Across town, in a modest apartment filled with half-finished water sculptures of a certain ice mage she no longer dreamed about, Juvia Lockser knelt on her bed in nothing but pale blue lingerie. Her blue hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face flushed with shame and heat. Juvia's body was soft and curvaceous—generous breasts, a narrow waist, and hips that begged to be gripped. Between her thighs she was soaked, her pussy clenching around nothing as she pressed a pillow between her legs.
Her sexual persona was utter submission. Juvia craved the loss of control. She wanted to be used, praised, owned. "Please…" she whispered to the empty room, grinding against the pillow. In her fantasies she was on all fours, a strong hand fisting her hair while a thick cock slammed into her from behind. She didn't want gentle—she wanted to be broken and remade, told exactly how good she was for taking it all. Her nipples were hard peaks; she pinched them hard, imagining teeth instead of fingers.
Juvia's mind was a whirlpool of need. She had spent years chasing Gray, but the obsession had faded into something hollow. What she truly needed was a woman who could command the tides inside her. Someone who would dress her up like a pretty doll and then ruin her. Someone whose voice could make her knees buckle with a single order. "I want to be filled… claimed… I want to belong," she moaned, fingers slipping inside herself as she imagined a futanari cock stretching her open, balls slapping against her clit while a sultry voice growled, "Good girl, Juvia. Take every drop."
She came hard, biting the pillow to muffle her cry, body shaking as the fantasy name slipped from her lips for the first time: "Lucy-sama…"