Writing Corner

imagine, you meet in a bar or pub and you’re wearing a pretty dress, a bit of make up, your hair’s done and soap dares simon to ask you out (👀).

he’s a bit grumpy about it first but then you have your first date and when he sees your outfit he knows that he put you in a category you don’t belong to.

your clothes aren’t as bright as they were in the bar and your hair looks more…natural. he can see that you’re a bit nervous, hence the rather plain outfit.

the more you date the more he realizes that you dress according to you mood. one day you’re all fluffy, the other day it looks like you’re a permanent visitor at the graveyard.

but he likes that about you. he knows he’s good in reading people but you make it even easier for him. at most he likes when he comes back from deployment and sees you walk around in his clothes.

dressing like him makes you miss him less.

and he would absolutely accompany you on your shopping sprees; he’d probably even pay for most stuff—much to your displeasure.

“ev’rything a’right?” simon mumbles against your head, holding you close in his arms. “y’aven’t been that talkative t’past week…”

you wriggle closer into his hold, breathing him in and closing your eyes. “work’s a bit stressy,” you mumble back, your grip around him tightening.

he says nothing, only presses a kiss to your temple and holds you, hoping you’d be able to find a bit of peace.

Gaz

Absolutely abuses his pretty privilege with the lads and ladies. If you think soap is a big flirt? He has nothing on Gaz. This man is disgustingly, sickeningly charming and sweet, even in bed. Is absolutely the type to have you babbling nonsense, clenching down on him as he rolls his hips languidly and murmurs the sweetest praises against your skin.

“Takin’ me so well, luv. Gonna give me one more, yeah? Gonna let me hear those pretty moans?”

Price

Talks you through it. He’s used to talking his team through missions and trainings, and it’s carried over to the bedroom. Especially when you’ve been a brat all day and you’re bent over his knee, counting each strike of his hand against the swell of your ass.

“Only 5 more, don’t get quiet on me now. If I can’t hear you I’ll keep going until you can do it right. That’s what this is for, isn’t it? To teach you to do things the right way?”

Soap

Goes down on you like he’s starving. Absolutely does it for his own pleasure, and is downright nasty about it. Begs you to let him do it, complains that he needs it, that he has to know what you taste like.

Won’t stop whining until you shove his face between your legs to shut him up, and even then he’s sucking and slurping and making lewd sounds, moaning and begging for you to cum on his tongue until he’s had his fill.

Ghost

Listen. He may be an Englishman, but Ghost fucks like the French and you can’t convince me otherwise.

La petite mort.

Series Summary: Despite being a soldier, you've inherited a farm. While figuring out disposition of the property, you notice a monstrous beast is prowling the farm and the lands connected to it. This is no ordinary large predator problem. You had no idea about the hidden culture of werewolves until one figurately fell into your lap.

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected p in v sex, knotting, cream pie, edging, manual stimulation of genitals (m & f), oral sex (f receiving), suggestive language, fluff, flirting, angst, whump, mention of blood, canon-typical violence, breeding kink, impolite language, reader is cishet female, more warnings to be added as chapters are published.

Series Notes: No use of Y/N. Enemies to lovers trope.  The title was borrowed from the eponymous song by DJ Shadow. This series will reference the hidden culture of werewolves among humans, but without overt use of A/B/O dynamics.

*= Suggestive content

** = 18+ MDNI content

*** = Filthy smut, turn back while you still can

Only published chapters have been rated.

Chapters in purple font are active WIP.

MASTERLIST (All @deadbranch Fanfic Content)

CHAPTER 1*

A monstrous beast has been prowling the farm you inherited. 

CHAPTER 2

The man-beast from your barn meets you on post, in uniform.  His explanation of the current situation doesn’t help matters.  Selling the farm won’t prevent future conflict with a hidden culture of which you were completely unaware.

CHAPTER 3

You’ve been avoiding Alex for the last two days.  An unexpected event prompts you to reach out to him for help.

CHAPTER 4*

Alex accompanies you to the farm to ensure that it’s secure.  In a show of intention, he literally marks his territory.

CHAPTER 5*

You find out that Alex has kept some important information from you.  It breaks your heart, but you have a choice to make.

CHAPTER 6**

Alex explains some things.  It’s not everything, but it’s a start.  Your clothes are on the floor before he’s done.

CHAPTER 7***

Alex reveals something personal about himself, something that makes him vulnerable in the werewolf community. 

CHAPTER 8**

Something disturbing happens in the forest surrounding the farm.  Kirkpatrick and McIntyre come to your aid.

CHAPTER 9***

Kirkpatrick & McIntyre advise you on the way forward after last night’s attack.  While they’re out hunting, you and Alex find some private personal time together before returning to post to regroup.

CHAPTER 10***

Reader discovers the more protective and territorial side of Alex’s nature.  They resolve some unfinished business before leaving the farm.

CHAPTER 11*

You and Alex are forced apart while you finish your education about werewolf culture.  You haven’t met Major Graves yet, but he will very much affect your future with Alex.

CHAPTER 12*** NEW 11-09-23

Rai & Kurt make sure you and Alex have some much-needed time alone together.  Your mental and emotional connection has deepened in unexpected ways.

CHAPTER 13 NEW 11-10-23

Information comes to light separately, for both you and Alex.  He makes a rash decision that will affect both your lives.

CHAPTER 14* NEW 11-11-23

The Mothers arrive but you’re nowhere to be found.  While Graves attempts to hold off a national incident, you go in search of your wolf.

CHAPTER 15 [coming soon]

Summary pending

CHAPTER 16

Summary pending

CHAPTER 17

Summary pending

CHAPTER 18

Summary pending

PAST MIDNIGHT: WEREWOLF LORE NEW CONTENT 11-18-23

LORE ANNOUNCEMENT

PHYSICAL REFERENCE FOR ALEX

FACE CLAIM: RAI KIRKPATRICK

FACE CLAIM: KURT MCINTYRE

Alex loves to rest his hands on them by the way. Other times, he'll wrap his arms around you and pull you flush against him just so you can understand how much he loves you. You feel how fucking hard you make him? You see how much he desires you? Like fuck will he let you slip between his fingers, boss.

And when you're in the throes of an intense makeout session, best believe those hands are on that plush ass of yours.

Those thighs of yours will be the death of him, whether they're hugging him as he's fucking you or his head is buried between them and feasting on that delicious pussy of yours.

Two words: body worship. Yes, Alex can, and yes Alex will. Fuck around and find out, boss. He'll cover your body from head to toe in kisses. And lovebites. Especially on your thighs, and has no problem telling you how fuckin' perfect you are for him.

Sit on his face, too. You won't hurt him, boss. Not by a long shot. He absolutely wants that pussy and those thighs to smother him.

Remember how he likes to rest his hands on your hips? He likes to grip them like his life depends on it, too, as he's busy impaling you on his dick from the back.

Will also have you in a mating press because he wants to see everything. E-VERY-THING. Don't hide your face, let him fucking see it, boss.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” you tilt your head, tightly wrapping your left thigh; bandages you pull harder, grunting as the flow of blood slows. 

The safehouse is cold—and it’s snowing outside worse than a shaken snow globe on a massage chair, flakes as big as your hand slapping the window. 

Johnny’s trying to start a fire, shoulders all wound up as you stare at his tension-ridden back. 

“MacTavish,” you call, glaring. “I’m talking to you.”

“Aye,” he grunts, flicking his lighter three times before the smallest of flames sparks up—he quickly moves it to the dry logs, letting it take to the kindling. “I have ears.”

You grimace, shaking your head. 

The history between the two of you was long—dating back to the days when you’d both signed up. You’d bled together, failed, and won together, even if the tensions were visible in the air as much as the long glances were. SAS selection had been the point where your clashing attitudes had been put on pause; things were getting more serious now—there was no going back. Only a year in you’d both seen the last of each other.

Or, you thought that at least.

A mission—Norway during a blizzard. Full coverage and the means of a Capture-Or-Kill.

“You want to explain to me why you still decided to rush in like that?” You push, voice digging. 

The room was weighed down by heat—not from the now sizzling fire itself but from the stiff look that’s passed your way. You blink, Soap’s blue eyes darker than they had been. With a low grunt, the usually sarcastic and blunt man stands, beginning to stalk over with hard steps. Bodies layered with sweat and grime, you release the shreds of the bandages around your bare thigh; pants half down your legs. 

Frowning, you ignore the soar in your heart rate and let him move up to the rickety chair you sit in, his hands coming down to lean into the armrests on either side of you. 

You hold back a gasp as his face is shoved into yours.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he utters, accent stiff, and both of your eyes battling one another for dominance that neither wants to give up. Two feral wolves at each other’s throats. “Maybe it was to make sure the old Hen of mine didn’t get herself killed.”

You snap back immediately, faces closer and breath puffing over skin. “You don’t trust me?”

“Never said that,” he grunts, stubble shifting into a frown.

You scoff, nose brushing against his as heads tilt. “Prove it. Because right now, I’m hearing a lot of bullshi—”

Lips smash into yours.

The affair that night was a rabid tangle of shed clothes and loose limbs, bare skin bloody and sweat-stained long before any action had even been taken. The wound at your thigh was of little concern as the fast shove of Johnny’s pelvis sent his cock dragging along the walls of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, head tilting back to connect with the floor as the fire spreads light over the safehouse. “God, right there. Right there, Johnny.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, a thin stream of crimson moving down your flesh as the sound of slapping wet skin echoes over and over again. Like a loyal dog, the man smirks into your neck as he bites, sucking and groaning all the more as you tighten around him with a shiver of electricity working its way down your spine straight to your core.

You whine as he grabs your chin, glaring weakly until your glossy eyes blur the space behind his head.

“Like that, do you?” He teases, hand firm and unyielding. “Tell me you like it, Dearie.”

“Go,” you pant, fingers digging into his mohawk and pulling. Johnny’s blown pupils widen even farther, hips thrusting harder and making you moan in his hold—him doing the same, with a more cut-off version that would make a pornstar blush. You force out, “screw yourself.”

He feels you tighten even farther around him, his jaw clenching as his abdomen bunches, trying to hold off his approaching orgasm. 

“I think I’m enjoying this more, see,” he sloppily kisses the side of your mouth, licking at the skin. Everything about this was pent-up lust—messy sex in both the literal and metaphorical sense. 

His tip caresses your womb, pulling almost all the way out of you before jerking forward and grinding moments after. His pelvis massages your clit, textured walls like a noose trying to keep him in. Your fluids leak out to coat his thighs a nice shiny clear. Muscles glide over yours, the dip and swell of flesh addictive. 

A growl is sent into your face. 

“Pull my hair again.” You do so, listening to the animalistic groans as your body moves up and down on the floor, cutting off exhalations of air puffing out from open mouths.

“Harder,” your gasp, “fuck me harder, Sergeant.”

A hand slams into the wood beside your head, the other moving to press into your stomach. You nearly cry when you can feel his cock hammering against the thin flesh of your abdomen. 

You tighten around him and arch your back, lips brushing against his as you strangle down a loud plea for release. Your fingers latch and twist Johnny’s head to the side as the cord in your snaps.

“Fuck,” Johnny draws out the curse, eyes rolling back as you bare down on him ruthlessly, thighs tense and stained with blood and cum as your orgasm seeps violently down the swell of them. 

He follows with a loud gasp, letting you feel the gush of his spend as it fills you to the brim, leaking out with every failing cant of his hips into yours.

The man loosens and lets his limp head hit your shoulder, body shaking as he stays above you only enough to keep his full weight from crushing you. It’s a long time before either of you find the words to speak.

“Round two?” Johnny asks. 

You blink and feel the small sparks of pain in your thigh. It was nothing serious.

“Yeah,” you shrug, voice breathless and cunt spasming. “Why not.”