INCiSORS

“This may become a little brutal if I’m honest, but it’s any-anything for you my dear I promise…~🔪🥩🩸”

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NSFW! w1wd scenarios/hcs, Daniil x F!reader:

how would he react and act when your breasts start producing milk(bonus: damnya as a father):

warning: minors, this is not for you. sexual content, smut/lemon whatever you name it.(kill me, idk how to put proper warnings lmao, tho this should be clear-)

★ the day you started producing milk, just a short while-days-after giving birth, from your breasts daniel did not miss that moment, and he was even over joyed like his baby that he held in his arms.

★ your breasts were swollen, sensitive and tender, when your breasts felt heavy and full, your poor sensitive nipples dripping soaking your shirt, guess who was there to relieve it—when the baby was full, taking a nap of course—.. Daniel!

★ he'd massage them gently with his large hands, never letting that milk go to waste, he'd rest ontop of you, balancing his weight on his elbows and work softly on your tender breasts, sucking on your nipples relieving some of that pressure...

★ he stores bottles of your breast milk in the fridge

★ when he puts the baby to sleep, he'd come to you, both of you exhausted, you lift the blanket tapping gently the spot next to you and he'll immediately kick his shoes and cuddle with you....

★ Daniel wouldn't fuck you after birth... but that doesn't mean he'll hold back, he'll still either hump your thighs or ass or even ask for a handjob...

"gosh... you look so hot as a mom my dear..." he grunts in your ear, your soft thighs squeeze his length as he thrusts fast, spilling cum on your still-swollen tummy with a low growl...♡

★ "feeding our baby my little cow..?" he cooes sometimes when you're breastfeeding your baby, he just watches in amusement, maybe even sometimes he'd nudge your arm trying to get the second breast to himself.. but the baby is defensive over his food and uses a smoll leg to push danya's face away >:3333

and Daniel? he'd actually get sad sometimes..-

★ if you ever felt too overwhelmed/stressed/over stimulated, he'd take the baby give you a little space while having some fun quality time with his newborn child. he does understand that this can be stressing at times.

★ you'd catch yourself smiling at him when hes holding your baby with all love and care, when he sees that smile his cheeks slightly flush bright red and he mirrors your smile.

★ feeling insecure about your body after birth? no worries princess, he got you, if he sees you crying in front of a mirror while checking the stretch marks on your body, he'd actually kneel behind you, hands resting on your hips as he reaches and peppering kisses on every part of your body that you hate murmuring sweet nothings to you with each kiss.

⚠️ Warnings: gore, non-consensual elements, psychological horror, and extreme sexual content. This material is intended for a mature, horror-literate audience only.

🔨 You escaped him. Once. Just once. You thought the fire, the blood, the sirens, the months in hiding—it would be enough. But he was never really gone. You left a piece of yourself behind in that basement: your fear, your sleep, your sanity. That was the breadcrumb he followed.

🔨 He watched you for months before acting. Let you feel safe. Watched you move into a new apartment, change your hair, get a job. He was so proud. You were thriving. You deserved to have it all—just so he could take it all away again.

🔨 When he takes you this time, it’s not chaos like the first time. No. It’s surgical. Clinical. You wake up in a sterile, windowless room with white walls, no door, and a thick mirror that isn’t a mirror at all. It’s his eyes.

🔨 He talks to you through speakers, his voice warped by distortion and rage-suppressing drugs. His affection is now laced with venom. “You made me like this. Do you see what you’ve done to us?”

🔨 There’s no more pretending to be gentle. No more pretending at all. He’s your god now, your captor, your judge, and he is not merciful. He’s not here to earn your love anymore— he’s here to own you.

🔨 He drugs you frequently, not just to keep you compliant, but to rewrite your sense of time. Weeks pass in blinks. Sometimes you wake up and your fingernails are gone, or your teeth feel… wrong. Too loose.

🔨 You can’t remember your own name some days. He never uses it. He calls you “Маленькая жена” or worse: “me”—as if you’re part of him now, an extension of his will.

🔨 His “love” is violence. He carves little symbols into your skin while humming the songs you used to sing in the shower. “You stopped singing,” he says as he digs into your thigh. “So I made you a new voice.”

🔨 One night, he leaves you in the room with a box. Inside is the corpse of someone you once dated—preserved. Dressed up like you. Glass eyes stitched into place. Their tongue sewn into a smile

🔨 He keeps you underground, where no sound escapes. No windows. Just flickering yellow lights, the hum of an old freezer, and the constant drip of water echoing through the concrete. (not in the game but I like the idea)

🔨 He makes you watch videos of yourself— ones he took while you slept. While you showered. While you screamed.

🔨 Sometimes he ties your limbs down until circulation cuts off. He wants you immobile. Cold. “Like a doll.” He likes it best when you go limp and unresponsive — he calls that “your best self.”

🔨 Knifeplay is his love language. He drags the tip down your skin as he whispers love poems. Sometimes he presses too deep, and licks the blood off your chest, murmuring “You taste like betrayal.”

🔨 He wants a child. But not with you. He wants to turn you into a child— mentally. Regression, isolation, reward systems. Eventually, he gets what he wants. A quiet, broken thing who clings to him when the lights go out.

🔨 His hands are rough, exploring bruised and bleeding skin with both desperation and dominance. He forces himself on you without mercy, his body pressing heavy as he claims every inch of you. The sounds of your protests blend with ragged breaths and wet, aching moans as he takes twisted pleasure in your pain and submission.

🔨 He leaves bite marks all over your body— deep, bleeding, permanent. He wants you to never heal, to carry reminders of him every time you look in the mirror. He leaves teeth imprints on your throat, claw marks down your back, and bruises on your inner thighs that last for weeks.

🔨 He prefers it when you’re barely conscious— drugged, exhausted, too numb to scream. He’ll pet your hair as you fade out, then use your limp body however he wants. He talks to you the whole time, cooing about how perfect and soft you are like he’s making love— but it’s just domination masked as affection. “You don’t even have to fight anymore. Just let me love you while you sleep…”

🔨 Daniel wipes the blood and tears from your face and calls it “aftercare.” He bandages your wounds, kisses your temples, and tells you he’s proud of how well you took him — all while you’re shaking, broken, and sore.“See? I’m taking care of you. No one else would. No one else deserves to.”

🔨 He degrades you with every thrust. Calls you filthy, ungrateful, pathetic — and then kisses your neck like he didn’t just spit in your mouth. He breaks you down until you’re too confused to know what’s real.