Post by Lookout! Boxing on Sept 27, 2024 22:34:57 GMT -6
Emma Watson vs. Olivia Holt (AMD Title)
Emma:
(33, 5’5, 72:42 FCBA, VIXENs)
Olivia:
(27, 5’2, 36:18, Odds & Ends Fight Studios)
BEFORE:
Olivia’s eyes narrow, and she leans forward slightly, her voice direct and unyielding. “Found your stride?” She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Emma, the only reason you’re holding that title is because I wasn’t in the ring to take it from you. Twice now, I’ve beaten you when it mattered most. Third time? I’m just going to prove it wasn’t a fluke.”
ROUND 1:
ROUND 2:
Final seconds are a flurry of activity as both fighters trade leather, their bodies twisting and shifting under the strain. And as the bell rings, both women step back, breathing heavily. Emma’s face is flushed, a determined glare in her eyes as she wipes a trickle of sweat from her forehead. Olivia, though winded, smirks defiantly, clearly pleased with her performance. It was a closer round, with Emma managing to hold her own, but the challenger’s aggression and precision edged it out in her favor.
ROUND 3:
And Emma SURGES forward, surprising Olivia with a quick, sharp jab to the face—snap!—that lands clean on her nose. Holt reels back, blinking in shock, as another one-two combination connects with her cheek, then her jaw. Watson keeps up the pressure, her gloves peppering the shorter girl as though it’s a regular match and rules, a series of rapid jabs and crosses driving the blonde further back. Olivia’s guard is forced high, trying to protect her face, but her foe’s aim is precise, slipping through the gaps with plenty of practice to land blow after blow.
ROUND 4:
ROUND 5:
The crowd is roaring, but all Emma can hear is the pounding of her own heartbeat and that taunting voice in her ear. “What’s the matter, champ?” Holt hisses, leaning in close. “I thought you were supposed to be the tough one.” She punctuates her words with another brutal WHUDD to the stomach, making her entire body convulse, her legs nearly giving out as she slumps forward, her chin now sagging on Olivia’s shoulder. Desperately, Emma tries to clinch, her arms wrapping around the shorter girl’s waist, but Holt keeps her pinned. “You’re done, Emma!” Olivia growls, leaning in and driving another vicious right hook deep into her navel—whump! Watson’s entire body shudders, her legs nearly buckling as the punch drives the last bit of strength from her. By the time the bell rings, Emma is barely standing, her arms draped weakly over the ropes, her face pale and contorted in pain. Olivia steps back, raising her gloves triumphantly as she glares down at the battered champion. It’s a dominant, devastating round for the challenger, and the damage she’s inflicted is evident in every labored breath Emma takes as she stumbles back to her corner.
ROUND 6:
“Still with me, babe?” Emma sneers, driving a hard left hook into Olivia’s side—crack!—making the smaller blonde gasp, her body folding over slightly as the punch buries itself into her ribs. She follows up with a skip back and then forward right cross, smashing into the center of Olivia’s navel and making her body jerk violently—whap! Olivia’s legs buckle, her back hitting the ropes as she tries to catch her breath, her arms dropping to clutch at her aching stomach. And Emma doesn’t give her a moment to recover. She steps in close, her eyes locked on her target as she starts pounding away with a Whud! Whap! Thud! Holt’s body shudders with each blow, her head lolling back as she’s pinned against the ropes, her arms feebly trying to block the onslaught but failing to protect her vulnerable midsection. “Come on, Olivia, show me that fight!” Emma taunts, her voice dripping with mockery. She leans in, one glove packed into her aching ribs with sickening force—crack! crack!—making her wince and gasp, her body shaking as the punches drive deep into her flesh. Holt tries to clinch, her arms wrapping around the shoulders, but Watson shoves her back roughly, pinning her to the ropes and continuing to pound away at her exposed belly. “Thought you could take my title, huh?” Emma growls, driving another savage left hook into her navel—thud! Olivia’s body jerks violently, her eyes squeezing shut as she lets out a choked gasp, her legs trembling as she’s nearly lifted off her feet by the force of the punch.
Midway through the round, Emma still has Holt trapped, her back pressed against the ropes, her body hunched over. And with a savage grin, the champ shifts her aim, her fists now slamming into Olivia’s sides and solar plexus, each punch driving the air from the blonde’s lungs—whud! whap! thud! Olivia’s body buckles, her legs trembling as she’s pinned against the ropes, her head drooping forward as she gasps for breath. Emma’s gloves hammer into Olivia’s belly, the muscles quivering under the assault, her abs slowly breaking down with each brutal impact. “You’re not getting up from this,” Emma taunts, her voice low and menacing. She cocks her right fist back, driving it deep into Olivia’s navel—whump! Olivia’s eyes fly open, her mouth dropping in a silent scream as the punch buries itself deep into her gut, her body jerking forward as if trying to expel the fist from her stomach. Emma’s left hand grabs Olivia’s shoulder, holding her steady as she drives another brutal uppercut into the blonde’s solar plexus—thud! By the time the bell rings, Olivia is barely standing, her body slumped against the ropes, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Emma steps back, her chest heaving as she glares down at the battered blonde, her eyes blazing with satisfaction. Holt, still gasping for air, looks up at Emma with dazed, pain-filled eyes, her body trembling as she tries to catch her breath. It’s a devastating round for Holt, and the damage she’s taken is clear in every labored breath, every tremor of her battered midsection as she stumbles back to her corner.
ROUND 7:
AFTER:
With a final, condescending push, Emma releases Olivia, letting the beaten blonde slump back down to the canvas, her body collapsing in a heap at Watson’s feet. Emma steps back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she poses for the cameras, her victory over her longtime rival complete.
Emma:
(33, 5’5, 72:42 FCBA, VIXENs)
Olivia:
(27, 5’2, 36:18, Odds & Ends Fight Studios)
BEFORE:
Emma Watson, the reigning AMD champion, sits poised at the table, her expression calm but her eyes sharp, dressed in a sleek white blouse and tailored black pants. Olivia Holt, the challenger, sits across from her in a tight dark green dress, her posture confident and shoulders squared. Despite the professional setting, there's an undercurrent of anticipation, the kind that only comes when two rivals with unfinished business are about to clash again.
Emma is the first to speak, her tone sweet but laced with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, I suppose it’s fitting we’re here again, Olivia. Third time’s the charm, right?” She tilts her head slightly, a playful smile on her lips. “Although, I think we all know I’ve finally found my stride in this division.”
Emma’s smile widens, but there’s a sharper edge to it now. “Oh, I remember those fights well. But you seem to forget—this is my title now.” She leans forward, folding her hands neatly on the table. “And I’m not giving it up without a fight. You’ve beaten me before, sure, but I’ve evolved. I’ve taken down Lily, and Florence, and I’m ready for you this time.”
Olivia shrugs, unfazed. “I’ve heard that before. Every girl in this division thinks they’re ‘ready’ for me, until they’re on the canvas, looking up at the lights.” Her gaze is steady, unwavering. “I’ve never lost to a Vixen, Emma. Never. And that’s not going to change now. I took your Flyweight title, I took your AMD title before, and I’m going to take it again.”
Emma arches an eyebrow, her expression cool. “Yes, you’ve never lost to a Vixen… yet. But there’s always a first time, Olivia. And as for the canvas, well, I’ve seen you there too. Quite a few times, actually.” Her tone is light, almost conversational, but the words carry a sharp sting. “You might want to get comfortable with the idea of losing, because this time, I’m not going to let you walk away with my title.”
Olivia’s smile is tight, controlled. “You know, Emma, that’s a nice story you’re telling yourself. But when I’m digging my gloves into your abs again, you’ll realize some things never change.” She tilts her head, her eyes glinting with challenge. “And after I take that title from you for the third time, maybe you’ll finally understand what it means to be a real champion.”
The reporters continue to fire questions, but the real focus is on the two fighters staring each other down, each confident that the upcoming bout will be their defining moment. As the press conference winds down, both Emma and Olivia stand for the obligatory staredown, stepping closer until they’re almost nose-to-nose. Emma’s smile is still there, but it’s sharpened by the intensity in her eyes. Olivia’s expression is equally fierce, her lips set in a tight line. There’s a subtle shift as the shorter blonde steps forward, her shoulder brushing against Emma’s.
Emma’s voice is low, for her ears only. “I hope you’re ready to lose, Olivia.”
Holt doesn’t blink back. “Get ready to bow down, ‘champ’. You’re kissing my abs again.”
Hours later, Watson’s entrance music, “Bad Blood” by Taylor Swift, begins to play through the speakers, and the audience erupts into cheers. The reigning AMD champion steps out onto the stage, her presence calm yet commanding. Dressed in a sleek, dark purple sports bra and matching shorts with gold trim, her hair is tied back in a tight ponytail, and she carries the AMD title belt over her shoulder. Emma raises her chin slightly as she walks down the ramp, the lights reflecting off the golden belt.
The lights flicker, and “Run the World (Girls)” by Beyoncé blares through the speakers as Olivia Holt’s entrance music. The challenger steps out, radiating confidence, a fierce look in her eyes. She’s dressed in a forest green sports bra and shorts, the material shimmering slightly under the bright lights. Her hair is styled in loose waves, and she pauses at the top of the ramp, her hands on her hips, giving the crowd a smirk before beginning her march to the ring.
She moves with a swagger, nodding to her fans as she approaches the ring. Olivia’s gaze never wavers from Emma, her lips curling into a confident smile. She climbs the steps and ducks between the ropes, her eyes locked on her rival. Standing in her corner, she throws a few sharp hooks, her muscles rippling with each movement. She then turns to Emma, a smirk on her lips as she mouths something inaudible, but the message is clear: she’s ready to take what she believes is rightfully hers.
The two fighters make their way to the center of the ring, meeting for the final staredown. The difference in their physiques is noticeable, Emma’s slender, toned frame contrasting with Olivia’s compact, muscular build. Though slightly shorter, the challenger exudes power, her shoulders and biceps flexing as she squares up against the champ. Emma’s leaner, more lithe figure showcases her agility and endurance, her abs taut and defined, a testament to her rigorous training.
The referee stands between them, holding the AMD title belt aloft, explaining the rules one last time. Then, with a sharp nod, they turn and head back to their corners. Emma rolls her shoulders, taking a deep breath as she adjusts her gloves. Across the ring, Olivia bounces on the balls of her feet, her movements fluid and confident, already picturing herself raising the belt at the end of the night.
And HERE WE GO with ten rounds of AMD action! This here’s for the AMD Title!
Olivia comes out aggressively, her stance low and compact. She knows she has the upper hand from the previous encounters. Emma, on the other hand, keeps her guard high, her movements more tentative as she circles to her left, testing the waters. Holt closes the distance, immediately snapping out a sharp left jab towards the face, but Emma blocks it with her gloves. But the challenger immediately follows up with a quick, punishing right hook to the ribs—whack! and Emma winces, backing up a step. Holt’s been waiting for this moment, and it shows. She keeps her taller foe on the defensive with a series of jabs, her gloves snapping out and pushing Emma towards the ropes. Watson tries to pivot away, but Holt is already there, a spring in her step, cutting off her escape and digging another hook into the Vixen’s side—thud! Emma grunts, her body bending slightly from the force.
The crowd watches as Olivia continues to pressure the reigning champion. She feints another jab to the face, this swiftly stepping in with a crushing uppercut to the body—whump! And Emma’s abs visibly contract, absorbing the blow, but her face contorts with the strain! Her eyes bulge and she tries to clinch up, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl’s shoulders, but the snarling Holt simply shoves her off, firing another rapid one-two combination to her stomach, each punch driving deep into her tummy flesh. “That all you got, Ems?? Thought you were gonna put me down this time!?” Olivia taunts. Emma bites back a retort, her focus entirely on defending against the onslaught. With thirty seconds left, Olivia ups the intensity, her gloves pummeling the champ’s undercarriage with a mixture of hooks and uppercuts—whump! thud! smack! In the final seconds, Holt traps her against the ropes, leaning in close and driving a brutal hook into her solar plexus—whud! Emma’s knees buckle slightly, a gasp escaping her lips as she instinctively hugs her body, desperately trying to stay upright.
The bell rings, and Olivia steps back, a smirk on her face as she surveys her handiwork. Meanwhile, Emma staggers to her corner, her abs aching, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The challenger raises her gloves, her confidence soaring as the crowd cheers. It’s clear she’s made a statement in the opening round, dominating the action and setting the tone for what promises to be a fierce battle!
Olivia bounces on her toes, eager to press her advantage. Emma, still nursing the soreness from the previous round, raises her guard and steadies herself, determination etched on her face. Here comes Holt again, advancing quickly, snapping out a few jabs to test the defenses. Watson deftly parries them, her footwork more fluid now as she moves to the side, avoiding any attempt to corner her. But Holt keeps coming, stepping in with a low, looping hook aimed at the ribs—crack! Emma twists her torso just in time, taking the blow on her side, but the impact still jolts her backward. “Not getting away that easily, Hermione,” Olivia teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She closes the distance again, throwing a flurry of punches—left jab, right cross, left hook—all aimed at the midsection from various angles. Emma manages to block most of them, but a sharp uppercut sneaks through, thumping low and into her navel, forcing her to grit her teeth, her abs tightening against the invasive force.
But then, Emma fires back, determined to hold her ground. She counters with a straight right to Olivia’s chest, pushing the smaller blonde back a step. That smirk on her face falters, and Emma follows up with another quick combination to the body—pah! pah! Each punch lands cleanly, fast gloves sinking into Olivia’s toned stomach and ribs, drawing a surprised grunt from the younger fighter. No return taunt from the reigning champ, just a smirk twisting the corners of her lips, as Olivia’s own expression hardens. Holt lunges back forward, swinging a wild right hook that Emma narrowly ducks under, and the two fighters circle each other, exchanging more blows, avoiding others. Final seconds and Olivia’s back to targeting the taller girl’s midsection again, first throwing feints to the Brit’s pretty face before her punches shoot in low, landing with heavy thuds whap! whap! “Bet your abs can’t take much more of this, can they?” Olivia taunts and shouts, her voice dripping with condescension as she steps in closer, throwing another powerful hook to the side of the ribs. Emma winces, but then she dips her shoulders the other way, SNAPS back with a straight left to the belly, the punch driving deep into her abs and making the challenger gasp.
ROUND 3:
And Emma SURGES forward, surprising Olivia with a quick, sharp jab to the face—snap!—that lands clean on her nose. Holt reels back, blinking in shock, as another one-two combination connects with her cheek, then her jaw. Watson keeps up the pressure, her gloves peppering the shorter girl as though it’s a regular match and rules, a series of rapid jabs and crosses driving the blonde further back. Olivia’s guard is forced high, trying to protect her face, but her foe’s aim is precise, slipping through the gaps with plenty of practice to land blow after blow.
Second minute and Holt tries to fight back, growling out loud and throwing a desperate hook towards the head, but Watson is ready. She ducks under it smoothly and counters with a brutal right uppercut to Olivia’s midsection—whump! It’s the moment she’s been waiting for! Instantly, Olivia GASPS, her body folding slightly as the fisted glove drives deep into her belly, the breath knocked out of her. “Your turn to feel it, hon,” Emma taunts, her eyes flashing with intensity, before she steps in closer and throws another wicked hook to the ribs—thud!—followed by a right hook that sinks deeper into the stomach—puhh! Olivia staggers, her arms dropping to her sides, backing away as she struggles to catch her breath. But Emma’s on her in an instant, pressing her advantage. She drives a straight right into her chest, then another jab to her face—smack! smack! Olivia’s head snaps back, her footing unsteady as she tries to regain her composure, as the champ’s gloves flash again, a hook to the side of Holt’s head that spins her slightly towards the ropes, followed by a stiff left to her exposed ribs—crack!
Olivia’s knees buckle slightly, but she somehow stays on her feet, her face contorted in pain. Emma, relentless, hammers another right cross straight into the cheek, sending the smaller blonde stumbling back against the ropes. This time, it’s her pinning the overconfident blonde against the ropes, as Olivia tries to clinch up, her arms wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, but the taller champ just shoves her back shoulder to chest, then rips a savage uppercut into the center of her navel—whud!—Holt’s body jolting forward with a loud groan, her abs straining. Watson steps back, but only to measure her next strike. She fakes high, drawing Olivia’s guard up, then slams a devastating left hook to the side of her belly—whump!—before following up with a right uppercut that’s DRIVEN into her solar plexus—thud! Olivia gasps loudly, her body folding over Emma’s fist, her mouth open as she struggles to breathe. The bell finally rings, but Emma can’t help but throw one last jab to the belly before stepping back, raising her gloves in a confident display. Even with a warning by the referee, Olivia has rage flashing in her eyes, still hunched over with her butt to the ropes, clutching her midsection as she stumbles back to her corner, her face flushed and pained. Emma dominated this round, her precision and power overwhelming Holt, and it’s clear the champion is back in the game!
Bell rings and BOTH fighters rush forward, meeting in the center of the ring! Olivia, determined to regain control, lunges in with a quick jab aimed at the belly, but Watson lowers her guard and deftly steps aside, countering with a short left hook to Olivia’s side—crack!—the punch landing just above her hip, making her wince. Olivia grits her teeth, powering through the pain as she presses forward, trying to force Emma into a close-quarters clinch. She ducks under another hook before wrapping her arms around Emma’s chest and waistline, her head resting against the collarbone. The smaller blonde huffs and puffs, grinding her body into Emma’s, using her upper body strength to push the champion back against the ropes.
“Not letting you get away this time!” Olivia hisses, her voice breathless but fierce. She tightens her grip around Emma’s torso and starts hammering short, sharp punches into the sides of her body—thud! whap! whud!—each blow sinking into flesh and muscle, eliciting grunts from the British actress. Emma, feeling the throbbing ache of the shots, plants her feet firmly, refusing to be bullied. She digs her forehead into Olivia’s, creating some space, and then delivers a punishing hook of her own to Holt’s stomach, right under her arm—whump! Olivia groans, her grip loosening slightly as she’s forced to absorb the impact.
Again, the champ works and works, silently, compared to her rival. She hooks her own arms under Olivia’s, muscling the shorter blonde backwards and twisting her torso, the two fighters stumbling and grappling for dominance. Emma’s height and strength begin to tell as she leans her weight in, driving the smaller girl back step by step. Then, with a sudden jerk, Emma breaks free from the clinch, shoving Olivia completely off her. Holt tries to retaliate with a wild swing, but Emma ducks under it, slipping to the side and popping a crisp jab into her cheek—smack!—the punch snapping Holt’s head back and drawing a gasp. “Still here, Liv?” Emma taunts, circling around her opponent, her gloves raised high. Olivia, her cheeks flushed, narrows her eyes and bulldozes her way in again, throwing a left-right combo aimed at the midsection. But Watson twists, absorbing the blows on her elbows, then fires back with a short uppercut that catches Olivia just below the ribs—whud!—forcing a pained grunt from the blonde. Things aren’t going well for the would-be challenger, as Emma keeps her cool, pivoting away from her aggressive advances, her gloves up as she deflects and defends. Soon, Holt’s frustration is boiling over as she tries to close the distance again, aiming for the Vixen’s belly, but Watson weaves left and right smoothly, then clips her with a sneaky right hook to the jaw—crack!—not a scoring punch in AMD rules, but just enough to stun her back.
Last minute and Emma senses her chance to press forward, arcing another right hook to the ribs—puhh!—before a left hand NAILS her to her belly button—whump! Instantly, Olivia doubles over, her face contorting in pain! Ouff!! And Watson steps in closer, her gloves poised! The smaller blonde tries to clinch again, throwing her arms around Emma’s waistline, but this time, Watson POWERS through, shoving her off with a shoulder bump. She’s PUSHING the challenger back now! Jabs land high, then low, peppering Holt with quick, snapping shots that force her back. Sure, Olivia’s gloves are up, protecting her face, but Emma then targets her body with sharp jabs and hooks that dig into her sides—thud! whap! Thud! With less than thirty seconds left, a brutal right hook slams into the shorter girl’s navel—whud!—the punch sinking deep into her stomach, causing her to gasp and stumble back against the ropes, before the bell finally rings to end this war of a round! Both fighters step back, Emma raising her gloves confidently as she heads to her corner, her breathing heavy but controlled. Olivia, her body aching, leans against the ropes for a moment, her chest heaving as she glares across the ring.
One brutal sequence sees Olivia slipping past a jab, weaving low before delivering a vicious uppercut straight into Emma’s navel-- OUFF! She didn’t see that one coming!! Emma’s face twists in pain, her body folding over as she instinctively wraps her arms around her midsection. But Olivia isn’t about to let her off the hook; she batters the champ with more lefts and rights, shoving her towards the ropes. There, she PLANTS her feet and HAMMERS away: hooks pummeling the exposed ribs and arms—thud! whud! crack! and Watson’s body jolts with each impact, her legs shaking as she struggles to stay upright. The punches land in wicked tandem, each one driving deeper into the muscle and bone, making the taller woman gasp and wince with every blow.
Midway through the round, Holt snarls as she steps in closer, practically chest-to-chest with the battered champ, and begins unloading a barrage of close-ranged blows to her midsection. It’s a messy, brutal affair, with Holt positioning herself close by and to the side, angling her gloves to POUND at her belly, each punch lifting Watson slightly off her feet—puhh! whump! Thud! Meanwhile, Emma’s arms flail as she tries to push her away, but the blonde’s body is pressed tight against hers, pinning her to the post. Holt’s face is twisted with a fierce grin as she drives her fists in and digs the leather into the tortured abdomen, almost methodically, each punch aimed at the same spot just above her navel. Whud! Whud! Whud! The gloves cave into her stomach, forcing Watson’s breath out in gasps, her knees trembling and starting to buckle. “You’re gonna break, Ems!” Olivia growls, her voice thick with determination. She pauses for a split second, her fist hovering just inches from Emma’s battered, heaving belly, before driving it in again with brute force—whump! This time, the champ’s mouth opens in a silent scream, her body jerking violently as the punch buries deep into her stomach. Her abs, normally a source of pride and resilience, seem to cave under the pressure, the glove compressing flesh until Olivia can feel the resistance GIVE WAY beneath her knuckles.
ROUND 6:
“Still with me, babe?” Emma sneers, driving a hard left hook into Olivia’s side—crack!—making the smaller blonde gasp, her body folding over slightly as the punch buries itself into her ribs. She follows up with a skip back and then forward right cross, smashing into the center of Olivia’s navel and making her body jerk violently—whap! Olivia’s legs buckle, her back hitting the ropes as she tries to catch her breath, her arms dropping to clutch at her aching stomach. And Emma doesn’t give her a moment to recover. She steps in close, her eyes locked on her target as she starts pounding away with a Whud! Whap! Thud! Holt’s body shudders with each blow, her head lolling back as she’s pinned against the ropes, her arms feebly trying to block the onslaught but failing to protect her vulnerable midsection. “Come on, Olivia, show me that fight!” Emma taunts, her voice dripping with mockery. She leans in, one glove packed into her aching ribs with sickening force—crack! crack!—making her wince and gasp, her body shaking as the punches drive deep into her flesh. Holt tries to clinch, her arms wrapping around the shoulders, but Watson shoves her back roughly, pinning her to the ropes and continuing to pound away at her exposed belly. “Thought you could take my title, huh?” Emma growls, driving another savage left hook into her navel—thud! Olivia’s body jerks violently, her eyes squeezing shut as she lets out a choked gasp, her legs trembling as she’s nearly lifted off her feet by the force of the punch.
Midway through the round, Emma still has Holt trapped, her back pressed against the ropes, her body hunched over. And with a savage grin, the champ shifts her aim, her fists now slamming into Olivia’s sides and solar plexus, each punch driving the air from the blonde’s lungs—whud! whap! thud! Olivia’s body buckles, her legs trembling as she’s pinned against the ropes, her head drooping forward as she gasps for breath. Emma’s gloves hammer into Olivia’s belly, the muscles quivering under the assault, her abs slowly breaking down with each brutal impact. “You’re not getting up from this,” Emma taunts, her voice low and menacing. She cocks her right fist back, driving it deep into Olivia’s navel—whump! Olivia’s eyes fly open, her mouth dropping in a silent scream as the punch buries itself deep into her gut, her body jerking forward as if trying to expel the fist from her stomach. Emma’s left hand grabs Olivia’s shoulder, holding her steady as she drives another brutal uppercut into the blonde’s solar plexus—thud! By the time the bell rings, Olivia is barely standing, her body slumped against the ropes, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Emma steps back, her chest heaving as she glares down at the battered blonde, her eyes blazing with satisfaction. Holt, still gasping for air, looks up at Emma with dazed, pain-filled eyes, her body trembling as she tries to catch her breath. It’s a devastating round for Holt, and the damage she’s taken is clear in every labored breath, every tremor of her battered midsection as she stumbles back to her corner.
ROUND 7:
Both fighters charge forward, meeting in the center of the ring like two forces of nature. Emma and Olivia exchange heavy hooks to the face and body—CRACK! WHAP! THUD!—their fists flying as they batter each other at close range. The younger, hungrier Olivia grits her teeth, landing a sharp hook to Emma’s ribs that makes the brunette wince—whud!—but Watson fires back immediately, her own gloves smashing into Holt’s jaw and belly with brutal force—CRACK! THUD! The champ’s resilience is on full display, her movements sharper and more aggressive than in their previous fights. She shrugs off the challenger’s punches and dips under a wild swing, slamming a vicious right hook into the smaller blonde’s side—whud! Holt gasps, her body jerking sideways, her arms dropping as she’s forced to take a step back. “Come on, Holt!” Emma taunts, her voice breathless but strong. She drives a left uppercut into Olivia’s midsection—thwack!—forcing another gasp from the blonde, her knees buckling as the punch sinks deep into her belly. Olivia’s eyes widen in shock, clearly not expecting this level of aggression and power from the usually defensive Emma. She tries to push forward again, swinging a wild hook aimed at the jaw, but Watson slips under it, stepping in close and hammering a series of uppercuts into her sides and stomach—whup! whap! thud!
The second minute sees Emma taking full control, her body surging forward as she bullies Olivia back with her barrage of punches, fists pounding into her body left, right, and center, the blonde’s stomach and sides taking the brunt of the assault as she’s driven across the ring, gasping and wheezing with each blow. Finally, Olivia’s back hits the corner, her arms barely able to protect her as Emma dips her shoulders and drives vicious uppercuts into her midsection—whump! whud! thud! Olivia’s legs tremble, her head drooping forward as she gasps for air, her body pinned against the turnbuckle, completely at Watson’s mercy. Emma steps in close, her face inches from Olivia’s as she grins wickedly. “You’re done, Olivia,” she sneers, driving another brutal uppercut into the blonde’s solar plexus—thud!—making Olivia’s body jerk violently, her knees buckling as her mouth drops open. Holt, visibly shaken and struggling to keep herself upright, tries to clinch, wrapping her arms around Emma’s shoulders, but Watson isn’t having it. She shoves Olivia back roughly, pinning her to the corner with a fierce shove to the chest, then dips low and slams a devastating uppercut into her navel—whump! Olivia’s body JERKS violently, her eyes squeezing shut as she lets out a choked cry, her legs giving out as she sinks to her knees! AND DOWN SHE GOES! Holt mouth open, working for air, legs pooled on the canvas, hugging her battered body! Emma steps back, her chest heaving as she watches Olivia collapse, the blonde’s body trembling as she kneels at her feet, her head slowly drooping forward, her shoulders shaking as she gasps for air!
The referee steps in, counting over Holt as she tries to rise, her body trembling beneath her as she pushes herself up on unsteady knees. “Six… Seven… Eight…” Olivia sways, struggling on all fours, desperation forming on her face. “Nine… Ten!” The referee waves his arms, signaling the END!
Official Result: Emma Watson defeats Olivia Holt via KO7! Emma RETAINS the AMD title!
Emma, still catching her breath, stalks back over to Olivia, her eyes gleaming with fierce satisfaction. With the crowd roaring in approval, she roughly grabs a fistful of Holt’s disheveled blonde hair, yanking the dazed fighter up onto her knees. Olivia’s body wobbles unsteadily, her bruised midsection heaving, arms hanging limp at her sides as she’s forced her upright.
“Get up,” Emma hisses, leaning down close, her voice dripping with mockery. “You wanted to prove something, right? Well, now’s your chance.”
Emma’s gloved hand moves from Olivia’s hair to the back of her head, her fingers tightening as she pushes the shorter blonde’s face forward. The challenger’s body instinctively resists, her legs trembling as she tries to push herself back, but Watson’s grip is firm and tight. The height difference becomes all the more pronounced as Emma towers over her kneeling opponent, her abs flexing just inches from Olivia’s drooping face.
With a firm tug, Emma pulls her in, forcing the blonde’s parted lips to brush against her sweat-slicked belly. Holt’s breaths are hot and shallow, her mouth pressing against the firm, defined muscles that make up her superior abs--at least for this instance. Above, Emma smirks, grinding the youngster’s face deeper, her gloved hand cradling the back of Holt’s head, holding her there.
“Go on, kiss them,” Emma taunts, her voice low and commanding, the crowd’s cheers becoming a distant roar in the background. “You’re never beating this tummy again.”
Olivia’s body shudders, her lips parted, pressed against Emma’s navel as she struggles to draw breath, her own arms twitching uselessly at her sides. The Vixen’s body is a stark contrast, her abs taut and flexed, the muscles shifting slightly under Holt’s mouth with each breath she takes. To drive it home, the AMD champ arches her back just enough to press her midsection firmly against Olivia’s face, her fingers still tangled in the blonde’s hair, holding her steady.