#white leather sneakers men

[molliiewoodtodd]

FUCKIN JACKING OFF ON MY FOOT!!!

[freshthoughts2020]

[denim-bias]

[chris-christmas]

New years eve fit for staying in. For this outfit I paired a gray flat cap, round brown tortoise shell patterned glasses, a gray suit jacket, black ringer t-shirt, white pants cuffed to meet the top of my shoes, and black formal skate sneakers. For the second fit I paired a gray flat cap, round brown tortoise shell patterned glasses, a gray suit jacket, a black button up shirt, white bowtie, white pants cuffed to meet the top of my shoes, and black formal skate sneakers.

[grouponova]

Sylish Printed Printed Shoes for Men

Introducing our Lightweight Synthetic Leather Shoes – a perfect blend of style, comfort, and durability. Meticulously crafted with a synthetic leather upper, these shoes are designed for the modern individual who values both lightweight design and quality.

The synthetic leather upper not only adds a touch of sophistication but also ensures a feather-light feel, making these shoes an ideal choice for various occasions. Whether you're heading to the office or out for a casual day, these shoes effortlessly blend style and comfort.

Crafted with longevity in mind, the synthetic leather material used for the upper is not only lightweight but also of exceptional quality, promising reliable performance and a stylish finish. Walk confidently, knowing that your footwear is crafted from durable materials that maintain their integrity over time.

Underneath, the AirMix sole takes flexibility and comfort to a new level. Engineered for exceptional flexibility, the sole adapts to your movements, providing a cushioned and responsive feel with each step. From casual strolls to more dynamic activities, these shoes ensure both comfort and ease of movement.

[78plusdesigners]

Sneaker Style: The Emergence of the High-End White Sneaker in Male and Female Fashion

Arguably most ingrained piece of fashion history is that of high-end white sneakers. High-end white sneakers have emerged at the forefront to blend street casual with sophistication. White sneakers have become so versatile, be it to dress down or dress up and definitely in the wardrobe to merit a space there as one of the absolute must-have accessories for men and women alike. We are 78 Plus Designers specializing in premium white sneakers and also an amazing range of online men's premium sneakers, which provide you with a great mix of style, comfort, and durability.

Why You Need White Sneakers in Your Wardrobe

White sneakers are, plainly, one of those wardrobe staples. They just go with anything: creating effortless flair to anything you pair with it. So here's why they're just plain necessary:

Classic appeal: White sneakers offer a clean, minimalist look that will never be in fashion out. Versatile combination: They can easily pair with jeans, trousers, skirts, and even tailored suits. Comfort meets style: Modern designs offer sleek visions combined with incomparable comfort. Whether it is an informal excursion or dressing up for a semi-formal event, premium white sneakers are guaranteed to fill the bill. The Best Premium White Sneakers Features At 78 Plus Designers, we understand that all sneakerheads are not the same. Great premium white sneakers possess the following qualities. Some of the qualities that make your investment most worthwhile to you are as follows: Good quality materials: Leather, premium canvas, or great synthetic materials for durability and a luxurious finish. Soles: comfortable insoles and lightweight outsoles for all-day wearability. Attention to detail: Refined stitching, minimal branding, innovative designs for a smooth finish. Sustainability: All luxury brands now hold new fresh eco-friendly alternatives that can fit the style and stunning variations. Our 78 Plus Designers are sure to assure you all these things so you'd never have to compromise on anything.

White Sneakers Styling for Men  White sneakers are a classic classic; with the right match, they can effortlessly fit into most styles:

Casual Chic: Online men's luxury sneakers go well with slim-fit jeans and a white T-shirt with a leather jacket.

Smart Casual: White Sneakers with chinos and a blazer are all part of this new-age dressing smart.

Sporty Luxe: Joggers and a fitted sweatshirt with sleek white sneakers present you in a sporty style with polish. Premium white sneakers add one element of clean, sleek edginess to an outfit, and when it comes to versatile styling options, they do not lag behind. How Women Should Steal the Show with White Sneakers Women, as with others, fashion has also found white sneakers as a fashion accessory: Effortless daily: Pair the white sneakers with a flowing midi dress for an elegantly casual look. Street cool style: Distressed denim paired with an oversized blazer and the whites can give an incredibly cool, urban look. Athleisure appeal: Leggings paired with a cropped hoodie and white sneakers are great to carry comfort and sportiness perfectly. The finest high-end white sneakers can be a perfect blend from a daytime brunch to the evening.

High-End Sneakers - Online Shopping Online shopping is never easy and convenient as it becomes these days. You only need to do some window shopping for the best options to buy premium men's sneakers online, and then also think about the following tips for the perfect purchase.

Have a look at the Sizing Guides: Every brand is different; always look for their size chart.

Read reviews: Check what people have to say about the fit, comfort, as well as the quality before purchasing.

Look for Versatility: Invest designs that suit multiple outfits and occasions. Choose Genuine Dealers: At 78 Plus Designers, we assure authenticity, premium quality, and a smooth shopping process. Shop for handpicked quality kicks ensuring comfort with elegance at 78 Plus Designers.

How to Take Care of Your Luxury White Sneakers To be able to sustain the freshness as well as the style for your sneakers, try doing the following: End. Protect the Material: You can spray the sneakers with a waterproof spray so that stains do not set in. Store Properly: Store them in a cool, dry place. Do not expose your sneakers to sunlight or moisture which can lead to discolouration or damage. Investing a little time in maintenance will mean your sneakers will last you for years in pristine condition.

Why 78 Plus Designers for Premium Sneakers? 78 Plus Designers are therefore dedicated to delivering the best premium white sneakers for men and women after much care has been put in. Here's why you should shop with us.

No compromise on quality: Each pair is made with precision and every style paired with durability. Exclusive designs: Unique and timeless designs fit all tastes. Hassle-free shopping: Shop online, easily, and enjoy our user-friendly platform under secure coverages. Visit 78 Plus Designers today and find the best premium white sneakers for yourself, and lift your style effortlessly.

Into Style White sneakers are more than a shoe; it's a reflection of fashion. Whether you're dressing up for a formal affair or just going casually about your day, the best premium white sneakers can really add a touch of sophistication to any attire. Just come and explore our collection at 78 Plus Designers and welcome the timeless charm of white sneakers.

You aren't walking out with the right pair but stepping up.

[bennetic]

White Leather Sneakers for Men - Bennetic

Step up your style with Bennetic's White Leather Sneakers for Men! These versatile shoes are perfect for any outfit, adding a touch of class. Made from soft leather, they’re comfy for all-day wear and sure to catch eyes. The easy elastic side panels mean no laces needed. Searching for stylish white sneakers near you? Look online to find local stores with this classic footwear!

[ofoohshoes]

Ofooh Leather Shoes: Elevating Style with Black Shoes for Women and Men's Formal Elegance in the UAE

In the heart of the UAE's thriving fashion scene, Ofooh Leather Shoes emerges as a beacon of sophistication, offering an exquisite range that includes black shoes for women, men's formal shoes, timeless brown loafers, and classic brown Oxford shoes. Let's delve into why Ofooh is the epitome of luxury and style in the world of leather footwear.

1. Black Elegance: Ofooh's Signature Shoes for Women

Ofooh's collection of black shoes for women is a testament to timeless elegance. Crafted with precision and an eye for detail, each pair embodies sophistication, ensuring that women make a statement with every step. From sleek pumps to chic flats, Ofooh's black shoe range caters to various styles, making it the ultimate destination for those seeking refined, versatile footwear.

2. Men's Formal Mastery: Ofooh's Impeccable Collection

For men who understand the importance of making a lasting impression, Ofooh's range of formal shoes is unparalleled. From boardroom meetings to black-tie events, Ofooh's men's formal shoes in the UAE redefine elegance. Impeccable craftsmanship and attention to detail set these shoes apart, offering a perfect blend of comfort and sophistication for the modern gentleman.

3. Brown Loafers: Effortless Style for Every Occasion

Ofooh's brown loafers for men capture the essence of casual sophistication. Whether it's a weekend brunch or a relaxed office environment, these loafers seamlessly bridge the gap between comfort and style. Crafted from high-quality leather, Ofooh's brown loafers are a wardrobe essential for those who appreciate laid-back luxury.

4. Classic Brown Oxford Shoes: A Timeless Wardrobe Staple

The brown Oxford shoes from Ofooh are a nod to tradition with a modern twist. Combining classic design with contemporary flair, these shoes effortlessly elevate any formal or semi-formal ensemble. Ofooh ensures that every pair of brown Oxford shoes is a testament to enduring style and craftsmanship.

In conclusion, Ofooh Leather Shoes stands as a bastion of quality and style in the UAE's fashion landscape. With a diverse collection encompassing black shoes for women, men's formal shoes, brown loafers, and classic brown Oxford shoes, Ofooh ensures that individuals can stride with confidence and grace on every occasion. Explore the world of Ofooh Leather Shoes today – where luxury meets craftsmanship for an unparalleled footwear experience.

[dantekamikaze]

[curatedattire]

Loro Piana

Newport Walk Waterproof Low Top Sneaker

$995 $590

[freshthoughts2020]

[birkenstockindia]

Step up your style game with our white leather sneakers for men at Birkenstock India. Premium comfort and timeless sophistication in one stylish package. Click here to shop now - https://www.birkenstock.in/collections/bend-shoes

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.1)

have some absolutely adorable interactions with you and the students at the mansion (and a surprise guest)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of animals neglecting their babies, and a story so sweet my teeth hurt

Inspiration: This scene from X2: X-Men United

Series: No Fucking Way

Your feet pounded against the gravel path beneath you. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by your well-worn sneakers. Warm sweat dampened the cloth of your sweatshirt around your arms and chest. The sun beat down on your flushed face as a cold breeze bit across your nose. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous, autumn day. Occasional spotted clouds glided at a snail’s pace across a great blue sky. Soft breezes made the great trees surrounding the mansion dance like sheets of amber linen. Red and orange leaves skittered across the yellowing grass fields.

You saw a handful of students out on the lawn enjoying the early morning air. Sybil, a brunette with the ability to see through others’ eyes, sat beneath a large willow by the fish pond with a notepad in her hands. Vienna sat beside her. A strawberry blonde, bright eyed girl who could channel electricity into the palms of her hands. The two exchanged ideas about whatever Sybil was jotting down in her notepad.

Yuna sat not too far from the whispering pair, fingers twirling above a quickly constructed tower of stones and blades of grass. Her usual deep brown eyes now glowed a subtle violet. The maroon hijab she wore wrapped around her neck matched the crimson hues of the changing leaves in the trees around her. 

Jane, a kind-eyed tracker, Matt, a red glasses-wearing fighter, and Mads, a short-haired plant bender, sat in a circle, enjoying their morning coffee and tea together. You gave Mads a quick wave as you jogged past, receiving a warm smile and a shower of flower petals left in your wake.

The gravel path led along the left side of the mansion. Emerald ivy crawled up the brick walls like arms reaching from the earth. An occasional window broke up the light colored bricks. Most had their curtains drawn, which you attributed to a large portion of the students being late risers. One or two had the curtains open to allow fresh sunlight into the shared rooms.

You caught a glimpse of Sapph through one of the windows. Her bright smile and blue eyes were almost radiant as she basked in the streams of sunlight. Vases of sunflowers sat on the windowsill in front of her. The light seemed to bend, refracting from Sapph’s palms and hitting the sunflowers’ leaves.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The students were happy, the day was beautiful, and you only had one more lap of the mansion to jog before you’d call it a day.

“MAAAOOOWWW!”

You stopped just short of the empty basketball court. The crimson asphalt was covered in crunchy leaves and green brush from the nearby bushes. Corded nets hanging from the steel hoops swayed in the breeze. You looked around you, trying to find the source of the noise.

“MaaooOOW?”

There it was again. Closer than before. It sounded like it came from an incredibly small source, whatever it was. Your sneakers crossed onto the asphalt, toes kicking at leaves and twigs. You let your eyes scan the area around you. The court was surrounded by a wall of hedges. About waist high to you, it helped keep the court clear of too much debris from the trees. 

The mansion sat against the hedges. Large, bay windows looked into a sitting area. Hira, a telepath, sat in one of the plush leather armchairs with a novel in her hands. A white hijab wrapped around her head, glasses peeking out over light brown eyes. Daniel, a light-haired strongman, and Jacob, a bearded speedster, sat on the green-clothed couch across from Hira. Dice and rulebooks laid on the coffee table in front of them.

A rustle in the hedges to your left drew your focus from the students inside. The lowest branches shuddered, small green leaves shaken off and falling to the ground below. You knelt on the asphalt and strained your eyes to see through the dense foliage.

“MoowwWOAAOW!”

That was the only warning you got before a tiny gray and white fur ball burst out of the hedge and landed five feet in front of you. Pointed ears folded back, blue eyes widened, arched back covered in long fuzz.

A kitten. A small, angry, fluffy kitten. No more than a few weeks old. 

You remained where you kneeled on the asphalt, palms upturned and resting on your thighs. You kept a neutral expression on your face as you blinked slowly at the small creature.

After a few moments the kitten relaxed. Its ears faced forward, tail sticking straight up as it approached you. You gingerly extended a hand for it to sniff. Its tiny, pink nose ran across the tips of your fingers as it grew acclimated to your presence.

“Hi, little one,” you said through a barely subdued, ecstatic grin. You had always wanted a cat. Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of a tiny ball of purrs curled up in your lap and effortlessly improving your mood. Not to mention they were ridiculously easy to take care of.

The kitten took a few more moments to sniff at your fingers. Its tiny eyes squinted as it seemed to devote its entire being to assessing your threat level. Once it seemed satisfied, it rubbed its chin across your thumb. You could already feel the purrs rumbling in its throat.

It took everything in you to not explode from the cuteness overload. This little thing, this tiny itty bitty little thing, chose you. You could feel a swell of pure adoration overtake your chest, the gentle warmth spreading from head to toe.

The cat continued to rub on your hand, occasionally nibbling on your fingers with the sides of its mouth. You lifted your free hand in an attempt to pet the kitten. Moving slowly to not startle it, you gently ran your fingers across its fluffy back. An explosion of purrs, like a hive of angry bees, met your affection. The cat dug its little head into the palm of your hand. You took the hint, giving it gentle scratches on the soft spots by its ears.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life,” you breathed in astonishment. The cat seemed to enjoy the compliment, pawing at your hands and attempting to climb closer to your face. You scooped its tiny body in your hands and lifted it to your chest.

Tiny paws kneaded at the fabric of your sweatshirt. Little needle-like claws pulled at the threads. The kitten looked up at you with squinted eyes. You carefully rose to your feet, doing your best to not jostle the miniature creature cradled to your chest.

The cat nestled into the crook of your neck. Its tiny nose puffed against your skin while a category-5 purricane buzzed in your hands.

You would die for this cat and you just met it a minute ago.

Mentally saying “fuck it” to the rest of your jog, you began to gingerly walk back inside. You avoided walking on the gravel to make as little noise and sudden movements as possible. The cat seemed to appreciate the gesture, with what miniscule amount its tiny brain could comprehend, as a small lick from its rough tongue passed over your neck.

You garnered a few sideways looks from the students on the lawn as you walked by again. Mads cocked her head, fairy themed earrings jingling, at the gentleness in your step and the backtracking in your path.

“You alright, ma’am?” she called out. Jane and Matt perked up at Mads’s exclamation. Jane looked up at you with curiosity written in her features while Matt’s dark brows furrowed.

A quick gesture to the buzzing fur ball in your hands was all the trio needed. Their expressions quickly shifted from confusion to utter joy. They whispered among themselves about the newest addition to the mansion as you passed by.

That method is how you seamlessly moved through the bustling early-risers inside the foyer. One perplexed look was met with a nod to the kitten in your hands and the students parted like the Red Sea. Excited murmurs spread through the students like wildfire. “Is that a cat?” “Oh my god, kitty!” “It’s so cute!” “I hope we can keep it!”

The last student you passed before reaching your destination was Bella, a time manipulator. She was just on her way out of the professor’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. A kind smile met yours when she looked in your direction. 

“Morning, ma’am. Need to see the- Wait, is that a cat?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Shhh. Yes, it is. Could you open the door for me?” you whispered. Bella lifted her first finger to her mouth, winking to indicate she understood, then twisted the brass knob and swung the door open before you.

“Good luck,” she whisper-yelled after you.

A grand office stood before you. Comfortable leather settees were positioned in front of a solid, mahogany desk. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Trinkets and remembrances decorated available surfaces and empty wall space.

The professor, or Charles Xavier as you knew him, sat in his motorized wheelchair behind the large desk. His hairless head was lowered, blue eyes darting across the pages of a copy of House of Leaves. A single finger raised next to his aged face to acknowledge your presence.

“One moment, please. From both you and your new friend,” he said. A minute passed, seconds counted by the paws kneading into your shoulder, before Charles closed the book and met your gaze. A warm smile matched your enthusiastic one, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found this little guy outside,” you began. The cat perked up at the mention of itself, eyes blinking up at you then looking at the professor. You ran a finger under the kitten’s chin as you continued, “He was an angry little fella, all bushy tailed, but he warmed right up to me. He was hiding in the hedges by the basketball court.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles replied. He lowered a hand to maneuver his wheelchair. The low buzz of the machinery heralded his movement as he rounded the desk to sit in front of you and the cat.

“I didn’t see any other cats around, but the good news is he seems to be old enough for solid food,” you said. The cat blinked slowly at the professor, its little nose sniffing the air in front of it.

“It seems his mother abandoned him. Weaned him off her too quickly and left him stunted. Poor thing,” Charles said, head tilting and lips pulling into a slight frown. You gawked at him.

“You can read the cat’s mind, too?” you asked. The abilities of the mutants around you never ceased to amaze. Especially one as powerful as Charles Xavier.

He smiled at the kitten, oblivious to your gawking, stretching out his hands to you, “May I?”

You gently lifted the cat off your chest, prying the tiny talons from your sweatshirt, and placed the furball in the professor’s hands. Charles lifted the cat to his chest and ran a gentle hand down its back.

“You’ll need to wake Rogue and Bobby, have them run to the pet store down the road. This one will need plenty of love and nourishment if he’s to thrive,” he said. You stared at him, dumbstruck.

“We can keep him?”

“He can stay, as long as he likes. Much is the same with the rest of those who live here,” Charles clarified. The little gray kitten nuzzled against Charles’s chin, the professor’s smile growing.

“Okay. Okay! Yes! I’ll go get Rogue and Bobby,” you said, absolute jubilation filling your lungs. 

You left Charles and the cat to continue their telepathic conversation as you raced up the giant, double staircase. Ornately carved wooden banisters ran along the edges of the stairs, polish shining in yellow circles from the chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. When the stairs divided into two sets, running opposite directions, you cut to the right. Your feet skipped over carpeted steps in your haste to reach your destination.

Once your sneakers landed on the second floor, you broke into a jog down the hallway. Door after wooden door flew by you on both sides of the hall. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and glowing sconces lined the wooden walls. A large window sat in the white wall at the end of the hall. Daylight streamed in and cast golden spots on the wood floors.

You stopped at the last door on the left. Rapping three quick knocks on the door, you bounced on your toes. There was a cat in the mansion. A cat! One that would live with you! You silently thanked whatever god it was that decided for you to be next in the cat distribution system.

It took another set of knocks on the door for you to hear movement on the other side. Bleary groans and rustling sheets leaked through the cracks in the door. You bit your lip in an attempt to quell your excitement.

The doorknob turned and a ruffled-looking Rogue appeared in the doorway. Dark hair just barely smoothed down, eyes squinted, robe hastily thrown over a nightgown.

“Vampire? Shit, what time is it?” she asked, grogginess laced in her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a cat,” you said. Your smile widened as you waited for her response. Rogue eyed you, up and down, as she assessed her living alarm clock.

“Logan’s not a cat. We’ve been over this,” she said. She exhaled a puff of air through her lips to blow at the white bangs that fell over her eyes. You rolled your eyes playfully at the jab.

“Not Logan this time. An actual cat. A kitten,” you explained. Rogue’s eyebrows rose as her eyes widened.

“Wait, there’s a cat?” Bobby called from beyond the door. His blonde head popped up beside Rogue’s. The couple seemed to be much more awake now.

“Yup,” you said, annunciating the p. Bobby and Rogue looked at each other, smiles growing, before looking back to you. 

“Where is it? Can we see it?” Rogue asked.

“Charles needs the two of you to run and get cat stuff first. Like food, litter, toys. Anything you can think of,” you replied. At the first sign of them objecting, you continued, “You guys can get literally anything you want. Treats, cat towers, little obstacle courses. Just make sure it’s safe for a younger kitten.”

“We’re on it, boss!” Bobby said, happiness palpable and blue eyes sparkling, as his hand clapped on Rogue’s clothed shoulder.

“100%. This cat will be spoiled rotten,” Rogue confirmed. With that situation squared away, you gave the pair a quick nod, beaming at them, then took off back down the hallway.

The run back to the professor’s office was an even shorter journey due to you jumping down several steps at a time. A few students looked gravely concerned at your acrobatics. Especially Ash, who helped Jean with patching students up by being a walking pain-reliever.

Your hand caught on the doorframe of Charles’s office and you swung into the doorway, breathless. He and the cat were much like how you had left them. Tiny gray body tucked against his neck, both having their eyes closed.

“Bobby and Rogue are on their way out,” you said. Charles hummed in response, eyes falling open.

“This one’s taken a shine to you, my dear. Says you’re the first to treat him kindly,” he said, a proud smile painted across his face. You let out an incredulous laugh.

“Guess he really is one of us, huh?”

“More than you know,” Charles said through an amused chuckle. You approached the professor and ball of cuddles carefully, attempting to not disturb the little creature.

“Mrrpp?” the cat trilled. It squinted at you from beneath Charles’s chin, paws kneading into the back of the professor’s hands. You could almost hear its purrs from where you stood.

“Does he have a name?” you asked. You scratched beneath its furry chin as the cat stretched out its jaw into your hand. 

“I was hoping you might know one,” Charles said. He pressed the cat into your hands and you gladly scooped the little ball of love into your arms. You could feel the purrs emanating from the cat’s belly vibrate against your chest. Tiny, thin whiskers tickled along the underside of your jaw.

“Jeez, uh. I don’t know. Let me think on it,” you responded. It was hard to think when all of your focus was drawn to the fluffy creature cradled in your hands. Charles chuckled at your indecision.

“I’m sure whatever you choose, our newest student will happily respond to it,” he assured. He used his now free hands to dust cat hair off his crisp, navy blue suit. As you turned to walk out, Charles said, “Make sure to give him a bath. This young one’s lived outside for far too long.”

“Will do,” you said. You shifted your arms so you could better support the cat on your chest, then set a course for the upstairs bathroom closest to your and Logan’s room.

It seemed the news of a cat on campus had spread throughout the student body. A large crowd had gathered outside of Charles’s study. Students, an array of ages and stages of dress, craned their necks over their peers to try and catch a glimpse. 

“I wanna see!” Addie, a platinum blonde seven-year-old who could speak any language, called up from the space next to your hip. Your legs were framed by her and Ryan, a nine-year-old brunet with impenetrable skin. 

“Guys, the cat is very small. He needs quiet!” you said, voice coming out as a stage whisper. A hush fell over the group in front of you. Wide, hopeful eyes blinked up at you. You sighed, untucking the cat from the crook of your neck and holding him in front of you. At the sight of the small bundle of fur in your hands, a buzz of excited whispers passed from ear to ear. 

“Does he have a name?” Ryan asked. An echo of agreement sounded around the crowd.

“Not yet, so everyone start brainstorming!” you said. A renewed vigor filled the conversation as names were debated back and forth between students. You used the distraction to slip away, climbing back up the stairs and baring left this time.

This hallway was nearly identical to the one on the opposite side of the stairs. Wooden paneling covered the walls, patterned red carpet stretched down the middle of the floor, potted plants sat here and there. You knocked once on the first door to the right. Receiving no answer, you pushed it open.

Inside was a full bathroom. White tiles lined the walls and floor, the grout a cool gray. Warm patterned shower curtains hung from a steel rod suspended between two walls. A vanity mirror hung on the wall opposite the door. You flicked on the light switch, making the three globes above the mirror glow and send dancing reflections throughout the bathroom.

“Alright, fella. Let’s get you clean,” you said as you sat the cat in the sink. His little, furry body looked like a small sponge sitting in the white porcelain. A confused face looked up at you through squinted eyes.

“Mraow?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not gonna like this part,” you responded. You leaned over, opening the white cabinets below the sink, and pulled out the unscented shampoo Logan liked to use. Straightening up, you noticed the cat had remained where you sat it. Prim, proper, posture like a little gentleman.

You smirked, scritching the top of his head between his ears. His face tilted up into your touch. 

“Such a sweet little guy,” you cooed. You gave him a few more well deserved pets before scooping his little body and turning on the faucet. You made sure the handle was turned to a warm, not hot, setting and the pressure was nice and low. 

The cat startled a bit in your palm at the sudden rush of water. A little paw raised, batting in the air between him and the running water. You dipped a finger in the water and brought it to his nose for proper inspection. A few sniffs, a couple licks, then his chin was rubbing on your fingertip again.

You took it as a good sign, dipping the same hand back under the faucet and letting the water coat your skin. Once enough water had gathered in your hand you lifted it to the cat’s back. He tracked your movement. Small, squinted eyes followed your hand as you placed your palm on his back. You felt the water droplets sink into the fluffy, gray fur and soak into his skin.

“This ok?” you asked, like the cat could give you an answer. The small creature blinked up at you. He seemed unbothered by the moisture. You gave him another palm-full of water to get him adjusted to the temperature, the sensation. Not a peep from this little sir.

You set the cat back in the sink, just the tail end of his back beneath the running faucet. He hunkered down into the smallest loaf you’d ever seen. Front feet tucked under his fuzzy chest, tail curled around his side, eyes blinking slowly up at you. You cupped water in your palm and let it run through his fur. Before too long you had a drenched, buzzing kitten in the sink.

“You are the strangest creature…” you wondered aloud. You popped the lid open on Logan’s shampoo and lathered up your hands. Thankfully, you didn’t spot any fleas or other parasites hopping on the kitten’s body. Washing out the dirt and grime shouldn’t take too long.

“Why are you hunched over the sink with my soap?” a gruff voice said from behind you. You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. Logan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He wore his trademarked white tank top and loose jeans buckled with a brown belt. His dark hair was fluffy and unstyled, long strands hanging in front of his wrinkled eyebrows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He pushed off the wall and stepped up next to you, his boots clipping on the tiles.

“Right. So, funny story,” you began. You ran your soapy fingers through the cat’s soaked fur. Logan’s hip leaned on the counter as he continued to stare at you. Jutting your chin down at the sudsy feline, you continued, “I found this guy outside and he made me think of you.”

“Made you think of…” Logan trailed off when his hazel eyes landed on the kitten.

“You know, with his cat ears,” you explained. You scrubbed at the kitten’s purring body while Logan spluttered next to you.

“Cat ears?!” 

“Yeah. Those hair floofs you get when you style your hair. They look like cat ears,” you said. You pretended to ignore the pure indignation spouting from the man next to you. A knowing smirk stretched across your lips.

“I do not have cat ears,” Logan argued.

“Yes you do!” Rogue shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Your indifferent mask broke as you doubled over, cackling. The cat’s head tilted as it watched your face disappear below the counter. Logan huffed, arms folding over his chest again.

It took you a few moments to regain your composure. Giggles bubbled up your throat everytime you glanced back at Logan next to you. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grumbled. But, because you knew him so well, you could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders to rinse off the cat sitting patiently in the sink. Warm water trailed through your fingers and washed away the suds gathered on the kitten’s body. Squinted eyes watched you, blinking slowly and serenely, purrs vibrating against your hands.

“Happy little fuzzball, isn’t he?” Logan said. The kitten turned its head to peer at Logan. You ran a wet finger between its ears, smoothing the fur back and washing soap away.

“He certainly is,” you hummed. When an idea popped in your head, you felt your grin widen and your gaze slip over to Logan next to you, “You know, he still needs a name.”

“So name him,” Logan replied instantly. A tentative, large hand reached into the sink and ran two fingers down the cat’s soaked back. The kind and delicate gesture only further solidified your idea.

“Actually… I was hoping you could name him.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, relaxed expression melting into pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

this short story is kind of a tribute to the lovely, lovely folks in the murdock tuna team. i have nothing but love and an endless stream of thanks to give to them. you all have inspired me to be a better artist, a better author, a better person. love you, blob blob 🐟

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[kairawrites]

first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months. 

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text. 

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend. 

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you. 

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!”  The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in. 

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable. 

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning. 

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement. 

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions. 

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

[grouponova]

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[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale I

Jack, a towering figure of masculine power, his straight, tall body sculpted by rigorous bodybuilding routines. He stands confidently in a pair of skin-tight black shorts, showcasing his muscular physique. Above the waist, he dons a vibrant black tank top, the material stretching tautly across his broad chest and bulging biceps, emphasizing his strength. His attire is completed with a pair of white sneakers, the laces tightly bound to mirror the snug fit of his clothing. A silver necklace with a gothic cross rests against his collarbone, reflecting the sun's glow. In his right hand, he holds a cardboard sign that reads "Jack' Closet Sale" in bold, hand-drawn letters. Behind him looms an ancient-looking house with ivy climbing up the walls, hinting at a long lineage of secrets and mystical heritage. The setting is a quaint neighborhood with well-maintained lawns, adding a whimsical contrast to Jack's dominant presence. A sense of intrigue is cast over the scene as we realize that Jack, the owner of the house, hails from a lineage of witches. The vibrant garments displayed on a rack beside Jack suggest an eclectic taste that blends with the enigmatic aura of the house's history. The array of tight-fitting shirts, leather jackets, and dark pants speak to Jack's edgy, magical style. The sun shines brightly, casting sharp shadows that play across Jack's defined abs and the various fabrics of the clothes for sale, while a gentle breeze whispers through the air, stirring the leaves of a nearby tree. The scene is alive with a palpable energy, the juxtaposition of Jack's alpha demeanor and the whimsical, mysterious backdrop of the house inviting passersby to explore the secrets and treasures hidden within the garments. Little did the buyers know, these garments contains magic which the buyers will know once they tried to wear them.

A tender moment between two skinny young men, Anthony and Tony, whose love for each other is unmistakable. They stand in an intimate embrace, their bodies intertwined in a way that speaks of deep connection and comfort. The light from the sun casts a warm, soft glow upon their faces, highlighting the love in their eyes and the gentle smile that plays on their lips. Both are dressed casually yet stylishly, with Tony in a fitted t-shirt that emphasizes his lean frame and Mateo in a button-up shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing his slender neck. The contrast of their dark and light hair, Tony's in a short, spiky style and Mateo's in loose waves, adds a visual interest to their embrace. Their slender arms are wrapped around each other, and their long fingers are interlocked in a delicate yet strong grip.

As they walk, their eyes are drawn to the unusual spectacle of the garage sale. They see Jack, a colossal figure, his muscles rippling like waves of power beneath his clothes. The sight of him is so unexpected in this serene neighborhood that it feels like a mirage, a sudden jolt of the extraordinary amidst the ordinary. His biceps bulge in a way that seems almost supernatural, and the vibrancy of his black tank top draws their gaze like a beacon. The two lovers exchange a look of wonder, their curiosity piqued by the stark contrast between the seller and the delicate garments he's peddling. They whisper to each other, their voices low and filled with excitement, as they contemplate the story behind this mysterious man and his enigmatic wares.

They approach the rack of clothes, their eyes scanning over the fabrics, colors, and styles. The wind picks up, carrying with it the faint scent of incense, hinting at the arcane nature of the garments. The shirts and jackets seem to whisper secrets to them, promising an adventure beyond their wildest dreams. And then, as if by fate, Anthony's hand brushes against a piece of white spandex. His eyes widen in amazement as he tugs it out, revealing its form-fitting shape and sheen.

"Hey, Tony," Anthony says, his voice thick with excitement, "Check this out."

Tony looks over and sees the white spandex in Anthony's hand. His eyes light up with understanding, knowing the allure it holds for his partner. He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, really?"

Jack, noticing their interest, steps closer. "That's a fine piece of clothing," he says, his deep voice resonating with a hint of amusement. "It's one of my favorites. It's got a bit of a… stretch to it."

Anthony blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks as he holds up the white spandex. "How much for this?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jack, with a knowing smile, says, "That'll be twenty bucks. It's a special piece, one of a kind."

Anthony nods, his heart racing as he hands over the cash. The transaction feels charged with more than just money changing hands; it's as if he's purchasing a ticket to a new world of pleasure and power dynamics. Tony takes the spandex from Jack, holding it up to his own body with a playful smirk.

"I'll wear it for you tonight," he says, his voice low and seductive, sending a thrill through both of them. The fabric seems to glow with promise, stretching tautly between Tony's fingers.

===

The sun dips below the horizon, and the neighborhood grows quiet. The only sounds are the distant laughter of children and the occasional car passing by. Inside the house, the curtains are drawn, and the lights are dimmed, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The air is filled with the scent of their dinner, a romantic meal they've prepared together.

Anthony lies on the bed, his skin pale and almost translucent against the white sheets. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his anticipation building as he imagines Tony wearing the white spandex. He runs his fingers over his own flat stomach, tracing the lines of his ribs and the contours of his lean frame. The black briefs he wears cling to his hips, showcasing the excitement of what's to come.

The sound of the shower running fills the house, the water pounding against the tiles echoing through the walls like a heartbeat. Tony stands in the steamy bathroom, lathering his slender body with soap. He's lost in thought, a smug smile playing on his lips as he visualizes the evening's events unfolding. He runs the bar of soap along his flat chest, his hands gliding over his flat stomach and down his narrow waist. The warm water cascades over him, highlighting his skinny body and the sharp angles of his bones.

As the shower comes to an end, Tony steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing the white spandex from the counter. He slides it over his legs, the fabric clinging to his skin with surprising ease. Despite being a bit large, it seems to hug him in all the right places, showcasing his toned thighs and the outline of his manhood. He pulls it up over his hips, feeling a strange heat radiating through his body. The spandex fits snugly around his waist, the elastic digging in slightly, as if the garment itself is alive and eager to become one with him.

Walking into the bedroom, Tony lets the towel drop to the floor. The sight of him in the spandex sends a jolt through Anthony, his eyes widening with desire. "Damn, Tony, that looks… incredible on you," he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. The room seems to pulse with energy as Tony struts towards the bed, the spandex accentuating every step.

"You look… amazing," breathes out Anthony, his voice thick with desire. The compliment hangs in the air, a palpable force that makes Tony's confidence swell. He knows he's not the most muscular or the most traditionally attractive man, but in this moment, he feels like a Greek god.

Tony approaches the bed with a predatory grace that's new to him, the white spandex shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The fabric seems to pulsate with every step he takes, the room's shadows dancing along with his movements. The scent of their dinner has been replaced by the intoxicating aroma of pheromones and excitement.

Tony, feeling an unusual surge of horniness from the magical spandex's influence, Tony leans in and captures Anthony's mouth in a passionate kiss. The suddenness of it takes his breath away, but he eagerly returns the favor, their tongues dancing together as if they've been waiting for this moment forever. The spandex seems to pulse with energy, the material seeming to tighten around Tony's body, fueling his desire.

The kiss is demanding, almost aggressive, as Tony's hands move to grip the sides of the headboard. He pulls himself closer to his lover, his lean body pressing against the firmness of the bed. The fabric of the spandex whispers against their skin, a seductive sound that seems to echo their passionate intentions. The room feels electrified, the air thick with the scent of lust and the promise of something more.

Anthony, feeling the sudden change in Tony's demeanor, gasps as his partner's hands begin to roam over his body, the touch growing more insistent, more powerful. Tony's grip on the headboard tightens to pin down his lover, his fingers digging into the wooden frame.

With a fiery hunger in his eyes, Tony reaches down and frees his cock from the confines of the spandex. It stands tall and proud, the veins pulsing with a magical vigor that matches the rhythm of his racing heart. He lines it up with Anthony's quivering hole, the tip of his erection glistening with pre-cum. The room seems to hold its breath as the two men lock eyes, the tension palpable as they hover on the brink of something incredible.

Anthony feels Tony's hardness press against him. He moans, the sound deep and needy, his own cock responding in kind. The anticipation is exquisite, a delicious ache that makes him squirm with pleasure.

As Tony's hips begin to move, his cock sliding along the cleft of Anthony's ass, the spandex seems to come alive, the material tightening and releasing with each thrust. The sensation is unlike anything Tony has ever experienced, the fabric almost seeming to breathe with him, to move in sync with his body.

With a growl, Tony's hand comes down on Anthony's plump, round cheek, the sound echoing through the room. The slap resonates with power, leaving a red handprint that seems to glow against the pale skin. The shock of pain sends a jolt through both of them, but instead of recoiling, it only seems to heighten their arousal. The spandex stretches and clings to Tony's body, the fabric moving with him like a living thing, as if it's urging him on, feeding off the energy of their desire.

Tony's cock feels like it's swelling, growing larger and more substantial with every thrust. He's never felt anything like this before.

Anthony gasps as Tony's hand squeezes his hip, his fingers digging into the flesh. The spandex around Tony's waist is stretching, the fabric straining against his suddenly growing frame. His abs are becoming more defined, the lines between each one deepening and becoming more pronounced. His chest is expanding, the muscles swelling.

The transformation is subtle at first, but it's as if the very essence of the magical garment is seeping into Tony's skin, reconfiguring him into something more than human. His arm, the one holding onto the headboard, bulges with newfound strength, the veins popping out as if they're about to burst through the skin. His shoulder widens, the muscles growing taut and powerful.

Anthony feels it, too, the bed shaking beneath them as Tony's body changes. He watches in awe as Tony's back, once a canvas of lean muscles and smooth skin, begins to expand, each vertebrae becoming more pronounced, the muscles swelling and rippling with every thrust, tracing the contours of his newfound power.

The white spandex, stretches and morphs with Tony's legs, bulging with each flex and release of his newfound muscularity. The fabric clings to his calves and thighs like a second skin, the material seemingly alive and responsive to his every movement. Each pump of his legs is now a display of unbridled strength, the spandex tightening around his quads as they bulge and release like pistons.

Anthony's eyes are wide with a mix of fear and excitement, watching as Tony's body continues to change. The man he loves is becoming something else, something more powerful and primal. The spandex, once a mere piece of clothing, now seems to be the vessel for an ancient power, molding Tony into a creature of pure, sexuality. Tony's hips rock into him with an intensity that's almost violent, the fabric of the spandex whispering with each powerful thrust, the sound sending shivers down their spines.

As Tony's body changes, so does his mind. Images of female beauty flood his thoughts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he feels a strange arousal thinking of a young woman appearing in his mind. Her breasts bounce slightly with each step she takes, and he feels his cock throb with a hunger that's foreign to him. The spandex seems to pulse with a dark energy, feeding on his confusion and amplifying his desires.

The room seems to spin around them, the air thick with the scent of magic and the heady aroma of lust. Tony's eyes glaze over, no longer focused on the man beneath him but on the phantom female figures that dance in his mind's eye. He can almost feel the softness of breasts, the wetness of a pussy, the heat of a woman's embrace. His hips continue to thrust, driven by the power of the magic within the spandex, his body moving almost involuntarily as he chases the illusions in his thoughts.

With a final, powerful thrust, Tony's body goes rigid, and he roars out his climax, his cock pulsing with the power of the magical spandex. The fabric seems to glow brighter, the aura surrounding it pulsating with every spurt of cum. The intensity of the moment overwhelms them both, and their orgasms crash together like waves upon the shore, leaving them gasping and trembling in the aftermath.

Exhausted by the sheer power of their lovemaking, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and passion, they slowly come down from their peak. The room returns to a gentle stillness, the only sound their heavy breathing and the distant whispers of the night.

Tony lies there, his body now a monument to power and desire, the spandex clinging to him like a second skin. His newfound muscles, bulging and defined, cast strange shadows on the wall as he catches his breath. The fabric whispers as it settles against him, seemingly satisfied with the transformation it has wrought. His mind swims with the images of feminine beauty that have taken over his thoughts, a stark contrast to the man he's always been.

Anthony sleeps soundly, oblivious to the turmoil within his partner. His slender body, so fragile in comparison to the new titan beside him, rises and falls with each breath he takes. The soft curve of his hip is a gentle reminder of the love they've shared, a stark contrast to the newfound aggression and power that now courses through Tony's veins.