Bob Velseb x Reader "𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓼' 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 "

𝓣 𝓱 𝓲 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽

A/N:⚠️TW⚠️: MENTIONS OF: Kidnapping, cannibalism, murder, stalking, violence, blood, inflicting pain, etc.

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"Yer comin' with me, lil' snack."

The last words you heard before you descend into a cold slumber, in which made it easier for the man to lift your frame securely over his shoulder, the sounds of fabric against the fabric of his sweater fill the quiet, chilled air as he does so. In comparison to his strength, you're practically a ragdoll in this motion.

He chuckles to himself at this, knowing that you're no less vulnerable now then you were when you were conscious.

That serves as a thrill to him in this hunt, which he plans to draw out for a while.

All before you, all the others had coward, had fallen, whimpered, broken before him; But only after putting up a good fight.

Taking you home... Well, he couldn't resist. You were too vulnerable, in all honesty, he may have thought of it as if he was doing you a favor.

He smiles, beginning to make his way through the shadows of the night with you limp upon his shoulder, thinking of all the things you two could do together.

Eventually, you come too. Scents invade your senses, prominently those of rust and sweat, both tinged with the foul exposure to rot. You cringe at the throbbing in your head, instinctually moving your hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose, as if that would have helped. You quickly come to find that your movements have been restricted by the rope gripping harshly at your wrists.

You let out an audible groan, moving your head in an attempt to roll out the stiffness if your neck. Your eyes hesitate to peel open, met with the sight of a horribly familiar figure before you. Though, he's definitely much more visible to you now then he had been in the casted dark of Halloween's shadows.

He's rather tall, even though he's crouched before you on one knee. His shoulders slope down into baggy, red sleeves which flow over his arms. These sleeves expand from the blood red sweater he wears, which drapes over the rather plump figure of his torso.

Just as quick as he had taken you, the memories of the previous circumstances come forth and into your conscious, and a slap of fear slithers through you in form of a swelling, gutful panic which growing in your chest and up your throat. Your heart only quickens, almost as if to spread this feeling of dread.

"Where.., Who-"

"My place, (Y/N). What, ya' don't like or somethin'?

You're taken aback. Did he just call you by your name?

"How did you-"

Before you can finish your sentence, he raises a gloved hand to reveal your ID pinched between his pointer and middle finger.

"I been watchin' you fer awhile... Just didn't get yer name till now."

He watches and simply tosses your ID away behind himself somewhere, smiling wider than human and reading the details of your face as the feeling continues to crawl through you. This is only amplified when you realize that the man is now taunting you, grasping a knife in one hand which he sharpens with a tool in the other. He doesn't bother keeping an eye on the blade as he does, too fixated on watching the delicious fear that just radiates from you with a manic devotion.

Your eyes only widen, and you have the burning urge to scream. You only stifle yourself when you take into account just how quick that knife can be against your throat again, the mere thought of this igniting the soreness upon the slight cut which already resides upon your neck along with the bite from before.