Safiyah Neferet vs. The Morrigan - Goddesses of War

[BlackAkuma]

Got her.

Sort of.

Trickery wasn’t really Morrigan’s thing. Most of the time, it was more than enough for her to just stride forward, plant her feet, and swing and swing and swing until her opponent either fell over or begged her to stop, which she might or might not listen to. It wasn’t the most elegant way of fighting, but it got the job done. Most of the time. 99%.

Too bad that LAW had a good chunk of that 1% on their roster, with Safiyah being no exception. Sabine had been helpful in that regard, teaching her some degree of what she called wrestling psychology. Morrigan hadn't given it much care at first, but after seeing it in action, and more importantly, being on the receiving end, she’d learned to change her tune.

Hence the subterfuge. Hence the attempt. Despite popular opinion, she could learn things.

In this case, however, it made only a slight difference. The Morrigan’s blow did land this time, finding pay dirt, but Safiyah managed to block it at the last second. Granted, blocking a punch could only do so much, and no small amount of force slipped through, but it was still far from what she would’ve ideally wanted, and it came with a price.

A knee, drive straight into Morrigan’s stomach. It cut deep, tickled her lungs, and knocked the air out of her. She lashed out, but Safiyah was already gone, dancing out of the way once more, with her usual one-word quip.

The Morrigan snorted and wiped her face clean, resisting the urge to barrel in once. She didn’t mind taking hits to get hits, but she needed some progress, here—some sort of plan. Trying to catch her with strikes wasn’t working, but that was far from the only thing in her arsenal.

She licked her lips, lowered her stance, and brought up her arms, going for a traditional stance. Instead of moving in quick, she took cautious steps towards Safiyah with her arm raised, looking ready to spring at any moment - when she was close enough, she’d to pull her opponent into the collar-and-elbow, wanting to make her engage at close range.

[Lightman]

Safiyah felt the weight of the punch bleed through her guard, a throb spreading across her forearm and ribs where bone had met flesh. Morrigan’s strength was undeniable. Absolute. To meet it head-on was to invite destruction. Even dulled, it bruised. She had rolled with it, taken the sting and given back a knee for the trouble, her smaller body driving up into the giant’s stomach like a spike. The sound of air leaving Morrigan’s lungs had been brief but satisfying.

Her escape was clean, steps light as she drifted away, watching the taller woman’s chest rise and fall with effort. She did not chase the bigger woman down when she staggered. Patience was her weapon. Space was her ally. Morrigan’s laugh and snort washed across the ring like a growl. Safiyah knew the temptation was there for the powerhouse to charge again, to bulldoze her down through sheer force. But instead, Morrigan slowed, steadied, adjusted. That, more than the heavy fists, was dangerous.

The giant began to circle with caution, arms raised in a stance that spoke of patience. Each step measured, deliberate, her weight spread evenly, her eyes sharp. Morrigan was learning, adapting, taking her time. Patience. A true virtue.

The collar-and-elbow tie-up came suddenly, rough hands seeking her shoulders, trying to drag her smaller frame into close quarters. Safiyah allowed it for an instant, her body yielding just enough to make it seem Morrigan had her. In truth, she was already moving, already setting her trap.

“Open.” she whispered.

Her foot pressed against Morrigan’s stomach, the arch of her sole catching hard and impressive rows of muscle. Safiyah leaned backward, her body folding toward the mat as though she were about to pull the giant towards her, let alone flip her over her, but her weight carried purpose. She hopped up, the other leg coiled, knee tucked in and then snapped upward like a piston, heel aimed directly beneath Morrigan’s chin. A strike improvised from the hold, acrobatic and sudden, born of momentum and timing rather than brute strength.

[BlackAkuma]

Closer. Closer. Closer.

Got her.

It was a small thing, but Morrigan felt a surge of pride when she actually managed to get hold of Safiyah and lock her down, if only for a few seconds. While she didn’t mind their little dance, this was much closer to what she’d come for - something intimate, visceral, real. She wanted to roll around, feel this woman’s body against her own, and that just was not going to happen if she kept running away.

Face to face, eye to eye, Safiyah’s breath hung in the air and wafted towards Morrigan’s lips, putting her taste on the tongue. She licked her lips and moved in, eager for far more than a mere sample and ready to take it. She had an orgasm to claim. ”You’re all-”

Movement, too much movement. Safiyah was moving back, and for a moment it looked like she was going for a monkey flip. A move that Sabine had used on Morrigan a few times, one she could deal, and it wouldn’t even hurt much if she failed. She was prepared for that.

What she was less prepared for was Safiyah’s foot shooting up like a piston and cracking her clean in the jaw. Morrigna was tough, but there were limits to even her endurace, and a full force kick to the face was definitely on that list. Stunned, she staggered away with wobbling feet, shaking her dizzied head as she went, utterly stunned.

[Lightman]

Morrigan’s grip had been heavy, suffocating in its weight, her size wrapping around Safiyah like iron bars closing in. For a moment, their breaths mingled, hot and close, the scent of exertion thick in the narrow gap between their lips. But Safiyah had not fought against it with desperation. She had allowed the contact for as long as it suited her, the press of muscle against muscle, the heat of breath brushing close. The giant had wanted closeness, had wanted to feel control, and for a fleeting moment she had believed she had it. She had seen hunger before. She had fed it, starved it. And now, she had broken it.

The kick snapped up at the perfect moment. A clean strike, heel cracking against jaw, and in that single motion the illusion had shattered. Morrigan’s head snapped back, her massive body stumbling away on unsteady legs, the canvas trembling under her weight. The sound was sharp, echoing against the walls of the basement dungeon, followed by the satisfying sight of Morrigan stumbling back on uncertain legs. The towering brute swayed, trying to catch herself, her chin tilted high from the force of impact.

Safiyah landed lightly, rolling to her feet with no wasted motion, as fluid as water poured from a jar. The mismatched eyes did not blink. Her chest rose steadily, unhurried, her body coiled and ready. She watched the stagger, calculating the weight of the damage. The powerhouse could take blows that would put most down for good, but a clean strike to the head, even she felt that. Morrigan staggered, shaking her head, and in that opening Safiyah saw what she always sought: weakness.

“Mine.”

She moved without hesitation, a darting blur across the short distance. Fluid and precise, her small frame glided across the canvas Her bare feet slapped against the mat as she leapt, twisting in the air, her body coiling mid-flight. Her leg swung wide, heel aimed like a blade at Morrigan’s face in a spinning back kick, the momentum carrying her full weight into the strike. A strike meant to fold even the strongest neck, to rattle the mind and remind the body who held control.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan had taken some heavy blows in her time, with many of them coming before she joined LAW. Her time in the company had been, in many ways, soft so far, with none of the hentai and hentai-leaning matches they’d engaged in so far coming close to the level of violence she’d engaged in back home. Blame Sabine on that one - Morrigan had pushed for something a little crazier to put on their plate, but the German wanted to keep things relatively stable for now, save the really wild stuff for their PPV debut.

Understandable, but it meant Morrigan had gone a while - too long, perhaps - without taking a truly heavy hit, without giving what she often dished out, and that complacency created some weakness. She hadn't been rocked like this in Japan, and it showed.

Swaying, staggering, stunned, she still had enough presence to groggily raise her arms in defense, knowing that Safiyah would close the gap in short order. She could hear the pitter-patter of little feet coming her way, see the approaching blur, but everything was slowed down; her reaction time was failing.

The kick crashed through her hasty guard and found its mark, slicing across her face with enough force to spin her around and send spittle flying. The referee barely had time to move out of the way as she stumbled away, and she would’ve keeled over all the way if the turnbuckle hadn't been there to catch.

Her back smacked against the pads and that was where she stayed for the moment, leaning against them as she tried to catch her breath. All she could do for the moment was watch Safiyah approach, wide open.

And still, she smiled. ”More.”

[Lightman]

The crack of her heel against Morrigan’s guard had felt solid, precise, the jolt of impact racing up Safiyah’s bare foot as bone met bone. Even through the block, the strike had found its path, snapping the giant’s head to the side, spinning her bulk until she reeled across the ring. Spittle arced into the air, a fine spray under the basement lights, before the woman lurched back into the corner, her great frame held upright only by the turnbuckle’s padded embrace.

Safiyah landed light, one foot balancing her diminutive frame, her toes whispering against the mat as she straightened. No rush. No wild chase. Her eyes were locked on the staggering figure in front of her, watching how Morrigan clung to the ropes, how her chest heaved with the need for breath. Every stumble told her the same story: power meant nothing if it could not find its mark.

The invitation came with a smile. A word, taunting, daring. “Greedy.” She said calmly. Flatly.

She padded forward, each step soft, steady, deliberate. Her pace measured, silent on the canvas. Every inch of her frame was coiled in readiness, not reckless in her advance but precise. She did not rush to bury Morrigan. That would have been wasteful. She wanted control, not chaos. The ring seemed to shrink around them with each pace until Morrigan’s looming form filled her vision. Safiyah crouched low, her body folding like a coil, before springing upward with sudden ferocity.

Morrigan’s sheer size made direct assault dangerous, but the corner stripped her of movement, turned her mass into something she could climb. Safiyah planted a foot on the powerhouse’s thick thigh, springing upward with sudden grace.

Her first leg snapped across Morrigan’s face in a crescent arc, inside to out, the sharp blade of her foot aimed to whip her head sideways. Should the first blow find its mark, Safiyah’s body twisted mid-air, her second leg sweeping in, outside to in, another crescent kick aimed to snap across Morrigan’s chin.

Two blades in one motion, twin arcs cutting through the air with precision, each meant to build upon the last, to rattle what size and power alone could not protect.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan was all smiles on the outside - after all, this was her element, right? She lived for the violence, for the fight, like any proper war goddess should. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when this woman walked in the door, but it was fair to say she hadn't thought she would be so dominant out of the gate, so aggressive and precise. The Morrigan could feel a distinct stirring, one she didn’t often get to engage in, as her more submissive inclinations bubbled to the surface.

She kept them pressed down, for now, and tried to focus on the fight. Tried to focus on anything, really. Her head was still hazy from the kick, but things were clearing up now, enough to realize that Safiyah was coming her way. She wasn’t taking her time, but she wasn’t rushing, either. Instead, she moved with a subtle, seductive grace, as if her every step was part of some intricate dance, her every footfall expertly placed. Even as her head cleared, it was hard for Morrigan to get a read on her, impossible to anticipate where the hammer would fall.

Until it did.

Movement. Swift, exacting. One moment, Safiyah was down, looking poised to strike, and the next she was flying upwards and using Morrigan’s body as a stepping stone to take flight. She saw a foot flying at her face, and only had time to raised her shoulder in defense, a move that absorbed some of the impact - only some. It still clipped her hard in the face and rocked her jaw, undoing most of the recovery she’d made in the past few seconds.

The second kick was worse. The Morrigan hadn't expected that one, thinking Safiyah wouldn’t be able to launch two before she hit the ground. She learned how wrong she was when the blow slashed her across the face, hitting with deafening smack. The blow ran through her body, took all the strength out of her legs, and she wound up falling forward, down to her knee, an involuntary kneel.

Damn. She was good, really good. The Morrigan was already trying to push her way back up, but it was a slow and ungainly process, as Safiyah endless assault took its toll.

[Lightman]

The twin arcs of her feet had landed just as she intended, one carving into Morrigan’s guard, the second slicing past it with brutal finality. Safiyah touched down smoothly, her motion fluid, while the giant opposite her faltered, her body folding until one knee pressed into the canvas. The sight of Morrigan’s broad shoulders slumping, her jaw slack from impact, was a rare one. Few women had forced her down so low, even for a moment. Especially those that are much smaller.

Safiyah’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, breath measured, eyes fixed on the powerhouse as she willed herself upright. There was no triumph on her lips, no gloating. She simply stepped closer, her presence quiet but commanding, mismatched eyes never leaving Morrigan’s.

“Enough?” she asked simply, voice soft yet cutting, before lifting her leg.

Her bare foot found Morrigan’s chin, toes grazing the skin before cupping beneath her jaw, tilting the woman’s face upward. It was not a gentle act. It was control, pure and deliberate, holding Morrigan in place and forcing her to look up into the still figure above her. A momentary claim over the giant who so often claimed others.

Then Safiyah pushed. A sharp shove of her sole pressed Morrigan’s head back, driving her into the turnbuckle once more. Without pause, Safiyah’s body coiled and snapped forward, her legs pistoning into a series of precise kicks. Each bare strike was aimed at thigh, ribs, chest and midsection, short and vicious, aimed not for spectacle but to batter and break down the wall of muscle that still tried to rise against her.

Safiyah pressed forward, whether Morrigan obeyed or resisted; her strikes carried the same calm precision that had brought her there: step by step, hit by hit, until she weathered the storm of power before her.

[BlackAkuma]

‘Enough’?

Even through the haze, Safiyah’s word cut deep in Morrigan’s mind, coming in clear through. It would’ve been enough for a lot of people, maybe. The match had only barely begun, not even three minutes old, and it already felt like she’d been dismantled. None of the damage was beyond what she had endured in the past, but she could remember the last time she’d taken so many hits without a good answer. So far, it was the most one-sided fight Morrigan had ever been in.

She was just starting to gather her bearings when she felt something soft slip under her jaw - a foot. Safiyah could’ve just as easily gripped Morrigan’s face with her hand, but she instead choose to use her greatest weapon for the simple act, as she brought their eyes together. They both had eyes that didn't match, one of the few things they had in common - Safiyah’s through a quirk in genetics, while Morrigan’s came from a horrific accident,the same one that had scarred up a decent chunk of her face.

She had no idea what Safiyah thought of her own look, but she would say that she found the Egyptian’s to beautiful, and fitting in a way. There was an eerie, haunting quality to them, one that made Morrigan want to stare and stare and stare.

She wouldn’t be afforded that luxury for much longer, however, as she was abruptly kicked away and smacked against the turnbuckle. The kicks came in right away, battering her body from every angle, left and right, above and below, an endless barrage, a merciless onslaught…

But, as bad as it was, there was an opportunity. Safiyah wasn’t dodging, she wasn’t running away, she was staying in one place to deliver the blows. The Morrigan weathered the storm, steeled her mind, waited for the right moment, and found it when a kick struck her in the ribs.

Her arm shot out and wrapped tight around the ankle, pulling it in close against, trapping it tight as she body flared up. She looked up at Safiyah and forced a smile through her grimace. ”Not even close.”

The Morrigan rose up, grabbed Safiyah’s leg, lifted her up, and attempted to fall forward while she drove the woman into the mat, looking to spike her with a vicious spinebuster.

[Lightman]

Her foot pressed beneath Morrigan’s chin, the faint tremor of resistance humming through the giant’s body as mismatched eyes met. For a heartbeat, Safiyah held her gaze, quiet and still, until the moment was broken by the jolt of bone against padded steel. The turnbuckle quivered under the force, her own body moving in rhythm as she unleashed a flurry of bare strikes, every kick a note in a relentless cadence. Thigh, ribs, shoulder, chest - she battered her opponent with the calm precision of a storm in full control.

The weight of her strikes reverberated through her legs, each one deliberate, her breath sharply between her teeth. Morrigan endured, swaying but unbroken, and for a flicker of an instant, Safiyah caught the shift. A tightening of the shoulders. A sudden coil of power. She had left herself close, committed, and Morrigan was not a woman who allowed such offerings to pass unclaimed.

The arm clamped tight around her ankle, iron closing on bone, and the motion wrenched her balance forward. The capture jolted her body mid-motion, balance torn from her, the steady rhythm of her assault broken in an instant. She felt the surge in Morrigan’s frame, the rising strength, the intention written in the tightening of her grip.

The giant surged up from the corner, dragging Safiyah’s leg with her, hauling the lithe body upward as if she were little more than weight to be thrown. The lift was sudden, brutal in its simplicity, and there was no counter at this moment. Safiyah’s frame arched through the air, violet hair whipping back, her body spiking down against the canvas as Morrigan dropped forward with the spinebuster.

The ring thundered beneath the impact. Safiyah’s back jolted with the shock of it, air tearing from her lungs in a sharp gasp, her bare feet sliding against the mat before she lay still for a heartbeat. Pain seared across her spine, heavy and throbbing, but her face betrayed little beyond a tightened jaw and narrowed eyes.