Outline Freddy Krueger Drawing

His hot breath fanned my ear and I nearly died the moment the straps of my dress fell away. Revealing a part of myself that left me vulnerable to his hungry gaze that moved over me. I pride myself on decency, to always be appropriate but the way he clenched his jaw and ran his large hands on my thighs made me go. . . to hell with decency. Reaching out, the need to touch him no longer bearable, I traced the outline of his torso through the fabric of his shirt. But even that wasn't enough as my hands moved underneath the fabric to trace the muscles there. He shifted slightly away triggering a fear in me that I had done something wrong. However, the fear diminished when he removed the fabric- granting my eyes the chance to feast on seeing more of his skin. He moved forward peppering light kisses all over my neck and torso only to latch onto my nipple tugging gently on the hard nub. I cried out at the movement of his teeth and tongue as his hands kept me close hindering any chance to reduce the contact to damn near impossible. Reducing the contact was the last thing I wanted, especially considering how far we had come. . .

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

After my death, I found myself inside a romance strategy game, where the system assigned me three male leads. If I followed its instructions and successfully captured the heart of any one of them, I would return alive and well in the real world. Drawing on my experience, I crafted careful scripts to win their affection. Yet, every attempt ended in failure. The reason was simple: each of them had already fallen for the dazzling heroine of their world. They hurled cruel words at me, as if wishing I would just drop dead. In the end, I fulfilled their desire—when my strategies failed, the system erased me. But the moment I died, they all regretted it. One by one, they begged the heavens to return me to them.

" I can be your angel saving you from nightmares and I can also be the monster under your bed, clawing at you when you sleep", Leo whispered drawing her closer to him. " I am ruthless, don't try to change me", he smiled gripping her neck. "You are a monster", Elizabeth spat to which he laughed. Elizabeth, a nineteen years old orphan found herself in the street of America after escaping from the orphanage. Stealing and pickpocketing has been her means of survival. She found herself in the most dangerous situation when she stole an important item from the most powerful American mobster. Will he take interest in her or will she become one of his pawns?

I am a postgraduate archaeology student whose fieldwork combines GIS technology with excavation, and during one project I become entangled in a concealed emotional relationship with two lecturers. Linus is restrained, intellectually rigorous, and emotionally distant, offering a sense of order and safety rooted in academic discipline, while Theo is charismatic, passionate, and ethically unstable, drawing me into intensity and risk. What begins as professional admiration develops into intimacy shaped by secrecy, hierarchy, and blurred boundaries. As the excavation exposes layered traces of past lives, I am forced to confront my own desire, ambition, and guilt, and the story ultimately centres not on choosing between two men, but on learning how to live with complexity and accept the consequences of crossing lines.

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

They never knew about her… A fairy tale, for Irwen, was something truly extraordinary—a destiny tied by a bond that seemed unbreakably strong and magical. But her mate had betrayed her, treating everything she had done as meaningless nonsense. Fine. Irwen understood—and decided that betrayal deserved a revenge. The Alpha King had exceeded her expectations. He helped her, and even proposed a marriage contract. He began to heal her frozen heart, drawing them into a more complicated relationship. To Irwen, it felt like stepping back into a fairy tale—one that might end in pain again. “I want you to be my Luna.” “I will protect you.” “I will stay by your side.” But will those promises hold true when they’re faced with something that stands in opposition? The healer and her chains…

I leave my boyfriend without a word when he's at his lowest. He later makes a name for himself and forces me to marry him. Our relationship goes viral online and becomes the subject of everyone's envy. They all say he's desperately in love with me, but he later sleeps with other women in our bed. I fall from grace and become the city's biggest laughingstock. I don't cause a scene. Instead, I move into the guest bedroom and leave the master bedroom for them. He's furious as he grips my neck roughly. He bites my lips, drawing blood. "Why aren't you mad?" Because I'm sick. I don't have the time to wait for him to see the error of his ways anymore.

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

"Dario, someone might see us," She tried to pull away, with a hint of nervousness in her voice as she whispered. But Dario wasn't deterred. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with his fingers lingering on her cheek, and his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. Ivy's heart began to race as she tried to back away. "You're looking sexy this morning," he said, his voice low and husky. "And that dress...you're driving me wild." Ivy's heartbeat quickened at his words, her body responding to his touch. She couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. She could feel the breath on her skin as he leaned in closer, with his lips inches from hers, she knew she was lost. "I want you, Ivy," he whispered. Ivy closed her eyes, unable to resist the pull of his gaze. He pressed his soft lips to hers, and she felt a wave of desire wash over her. As their kiss deepened, she knew that there was no turning back. One night in a club changed everything for a billionaire CEO and his secretary. A passionate and romantic night together led to an unexpected twist when they both discovered she's his new secretary and he's her boss. Can they navigate the lines of power and passion, or will their forbidden love be doomed from the start?