#˗ˏˋ꒰ serial killer!rafe ꒱

[ds-angel1]

serial killer!rafe x candy!reader headcannons 2

headcannons 1

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, selling body parts mentioned, conditioning

they both had rough upbringings and that's why he's the way he is, but she isn't like him, she's still innocent, still unscarred despite the things she's been through. so he decides to give her the happiness, care, and childhood they both never got.

He kills anyone who looks at you wrong, and lies about it: “Oh, that barista? Quit his job and left town suddenly.” “Aww, I liked him though…” “No, baby. You didn’t.”

He makes money by fulfilling kill contracts for rich clients and selling rare body parts to obscure buyers: But he always puts aside a chunk of the money to surprise you with a new plushie, a sparkly phone case, or a cupcake tower.

He doesn’t see himself as corrupting you, he thinks he’s protecting you from the world: The world is filth. He's convinced the only reason you’re still pure is because of him. If he doesn’t shield you (even from reality), you’ll be swallowed whole.

Rafe doesn't kill randomly, but he absolutely kills for you: Creepy landlords, rude girls who mocked your voice, the neighbour who talked to you in the hall, they all died painfully. You never notice the connection.

He once bought you a custom pink butcher knife: You thought it was a novelty kitchen thing (you’re actually not even allowed to use knives). He uses it in actual kills sometimes, just to feel close to you while working.

He loves giving you sponge baths after messy nights: Especially if he’s gotten blood on you by accident. It’s intimate. Holy, even. You think he’s just “a clean freak.” He thinks he’s baptizing you in safety.

He tapes photos of you into his kill journals: Pages of violence and gore, then a photo of you holding a cupcake, surrounded by hearts and stickers. You’re the center of his bloody universe.

[ds-angel1]

The way even if candy!reader finds out about Rafe, I don't think she'd care that much cuz like this is her daddy 🤭 or at least I wouldn't care.

I actually had this blurb already written when you sent this ask but I just think this fits like exactly right, and also you’re exactly right!!

cw: murder, dd/lg, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning

You find the photos by accident. The Polaroids.

They’re hidden in the drawer he usually keeps locked. You only open it because you’re looking for your pink crayon.

They’re messy. Stark. Red. Bodies caught mid-collapse. Faces contorted. Some of them you recognize from town, a gas station cashier, a bartender who always smiled at you too long.

Your stomach flips. Your fingers go cold.

You stare for a long, long time.

And then you close the drawer.

You climb back into bed. Pull the covers over your head like you do when theres thunderstorms. Tuck your bunny plushie into your chest.

When Rafe comes home that night, smelling like wind and blood and gasoline, you don’t scream. You don’t run. You don’t even ask where he’s been.

You just lift the blanket.

He slides in beside you like nothing’s wrong.

You curl against his chest and press a sleepy kiss to the underside of his jaw.

And you whisper, sweet as syrup, “Did they deserve it, daddy?”

He goes very still.

Then he exhales, a low, shaky breath, and pulls you even closer. Tangles your legs. Buries his face in your hair.

“Yeah, bunny,” he breathes. “They did.”

You smile ever so slightly.

“Okay.”

Because you don’t need to understand everything.

You don’t need reasons or names or mercy.

You just need him.

[ds-angel1]

how serial killer!rafe infantilizes candy!reader

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning

Picks out your clothes daily: baby pink jumpers, frilly socks, shirts with cartoons, flowy dresses, and overalls; he calls anything else “not for his girl.”

Pre-chews or cuts your food: he’s “making sure you don’t choke, sweets.” Even at restaurants.

Won’t let you have sharp objects. “Why would my baby need scissors? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Reads you bedtime stories: real ones, or made-up ones about princesses being rescued by men with knives.

Bans caffeine and alcohol, (but gives you sedatives and “mood candy” in cutesy pillboxes you decorated.)

Only calls you “baby,” “princess,” “kitten,” or “doll.” ect., He never uses your real name, he says it sounds too grown.

Rewards you with praise for being helpless:“You’re such a good girl for letting Daddy handle it.”“That’s right, no thinking, just smile for me.”

Corrects your tone if you sound “too adult.”“Ah ah, use your soft voice, baby. Remember?”

Encourages babytalk. Pretends not to understand you unless you use cutesy words.

Tells you scary, complex things (like taxes, politics, or crime) are “way too much for your soft little brain.”

Your wardrobe is 80% themed: cupcakes, animals, pastel florals, glitter jelly shoes, or footie pajamas.

Insists you wear lip gloss and blush but nothing “mature.” No red lipstick, no eyeliner, “makes you look mean.”

Only buys you coloring books and kids toys, nothing that you need actual brain power to do or use.

Keeps the remote for the TV hidden when he leaves so you can’t watch anything but the kids channel.

Tells strangers you’re “special” or “slow” so they won’t talk to you directly.

Uses pacifiers when you’re stressed, says it “calms her.” Sometimes he soaks them in syrup or drugs.

Keeps you under a surveillance system with baby monitor audio, GPS bracelet, and room camera. Just in case.

[ds-angel1]

serial killer!rafe x candy!reader headcannons

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning

they both had rough upbringings and that's why he's the way he is, but she isn't like him, she's still innocent, still unscarred despite the things she's been through. so he decides to give her the happiness, care, and childhood they both never got.

Rafe infantilizes you not out of kink, but control and trauma: He sees your sweetness as something that must be preserved at all costs, a living, breathing embodiment of the innocence he never had. He insists on brushing your hair, cutting your food, dressing you, even if you resist, that can always be fixed with a little pill or some syrup.

You genuinely think Rafe just has “a cool job”: You don’t understand why he’s always covered in bruises or smells like metal. He tells you it’s "underground work for rich people" and you just accept it, barely listening in the first place as you color.

He’s obsessive, but calm about it: Rafe doesn’t yell. He’s too calculated. His thinking almost completely clinical, only a sliver of the emotional recklessness he looks down on, coming through when it comes to you. He will calmly slit a throat, then wipe the blood off his hands before tucking you into bed with a soft kiss to the forehead, smiling as you mumble, "Nigh’, daddy..."

Your apartment looks like a cursed dreamhouse: Half serial killer den (plastic tarps, industrial sinks, weapons stashed everywhere) and half Sanrio-on-acid (heart-shaped rugs, pastel pink furniture, shelves of plushies with knives hidden behind them).

He lets you decorate his kill room: Only you don’t know it’s his kill room. He tells you it’s his “work studio” and you fill it with glittery curtains and drawings you drew for him. It’s grotesque, and he loves that it smells like your bubblegum body spray when he’s in there later with a corpse.

You make him bracelets: Wears them over his gloves when he’s slicing someone open. The pink plastic beads and the letter ones spelling out "DADA" get soaked in blood sometimes, but he just washes them. If it stains? "It’s ketchup, baby."

[ds-angel1]

blankie,bunny,bodybags

(aka the serial killer!rafe x candy!reader universe)

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, selling body parts mentioned, conditioning

A world where his hands are bloody and hers are sticky with frosting. A tea party above a tarp-covered kill site. Innocence weaponized. Protection distorted. A Hello Kitty keychain swinging from a duffel full of bone saws.

serial killer!rafe x candy!reader headcannons

serial killer!rafe x candy!reader headcannons 2

candy!reader hears the screaming

serial killer!rafe gets blood on candy!readers plushie :(

situations between serial killer!rafe x candy!reader

rafe puts real blood on readers costume

candy!reader wouldn’t leave if she found out

[ds-angel1]

situations between serial killer!rafe x candy!reader

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning

“Don’t look over there, princess.”

One of Rafe's victims escapes mid-kill and stumbles into your home. You see a bloody, barely alive man in the hallway. Before you can scream, Rafe drags the man back, smooths his bloodied shirt, and says: “Just a work accident, baby. Why don’t you go draw Daddy something?” You nod, because you trust him. Always.

“Oh, looks like he had a little fall. Time to go, doll.”

Rafe takes you to the store and you get all pouty and sad that someone called you dumb when you asked "How does the money fit in that tiny thing?" when Rafe paid with his card. So he kills them in the parking lot, in full view of you, but in such a smooth way, that you don’t even realize it happened. Stabs him right where he’ll bleed out the quickest as he strides past him. You think he just fell. Rafe coaxes you into the car before the blood puddle can form.

“Why does it smell like metal in here...?”

You tilt your head as you step into the living room. “Smells funny.” Rafe blinks once. Then twice. “That’s the new candle,” he says, holding it up. It’s unlit. You nod like that explains everything. "Okay, daddy." He watches you walk away, heart pounding. You really are too sweet for this world. Good thing he’ll burn it all down before it ever touches you.

“Daddy's favorite sound.”

He records your voice, laughing, humming, asking if he wants more sprinkles on his cupcake. He listens to the clips when he’s cutting someone up, like a soundtrack. Your voice, light and soft, floats through the kill room.

"Quiet time, hm? Isn't that right, pumpkin?"

Rafe coos at you as he slips your pink sticker ridden noise cancelling headphones on with your favorite playlist playing and pushes a sweet-tasting little pill between your parted lips as you drift off so far you don’t even register the screams of the pathetic excuse of a man Rafe is axing into pieces.

“You’re so good for me, baby.”

Rafe’s voice is velvet against your cheek, the smell of his shampoo mixing with something... sharper. He’s wiping frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, cooing at you like a child, while your head lolls drowsily against the headboard. Somewhere below the floorboards, the chains rattle, but you’re too busy giggling at the sparkle in his eyes to care.

“Open wide for me, angel.”

Your cheeks are sticky with lollipop sugar and he’s feeding you another pill with practiced ease, a bottle of pink strawberry milk already waiting in his other hand. His free one casually flicks the safety of a knife. "Eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t look behind you" You don’t. You never do.

“Princess Deserves Peace.”

He hums your favorite cartoon theme under his breath as he scrubs the blood from his boots. The catchy melody stuck in his head all day, even singing the lyrics he accidentally memorized from hearing the theme song so much as he readied his gun while a fearful man kicked and tried to yell through his gag on the floor in front of Rafe.

[ds-angel1]

hiiii 🩰anon here again >_< i had such an adorbs thought cause i was planning my halloween costume

what if reader was dressing up for halloween (maybe as a blood doll) and rafe is applying what they think its fake blood (its totally real) while they kick their feet unaware : ) -🩰 ps: drink some water : )

cw: murder, dd/lg, drugging, (forced) infantalisation, conditioning, blood, spreading blood on someone who doesn’t know it’s blood

a/n: this is such a good idea!! I’m not entirely pleased with how it is, but the more I change, the worse it gets so, here you go :) ps: I drank a glass while writing this, you all drink too

“C’mon, baby.”

His voice is soft, coaxing, fond, as his hands slide beneath her arms and lift her gently off the cold tile. He sets her back on the counter like a doll only he’s allowed to pose. Her legs dangle as she goes up, kicking once, head lolling from the leftover dizziness of her silly pill. But the moment she’s settled, she beams.

“D’you think I’ll get lotsa candies?” she asks, breath catching on the edge of wonder.

“Yes, pumpkin,” he murmurs, already reaching behind her.

“Like- a million?” she gasps. “A gazillion?”

He hums. “Mhm. If you’re good.”

“I am good,” she insists, heels tapping cheerfully against the cabinet. “I’m so good.”

She doesn’t look at his hands. Doesn’t even blink when his stained fingers meet the front of her dress, white cotton, plain and soft, scalloped at the edges, and press right into it. Three fingers: index, middle, ring. He drags them down her belly slow and sure, like he’s smoothing out wrinkles, until the red begins to soak. It spreads quick, blooming like wet roses in her lap.

She hums absently, watching her reflection in the mirror. She twists side to side just to see the satin bow on her back wiggle.

His hand slides higher. Up her chest. Her throat. He paints her there, too, a collar of warm crimson drawn just for her.

She tips her head back, giggling faintly. “I’m gonna scare everybody, Daddy. You think they’ll scream?”

“Mhm,” he says, drawing messy spirals across her skirt.

“They’re gonna scream so loud,” she grins, voice catching on joy.

When he finishes, he lifts her again. She wraps her arms around his neck with a happy sigh, nestles in close, cheek sticking slightly to his collarbone. Her dress is drenched now, dripping at the hem. Her socks, once white, are speckled pink from the runoff. But all she sees when she looks down is red, red, red.

She giggles louder. “I look so scary!”

“You do,” he tells her, smiling as he brushes a thumb along her cheek. There’s a streak of blood there, half-dried. He kisses it. Licks it clean. Slow. Sweet. Reverent.

“Daddy loves his scary girl.”

Rafe strokes her hair lazily, eyes half-lidded as the cartoon flickers across the screen, colors too bright, voices too sweet. She’s completely limp on top of him, mouth slack, one arm curled loosely over his chest like she’d melted there.

The lollipop’s fallen from her lips and stuck to the fabric of his hoodie, but he doesn’t move it. He doesn’t move at all, except for the slow, rhythmic sweep of his fingers through her tangled hair.

The back of her dress is stiff now, the cotton dark and cracking where the blood dried thick. Her socks too, splotched pink at the tops, sticky near the toes. It’s a mess. He should’ve changed her. But she’d been so happy.

She doesn’t know the blood came from the man upstairs.

The one who smiled at her in the hallway. Who crouched down, too close, and asked her name while Rafe fumbled with his keys. She hadn’t even answered, just blinked and sucked her thumb, but it was enough. Enough to make Rafe clench his jaw all night. Enough to keep him up, pacing the apartment, watching her sleep in her little bed while rage crackled just under his skin.

And when she woke up the next morning, hair a mess, eyes bleary, and asked if she could be a scary doll for Halloween, with real blood like in the movies... well.

He already had some.

He hadn’t planned to use it. Not at first. But when she looked up at him like that, bright and sugar-happy and trusting, something in him snapped quiet. Like a switch flipping inside his chest.

She never questioned it. Not once. Never flinched when he dipped his fingers in it. Never asked why it smelled so warm, or soaked so deep. Never noticed the way his hands trembled when he touched her dress, when he painted her throat, her belly, her lap.

She just smiled.

All she knows is that Daddy let her stay up late.

And Rafe, Rafe knows no one’s ever going to look at her again.

Not without bleeding for it.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, brushing a kiss to the top of her head.

She doesn’t stir. Just breathes warm against his chest, slow and steady, safe in his arms.

And he holds her tighter.