johnson090

Wanting more Abby💕 My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they’d be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me—I can’t remember his name at the moment—grunts his way through pounding into my pussy. His hands dig into my hips and sweat drips onto my back. My walls clench around his hard cock, but it still isn’t enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat—not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release—forms on my brow. Fisting the sheets in my hands, I ram my hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. Looking over my shoulder, I growl, “Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me.” The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it’ll leave a mark later. I don’t care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over. “Fuck, babe,” he groans. “I fuck you any harder, I’ll plow you into the mattress.” “Just do it,” I hiss. “Jesus,” he grunts, but does as he’s told and slams his hip bones into my ass as he pumps into me forcefully. I straighten my arms when his thrusts push my body forward. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, followed by a low moan when he finally hits the spot I need him to. My fingers start to tingle from lack of circulation, so I unwrap them from the sheet. My body starts to quiver with the first ripple of my orgasm. I close my eyes, and tiny sparks of light shoot behind my lids as the cramps in my stomach turn to flutters of delight. I lower my arms and lay my head against the cool sheets as immense pleasure takes over my body. The guy behind me still pounds away, jerking my hips back to him. I pay him no mind, content to just lay here and let him have at it. I got what I needed from him, it’s only fair that he reaches his peak as well. Several minutes pass before he grunts and stiffens behind me. He releases my hips, and I immediately drop to the bed. He falls down beside me with his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. Now that my brain is functioning properly again, his name comes back to me in a flash Matt. Matt was my lifesaver for the night. As appreciative as I am of him, I really need him to go now; I don’t like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don’t let them stay afterwards. I don’t do relationships. I know I’m a bitch—using men for sex and discarding them—but I have a damn good reason. I roll to my side and get out of bed. I bend with my ass facing Matt to pick up his clothes to toss at him. I lost my modesty a long time ago, and if it wasn’t for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I’d never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I’m fine, but by the time evening rolls around, the urge grips me tight and leaves me in a near panicked state. I came so close to having an anxiety attack tonight. I thought I would have to call my friend, Nathan, to come rescue me. Luckily, Matt showed up and caught my eye at the perfect time. And here we are now, an hour later, with him still lying on my bed, and me standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He didn’t take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I’m going to have to be blunter. I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. “Hey, it’s time to go.” His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. “Can’t you give a guy a minute to recover?” he mutters. “No. I need you to leave right now,” I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips. I’m exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I’m treating this guy, but I push it back. I’ve learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I’d have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it’s the only way to protect myself. Only a handful of people know the real me. Matt grumbles as he drags himself from the bed. I ignore him and pull on a cami, sans bra. Using the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my thick blonde hair up into a ponytail as I wait for him to finish. I tap my fingers on the doorframe I’m leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It’s normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s grating on my nerves. He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I’m just about to turn around and lead him to the door when he boxes me in by planting his hands on the doorframe on either side of me. “

Casey woke up with a throbbing skull in a glamorous dressing room, facing a public execution by an internet mob. Her wealthy family had thrown her away. Her hypocritical sister, Coralie, forced a holographic tablet into her hands, demanding she join a deadly survival reality show on a wasteland planet. "It's what Mommy wants. If you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons." The whole world wanted her dead. On the live broadcast, billions of viewers cursed her as a toxic stalker. The golden boy idol Kayson physically attacked her to defend Coralie's honor. Even the show's staff mocked her, deliberately leaving her with nothing but a torn, broken tent and a single bottle of water for the lethal alien wilderness. The universe was playing a cruel joke on her. She was framed as the villain of her sister's perfect story, banished to a wasteland where everyone expected her to cry, beg, and die on live television. But they didn't know she had already survived a decade in the ruins. Casey didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she invoked a hidden contract clause, demanding a full year on the planet instead of the standard month. "I'll survive for a year, and the planet becomes mine." She grabbed her broken tent, stepped onto the red alien dirt, and prepared to show the universe what a real predator looked like.

Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress. But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die. "We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess." Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction. She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot. She refused to accept this ending. Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

Once the cherished heiress of the Douglas family, she lost everything when her parents were brutally murdered and she was framed by her own blood. Labeled a criminal, she was cast into prison with no one to trust and nothing to her name. Six years later, she returns-not as a broken woman, but as the Scarlet Valkyrie, the deadliest warrior in all of Juzora. Her aim is flawless, her signature weapon Manjusaka strikes without mercy, and her name alone sends tremors through the underworld. With one hand, she saves her ailing grandmother with the precision of a master healer. With the other, she takes down Draco City's most ruthless criminals. But her true purpose is vengeance. Every debt owed, every wound inflicted, every lie told-she will settle them all, with interest. The war goddess has returned. And the ones who wronged her are about to learn what it means to face the wrath of a legend.

She died in the apocalypse-betrayed, abandoned, and torn apart by the infected. Then she woke up. Two months before the end of the world. Twenty-two years old again. And on her wrist, a wooden bracelet that her mother had left behind. The bracelet came with a system. A system that eats gold. With enough gold, she can unlock infinite storage for food, water, weapons-anything she needs to survive. The super-hurricane, the floods, the insect plagues, the volcanic winter, the scorching heat... she knows exactly what's coming. While the world sleeps, Joanna shops. She drains her aunt's bank account, maxes out every loan she can find, and buys out half the city. The apocalypse is coming. She'll be ready. But when the chaos begins, the wolves come crawling back-relatives who sold her, friends who betrayed her, a father who abandoned her. They want her food. Her water. Her mercy. Joanna has a different plan. "Why don't you decide who dies first?"

The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss. As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family. In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter. I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate. I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath. Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again. She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house.

Caryn lay pinned beneath concrete slabs in the apocalyptic ruins, a steel rebar crushing her chest. Her fiancé, Ford, knelt in the narrow gap above her, completely unharmed. "Sorry, babe. It's a new world. Survival of the fittest." He sneered, twisting the cap off their last bottle of purified water. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with a clean hand, and told her she would just waste it. He had manipulated her into signing over her uncle's house-her only defensible shelter-just to sell it for cash. Now, as a violent aftershock ground the concrete down to crush her completely, Ford scrambled away without a single backward glance. For five brutal years of starvation and injury, she had clung to him and her grandmother's antique locket, only to die betrayed and full of agonizing regret. Why had she been so foolish to trade her survival for a lie? A gasp of frigid air flooded her lungs, and her eyes flew open to a smooth, white ceiling. She wasn't in the dusty ruins; she was in her pristine silk bed sheets. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she stared at the date on the screen. It was exactly thirty days before the world would crack apart. She looked at the silver locket in her hand, a diamond-hard rage crystallizing in her chest. This time, she would activate its secret, and she would bleed Ford and his family dry before the apocalypse even began.

Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell. The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent. It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash. The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again? "For the honor of the family, you leave today." Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.

As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess. When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place. To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach. On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance. "Let her die. It might be for the best." I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood. Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor. I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night. Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity. Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock. But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live. I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure. "I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him. In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.

Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining. Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her. She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip. And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them. Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death. "Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free." "If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males." To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her. She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her. She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind. But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic. She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time. Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.