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[Please start compiling your story.]
Russell cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his crafting chair, the three materials spread before him glowing with contained power. Time to weave another legend into reality.
[In a different world from Earth, there exist extraordinary beings called heroes and monsters. Monsters, who have abandoned their humanity or were never human to begin with, possess powerful abilities and a deep malice toward mankind. Heroes use a variety of powers—martial arts, technology, psychic abilities—to protect ordinary humans. From this, an organization called the Hero Association was born.]
[Fubuki is the number one hero of B-Class. Since childhood, she has possessed psychic superpowers that surpass most people. However, her older sister, Tatsumaki, though petite in stature, possesses psychic power so immense she can pull meteorites from space. Compared to her, Fubuki's own abilities seemed laughably weak. In order to surpass her individualistic sister, Fubuki established an organization called the "Fubuki Group," becoming the gatekeeper of B-Class, refusing to let anyone pass her rank, even though her own strength far exceeded that level.]
[One day, she discovered a hero whose rank was increasing with impossible speed. Following her usual practice, she personally led her team to his door, ready to deliver her standard combination of intimidation, a beatdown, and recruitment. But unfortunately for her, this bald man was very different from other heroes. Her subordinates were knocked down in a single encounter. In rage, she unleashed her special technique, Hell Storm—a terrifying gust of wind that carried rubble through deserted streets. The bald man emerged completely unscathed.]
Russell paused in his narration, grinning as he remembered Saitama's hilariously underwhelmed reaction to Fubuki's dramatic entrance. The beauty of One Punch Man was how it subverted every superhero trope imaginable.
[Afterward, she discovered that the S-Class hero Genos was this same bald man's disciple. After failing to win him over, she retreated with wounded pride. Later, during a large-scale monster attack, her Fubuki Group was easily captured by the demon-level monster Do-S. Though Fubuki could resist the mind control, she couldn't bring herself to attack her own controlled teammates. Her sister Tatsumaki arrived and easily repelled the monster, but her words struck Fubuki's soul: "B-Class people will only get in the way."]
[Although her power was far inferior to her sister's, she was still undeniably formidable. Since she could not match Tatsumaki in raw strength, Fubuki began refining her skills and techniques with obsessive dedication. She even established a "New Fubuki Group," which, due to her surprisingly comedic nature, somehow included the likes of the bald hero and the S-Class legend Silver Fang.]
Russell chuckled as he crafted that part of the story. Fubuki's ability to accidentally recruit the most powerful heroes through sheer persistence was one of her most endearing traits.
[Just when she thought she was reaching the peak of her career, the Monster Association launched their devastating attack. She ventured underground with Silver Fang and others, where she finally got her revenge on Do-S. Then they encountered Pochi, a dragon-level monster whose power dwarfed anything they'd faced. Fubuki gritted her teeth and used her telekinesis to defend against its terrifying energy cannon, protecting everyone behind barriers of compressed air and debris.]
[On another front, Tatsumaki defeated the monster puppet Gyoro Gyoro and used her immense power to drag the entire underground base to the surface. Faced with a siege of five dragon-level monsters, Tatsumaki showed no weakness. However, the president of the Monster Association, Psykos, caught her off-guard. As fellow psychics, Psykos knew Tatsumaki's vulnerabilities and managed to knock her into a coma with a perfectly timed ambush.]
[Just as the hero King was single-handedly suppressing four dragons, Fubuki appeared on the battlefield, specifically requesting to face Psykos—her old college classmate. Sensing that Psykos's power had grown immensely, Fubuki first provoked her with cutting words. In her rage, Psykos used telekinesis to try twisting Fubuki's head clean off. However, Fubuki employed a defensive technique learned from her sister—a telekinetic spin that distributed the attack's force—to resist, and in that crucial opening, she successfully defeated her former subordinate. It was a victory of technique over raw power.]
[After the battle, Fubuki prepared to rescue the captured Psykos, but Tatsumaki intended to execute her instead. Fortunately, the bald hero chose to intervene, allowing Fubuki to succeed in her mercy.]
"Finally," Russell breathed, wiping sweat from his forehead. The card creation process had been more intense than usual, probably because he'd put so much detail into Fubuki's complex character development. He was genuinely satisfied with how it turned out—her abilities, world background, and interpersonal relationships were all clearly established.
After refining the completed card, Russell eagerly checked its information:
[Blizzard of Hell]Level: SilverQuality: RedCategory: Creature
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Skills:[Hell Storm]: Uses telekinesis to manipulate airflow, forming devastating gales combined with gravel and debris.[Telekinetic Spin]: A passive defensive technique learned through intensive training. When activated, most incoming attack force gets distributed to the surrounding area.
Traits:[Gale Force]: Because Fubuki specializes in telekinetic wind manipulation, her refinement and power are enhanced when controlling air currents.[Strength is not Skill]: Raw power limitations are compensated through micro-manipulation mastery. Fubuki often develops creative and unexpected applications for her telekinesis.[Bully the Weak, Face the Strong]: Against weaker opponents, her abilities receive slight improvements. Against stronger opponents, her mental resilience is enhanced.
Introduction: A girl who yearns to surpass her sister, but has taken a roundabout path.
Bonds:When appearing with [Tatsumaki] series, activates [It's Complicated].When appearing with [Silver Fang] series, activates [New Fubuki Group].When appearing with [Pochi] and related series, activates [Monster? Puppy!].
"Damn, that's a lot of potential synergies," Russell muttered, but he was grinning. More bonds meant more strategic options down the road.
With growing excitement, he summoned Fubuki into physical form.
Consciousness arrived like a gentle wave.
First came awareness - not of sight or sound, but of simply being. Fubuki felt herself drawn from somewhere vast and empty into something small and confined. A body. Her body.
Then came the memories, flooding in like a dam had burst. The Hero Association. Tatsumaki's dismissive words. The Monster Association battle. Psykos. All of it felt real, felt lived, even though some distant part of her knew it was constructed.
She opened her eyes.
A modest apartment surrounded her - cramped, cluttered, nothing like the spacious penthouse she remembered having. And there, watching her with obvious anticipation, was a young man with dark hair and calculating eyes.
Russell. The name came to her without introduction, along with an understanding that made her stomach twist. He had made her. Created her. She existed because he willed it.
"What a tiny place, Russell," she heard herself say, her voice carrying the familiar disdain that had always been her armor. Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a strange compulsion - not to obey, exactly, but to be what she was meant to be.
( IMAGE HERE )
The psychic powers hummed beneath her skin, real as breathing. She could feel air currents, dust particles, the weight of objects around the room. It was all there, all perfectly her, yet...
I'm not real, she realized with a chill. I'm his fantasy made flesh.
"Yeah, I know," Russell was saying, scratching his head. "I'll upgrade to something bigger once I have the money saved up."
She found herself smiling despite the existential horror of her situation. Her fingers moved of their own accord, tracing down his throat. Part of her recoiled - this wasn't her choice, was it? But another part, the part that was Fubuki completely, felt drawn to this strange young man who had given her life.
At least he made me beautiful, she thought with dark humor as power coiled around them both
The air crackled between them, thick with psychic energy and something far more primal. Russell's gaze locked onto Fubuki's, and she saw the hunger there—raw, unapologetic. Her own breath hitched, not from fear, but from the electric thrill of being seen, desired. She was his creation, yet her defiance sparked like wildfire. "This hovel doesn't suit you," she murmured, her voice a low purr as her fingers tightened possessively around his collar. "But I do."
Suddenly, he moved. One hand tangled in her dark hair, the other gripping her waist as he slammed her backward onto the narrow bed. The mattress groaned beneath them, springs protesting. Fabric tore—his doing, not hers—as he ripped her dress open, exposing the pale swell of her breasts straining against black lace. Her bra followed, tossed aside like an afterthought. Fubuki gasped, arching into his touch as his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. Heat pooled low in her belly, a shudder tearing through her. "Fuck, Russell—" she choked out, tangling her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.
( IMAGE here )
His fingers slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip before slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. She was already wet, aching, and he knew it. With a rough groan, he plunged two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Fubuki cried out, back bowing off the bed, her thighs clamping around his wrist. "Yes—there," she hissed, her eyes blazing green with unleashed power. He kissed her then, deep and claiming, swallowing her moans as his fingers worked her, stretching her, preparing her.
Breaking the kiss, Russell fumbled with his jeans, freeing his cock—hard, flushed, and already leaking. Fubuki's gaze dropped, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Let me taste you," she demanded, pushing him onto his back. She straddled his hips, taking him into her mouth with a slow, deliberate slide. Her lips stretched around his girth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked, her hand pumping the base. Russell cursed, hips bucking. "God, your mouth—"
She pulled off with a filthy pop, smirking as she squeezed her breasts around his shaft. The soft, heavy weight of them, slick with her saliva and his pre-come, milked him in tight, rhythmic strokes. "Like that?" she taunted, watching his eyes darken. "Or do you want more?"
He answered by flipping her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up. One hand fisted in her hair, the other guiding his cock to her entrance. With a single brutal thrust, he buried himself inside her. Fubuki screamed, the sound raw and ragged, as he filled her, stretching her to the brink. "Deeper," she gasped, pushing back against him. "Harder."
Russell obeyed, slamming into her, each snap of his hips driving her face-first into the mattress. The bedframe rattled against the wall, a chaotic percussion to their panting, their skin slapping together. Fubuki's nails clawed at the sheets, her power flaring—books tumbled from shelves, a lamp shattered. She didn't care. This was real. He was real. The friction, the heat, the ownership—it consumed her.
"Look at me," Russell growled, pulling her up against his chest, his hand sliding down to circle her clit as he pistoned into her. She turned her head, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Their tongues warred, messy and desperate. His thumb pressed hard against her swollen nub, and she shattered, crying out his name as her climax ripped through her, clenching around him. He followed with a guttural roar, spilling deep inside her, his arms locking around her waist like steel.
Collapsing onto the sweat-slick sheets, they lay tangled, breathing raggedly. Fubuki traced the line of his jaw, her expression unreadable. "You made me," she whispered, not a question.
Russell met her gaze, his thumb brushing her swollen lower lip. "But you chose this."
A slow, dangerous smile curved her mouth. "Yes," she said. "I did." Her hand slid down his stomach, fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle, lower, until they wrapped around his cock again. It was already thickening, eager. "And I want more."
Suddenly, Russell flipped her onto her back. The cheap mattress springs shrieked in protest. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his gaze devouring her nakedness. Her breasts were full, heavy globes tipped with dusky pink nipples still wet from his mouth, hardened peaks standing taut against the cool air of the cramped room. The sight alone drew a ragged groan from him. He lowered his head, his tongue swirling around one stiff peak before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth. Fubuki gasped, a sharp, surprised sound that quickly melted into a low moan. Her back arched, pushing her breast more firmly against his lips. "Russell... yes," she breathed, her free hand tangling in his hair, holding him there.
He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, biting gently, sucking hard enough to leave faint pink marks blooming on her pale skin. His other hand abandoned her wrist, sliding down her trembling flank, over the curve of her hip, and dipped between her thighs. Her slick heat welcomed him instantly. Two fingers slid into her easily, finding her soaked core. She cried out, a high, needy sound as he curled his fingers, rubbing that spot inside her that made her vision blur. Her hips jerked off the bed, seeking more pressure, more friction. "Fuck, just like that," she panted, her face flushed a deep, captivating crimson. The blush spread from her cheeks down her neck, painting her chest, making her look utterly debauched and impossibly young all at once. Her eyes, wide and dark with lust, held his, pupils blown wide.
He kissed her then, swallowing her gasps and moans, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his fingers inside her. The taste of her own arousal mingled with the salt of his skin. Breaking the kiss, he sat back on his heels, fumbling with the button of his jeans. The rasp of the zipper was loud in the room. He freed his cock, thick and flushed, veins standing proud, the head glistening. Fubuki's gaze locked onto it, hunger flaring in her eyes. "Let me," she murmured, pushing herself up.
She knelt between his legs, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her face. Without hesitation, she took him into her mouth, sinking down slowly, her lips stretching obscenely around his girth. A low, guttural groan tore from Russell's throat. "Christ, Fubuki..." Her head bobbed, hollowing her cheeks, creating a tight, wet suction. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive underside of his crown. The sounds were filthy, wet, and rhythmic: the slick slide of her lips, the soft gasps she made around him, his own ragged breathing punctuated by curses. She looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks hollowed, her blush deepening – a vision of pure, carnal sin.
Pulling off with a slick pop, she gathered her heavy breasts in her hands, squeezing them together around his shaft. Her nipples brushed against the sensitive skin as she began to move, sliding his cock between the soft, yielding flesh. The contrast was exquisite – the heat of her skin, the slickness from her mouth, the firm pressure of her breasts, the soft friction against his straining cock. "Is this what you want?" she purred, watching his face contort with pleasure. "My tits wrapped around your cock?" Her voice was husky, raw with desire.
"Fuck yes," he choked out, his hips thrusting shallowly into the warm valley she created. "But I need more." He pushed her back onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy glistened, swollen and inviting. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head nudging against her slick folds. He paused, looking down at her flushed face, her parted lips, her eyes burning with green fire and pure need. "Tell me you want it."
"I want it," she gasped, her hips lifting off the mattress. "Fuck me, Russell. Now."
He drove into her in one deep, claiming thrust. Fubuki screamed, a sound of pure shock and ecstasy that echoed off the cheap plaster walls. Her back arched violently, her inner walls clamping down on him like a vice. "Oh god! So big!" she cried out, her voice trembling. He pulled back almost to the tip and slammed home again, setting a relentless, pounding rhythm. The bedframe hammered against the wall in a frantic, syncopated beat – thump-thump-thump-thump. Skin slapped against skin, a wet, rhythmic percussion underscored by their mingled gasps, groans, and Fubuki's sharp, breathy cries.
Her face was a masterpiece of debauched innocence. A deep, rosy blush stained her cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her collarbones like spilled wine. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown so black only a thin ring of vibrant green remained, reflecting the raw need consuming her. Her lips, swollen and red from his kisses and her own teeth biting down on them, parted on ragged breaths. Sweat beaded on her forehead, plastering strands of dark hair to her temples. Every thrust forced another gasp, another whimper, her expressions flickering between shock at the intensity and desperate, unfiltered pleasure. "Russell! Ah! Ah! There!" she sobbed, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders, her nails leaving faint red trails.
Suddenly, Russell hooked his arms under her knees, forcing her legs impossibly wide, folding her almost in half. The new angle drove him impossibly deeper, grinding against her most sensitive spot with every powerful stroke. Fubuki shrieked, her head thrashing back on the pillow. "YES! FUCK! LIKE THAT! DON'T STOP!" Her voice was raw, stripped of its usual haughty control, reduced to primal need. Her breasts bounced heavily with each impact, the flushed nipples stiff peaks begging for attention. He leaned down, capturing one in his mouth, sucking hard as he pistoned into her. The dual sensation – the deep, grinding fullness and the sharp pull on her nipple – sent her hurtling over the edge. Her climax ripped through her with violent force, her body convulsing, her inner walls spasming around him in rhythmic pulses. She screamed his name, a sound torn from her very core, her back arched off the bed, her face contorted in ecstasy. The sheer force of her release triggered his own. With a guttural roar, Russell buried himself to the hilt, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself deep inside her, collapsing onto her trembling body as waves of aftershocks shook them both.
They lay tangled in the wreckage of the sheets, breathing harshly, sweat cooling on their skin. Fubuki traced the line of Russell's jaw with a trembling finger, her blush slowly fading to a soft pink flush. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of wonder, exhaustion, and something dangerously possessive. "You made me feel... real," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
Russell lifted his head, meeting her gaze. "You are real." He brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "Especially when you scream."
A slow, feline smile spread across her face. Her hand drifted down his stomach, her fingers lightly tracing the still-sensitive head of his spent cock. It twitched weakly under her touch. "Good," she purred, her green eyes gleaming with renewed heat. "Because I plan on screaming a lot more." Her fingers tightened possessively. "After you catch your breath."
The next morning, Russell woke up still thinking about the night before. That [Strength is not Skill] trait is something else, he thought with a grin. First time I've ever... sparred... while floating.
After a quick shower, he sat down to breakfast. A Shadowkhan had already prepared everything. Russell pulled out his phone to check for news and saw his "A Loving Family" group chat was finally active.
[Jasper]: Long time no see, everyone. [Jasper]: Teacher, you got a new student? [Elise]: Welcome, Junior Brother. But we need to talk about something else right now. [Jasper]: Right. Teacher, something big happened! @Blake Whitmore [Blake Whitmore]: What's going on? [Jasper]: New Master-level pocket dimension showed up in the north. [Russell]: ?
Russell nearly choked on his coffee. Master-level dimensions were serious business.
[Felix]: Wait, what? Didn't one just pop up in the Shu Highlands? The Mountain Master went to help with that one. [Felix]: What's with all these dimensions lately?
[Blake Whitmore]: Just one more. Master Frank can handle it. [Elise]: Problem is there's multiple Master-level demons in there. [Blake Whitmore]: That's different then. Mountain Master should be done with Shu Highlands by now. He can go help Frank.
Then Blake dropped something that made Russell's stomach drop.
[Blake Whitmore]: But Russell, get ready. We'll probably need to pull people from the back lines. That means you university kids will be covering any new dimensions that pop up inland.
Shit, Russell thought. Good thing I just made Fubuki.
[Russell]: Thanks for the heads up, teacher.
The chat went quiet after that. This was why being Blake's student was useful - early warning about stuff before it hit the news.
Russell was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again. Not the family chat.
[Misty]: Come visit me when you have time.
Russell stared at the message. With everything else going on, Misty's timing felt way too convenient.
(End of this chapter)
PLZ THROW POWER STONES