#ben edwards

[sebaria]

The Terminal List: Dark Wolf

1х01

[imdonnalynn]

Alright, why the FUCK aren't there any Ben Edwards, Raife Hastings or James Reece stories here on Tumblr!!?? Not any of them with a reader or fellow characters, what the actual FUCK?!

There is chemistry between Ben and Eliza on Dark Wolf, Raife is just Raife so he could be paired with a reader in a story. And James Reece and Katie Buranek in the original series The Terminal List, they had some chemistry and in the books they do end up together and I've been dying to read some stories but no one is writing them and it's hurting my heart.

[squishablesunbeam]

The Terminal List: Dark Wolf

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

I think I’m in trouble. 🥹

[dirtbagdefender]

[gabispn-13]

Always stunning. Inside and out. My love is still intact after almost 20 years. ❤️

[deluluwritess]

Worth Every Second

Ben Edwards x Latina.

YALL GO WATCH MY MANS.

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI 18+!!!

The plan had been simple. Be ready by six. Call the car. Arrive on time. Smile through the vows, the toasts, the small talk.

But plans didn’t mean a damn thing when Ben Edwards had his hands on you.

You were supposed to be putting on your heels when his arms came around you, chest to your back, his lips grazing the soft spot just under your ear. One kiss turned into another, teeth grazing, his hands already roaming over the silk of your dress.

“Benjamin,” you gasped, trying to keep your voice steady, “we’re late.”

“Mm,” he hummed against your throat, dragging the straps of your dress lower. “Worth it.”

Your phone buzzed again from the nightstand—driver threatening to leave—but by then he had already turned you, pressing you into the wall, his eyes dark and hungry. “You expect me to sit through vows, stare at you in this dress, and keep my hands to myself?” His grin was sharp, wolfish. “Not a chance, babe.”

By the time he finally sank into you, you were clawing at his shoulders, lips muffling your moans against his neck. He fucked you hard against the wall, each thrust rattling a picture frame nearby, his voice low and rough in your ear.

“Say my name. Louder. Let them hear why we’re late.”

When you finally staggered out of the apartment—dress wrinkled, hair a little wild, lipstick smeared across his jaw—Ben looked smug as sin.

Charlie Platoon noticed immediately.

The moment you walked into the reception, Raife’s smirk spread like wildfire. His gaze lingered on your throat, on the blooming hickey Ben had branded there.

“Damn,” he drawled loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “Guess traffic wasn’t the only reason you two were late.”

The boys erupted. Whistles, laughter, table-slapping. Even Raife’s girlfriend chuckled behind her glass.

Mortification burned your cheeks, but Ben? He thrived on it. He slid his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side, his voice carrying easily over the noise.

“Jealousy’s a bad look, Raife. Not everyone gets to go home with someone who looks like her.”

The table roared. Raife groaned, his girlfriend elbowing him with an I told you so look.

You muttered, “You’re impossible,” but Ben leaned down, lips brushing your ear with a promise.

“Careful, beautiful. Keep saying that, and I’ll show you just how impossible I can be.”

Minutes later, you slipped away under the pretense of the restroom. Ben followed without hesitation.

The lock clicked, and suddenly you were bent over the counter, dress shoved up, Ben’s hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. His thrusts were sharp, relentless, his teeth grazing your neck as he bit down to mark you again.

“You think I was gonna sit there through speeches, through dancing?” His growl vibrated against your skin. “When I could be buried inside you like this? Not a fucking chance.”

You came undone against him, muffling your cries against your hand. He followed with a low groan, hips pressing deep as he spilled into you.

When you both slipped back to the table, flushed and breathless, Raife smirked knowingly. “Really couldn’t wait, huh?”

Ben only grinned wider, pressed a kiss to your temple, and fired back, “Waiting’s never been my strong suit. Especially not with her.”

Later, the slow songs began. The lights dimmed, the noise softened. Before you could argue, Ben tugged you to your feet, ignoring the whistles from his platoon. His hand found the small of your back, his forehead brushing yours as you swayed together.

For once, he wasn’t smirking. His eyes softened, his touch firm but tender.

“You look like trouble,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing yours, “but you feel like home.”

Your chest tightened. You kissed him, gentle this time, lingering, and the world fell away.

The spell broke when the DJ called for the bouquet toss. You tried to slip into the background, but Ben gave your ass a playful smack. “Go on. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The bouquet soared through the air, petals scattering—and of course, it landed right in your hands.

The room erupted. Charlie Platoon was on their feet, cheering like it was a championship game. Raife’s voice cut through the noise: “Guess we know who’s next, Edwards!”

Ben didn’t even hesitate. He crossed the floor, scooped you into his arms, bouquet still clutched in your hand, and kissed you like a man who wanted the whole world to know you were his.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, baby,” he whispered against your lips.

And you knew you didn’t mind at all.

The ride home was unbearable. His hand rested on your thigh the entire time, thumb teasing higher and higher, grin smug every time you shifted in your seat.

“You’re already thinking about it,” he murmured low enough for only you to hear. “How many times I’m gonna make you scream before sunrise.”

And he was right.

The second the door closed, he shoved you against it, bouquet tumbling to the floor. His mouth claimed yours, his hands dragging your dress up, grinding into you until you whimpered.

“You looked too damn good tonight,” he growled, sliding your panties aside. “Drove me crazy pretending I wasn’t hard the whole fucking time.”

He took you hard and fast against the wall, then slower on the couch, then again in bed where urgency melted into something deeper. He kissed down your body, memorizing you with his mouth, his hands, like he needed to etch every detail into memory.

Because you both knew he was leaving soon.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, flipping you onto your stomach, taking you from behind with a brutal rhythm. “Not with the time we’ve got left. Gonna miss this. Gonna miss you.”

Your body clenched around him, his desperate words tipping you over the edge. You cried out, voice muffled in the sheets, and he followed with a guttural growl, collapsing against you.

But he wasn’t done. Not tonight.

He turned you onto your back, slowed his pace, kissed you like he had all the time in the world even though he didn’t. “Every time I’m gone,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re all I think about. You’re all I want to come back to.”

Tears burned behind your eyes as you clutched him tighter, wrapping your legs around him like you could keep him here forever. He made love to you until dawn, until your voice was hoarse from moaning his name, until your body trembled and begged for rest.

By the time you collapsed together, the bouquet lay forgotten on the nightstand, petals scattered across the wood.

Ben pressed a final kiss to your temple, his voice low and rough with exhaustion. “Guess catching that bouquet wasn’t such bad luck after all.”

His arm tightened around you, already pulling you closer, unwilling to let go.

Because with deployment looming in just a few days, he wasn’t wasting a single second.

[abbymackenzie]

🐺🖤