#dad!massimo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

c0ld0utside · 1 month

Note

Platonic Yandere Werewolf Dad or Platonic Yandere Vampire Dad!?!

Assuming you’re asking for more of Werewolf Dad or Massimo. We’re going with Werewolf Dad and I’ve decided that his name is Lucian.

Warnings: Mentions of disease and insects, Home intruders, Kidnapping, Violence/Gore, Panic attacks (Reader)

It’s been five months since your Dad’s little…transformation, and the two of you have made some discoveries. For one, each moon cycle has a certain “pull” on your Dad. On New Moon phases your Dad can’t shift at all (something he’s been working on controlling) and on Full Moons he has to. The two of you had yet to see what effects Harvest, Blue, Blood, and Eclipse moons had on him, and the ideas you made weren’t pleasant. Crescent moons had the weakest “pull.” His urgest weren’t that strong on those days either. Quarters weren’t that bad either. Waning moons is where it got tricky.

Like today, for example.

You had been helping your Dad in the kitchen, seasoning the steaks when he started to shift again, groaning and gripping the kitchen island tightly. “Dad-?” You started. “I-it’s alright, pup…it’s just really loud today.” He reassured, taking deep, shallow breaths. “Can you reign it in?” You asked, setting the seasoning down. This could go two ways. Either he bolts out the door, or he snatches you up, drags you into your room, and makes you stay in there while he goes out to hunt. Literally. The amount of deer corpses you’ve had to clean up was getting ridiculous.

“Trying,” your Dad huffs. He lets out another groan. “You might h-have to go t-to your room.” With an irritated sigh, you head into your room and flop down on your bed. You try not to cringe as you hear your Dad give in, groaning and whining as the transformation takes hold. A few moments later, you hear claws scraping against the wooden floor of your home and a low, growling noise. You can hear your dad shuffling around and struggling to get up, yipping quietly as if he was trying to call out to you. “I’m in here,” you say aloud, leaving your bed and opening your door.

Immediately your father stands to full height and looks over at you. He’s taller in his wolf form, lean and utterly terrifying. Wood-brown fur and red-brown eyes stare at you from down the hall, mouth slightly open and teeth on display. With another growl, he charges at you-

-and then wraps one arm around your back and the other under your thighs, scooping you up and carrying you into your room. He sets you down on the bed and grumbles at you as if he were complaining. A type of grumble you’ve come to learn is: Stay put, I’m going hunting. “No- no, you don’t need to do that,” You say urgently, rolling out of your bed. Your father growls at you but you ignore him. Instead, you head back into the kitchen, the weredad chasing after you and snarling. There’s no real heat behind it. You know that now after the first few weeks of him doing that. “Look, we were making dinner!”

His angry gaze shifts from you to the half-seasoned steaks on the kitchen island, which were sitting on a large cutting board. He lets out a dissatisfied growl. Not good enough. “No, it’s fine,” You say firmly. He growls again. There’s heat behind that one. “Oh come on! Dad, I can’t eat the deer you drag into the house! They probably have that wasting disease or ticks! Remember what happened last time? It got infested with maggots!” Another growl. “Dad. Please.” Deadpanning, your Dad picks you up again, carries you into your room, and tucks you into your bed. He points at you with a firm expression before leaving and shutting the door behind him. “Are you serious-” You start, earning a muffled warning bark in return. That makes you go quiet.

With no other options, you lie in bed and wait, watching the digital clock on your bedside table. Boredom sets in quickly. In werewolf mode your Dad will definitely throw a fit at any signs of you leaving the bed, but you’d take an angry werewolf over dying of boredom any day. So you read a short book. Two. Then you scroll on your phone. You check your clock. Two hours have passed. You hear the door open.

Your heart drops at the sound of multiple footsteps. Heavy boots against the wooden floor. The shifting of fabric and objects. The click of a gun.

Quickly- and with not many options- you hide under your bed. Someone enters your room, walking around before heading over to your closet and slamming it open. They dig through it, tossing your clothes and other things you stored inside onto your rugged floor. There’s a pause. A beat. Two. Then the stranger is making their way over to your bed, ripping the covers off. You finally realize that you stopped breathing when they kneel down to look under the bed, dark eyes looking into your frightened ones.

Lucian’s mind is running at a mile a minute. Hungry Pup is hungry I’m hungry Need food Food at home isn’t enough Need more Need more Pup deserves more Is pup safe Pup should be safe…

His paws? Hands? Pound against the forest floor, sending leaves and fallen twigs everywhere and bugs scurrying. Above an owl hoots. Farther ahead a mouse squeals. Scents fill his nose. Avian, rodent, pine, earth, water, flowers, leaves, deer…

Deer. Perfect for his pup. Enough to share. Enough to fill them up and make his Pup big and strong. Maybe he’ll find some berries? Preferably blueberries. They can’t always rely on deer and rabbits. Lucian pauses, taking a moment to lock on to the scent. A doe. A fawn. Oh, man…his heart aches a bit at the thought. But pup needs food, his mind says. And food his pup shall have. Lucian takes off into a sprint, pace speeding up when he finds tracks.

He’s close to his target when a nagging feeling tugs at Lucian and his thoughts get worse. Something’s wrong Is pup safe Pup should be safe So why do I feel this way Go back Need to check on pup Pup needs help… A scream rips through the air, coming from the direction of his home. Pup.

Abandoning his mission, Lucian whirls around and bounds back home, breath coming out in huffs of air. Strange scents fill his nose. Unfamiliar ones. Tobacco. Metal. Gunpowder. Leather. Oil. Older humans and his pup. He bursts into his home and finds it a mess. Everything he sees screams signs of a struggle- chairs knocked over, broken glasses, dirty footprints on the wooden floor. Whimpering, Lucian rushes into his pup’s room.

They’re gone, covers thrown off the bed and clothes littering the floor. Where where where where where why why why why why who would do this who would dare- his mind rambles, panic turning into rage. Whoever took his pup would regret the day they were born. He’d make sure of it.

The scent trail is easy to follow. Foolish, his mind growls. Foolish Stupid Going to get them Going to kill them Going to make them pay Where is my pup I want my pup back Stupid Stupid Stupid… The thoughts swirl around in his head like a hurricane. It hurts and it’s overwhelming and worsens his already-soured mood. That��s an understatement. His mood is the most bitter, sour, foul tasting thing anyone could ever taste if it were possible. It would be pure poison. Maybe even acid. Melting through flesh and bone and mixing with blood. Each step has a purpose, stamping out the footprints the humans left. Metal…gunpowder…hunters? That’s interesting.

Lucian had tried to find the werewolf who made him what he is now, but all of the scents had gone stale and he came up with nothing. It had been frustrating and still was. It would’ve been nice to know that yes, werewolf hunters do exist. …Though he should’ve known that himself. If there were werewolves running around then that meant the hunters were just as real and still in business. The scent is getting stronger now and the trees are thinning out. He smells metal. Silver, probably? Was he now weak to silver? He had sold his ring after his wife left and he couldn't be bothered to test it with his wood tools.

He hears voices. His pup’s voice and others he’s never heard before. Gruff. Hostile. Cruel. He’s mindful about where he steps as he sneaks up on the fools.

“Is this really necessary?” One of your kidnappers grumble. Two men are fussing over your bindings, tying you up against a tree. “I don’t see why we had to use the kid as bait. It would’ve been better to catch the damn thing by surprise.” The other nudges him harshly. “I believe in the new boss. Sure, he’s…rough and isn’t as good as his old man, but he’ll learn. He has us to help him out for a reso-” He rambles, only to get cut off by jaws snapping around his head, crushing his skull. Blood sprays into the air and splatters onto the floor. Both you and the remaining man scream in pure terror as you watch your father pull the poor guy’s head off of his body. He lets it drop from his mouth and turns to the other, who cowers away.

“No- wait- I didn’t even want to!” He pleads, falling on his ass to the floor. A deep growl comes from your dad- one you have never heard before. You can’t hear the clicking of a gun over the commotion, but the werewolf in front of you does. Your father abruptly ducks to the ground and a bullet whizzes over his head. Then he lunges, leaping into the air and slamming into the hunter who shot at him. The guy who fell messily gets back up and runs in the direction of your house, ignoring his coworker’s screams for help. You force yourself not to look. You try not to look.

Your brain overpowers your body and you take a peek. Nausea churns in your stomach at the sight; your father- the werewolf- ripping into the man’s stomach and feeding on his entrails while he wailed and begged for mercy. Holding him in place with his claws. Nails digging into his weeping flesh. You feel hot and your face feels wet, an ache blooming in your head. Your chest grows tight and for some reason it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Maybe it’s the ropes. It’s definitely the ropes, right? Yeah…the ropes. The wailing dies down into quiet sobs, which dissolves into silence. Licking its maw, the werewolf rises and looks over at you.

“Please,” you choke out, heart pounding a mile a minute. “Please don’t- Dad, please.” The beast stared at you for a moment before walking over, placing a hand on your shoulder and keeping it there as he walked behind you like you were a horse. He fumbled with the knot in the ropes, the bindings getting loose and eventually going slack. They fell around you and into your lap, the werewolf tugging them off of you. He moved back in front of you and sat down. He licked the blood and gore from his lips before lowering himself, slowly reaching for your hand and grabbing hold of it.

You flinch, wanting to pull away, and the werewolf whimpers. He presses your hand against his forehead, grip light and thumb rubbing your wrist soothingly. It takes you a moment to understand what he wants. Cautiously, your hand moves down to rub the back of his neck, the feeling of his fur grounding you. Your Dad shuffles closer, sitting up to pull you into an embrace. His hands press against your back, pushing you into him and forcing you to take deep breaths. The smell of iron fills your nose and blood gets on your clothes. It’s still warm and it makes your panic worse, which in turn makes your Dad hold you closer.

He scoops you up, holding you tightly against his chest. Your Dad breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, making you unconsciously follow along with it. In and out, in and out, like wind through the leaves.. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. The two of you do this for a while, your Dad rocking back and forth slightly. After you calm down, your dad lifts his head up and sniffs the air. A low growl rumbles through him and he sets you down behind him. As he goes on ahead, you realize you’re shaking, panic still not completely soothed. Okay…okay, you’ll just have to do it yourself. Picking up where the two of you had let off, you breathe in and out, listening to the forest around you and squeezing your arms when you breathe in.

You catch a glimpse of the corpses. Reds, whites, yellows, pinks. You nearly throw up from the sight and have to start all over again.

Something clicks in Luican’s head as he tracks down the runaway. The leader wasn’t with them when he was attacked. Did they run off? Most likely. And that would explain why he sees two pairs of footprints instead of one. He reaches his backyard and walks up the wooden steps to the back patio at the top of the small hill. He remembers building this; his pup watching with curious eyes and offering to help. Lucian’s heart warms at the memories. The faint sound of crying catches his attention.

For a moment fear starts to pool in his belly- until he realizes that the voice sounds different than his pup’s. Grunting, Lucian makes his way around the side of the house, through the thrown open fence gate. He walks down the beaten path that leads from his home to the street and finds the runaway sobbing on the asphalt. The sight of tire tracks tells the whole story. Their leader fled. …Which is far from good. Grabbing the runaway by his shoulder and yanking him back, Lucian clams his jaws around the man’s head and twists, the hunter’s neck twisting too far and letting out a sickening crack.

That was the easy part. Now to track down the coward who left his men to die and make sure he doesn’t come back. Lucian takes off down the road, following the smell of burning rubber and gas.

Every step you take back home fills you with dread. You hope this is the way back home; eyes glued to the floor and following the wolf-like paw prints in the earth, mixing with bootprints. You’ve never been afraid like this. …Then again, you never went out walking late at night or went too far from the house. Up ahead, you see the lights from your back patio. Instead of relief you are filled with apprehension. The wooden steps creak under your weight and the grass bends beneath your feet. It’s like your brain has switched to autopilot. Your head is just piloting your body around, carrying you into the bathroom.

You need to rinse the filth off of you. Instead you burst into tears and sink to the floor. Why did this have to happen? Why was it you and your father that had to be stuck in this situation? You wish you could go back in time and beg him not to go to work that day. Then you wouldn’t have seen him as a monster when he saved you. Then he wouldn’t have killed those men. But they deserved it, your mind says. You wish you didn’t agree. You cry until you can’t cry anymore. You cry until you’re too exhausted to move. You cry until the exhaustion settles in and brings you under, forcing you to sleep.

When you wake up you’re not in your room. You hear the bath running and your father steps out. “Bubba? Are you up?” He asks softly, walking over to your side of the bed and patting your shoulder. “...Yeah, you’re up. I can tell. Come on, pup, I got the bath ready for you. You can use my bathroom this time. I know you prefer it.” It’s true. You did prefer your dad’s bathroom because it had an actual bath tub. “I set out a change of clothes for you. Just remember to wash your hair in the shower afterwards, okay? Don’t worry about last night...”

“...I’ll take care of it.”

---

WHOOOO I DID IT!!! WE DID IT!!!!

Man I really need to make headers. Again some of my asks had disappeared so sorry about that. I'll update the masterlist at some point. Reminder that you're all beautiful and remember to drink water. I've been thinking of doing COD characters...how do we feel about that?

#yandere #platonic yandere #platonic #yandere platonic #yandere dad #yandad #werewolf #yandere werewolf #werewolf dad #yandere monster #platonic monster #yandere x reader #platonic x reader

278 notes · View notes