#ufc

Alexa Grasso stops Maycee Barber in the 1st | UFC Fight Night Seattle

islam & aftercare

cw: mentions of sex, dom/sub dynamics, daddy!islam coded??

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islam always comforts his opponents after ruining them. this is the man who never hesitates to hug fighters after a loss at his hands, or go out of his way to bond with their families (literally buying volk's daughter toys?!). respect is paramount for him, but most importantly, he's just such a sweetheart. he can't bare to see what he's inflicted on them without feeling that tinge of guilt making him want to put his opponents back together after defeating them.

he's no different with you, gentle and tender after turning you into a pliant, obedient mess for him. holding you in his arms as his load leaks out of your pussy, smiling softly at the look of pure bliss and hint of compliance in your eyes. he doesn't feel guilty, per se. just settling with the surprise, or even shock at the fact that he gets to see you in the state you're in now.

it's not often he has you like this. your intelligence, wit, and confidence is what drew him to you. that being said, islam is a man who values duty and obligation. you're his responsibility, and sometimes that means correcting your attitude when you've been flooding him with sarcastic comments all week, or simply reminding you that you're his.

"you such a good girl for me, you know that?" he coos, admiring the warm glow of your skin as you lay slumped against him with your back to his chest. you hum in response, fidgeting with whatever you can get your hands on—the blanket, a stuffed animal that had wound up on the other end of your bed, or islam's fingers. it's honestly difficult for you to put together a coherent sentence after getting fucked for what felt like hours; he understands. he knows just what you need, regardless.

"was hard on you, i know malyshka.." he says with a soft chuckle, brushing strands of hair from your face and tracing your features gently with the rough pads of his fingers.

"you hurting here? hm?" he asks softly, the slightest hint of teasing in his tone as he gently lays his palm over your sensitive pussy.

"stoppp isu, feels soreee," you whine, turning your head towards the crook of his neck. "i'm hungry too...""we eat soon, yes? i shower with you first, then we get your favorite."

18+ Khabib Nurmagomedov x Reader - Being fucked in a headlock ⋆˚࿔

Ever since Khabib retired from fighting in the ufc, the grueling weight cuts now behind him-nothing stopped him from indulging in his favourite meals, his body gradually creeping well past the 155 pounds that he used to fight at.

That didn't mean that he was out of shape though. He never stopped excercising, regularly lifting weights, running atleast an hour on the treadmill, and joining in on countless sparring sessions throughout the day.

You couldn’t help but notice how much bigger he’d gotten—his chest, back, and thighs all doubled in size. But most noticeably, it was his arms that grew: forearms thick and heavy, triceps stretching from shoulder to elbow, and your favorite—biceps so big they swelled with each and every move he made.

Now those biceps are bulging around your neck, veins running up his flexed arm as he roughly thrusts in and out of you. You can feel his hot deep breaths against your clammy skin, the white bedsheets sticking to your bare sweaty stomach, Khabib’s body weight holding you down against the mattress.

He gently fucks his broad hips deep into you, sliding his calloused hand beneath your stomach to feel the outline of himself inside of you.

Your legs are shaking. you’re already too wet, too full, the fat head of his cock kissing that spot again and again while his grip around your throat tightens.

Every thrust punches a little gasp out of you, your mouth open, eyes glassy, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room like music. you’re so close it hurts, pressure building deep in your gut, your pussy clenching down hard, and he feels it.

"close already kуколка?"

you whimper—half a nod, half a moan—and it only makes him fuck you harder.

His pace is brutal, dragging you through your orgasm and straight into another, your cries muffled against his arm as overstimulation burns through every nerve. You shake, squirming, but he has you caged—helpless, wrung out, forced to come over and over again until you’re barely clinging to him.

When he finally groans and spills deep into you, he doesn't stop moving, still grinding into your oversensitive cunt while his arm softens its hold.

You’re limp against him by the time he just rests still inside you, your body trembling and your throat raw from the sounds he’s wrung out of you.