(Ghostface X Depressed Female Reader) Premise: A young women has recently moved into a new home that her late grandfather passed onto her. Between her loneliness, anxiety disorder and depression, she finds her one way to cope is by researching and learning about serial killers. Through her facisnation she becomes mainly obsessed with the infamous Ghostface, and upon a faithful night, comes face to face with him. Gradually she builds an intimate relationship with the killer, and rather than fear him, looks forward to his nightly visits. -Trigger Warning ⚠️ this story contains content that may or may not upset some readers, with issues relating to self harm, alcoholism, abuse, and mental health disorders. (However, if you came looking for an xreader story with a serial killer, you're likely prepared. Just wanted to put the warning out there.)

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

"Please..please touch me Naomi." He murmured those words, peering up at me through his lashes and expressing a look coated in lust and pleading. It's almost scary how he could go from possessive and intimidating one moment, to submissive and needy in the next. "Naomi...please. I'm so hot. I need you." He begged me, with no shame at all. The jealous and brooding Alpha King from earlier was slumped on his fancy bathroom floor...begging me to touch him. ---------- In which thousands of people disappear on one night every century. Why? Simple. Every lycan needs a mate. (This story has mature themes. Please read at your own risk)