Bob Velseb x Reader "𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓼' 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 "

𝓜 𝔂 𝓛 𝓪 𝓶 𝓫

A/N: ⚠️TW⚠️: MENTIONS OF: Kidnapping, murder, cannibalism, manipulation, possessiveness blood, gore, inflicting pain, mature themes, disturbing content, etc.

Thought this series could use a little fluff, so I tried my best to impliment some. Think of this chapter as the save point with loot before a boss fight. >:3
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"Well, you sure are a smart cookie. See, didn't I tell ya' you'd be useful?"

You stifle yourself for a moment, mostly as you're unsure how to respond.
Though, you don't get to. Before you can, the silence is filled with the sound of his chair letting out a whine as he lifts himself up from its seat, grabbing onto the free length of rope he used to lead you with previously.

"C'mon now, let's get ta' the rest."

You take in a breath, adjusting yourself to this new normal.
Was this going to be forever? We're you ready for that?

Stuck here with this 'Bob Velseb', hm?

Way to go, (Y/N).

Your thoughts were cut short by a sharp, stabbing pain bashing into your thigh.

No way to go, (Y/N).

You look down only to realize that in your rush to stand, you've hit the wound on your thigh against the corner of the coffee table. This, effectively, reopened the injury. You hiss in through grit teeth, instinctively reaching to put pressure against the flood of red with the palms of your hands, holding them there.

The other merely watches for a moment, silent and unmoving. His body jumps a bit, digits grasping onto the rope now giving a subtle clench against the rough fabric. The red staining the fabric of your bottoms continues flowing in a thick trickle. He can feel the thirst growing again, swallowing the saliva in his throat which pools with his hunger.

He breaks himself out of the deep trance he finds himself set in, moving to you.
You can't help but jump at this action, the reaction practically built into you at this point.

"Not gonna hurt ya' right now, lambchop. Quite the opposite, actually."

You don't protest, because well, how could you? He takes a look at the wound, really just trying to process the severity. You swear that for a split second, his pupils flash to dilate a little. You gulp, hoping the other stands by his word with no harmful intent.

Without warning, one of his arms is under your knees. The other moves to scoop you up and off of the floor by your waist, just as easy as he had done back on Halloween night. You let out a slight hiss, the movement doing little to help with the pain of your injury.

"Sorry, lamb. I reckon s' better than walkin' on it."

As soon as he'd lifted you, your heart started racing, and his voice had done little to help. Was it fear? Intimidation? Both, really... Maybe. You couldn't put your shaking finger on it even if you tried.

Well, you quickly shove that self-confrontation deep, deep down for another time. Today was not the day for that. You had other things to worry about. Much bigger things... Like the huge, homicidal, cannibalistic man who's now setting you down to sit on a flat, cold surface. You look down to see what said surface is, quickly realizing it's a countertop in the dimly lit bathroom he's carried you into.

"If I take these off'a ya', are we gonna have any problems?"

He says this, gently grasping onto to ropes around your abused wrists. You shake your head, looking at the other with a look comparable to a 'please'. He removes them as promised, tossing them off somewhere before moving away. You're confused for a moment. That is, until you see him humming to himself as he ruffles around in what looks like a small first-aid kit.