#Wh4t 1 W0uldn't D0

[skmhlml]

Note: though of this like 4 in the morning. Enjoy!

Daniel x Reader

Wh4t 1 W0uldn’t D0

The room smelled like lavender and antiseptic. Dim, flickering light buzzed from the single bulb overhead, casting pale halos on the concrete walls. You were curled up in his lap, wrapped in a heavy blanket, your body trembling despite the warmth. Daniel sat behind you, his arms folded tightly around your middle, holding you in place—not that you could go far now.

Your leg, or what was left of it, throbbed under the bandages. Phantom pain danced through the space where your knee should’ve been. You didn’t want to cry again, but the tears still came, slow and hot.

Daniel kissed the top of your head, humming low and soft in your ear. Then he opened the little leather-bound book he had read from many times before, though this time the title had been scratched off. His voice was calm, like he was tucking you into bed instead of holding you prisoner.

“There was a lamb taken when they were young, during a storm,” he began, gently brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “The wind howled and the rain screamed, and in all that noise, the lamb lost its mother. The world was too big, too loud. So a kind farmer found the little thing and brought it home. Gave it warmth. Safety. A place where the storm couldn’t touch it anymore.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your breath catching.

“At first, the lamb was scared. But soon, it started to understand. The house wasn’t a cage. It was shelter. Protection. Love.”

He turned the page slowly, dragging the moment out like it was his favorite part of the whole performance. His voice dropped a little lower, as if sharing a secret meant just for you.

“But lambs grow, don’t they? And this one… started to look out the window too often. Started to dream. One day, the farmer left the door open, just a crack. And the lamb, silly thing, ran.”

You were shivering now, your sobs quiet but raw.

“Please,” you whispered.

Daniel ignored it. He kept reading, his voice even and smooth like it wasn’t breaking you.

“Out in the fields, the lamb was free. But freedom was cold. Freedom had wolves in the shadows. And brambles that cut. The world kicked and bit and bucked. There was no soft bed. No warm fire. No gentle voice saying goodnight. Only pain. Only fear.”

His hand slid down your side, grounding you, pulling you back when your thoughts tried to run too far. You felt his lips against your ear.

“So the lamb limped back to the house, broken and bloody. And the door was still open. The fire was still burning. The farmer… still waiting. And the lamb learned. That it was never a cage. It was a home. And the world outside? Was never meant for it.”

You broke then, sobbing fully into his shirt, clutching his sleeves with shaking fingers. The pain was unbearable, not just from your body—but from the weight of the story, and how much of you was tangled in it.

“I want to go home…” you cried. “Please…please…”

He held you tighter, rocking you slowly. There was a smile in his voice, soft and reverent.

“But you are home, little lamb,” he whispered. “This is where you belong. Safe, loved, whole. The world out there already hurt you once. I won’t let it happen again. You understand, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond. Maybe you couldn’t. The blanket was too heavy. The pain too loud. And his arms—though you hated them—were the only place warm enough to melt through the cold.

“Shh,” Daniel murmured. “It’s okay now. The storm’s over.”

And as the lights flickered above you and the book closed with a soft snap, Daniel pressed his cheek to yours and let the silence settle like dust.

Outside, the world moved on. Inside, the lamb stayed still.

Forever.

[mamaito]

You kidnap, assault, and beat me inside of your truck till I was unconscious..

[stillagobin]

⚠️Discussion of 18+ games, minors DNI

Just watched someone on youtube play through wh4t 1 w0uldn't d0 (My morbid curiosity be damned, I will never learn)

And tbh, it might be the most disturbing English VN I've ever seen, made me physically uneasy, which isn't something that happens often.

Uh... props to the writer for coming up with the most disgusting yandere in all of fiction and not romanticizing it! (Genuinely)

Amazing job on the slasher horror factor too!

I'll say it, Daniel is worse than Strade, fight me.

Forget the Air Jail, I'm putting this man in here /j

(Ah... good memories, being a child and stumbling upon the GIF on Facebook unwillingly... definitely didn't do any damage to my brain)

[lurkingsan]

Introduction

Hi, I'm sanx! I play too much visual novels for my own good, and I draw fanart of whatever obsession has me in a chokehold that week.

Very avid reader - drawing art or rambling about my latest interest is my love language.

Here's a list of some of my interests down below;

Visual Novels and Games I enjoy:

TKATB

Mushroom Oasis

Perfect Love

Boyfriend to Death

GCGC

Life In Adventure

Degrees of Lewdity

Picture Perfect Boyfriend

Binary Star Hero

Andromeda Six

Where Winter Crows Go

COD

Klein

Favor

Karamu

John Doe

Wh4t 1 W0uldn't D0

Gavin

The Science Of Staying Awake

Bad End Prelude?!

Rotten Dinner

14 Days With You

[skmhlml]

Daniel x f!Reader |🔞 Extremely Dark Yandere Headcanons |

⚠️ 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.

🔨 Daniel knows your body. Even if you scream at him to stop, he’ll make you cum through the pain, touching and thrusting and licking you until your body betrays you. He calls it “proof” that you want him— and punishes you when you cry after. “Your mouth lies. But your body? Your body knows who you belong to.”