make it better (alpha!ivy x reader)
Summary: reader's heat is upon her and she needs alpha!ivy
TW: Pin V, bathtub is being use for something other than bathing.
Hello!! I'm back, after getting a massive writer's block, but here's another ivy one-shot for everyone to enjoy <3
If anyone has a request or an ideia (or just want to say something, anything), please, feel free to send them here :)
💖 masterlist
The clock on the wall seemed to mock her. Every tick-tock was a reminder that time was passing, yet her body didn’t seem willing to cooperate. At first, it was just discomfort, a slight pressure in her chest, something she tried to ignore as she focused on the spreadsheets in front of her. The heat was there, like an invisible presence, a soft wave rising up her neck, but she forced a smile and kept typing.
But the sensation grew stronger, like a shadow slowly extending, and soon it became impossible to ignore. Her senses sharpened—the smell of coffee in the room grew stronger, as if the aroma was invading her body and making her more aware of herself.
Her stomach twisted strangely, sharp pangs intensifying low in her belly, and unconsciously, her hand went to her nape, feeling the slight dampness of her skin there. The heat was rising, and her body was beginning to adjust to this new reality, to this demand she could no longer ignore.
She looked around, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. She knew that with Ivy’s mark, there was no risk of another alpha approaching her invasively. His scent enveloped her like a protective cloak, but still, the discomfort was growing. Memories of what was about to come flashed vividly in her mind. Heat was a physical process, but also an emotional one. It made her feel vulnerable, exposed, even if no one else could tell what was happening to her.
She tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts were far away, her muscles tense. Every movement felt heavier, every breath harder to contain. The heat wasn’t just in her temperature; it was spreading slowly, reaching her shoulders, her stomach, her legs.
The secretary sitting across from her got up to deliver a report. As she walked past, the woman’s perfume hit her hard, tightening her chest, and the feeling of being watched became almost unbearable. She forced another smile and looked away, struggling to keep control.
But then the heat intensified again. It was almost as if fire was burning inside her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Her heartbeat quickened, and she abruptly stood up from her chair, feeling a wave of dizziness as she forced herself to walk toward the restroom.
The corridor was empty, and the silence was a relief. She took a deep breath, trying to fight the rising panic. But each breath seemed to feed the fire within her. And then she felt it—the subtle but unmistakable tingling in the lower part of her abdomen. The beginning of an uncontrollable desire, spreading and taking over every inch of her being. She knew her body wouldn’t let her wait much longer. She had to get out of there. She needed refuge.
When she reached the bathroom, she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against the cold wood, struggling to regulate her breathing. The words “you'll leave soon” passed through her mind, but there was no calming her. The heat was overtaking her body, and there was no turning back.
With a heavy sigh, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were misty, her lips fuller than usual. The heat pressing in her chest seemed to reverberate up her throat. She bit her lip, trying to control the rhythm of her breathing, while the desire began to pulse more fiercely inside her.
She left the bathroom, still battling the overwhelming wave of need. The pressure inside her was unbearable, but she forced herself to maintain control as she grabbed her bag and car keys. The heat in her chest and cheeks made her even more uncomfortable, but she needed to leave.
The walk to the car was torture, each step heavy, each breath harder than the last.
She got into the car, started the engine, and drove off. The streets were quiet, but her body was anything but peaceful. At every stoplight, at every acceleration, she felt the fire spreading through her veins. The back of her throat was dry, her lips began to burn, and she had to adjust her grip on the steering wheel to fight the rising discomfort. Her mind was a haze, broken only by flashes of desire. She knew that if she didn’t get home soon, it would only get worse.
Streetlights flickered through the car windows, and she clenched her jaw as she forced herself to breathe slowly. Thinking of Ivy helped, at least a little. Thinking of how he always knew exactly what to do to soothe her, how he was always there, firm and steady—her alpha, her musician—with the power to ease the pressure inside her with just a glance, a touch. But he was at the studio and wouldn't be home anytime soon.
She parked the car in the garage, exhausted and desperate. Her skin was burning to the touch, the heat seeping deep into her bones, her body already responding to primal instincts. She hurried inside, locked the door behind her, and rushed through the house.
She barely crossed the entryway before heading straight for the bathroom, stopping in the kitchen just long enough to grab a bottle of wine in a desperate attempt to soothe herself. She undressed quickly, each piece of clothing feeling like a heavy weight being shed, only increasing the pressure inside her. The wine was there, waiting. She poured some into a glass with trembling hands, took a quick sip, feeling the smooth liquid slide down her throat—but it wasn’t enough to quench the fire burning inside her.
She slipped into the bathtub, letting the hot water envelop her, foam gathering around her body, covering her only partially. But it wasn’t enough. The heat, the desire, the yearning... they were all growing stronger by the second. Her body was begging for Ivy, begging for his presence, for the relief only he could bring.
She closed her eyes, letting the warm water wrap around her. But the loneliness, the repressed need for him by her side, was crushing. With every minute that passed, the heat inside her grew. She could already feel her breathing becoming uneven, her heart pounding faster. The heat wouldn’t leave her alone, and she knew she was about to lose the little control she had left.
It took about half an hour—an eternity—before she heard footsteps in the house. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes locked on the bathroom door, sensing his unmistakable presence.
Ivy.
The door opened softly, and he entered with a calm smile, but his eyes were charged with an intensity she knew all too well. He was calm, but she could see the way his muscles were tense, the way he, too, felt the electricity in the air.
He stopped at the doorway, watching her in the bathtub, her hair pinned up, the water glistening around her naked body. The sight of her, bathed in foam and wine, made his chest tighten. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her, without saying a word.
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening, and her voice came out muffled, almost a desperate whisper.
"Ivy..."
His response was silent but firm. He crouched down beside the tub, his fingers skimming the hot water gently, as if testing the temperature, and then his eyes found hers. The desire was clear in his gaze, as was the certainty that he knew exactly what she needed.
He shed his jacket, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons as he watched her, and moved even closer, his steps soft but filled with authority. When he crouched in front of her, she couldn’t hold herself back. The pressure in her chest intensified again, and she leaned toward him, desperate, as if her body couldn't wait another second.
He tilted his head, pressing his lips tenderly to her forehead, but the touch quickly became more demanding. His blue eyes burned, and she knew the moment had finally come. Relief was about to wash over her entire body when Ivy pulled her closer, his hands firm around her.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked softly, his voice laced with gentle reprimand, his eyes locking onto hers with intense calmness. He traced the back of her hand with his thumb, a soothing motion.
She couldn’t speak, her throat tight and her body pulsing with heat. But at his touch, her fingers slowly closed around his hand, seeking comfort. Ivy noticed and tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating his next move.
With a sigh, he removed his shirt and leaned in closer, his blond hair falling softly over his shoulders. He hadn’t even touched her yet, but his proximity alone made her skin shiver.
"I should have gotten here sooner. You should have told me it started early," he said, his voice thick with tenderness, his hands gliding along the edge of the tub. He was trying to remain calm, but she could feel the care in every movement, in the way he looked at her, as if afraid something had happened.
She closed her eyes for a moment, one hand rising to touch his collar, craving more contact. He didn’t hesitate. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair stuck to her face, and he sighed—a deep, heavy sigh, as if releasing some internal tension.
She nodded faintly, a weak smile curving her lips, but she couldn't speak. Her breathing was heavy, and the pressure in her chest kept building with each passing second. It was hard to even keep her eyes open.
Ivy stood slowly, never breaking contact with her skin. His gaze roamed over her as he unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate, controlled movements. When he came closer again, his fingers gripped the sides of the bathtub, his body tense as he crouched in front of her.
Without another word, he slid his hand through the water until he found the damp skin of her thigh. The touch made her sigh, a small fraction of the tension leaving her body.
"Let me take care of you, okay?" he murmured, his tone gentle but now more commanding. He pulled her hair back again, his breath ghosting against her ear. Just hearing his voice calmed her, her chest pounding but finally finding some relief with his presence.
He continued to move her gently in the water, his fingers now gliding over her skin more possessively, as if his touch was the only thing capable of soothing the overwhelming heat consuming her—and it was.
She didn’t reply, just leaned into him, her palm pressing against his chest as her eyes fluttered shut, her muscles relaxing under his firm, grounding touch.
The hot water seemed to vibrate around them, creating an intimate atmosphere that deepened their connection. Ivy leaned closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, becoming urgent, demanding, as his hands explored her body with a perfect mix of tenderness and possession.
She responded with equal intensity, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The heat that once overwhelmed her now transformed into something different—something that bound her to him completely. Each touch, each movement, was a promise:
I’m here. I understand you. I will take care of you.
Ivy pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
"Are you with me?" he asked, his voice soft but loaded with an intensity that made her heart race even faster.
She nodded, unable to form words, but her gaze was answer enough.
He then began to trail his hands over her body, exploring every curve, every line, as if rediscovering her. The hot water seemed to amplify every sensation, every touch, and she felt herself completely wrapped in him, both physically and emotionally. His lips found her neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made her shudder.
"I love you," he murmured against her skin, his words echoing like a mantra, calming her and exciting her at the same time. Tears slipped from her eyes—not from sadness, but from relief, from gratitude for having him there, for feeling so thoroughly understood and cared for.
"Let me see you," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, thick with raw need.
The air between them seemed to crackle with static. Ivy ran his tongue over his lips, savoring the moment, admiring every detail of her—the goosebumps on her skin, her erratic breathing, the blatant hunger in her every involuntary movement.
He leaned in, brushing his lips along the line of her jaw until he found her mouth in a hungry kiss. This time, there was no room for gentleness. He claimed her, and she surrendered, their mouths molding together in an almost desperate urgency.
His hands roamed over her body as if memorizing every curve, every sigh. A firm hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and she gasped, feeling the hardness of him pressing against her, undeniable proof that he was just as lost as she was.
"You are mine," Ivy growled against her ear, his voice so deep it vibrated straight between her legs, drawing a soft moan from her. "Only mine."
The heat flared higher, tinged with possessiveness.
She grabbed his hair, pulling him even closer, their bodies glued together, the sweat starting to bead where their skins touched. He kissed down her neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh, leaving a blazing trail that made her squirm beneath him.
When his hands finally slid down her thighs, parting them effortlessly, she didn't hesitate. She opened herself to him with a surrendered sigh, giving herself without reservation.
Ivy's touch was firm, knowing, precise. He explored, teased, dominated—but always attentive to her body's every signal. She felt lost, yet safe. A devastating contrast only he could create.
When he finally entered her, it was like a wave of pleasure crashing over her, engulfing her completely.
She arched her body, a muffled cry escaping her lips as Ivy filled every empty space inside her. The sensation was intense, raw, necessary.
He gripped her hips tightly, setting a deep, steady rhythm, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine. She clawed at him, moaned his name, surrendered without fear, feeling her body vibrate with his.
"Ivy... please," she begged, lost, desperate for more.
"I know, my love," he answered, his voice strained with the effort to maintain control. "I know. Let me take care of you."
His words were as vital as his touch—she clung to them, to him, as her only anchor in the storm of sensations.
When he slid his hand between their bodies, seeking the place where she needed him most, she shattered. She cried out his name, feeling the climax tear through her like lightning, ripping her apart from the inside.
Ivy didn’t stop.
He kept moving inside her, supporting her, prolonging the sensation until she no longer knew where she ended and he began.
When he finally gave in, it was with a deep, primal groan, burying his face in the curve of her neck, his body trembling against hers in an ecstasy so profound it seemed endless.
They stayed there, breathless, sweaty, connected in a way that transcended the physical. Ivy caressed her lazily, his fingers tracing slow patterns on her skin, as if anchoring her back to reality.
He hugged her tightly, whispering promises against her damp hair. Still entangled, Ivy pulled her even closer, as if he feared losing her. His warm breath brushed over her skin, and despite the heavy exhaustion between her muscles, she never wanted to let him go. The heat now was different—a comfortable, intimate warmth, unlike the urgency that had consumed her earlier.
Ivy slowly ran his hand down her back, tangling his fingers in her still-damp hair.
"I need to feel you again," he murmured against her neck, his voice rough and drunk with desire. "In bed this time."
She moaned in response, her body reacting instantly to his tone. She was still sensitive, each touch of his sending delicious electric shocks through her nerves. But she wanted more. She needed more.
He helped her out of the tub without pulling away from her for more than a second. The towel he grabbed was more symbolic than practical—he ran it quickly over her skin, but it was his warm, firm hands that truly heated her.
He looked at her as if she were sacred. Every curve, every sigh, every mark he left on her—she was his now. And she knew it.
"You have no idea," he whispered, brushing his lips along her jawline, "how much you destroy me."
She smiled softly, pulling him by the nape until their bodies collided again. No rush, no fear. Just pure, desperate need.
Ivy positioned himself between her thighs, his gaze burning into hers, asking for permission without words. She arched her hips, offering herself, feeling a new, raw heat bloom between her legs.
When he entered her again, it was different. Slower. Deeper. As if he wanted to engrave every second of that moment into her skin.
The movements were rhythmic, intense, but filled with something more: devotion.
He kissed her between rough groans, their bodies molding together in desperate perfection. Each thrust made the bed creak beneath them, the muffled sounds of their passion filling the room.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, wanting to feel him in every inch of her soul.
"Ivy..." she panted against his lips. "Don't stop... ever."
"Never," he promised, burying his face in the curve of her neck. "You're everything to me."
He brushed his lips along the curve of her neck, breathing her in as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. With every heavy breath, the heat between them grew thicker, more unbearable.
His hips moved with more intent, driving deeper inside her. The moan that escaped his lips was almost a sob of pleasure.
"Can you feel it?" he growled, his voice rough against her senses. "How much I belong to you?"
She answered with a broken moan, arching her body to take him even deeper. Their hips moved in perfect synchrony, a primal, uncontrollable dance that consumed everything around them.
Ivy slid his hand along her side, down her belly, until he found the spot where she needed him most. His agile fingers teased, circling slowly, torturing her until she was arching, begging for more.
"Look at me," he commanded, his deep voice vibrating directly through her center.
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze—two burning blue flames locked onto her. His eyes set her on fire, stripped her bare more than his hands ever could.
"That's it, beautiful," he praised, quickening his pace, teasing her mercilessly. "I want to see you break for me."
And she broke.
With a ragged scream, her entire body trembled, violent waves of pleasure tearing through every inch of her. Her legs shook, and she clung to him as if she might drown, her nails digging into his shoulders.
But Ivy didn’t stop.
While she was still unraveling from the explosion, he flipped her easily, pulling her to straddle him without ever pulling out.
"More," he growled against her lips. "Give me more."
She obeyed, moving over him, riding the pleasure like a wild, unstoppable wave. Their bodies slid together, sweaty, frantic, the sound of skin against skin filling the room with an obscene, perfect symphony.
Ivy gripped her waist firmly, guiding her movements, helping her rise and fall over him with a hunger that seemed endless. His eyes never left hers, as if every moan, every shudder, every spasm of pleasure were sacred offerings.
When the next climax approached, she screamed his name, desperate.
"Ivy... God, Ivy, I—"
"Let go," he growled, squeezing her waist even harder. "Let me see you lose yourself for me."
And she did.
The pleasure exploded again, even stronger, ripping a broken, visceral sound from deep inside her. Ivy groaned low, pulling her flush against him as he surrendered too, his whole body trembling beneath hers.
For long moments, they remained motionless, simply breathing the heavy, humid air they shared.
She collapsed against his chest, her heart racing wildly, while Ivy caressed her back in slow, possessive strokes.
"I will never... get enough of you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, still inside her, still connected, as if separating was unthinkable.
She smiled against his skin, feeling tears burning again in her eyes—tears of love, of belonging, of a desire that would never fade.
And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the only place in the world she ever wanted to be: Straddling him, tangled with him, completely and irrevocably his.
Forever.