetiic

[jekyllnahyena]

the girls r fightiiinnnnnnnnggggg <3 also, u cannot tell me that Soup wouldn’t absolutely be down to be carried around bridal-style, but only if he also gets to carry u

Reg n Ghost are talking take down techniques in the first one. I think they’d be the sorta people that almost tear each other’s heads off sparring. Other’s will stand around them, going ‘This is still just training, right? They’re not actually trying to murder each other, right???’ but they’ll just pull the other off the ground, having just broken their nose something and go ‘good spar. u free to go for another one tomorrow?’ 

[cloacacarnage]

[mosneakers]

Coraleye: Well, I think the trick-or-treaters seem to be satisfied for the night. Think we should call it? Tycho arches an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Coraleye. She playfully giggles as he reaches for her like a greedy child grabbing for their treats, pulling her onto the shoe bench with a yearning intensity. Candy spills from the bowl, unnoticed in the heat of their interaction. Tycho: Maybe a few more minutes can't hurt. Just to be sure.

Candy scattered everywhere, the sounds of their fervent kisses are hushed by the thriller playing from the living room TV on full volume, where Seymour and Kirsten's attention remains captured.

Tycho: [Reluctantly whispers] Baby, please... it'd be impossible to explain this if we got caught...

Coraleye: [Giggles] I guess you're right. Here, help me pick up this mess.

As Coraleye places the candy bowl back on the table, Tycho trails behind, grabbing her hand.

Tycho: I think you got me hooked...

Coraleye: [Laughs softly] Oops... Tycho: Still planning on sharing the rest of your Grandma Agnes encounter with Seymour? I'm sure he'd love to hear more, it'd be a great birthday gift. Coraleye: [frowns and hesitates] I... guess I should, huh? Considering it's likely his last —

Tycho: Shh... No. Don't say that. Come here. Coraleye silently throws her arms around him, and he gently rocks her, soothing away her fears. Tycho: Ready, darling?

After a beat, they gather their composure and head toward the living room. Kirsten, having just finished up in the restroom, looks at them with a knowing "I was your age once" grin.

Kirsten: Ah, there you two are. Done handing out your goodies? Grandpa's been so excited to hear more about your visit with Grandma Agnes! What did she tell you next, sweetheart?

Coraleye: Oh lots of things! On the way back, she gave me lots of life advice, family anecdotes, and we also talked about love... [discreetly looks back and winks at Tycho] But the real highlight was when she walked me through what I'd argue is the most important chapter of her life: the story of how you, Grandpa, came to be.

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