Good Omens Art Novels & Stories

Rosie, an introvert whose presence feels like serenity to Anthony. Two people with completely different natures, from two different worlds find themselves consumed by one other. Rosie finally feels seen, Anthony finally realizes what magic feels like. While they keep being pulled towards each other like magnets, they are kept apart by their own doubts and hesitations.

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira." "You know he never liked her," she added quietly. In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression. She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart. It wasn't love that brought them a child—it was a night of drunken confusion. He'd pushed her onto the bed, dazed and careless, and Kira came from that. Afterward, he gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. His only condition was simple: the child must never call him father. Publicly, Graham remained a single man. "I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope. "I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. That child doesn't exist to me."

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. “Celeste, you know Isabella has been sick for years.” “Yes, I know,” I said bitterly. “I know because you remind me every single day.” He ignored the edge in my voice. “She’s not getting better. The doctors said she probably has a year left.” I swallowed hard. “And how does that concern me?” “She has one last wish,” he said quietly. “She wants to get married before she dies.” He wants to divorce me and remarry me after a year, but that’s nonsense! I’m tired of this marriage. This divorce isn’t a joke to me; I’m taking it seriously.

My husband insisted that I wear high heels at the company’s annual meeting despite being pregnant. He compared me to his female secretary with a look of disdain. "Can’t you learn from Lucille? She’s eight months pregnant and still comes to work in full makeup, handling her tasks efficiently. If you don’t wear them, don’t go. I’ll be embarrassed!" He even tried to give the high heels to his secretary and take her as his date. Left with no choice, I forced myself to wear them. However, on the balcony, the secretary tripped me, spilling red wine all over me. Limping, I found my husband, only for him to sneer, "Tripping on flat ground? How clumsy!" Furious and pale with anger, I turned to leave. Someone urged him to chase after me, but he only got angrier. "How bad could it be? She’s so timid—she can’t survive without me! Just wait. When the event’s over, she’ll definitely be waiting in the car to drive me home." Alas, he was wrong. I turned and went straight to the hospital for an abortion.

Warning ⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️‼️ This is an EROTICA Collection, 18+ only. Do not read if you're below that age. --- "You’re so warm,” he muttered, his hands gripping my waist as I began to move. A shudder ran through me as the rhythm built, my fingers clutching his shoulders for support while I rocked forward and back. “Fucking hell… you’re so good,” he groaned, pulling me closer. I leaned forward slightly, my hands resting beside his neck as I held onto him. “You like that?” I asked softly, my voice shaky. “You know I do,” he replied with a smirk. I moved again, slowly finding a rhythm, my breathing growing heavier with each movement. His hands tightened around my waist as the tension between us grew stronger. “We’re just getting started,” he whispered in my ear.

Domenico Pietro de Cerintti, in the eyes of everyone was the good boy, the sacrificial lamb, the one who attended all the classes and obeyed all the rules, the one who would not let a puppy get run over by a car, the one who didn't have a girl in his bed every Friday night, the one who didn't smirk, the one who girls liked but never wanted, the one who girls used and dumped, the one who wasn't badass. He lived with that image, was content with it even with the bullying until a certain day when they crossed the line, the one line they were never to cross. He disappeared. And appeared months later, in college; the college that had a good percent of his highschool student in attendance; changed, for the worse. Rosetta D'armani, one of his mates in highschool and now his mate in college, who never bullied him but who also never saved him from the bullies. She was, as defined by the male folk, hot, sexy, drool worthy. She saw him on his first day back and lusted after him. She followed him, sought after him, chased after him with every breath in her. He made her lick his heels. After all he was badass now. He smirked now, he had girls in his bed not only every Friday night but every night, the girls wanted him, he used and dumped them now, he was badass. But oh...those bullies didn't know his definition of badass. Badass for him meant revenge. He would revenge on each one of them including his beloved girlfriend. He'd show them just how hot badass burned. One mysterious girl, one desperate girl, one perfect girl and one revengeful boy. ???

From the time I was little, something in me was always a little off—I never listened to the whole story, only half of it. My grandmother called me a good-for-nothing who was financially burdening the family. She bought a little boy to be my younger brother and told me to take good care of him. I understood the part about buying a child, so I immediately called the police and reported her for illegal human trafficking. My father pointed at my face and cursed me for being unfilial, accusing me of cutting off his family line. I obeyed him, crept into his room while he slept that night, and used a knife to "cut off his lineage." My father screamed in agony. In the chaos, he accidentally killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I had transmigrated into the female lead of a melodramatic abuse novel. After ten years of marriage to the cruel male lead, his childhood sweetheart had just returned from abroad and was undergoing kidney surgery. He dragged me to the hospital and cruelly ordered me to donate a kidney to his precious first love. I nodded obediently, went out and bought a pig, and on the spot dug out the pig's kidney and handed it to him.

Jessica Jane is invisible by design. Quiet, soft spoken, and almost painfully unassuming, she spends her days hidden behind oversized glasses and paint stained hands in her elegant city art gallery. To the people around her, she is simply a gifted but awkward artist, a woman who keeps to herself and pours her emotions into hauntingly beautiful paintings that seem to possess an almost unsettling depth. Critics call her work raw. Emotional. Alive. They have no idea how right they are. Behind the gallery walls lies a secret darker than anyone could imagine. Jessica's masterpieces are not created with ordinary paint. Mixed into every canvas is the blood of the men she chooses as her subjects, men she believes escaped justice, men whose cruelty mirrors the monsters that stole her childhood. By night she becomes someone unrecognisable. Elegant, calculated and merciless, hunting predators who believe they are untouchable. As her artwork gains international attention and a determined investigator begins noticing disturbing patterns surrounding missing men, Jessica finds herself balancing two identities that are beginning to collide. Because the closer the world gets to discovering the truth, the more dangerous Jessica becomes. And buried beneath the blood, vengeance and carefully constructed masks is an even darker question: Is Jessica Jane delivering justice... or becoming the very thing she has spent her life trying to destroy?

Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her closer. His fingers dug into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Sara's hands were just as busy, her fingers tracing the lines of Austin's face, her thumbs brushing against his lips. "I hate you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their kissing. Their lips parted for a moment, and Austin's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Sara's lower lip. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Sara's hands began to roam, her fingers tracing the contours of Austin's chest. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. As she exposed his chest, Austin's eyes locked onto hers, a warning flashing in their depths. "You'll hate me tomorrow," he said, his voice low and rough. Sara's eyes flashed with defiance, her hands continuing to explore Austin's chest. "We don't like each other anyway," she said, her voice husky with desire.

Mom was a top student at a prestigious school and had always been determined to be the best at everything. She demanded that I learn to walk by seven months, speak fluently by eighteen months, and master all addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division by the age of three. I did all of it. Yet Mom still felt it wasn’t enough. However, when my younger brother, Liam, didn’t speak until he was five, Mom clapped and cheered when he finally did, celebrating his “late-blooming brilliance”. I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day, I was wearing headphones, memorizing Spanish words, and accidentally let the sound leak out, scaring Liam. He clutched his chest and cried, saying his heart hurt. Mom’s eyes turned red as she stormed over and slapped me. Then she grabbed my ear, twisting it a full 360 degrees with all her strength. The pain in my ear was so intense that I lost all feeling, and the fear made me nauseous to the point of vomiting. Still, Mom forced the headphones back on, cranked the volume to the maximum, and locked me in the storage room to reflect. “How could I give birth to such a terrible child? You’re just jealous of Liam. No matter how much I do for you, you’ll never appreciate it! “Love listening to words, huh? Then listen all you want.” But seven days later, when she opened the door, she completely lost it.