RedCherry

Fubuki's Fall 💧🌀

Added 2025-10-25 18:00:03 +0000 UTC

After a crushing and humiliating defeat by Saitama, the city of Z seemed to Fubuki like a blurred stain. She walked, not paying attention to the road, hunched over as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her shoulders. Her pride, her status as the leader of "Bitter,"—all of it had been trampled in one blow. In her ears, silence rang louder than any explosion.

She turned into a deserted alley, smelling of damp concrete and dust, wanting only to disappear. It was there that he noticed her. A man, one of the inhabitants of this ghostly city. He emerged from the shadows, and in his eyes, there was not gratitude to a hero, but arrogant, animal certainty. Without a word, he unzipped his pants and exposed his fleshly pride. It was large, engorged with blood, and demanding. His rough hand grasped it, beginning a rhythmic, provocative movement.

Fubuki froze. A hot blush spread across her cheeks, a wave of shame and something else—warm and forbidden. She, the strongest telekinetic, capable of crushing steel, felt weak in that moment. And in this weakness, there was a wicked freedom. No need to think, no need to fight, no need to prove her superiority. She could just... submit. Taking a few hesitant steps, she approached him.

Her submission, her silent agreement, was his only answer. He roughly turned her around, pressing her against the cool wall. His fingers found the hem of her dark green dress, and then the delicate lace panties underneath. He pulled them down to her knees, exposing her firm, pale skin. Fubuki gasped as he entered her from behind, sharply and without preliminaries. The pain of the unexpected intrusion was immediately replaced by a growing wave of pleasure. He moved inside her with brutal force, each thrust making her cry out, her fingers digging into the rough surface of the wall.

He didn't stop there. Tearing off her dress, he exposed her completely. She stood, hunched over, accepting him, under the open sky where anyone could appear at any moment. But shame had somehow evaporated, dissolving in the growing heat that spread throughout her body. It felt so good, so liberating, that she closed her eyes, completely surrendering to this primal rhythm. The world narrowed down to the wall under her palms, to his heavy breathing at her ear, and to this all-consuming sensation inside.

After some time, feeling the approach of climax, he slipped out of her and roughly pushed her to her knees on the asphalt. Fubuki understandably looked up at him. Her violet eyes, usually filled with cold determination, were now hazy with desire. She leaned towards his aroused flesh, still wet from her. Her lips closed around him, and her tongue began to explore every vein, every curve. She did it with an unexpected eagerness, sometimes going deeper, eliciting a groan from him, sometimes gently caressing the tip. Her hands slid over his thighs, feeling how tense his muscles were. He placed his hand on the back of her head, not guiding, but simply owning, and softly growled with increasing pleasure.

And then it happened. With a sharp cry, he reached his peak. Warm, thick moisture gushed onto her face. The first splash hit her cheek, the next on her forehead and eyelids. Fubuki squeezed her eyes shut, freezing on her knees as he continued to release his life force onto her. White drops, sticky and smelling of man, slowly slid down her skin. Down her cheek, from her chin, from the tip of her nose, leaving muddy, pearlescent trails on her whiteness. She breathed through her mouth, feeling only this new, foreign scent, mixed with her own.

At that very moment, her radio on the dress, lying on the ground, suddenly came to life. A metallic voice of the announcer echoed: "Attention all heroes. Danger level: 'Tiger.' A breach has been detected in sector 7-B."

A moment—and the enchanting haze in her eyes dispersed. Her gaze became sharp and cold again. Fubuki stood up, not looking at the man who, breathing heavily, leaned against the wall. She pulled her dark green dress back on, covering her nakedness. Then, without looking, she wiped her face with her sleeve, smearing the remnants of his semen across the fabric, leaving a wet stain.

Without turning back, without saying a word, she straightened her back and walked confidently out of the alley, leaving behind the fleeting humiliation and weakness. A battle awaited her.