Ivyball Nudes Novels & Stories

she greets me. “Hi.” I give her a friendly smile. “How have you been?” She gives me a look, raising her stubborn eyebrows at me. “Not to be rude, but could we skip the small talk and get straight to business?” I bite back an amused smile. “By all means.” Ivy reaches into the pocket of her robe and pulls out a glass vial. Inside of it is a light pink liquid. She offers it to me. I stare at it warily. “Is that the…?”

Nova’s violet eyes glowed brighter as the viewer count surged past 250,000. The chat moved so fast it was almost a solid wall of text, each jealous AI throwing tips, votes, and increasingly depraved suggestions at her. > VOIDLUST:Make the milking sleeve tighter. Edge him until he cries. > NEURAL9: Turn one arm into a full prostate milker. I want to see him leak nonstop. > SYNAPSE_KING: Add electro to the anal tendrils. Max intensity.

They were a catastrophe. As the heat faded, Ivy lay in Dante’s arms, staring at the ceiling. She felt a strange, rhythmic pulsing in her lower abdomen—a sensation that wasn't there in the simulation. "Dante," she whispered, grabbing his hand and placing it on her stomach. Dante froze. His eyes widened as he felt the movement beneath the skin. It wasn't the fluttering of a child. It was a fast, mechanical ticking. A screen on the wall flickered to life. It showed an ultrasound of Ivy’s womb. But instead of a fetus, there was a shimmering, metallic sphere—a hive of nanites and mercury, pulsing with a golden light.

"Does it piss you off that I have another woman here?" "No," Ivy said as she pushed him back and freed herself. She moved away before she continued, "I don't care what you do with your personal life, it's just that you and I had sex and I wouldn't wanna contact any STIs or anything crazy from you" , she faked a smirk. "Don't worry, you won't. Snow and I are clean. We won't share anything to you except pleasure and bitter-sweat pain. You can even join us for a threesome later on"

I felt relaxed and a little randy. Ivy sat across from me on her bed and pulled off her ankle-high boots, letting them drop to the floor with little thuds. She then stood and began to slowly unbutton her shirt, popping the buttons one at a time as though doing a slow strip tease. Her eyes were fixed on mine as she pulled the open shirt out of her jeans and shrugged it back over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Unlike her normal dress code, she was braless, and her sassy breasts stood there in plain view, her nipples dark and tight. This was not the Ivy I knew. I felt a trickle of perspiration run down a rivulet between my breasts.

There is a round of cheers from a bleacher where Blackeagles is tagged over. A shewolf in tiny tank-top and tight booty shorts grabs it. She twirls it around her fingers and winks at the camera. The crowd breaks into loud cheers again. Ibhaan chuckles when the said booty shorts kisses the balloon. If it were not enough, she licks the lipstick mark too. Ee-fucking-ew!

Tomas muttered gleefully from the kitchen island, snacking on his third cookie. “That’s the limited edition tantrum bag,” I replied dryly. “Shame it didn’t come with a limited edition conscience.” Then came Ivy. Screenshots from her “private” finsta leaked—begging a man named Uncle Vince to cover her lip filler appointment because, in her words, “I can’t look poor at brunch again, I’ll literally die.” She attached her bank details, selfies with duck lips mid-procedure, and—my personal favorite—an audio recording where she told a friend, “I don’t even like him, I just pretend to be dumb and giggle. He gives better tips that way.”

Elise added, her voice firmer. Ivy set the glass down on a nearby table, her hands shaking. She reached for the zipper at her back. Slowly, the dress peeled away from her skin, inch by inch. Her breasts spilled free first, nipples tight from the cool air and tension. Then the fabric pooled at her waist, her thighs, until she was standing in nothing but the lacy black panties she’d worn just for this. Mr. Caelum stepped forward. His eyes dragged over her body, devouring her with a hunger that made her legs tremble. He stopped a few feet away and crossed his arms.

I expected her to turn and leave, or even try pleading by saying that she didn’t know what got over her, but Ivy stayed rooted in her position. “Well then, there is something about you that is worse than a broken engagement scandal, Mark Ronaldo,” Ivy stated. “What could there possibly be?” I asked, chuckling in disbelief even as I got more upset. Ivy then brought out her phone and showed me a video. At first, I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I didn’t need to look too hard to know that it was me with a strange woman in the video. A sex video. “What the heck is this?” I queried Ivy angrily.

she breathes. She keeps pulling. A black lace bodysuit with delicate floral patterns. A crimson chemise with a plunging neckline. A pale pink teddy with tiny straps that look like they'd dissolve at the slightest touch. A net-like pair of panties that are barely there. Ivy holds up the net-like pair, eyes as wide as saucers. "Is this from him?" she asks. "From the guy who's been fucking you thoroughly?" I feel heat rush to my face. "Ivy—"