Paint Font Novels & Stories

In my previous life, no one loved me except my Alpha mate, Grayson. My parents and brothers treated me like a mobile wolf essence bank for my sister Victoria. But Grayson remembered I was afraid of the dark and quietly left a nightlight after my essence transfusions; he kept my casual mention of "wanting to find a quiet place to paint" in his heart, and casually gave me $5 billion to buy my favorite forest. When I confessed my feelings to him, though he was shocked, he still accepted my confession and promised he would definitely mark me. God knows how happy I was then—the person I liked actually liked me too. I only realized when I was dying that his kindness towards me was predicated on my continued donations of wolf essence to Victoria. After my rebirth, the first thing I did was spend five billion dollars to buy an isolated forest. "Miss Ember, are you sure you want to purchase this forest? If you buy it and move in, it'll be nearly impossible to contact the outside world." I nodded, my voice carrying a hint of relief. "That's exactly what I want—somewhere no one can reach me." But when I really left, why did my family and Grayson go crazy and beg me to come back?

In the third year after my fiancée, Iris Ford, falls off a cliff during a sketching trip in the mountains, I accidentally walk into her personal art exhibition. The person I have longed for day and night is right there, gently adjusting the scarf of the young man beside her. The walls are covered with portraits she once promises to paint only for me, but every subject of her paintings is that young man. Violet Bardot, Iris' best friend and the one who once helps me handle her funeral affairs, grabs me anxiously. "Graham, don't do anything rash. Iris has her reasons. After Jack Glenwood saved her, she suffered from a head injury and lost her memory. She didn't mean to stay away." I smile at how ridiculous she is. "It's one thing if Iris lost her memories, but did you lose yours too? Since Iris is still alive, why do you not bring her back? You've watched me live in pain and misery for three years. I had to rely on sleeping pills just to get by. Do you find that amusing?" Violet falls silent and doesn't dare to look at me again. The young man named Jack hides behind Iris timidly. In the next moment, Iris turns to look at me with a frosty expression. "Mr. Stevens, I do not wish to go back. The person I love now is Jack. Since I've forgotten my past, just treat it as memories from a previous lifetime."

In the elite, glass-walled towers of Upper Hill, Adrian Vale is a masterpiece of clinical perfection. A top-tier law student with a future mapped out by his tyrannical father, Adrian survives by the "Rule of Three": precision, discipline, and total emotional detachment. He believes that by controlling every second of his life, he can remain untouchable. Then comes Kai Reyes. A tattooed, underground muralist with silver in his lip and chaos in his veins, Kai is the living antithesis of everything Adrian stands for. When Kai publicly humiliates Adrian by smearing charcoal over his pristine silk tie, the "Ice King" snaps. Driven by a desperate need to re-establish dominance, Adrian offers a high-stakes wager: One week. Kai must move into Adrian’s minimalist apartment and obey his every command. As the doors lock, the psychological warfare begins. Adrian intends to use rigid discipline to crush Kai’s rebellion, but the forced proximity turns the apartment into a pressure cooker of forbidden desire. Kai isn’t just a subject; he is a mirror, reflecting the hollow ghost Adrian has become. When the rules finally shatter, Adrian is forced to confront the "Master" who truly pulls his strings—his father. To save himself, Adrian must trade his golden handcuffs for the raw, uncertain freedom of the streets. In a world of rigid statutes and vibrant paint, he discovers that power isn't about making someone stay—it's being the man they don't want to leave. "Be My Good Boy" is a gripping tale of control, surrender, and the courage to finally be a mess.

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.

After a tragic accident left Emily Yates without her memories, she fell in love with her savior, Justin Yates, unaware that he was hiding the truth and using her as a stand-in for his first love. For three long years, Emily poured everything into the relationship, hoping he would love her back. But on the day Justin proposed, he held his "one true love" in his arms and left Emily stranded on a foreign street, still expecting her to remain his secret mistress. Emily decided she would no longer be his stand-in. She ripped up the contract, kicked Justin out of her life, and hid her pregnancy before faking her death. When word of her death reached Justin, his world shattered. He fell gravely ill, barely clinging to life. Five years later, they crossed paths again. Emily had risen to fame as a renowned painter and jewelry designer, while Justin had swallowed his pride, now shamelessly chasing after her. “Emily, I know I messed up. Please, don’t leave me,” he begged, desperation in his voice. “Emily, can’t you just look at me, not other men? “Emily, I’ll be your model. Come over tonight and paint me, please? “Emily… Emily… My wife…” Emily’s fury boiled over. “Get lost! Who said I was your wife?” But Justin clung to her, refusing to let go, acting shamelessly. “I don’t care. You promised to marry me before, so that makes you my wife. “I don’t care! I don’t care!” he repeated.

Three years after my fiancé fell off a cliff while on a sketching trip in the mountains, I walked straight into his solo art exhibition by accident. And there he was, the man I hadn’t been able to forget for a single day, gently adjusting the scarf around a young woman’s neck. Every wall around us was filled with portraits he once promised he would only ever paint for me. Yet now, every single one of them was of her. Beside me, Timothy Hansen, his closest friend, the one who had helped me handle the aftermath back then, grabbed my arm. “Lexie, don’t do anything rash. Ethan had his reasons. He was rescued by Jane after the fall. He hit his head and lost his memory. It wasn’t on purpose that he didn’t come back.” I gave a wry smile. “So he lost his memory. Did you lose yours, too? If Ethan was alive all this time, why didn’t you bring him back? You watched me spend the last three years drowning in pain, surviving on sleeping pills. Was that entertaining for you?” Timothy said nothing. He didn’t even dare to look at me. Meanwhile, the girl—Jane Green—shrank back, hiding behind Ethan like a frightened animal. Then, Ethan finally looked at me, his expression cold and distant. “Ms. William, I didn’t come back because I didn’t want to. Jane is the one I love. As for the past, since I don’t remember it, just think of it as something from a past life.”

Willow Wildwoods is a witch, she has self esteem issues mostly stemming from her poor relationships and her narcissistic boyfriend. She is a curvy girl and an artist, but when a full moon ritual and a wish opens up a whole new world where she discovers her boyfriend isn’t what he seems and that she has four supernatural fated mates she is in for a wild ride. Hikaru’s private jet sets down at Logan Airport under the full moon and they get ushered to a penthouse where they will be under the protection of werewolves. The little nonbinary fox shifter will have a personal guard who they immediately realize is their fated mate. Asim doesn’t like the idea of babysitting a fox shifter. He’s a warrior and Alpha Guard, why should he have to babysit some foreign fox shifter? How is he supposed to do his duty when that little shifter turns out to be the mate he has been waiting to meet his entire life? Aiden gave up on love and meeting his mate. His fated mate didn’t even acknowledge the bond 200 years ago, so now that he has met Willow and has a second chance he won’t let her slip through his claws at any cost. He will have the little witch paint a mural for his supernatural nightclub and show her just how generous dragon shifters can be. Raff seems to be carefree, skateboarding through the underground fae markets and creating street art by day, bartending by night. But he knows there is more to life and his girlfriend isn’t it. How do they all come together and what about these mysterious disappearances of supernatural beings that keep occurring? How is it connected to them?

There's an unspoken rule in my household—everyone has to engage in a drinking competition during the holidays. Whoever gets wasted first will have to pay off one year's worth of house and car mortgages for the other two siblings. In the first year, I collapsed after my first glass of alcohol. I had to pay the house mortgage for my oldest sister, Dahlia Zeller. In the second year, as soon as I picked up my glass, I fainted right away. Since then, I had to pay off Jasmine Zeller, my second sister's car loan. For the next 20 years, I've always been the loser. In the end, my wife, Jean McCarthy, is forced to jump off a building because of the huge debt I've racked up. The debtors keep dumping paint onto my residence, forcing me to deter away from it. Ransacked by guilt, I end up damaging my stomach from overdrinking when I attempt to train my alcohol tolerance. As a result, half of my liver has gotten removed. When I'm on the verge of death, I hear my parents snickering outside my ward. "Don't you think we've laced too many sleeping pills in his drink? He almost didn't wake up back then!" "It's fine. He's an idiot who merely thinks he has a low alcohol tolerance. Our family still relies on him for financial survival, you see. We can keep drugging him so that he'll keep getting wasted." When I open my eyes again, I've already gotten reborn in the timeframe when I'm sitting at the dining table in the 20th year.

“Paint me.” She said and immediately he looked up, his pupils dilated and he froze. “W..what.. you.” he stuttered, stumbling over his words despite his bear sized build and rough looks. “Why professor? You said you needed a muse, you didn't say you needed a dressed one.” She muttered, her lips curving into a smirk and then as his eyes raked over her naked body, she began to trace the contours of her shape. Slowly, her hand slid downwards massaging, caressing and working her body and then it finally stopped right between her legs. As she made to speak, the door slammed open and she watched two other hulking figures saunter in, their shoulders trembling. In their eyes, she saw anger, possessiveness and lust that made her both hot and scared at the same time. *** Christiana is in no way what one would call a saint. She was the brattiest and craziest firecracker. So when one of the features of her fantasy makes an appearance, you cannot expect that she would not want to live out her fantasies. Especially when suddenly she has to live in the same house as the man of her fantasies. Christiana had three problems. One, her parents were suddenly involved in an accident, leaving her in both despair and debt. Two, Her father's closest friend suddenly asked her to move in with him. Three, Her father's best friend is in fact none other than the star in her fantasies. As if that's not enough, she also has to tackle two hockey brothers who would do anything to claim her as theirs. Maybe, her problem is more than three. Fuck that, three is the right number. Three hot men who make her body burn like never before. What will Christiana do?

Ever since I married Myra Cowan, I started living like a beggar despite making an annual salary of a million dollars. She kept telling me, "We should hang in there for now, honey. Once we've saved enough money, we'll be able to live however we want without worrying about our financial situation." My closet was stuffed with old suits bought ten years ago. My lunches were always sandwiches, which were nearing their expiry dates, bought from convenience stores. My friends made fun of me for marrying a woman who was addicted to saving money. But my heart went out to Myra for suffering with me in life. But when I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer and needed money for a life-saving surgery, Myra broke down in tears and told me that all of our savings were kept in a fixed-term deposit. Before I drew my last breath, I heard Myra telling her younger brother, Dwight Cowan, over the phone in a gentle tone, "I've already transferred you the down payment for your house." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Myra demands that I sell my gaming account in exchange for money. The monitor shows a familiar login screen. Myra can be seen standing next to me. "This account can be sold for 8,000 dollars. We can save three months' worth of expenses with this money!" I just laugh in response. In my previous life, I had done nothing but save money. In the end, all of my money became someone else's assets. Why the hell should I save money in this life? With just one click on the mouse, I reload a million dollars into the game right away. Immediately, a reddish-golden meteor shower covers the skies of the entire server. The system makes an announcement in a bold, enlarged font that gets repeated for a long time. "Player 'Void' spares no expense, inviting fair maidens from across the realms to forge a destined bond! Those who are interested are welcome to attend the Celestial Lake Gathering. A bride price of one million awaits—offered in exchange for a single, sincere heart."