Krystyna Afineevsky vs. Moon Sin-Jae - Bait and Switch

Sin was being pushed. This was requiring actual, real effort, taxing her, testing her, and she wasn’t even sure how she should feel about it at this point. As much as it pissed her off, there was no way for her to ignore that Yusef was good at this oil wrestling thing, a real competitor - if she was into this kind of guy, she might even be enjoying this. At a basic level, just as a martial artist, there was no way to get around it.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah.” At least he seemed to be impressed by the way she was handling things. She couldn't quite put a finger on why that would mean a flying fuck to her, but it kind of did. Regardless, her first priority was standing up, and she was on her way to doing that in a sloppy manner.

Weakened as she was, though, she wasn’t deaf and she damn sure wasn’t blind enough to notice the massive missile of bulk coming her way at ludicrous speeds, as Yusef launched himself across the mat and looked to bowl her over with a strike. She didn’t need to think about it - instinct took over, fueled by the strong desire to not get caught in an avalanche. She leaped straight up as he came in, tucked in her legs, then shot them straight down as he passed under, looking to stomp him right on the spine.

Companions of the Oil Baron have made it known to him on occasion that they didn't expect Turkish strongman to have been so good-natured, personable, and brimming with such jolly positivity when first meeting him. Like a distinctly more imposing St. Nicholas from whom birthed the folktale of Santa Clause, and whom nationalistic and prideful Turkish natives can rightfully boast to be a native Turk himself. Wholesomely complimenting his adversaries merely came natural to the jovial grappler. Whose infectious enthusiasm may be incapable of brightening up his perpetually scowling foe's surly countenance, but Yosuf would be mightily delighted to hear that his complimentary words held even a smattering of weight for his pale skinned adversary.

Still, weariness was beginning to abound within his oil slathered brawn after such an unexpectedly contentious and competitive tussle. Returning the match back to the greased floor and back to his oil drenched wheelhouse of submissions would be best, he thinks. And that was exactly his intention as he went slide forward in his slippery tackle attempt, one that was unfortunately foreseen and deftly evaded by bu Sin who sprung herself into the air with stamping intentions of her own. Except Yosuf would have the grappling insight to swivel himself about to be splayed out on his back instead. His plentiful pectorals being freshly swathed in oil and would be an exceptionally slippery surface for Sin to plant her feet, with Yosuf intending to snatch her as she fell and flip them around into a mounted position with both arms fiercely bearing down on her.