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msb3hav3 · 1 year

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🌺 When a girl insists her grumpy space daddy MUST wear the flower she found…

#adam driver #adamdriver #65 film #commander mills #65 movie #adam douglas driver #spoilers

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curlytheintrovert · 11 months

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GUYYYS. I just watched 65…oof. Where are my Ben Solo fans at?! Mills will somehow heal a tiny bit of your heart, I promise.

Just watch it—you’ll thank me later!

He has a hard time expressing emotions, has a dead pan sense humor, is secretly kind and has a dash of ptsd. It really isn’t a stretch to say Mills is just Ben if he had survived TROS. The movie is straight forward and predictable but I really enjoyed it because of Adam’s performance. He’s such a cutie, and I really wish his potential as this character could have been realized in SW. This movie proves it. 💙

#my TROS heartbreak finally got some treatment #save ben solo #ben solo deserved better #bendemption #ben solo will always have my heart #ben solo #star wars #adam driver #65 movie #65 million years ago #65 film #commander mills #what a hottie #girl dad vibes

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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☁️

Dear god, I saw this prompt on your list and I would die if you’d do something with it for Mills. Thank you thank you thank for sharing your beautiful writing!

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

“𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞.”

pairing: Commander Mills x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ vague angst, anger, angry-sex, unprotected p in v sex (They’re on a dinosaur planet, condoms don’t exist y’all)

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Rage seeps from your pores as you glare at the hulking man that sits across the table from you. The crude map he had drawn in the spices strewn across the table is child-like, yet spells out the inherent danger of your mission - get across world to the escape pod. Easier said than done when the creatures with huge teeth and serrated claws threatened to tear you apart the moment you stepped off the ship.

Mills watches you, sees your brow twitch. You are livid, and hell, you want to tear him apart before the creatures even set eyes on him. His expression is blank, waiting for the torrent of abuse to flood from your mouth and string him from the durasteel ceiling.

It doesn’t.

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

You have no idea where it comes from, the whispered command, but Mills springs into action almost immediately. He’s shoving you down onto the tabletop, the spices sticking to the fabric of your clothes and your humidity drenched skin as he yanks your pants down with a vicious ‘rip’.

“Oh fuck-” you choke out, grasping the edges of the table with a white-knucke grip as his cock slams inside of your hot, wet entrance. It burns with how much it stretches you, blinding your vision with white when Mills immediately pinpoints the bundle of nerves inside of you that has your body seizing up almost instantly.

“This what you wanted? Huh?” He spits, his palm heavy on your lower back to force you against the steel as he slams his hips into yours. “Wanted me to ruin you first? Force you to take orders?”

Whimpering softly, you nod your head dumbly. Tears well in your eyes at just how good the mind-numbing bliss feels, his huge hand twisting around your body as he continues to brutalise you, the slap of contact between your hips and ass ricocheting off the walls of the canteen area.

“Gonna teach you to take orders from your Commander,” he sneers, thumb pushing up hard against your clit and lighting sparks behind your eyes.

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6lostgirl6 · 1 year

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When you wanna start writing for Commander Mills, someone please don't stop me. Encourage me. This man has me in a chokehold.

#commander mills #mills #commander mills x reader #commander mills headcanons #commander mills imagines #65 film #65 movie #65 2023 #adam driver character #adam driver

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teawreckss · 1 year

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in honor of today’s teen talk my letterboxd review of the major motion picture ‘65’

#i too saw this movie #it was me and my friend and a bunch of men by themselves #dndads #teen talk #65 film

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kandcdramafan · 11 months

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I know we had the Ben Solo challenges for the last 2 SW movies but I just think it's a shame we didn't have a Mills challenge also...where men post pictures of themselves with flowers in the hair..wasted opportunity *sighs*

#65 film #adam driver

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ultrahpfan5blog · 1 year

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65 - Review

Decided to go catch 65 on a whim today because I had nothing much to do. Plus, I love Dinosaurs and a fairly decent budgeted movie with Dinosaurs sounded appealing. Maybe because I have been watching The Last of Us recently, but the traumatized father who lost his daughter, finding purpose in saving a surrogate daughter is a story that just works. And it is placed in the confines of essentially a monster horror flick, except Dinosaurs are the monsters in this situation. This film isn't great but I found myself having enjoyed it by the end. I totally admit that anything with Dinsoaurs is an easy appeal for me. Plus the Dinosaurs, although mostly seen in the dark, look pretty good for the most part. I do feel that the film could have been a little tighter at the beginning because the first 15-20 minutes do drag a bit. Also, I feel that the decision to have the little girl not speak english didn't pay off. Because there isn't enough dialogue in the film in between the Dinosaur moments. Adam Driver is performing at a level much above what the film is deserving. Or maybe he's just incapable of not being great. He quite literally carries the film single handedly. The film gets more interesting in the back half where we get some bigger and scarier Dinosaurs as well the ticking clock of impending doom. Certainly the climax is pretty great. All in all, I enjoyed it despite recognizing that the film isn't that great. It kind of straddles an in between, where it doesn't fully embrace the fun of a Dinosaur movie, but neither does it fully able to be a serious sci-fi survival horror film. So there is some tonal dissonance. Apart from Driver, Ariana Greenblatt is excellent as well as Koa. Also, Chloe Coleman makes an impression in a small role. Overall, I would say a 6/10 with an asterix that I am biased towards films with Dinosaurs.

#65 movie #adam driver #dinosaur #scott beck #bryan woods #ariana greenblatt #chloe coleman #65 2023 #65 million years ago #65 film #commander mills

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ifindyouunpleasantobearound · 7 months

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65 is like a movie I would have watched as a kid that would have had Brendan Fraser or Gemma Arterton in it but like. Made now. For some reason. The way they just made up dinosaurs and other critters is just part of it's place in that genre. Unresearched scifi/fantasy movies with a man who you wish was your dad in the lead. Comforting stuff.

#65movie #65 film #adam driver #movie thoughts

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kryzobi-wan · 8 months

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Ariana Greenblatt worked with adam for 65

I still need to see that! Man, what a career already. She's awesome.

#asks #ariana greenblatt #65 film #adam driver #ahsoka

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msb3hav3 · 1 year

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This is actually Commander Mills in a *playful* mood during a quick, adorable scene.

#adam driver #adamdriver #commander mills #65 film #65 movie

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martymansblog · 8 months

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Just a Theroy but it kinda makes sense

#65 film #Super Mario Movie 93

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kai11254 · 9 months

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venpelada

#65 movie #65 film

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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🗝️ Some kind of a guide seems fitting for him and because it’s me, I always think he’s out guiding a team or just you and all hell breaks loose!

Trekking through the Sahara or the Amazon or the Himalayas. Summoning Everest or just going on a fun outing for a weekend camping. It all seems like such a good fit for a Mills AU because he’s so rugged! Anything you like would be amazing!

Thank you for sharing your talent! 💗

⋆𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

pairing: TourGuide!Mills x f!Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to slow-ish burn, yearning, 69ing, spanking, dirty talk (he talks you through it 😩)

summary: Heartbreak takes you on a tour of the Zambian safari plains, where you trip into a vacation romance- literally.

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Waxing and poetic reviews of the ‘life changing’ tour of Zambia’s safaris had led you to book a flight at four in the morning while three glasses of wine into your ridiculous display of moping heartbreak following another failed tinder romance. Yes, the giraffes interested you, but you’d be lying if the reviews detailing how sexy the tour guide was didn’t sway your decision.

When Mills introduced himself to the group, you swore your jaw nearly hit the grasslands in shock. He was gorgeous, the golden sunshine melting his gilded irises and warming his face. You had mentally scolded yourself on the first day, because you swore you spent more time ogling his, frankly ridiculous, body than observing the herds of zebras that plodded along the dusty tracks.

Delusions set in by day three. Eating the fruits that were provided at the safari lodge, you were convinced he would glance up at you from his cereal, his eyes flicking back down to the bowl that his hands engulfed. Talking yourself out of the absurd notion only got harder when you eventually did catch him looking at you, distracted and enamoured by the mother elephant pushing her calf along with her trunk. His eyes had been warm, honey pots dripping with amusement as he absorbed your excitement, appreciating your interest in the animals he had clearly grown to love.

Day five is when shit hit the fan. In your defence, the sun was in your eyes and you’d left your sunglasses on your pillow back at the lodge— there was absolutely no way you would have noticed the fallen branch from the Baobab tree, even if you had been watching where you were going rather than ogling Tour Guide Mills’ ass. You trip over it unceremoniously, hitting the sun-baked ground with a sickening thud.

Tears spring to your eyes almost immediately, pain shooting up your ankle and catching you entirely off guard. You’re unsure if it was the sound of the impact or the agonised gasp that grabs Mills’ attention, but he’s over by your side in an instant.

“Are you alright?” He asks you, his voice both music and ridicule to your ears. Of course you would make a tit of yourself in front of him, karma loved to keep you on your toes-

“I’m fine,” you wheeze, but you are not. The stabbing pain in your ankle indicates you are far from fine, but fuck, Mills is. When you look up at him it almost takes your breath away, his long black hair tied into a bun to keep the heat of the baking sun off his neck. Strands have come loose in the breeze, framing his face as he leans close to look you over.

“You’re hurt,” he speaks plainly, and you wish a leopard would just launch itself from the bushes and carry your pathetic carcass up a tree rather than face the mortification of being the reason he had to stop the tour.

“It’s just my ankle, I’ll be oka-“

“Phiri,” Mills calls to his fellow tour guide, catching his attention with a wave of his gigantic palm, “Can you continue on your own?”

Phiri must nod, because Mills is scooping you up bridal style before you even have the chance to insist upon struggling through the rest of the tour. Your arms dart out quickly at the height he stands at when he rises effortlessly to his feet, a totally subconscious action that causes heat to swirl in your cheeks as he begins the journey back to the lodge.

It must only be fifteen minutes at the very most, but it feels like hours. Mills smells mind-numbingly delicious, a mixture of the perspiration drawn out by the sunshine and something earthy, woodsy. Soon, despite the fact you were doing nothing other than tremble in his arms, you’re sweating more than Mills is.

You can’t bear to look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. There’s a rumble in his chest, one that sounds vaguely like a chuckle. Perhaps for the sake of not shrivelling up and dying while the vultures pick at your poor, humiliated bones, you elect to ignore the sound of amusement from him.

Hauling you into the doctor's office, Mills is a silent, hulking presence in the doorway as the doctor checks you over. The professional indicates it is most likely that you have mildly sprained your ankle, informing you that you should be back to normal within a couple of days. He concludes with a devastating blow: ‘You need to rest, though. Don’t walk on it.’

This piece of advice leads to Mills insisting upon carrying you to your lodge. This time, you find yourself leaning into the broad expanse of his shoulder, grasping the cotton of his khaki t-shirt and taking in the oaky scent that you swore if you breathed in any deeper you’d inhale the whole man.

“Here we are,” he says, the man of little words, as he moves to slowly sit you down on your mattress. You clocked the stupid fucking sunglasses on your pillow, just where you remember leaving them.

Mills, as much as he is absolutely not being paid for this, takes his time ensuring your comfort. He props up pillows for your back, your shades placed neatly on the bedside table. When you’re all settled, however, he doesn’t rush to pull away.

His eyes are dancing over the frame of your lips, flicking up to your eyes when he realises how long he has stayed in your personal space. You don’t complain.

“… How can I thank you?” You whisper. It comes out breathier than you plan, a lilt to your tone that makes it sound far closer to a moan than a steady question.

“Don’t mention it at al-“

It’s not him. It’s not you, either. You both crash into each other with insistence, moans of relief bleeding into each others mouths as you finally embrace after days of craving each other. It’s an oasis, whetting the insatiable lust that had clouded your concentration and judgement. There were only so many times you could pretend your fingers were Mills, and you had far surpassed that total only two nights into your trip.

“Hah-“ you gasp softly into the kiss as Mills’ hands wander over the tops of your thighs, squeezing at your hips and tugging your body slightly closer to him. He seems equally as needy, chasing your lips when they part from his for breath.

“Come here,” he orders softly, though it sounds more like a plea. You can’t deny him, delivering kiss after hungry kiss to his open mouth as your fingers fiddle with the hem of his cotton T-shirt.

It all happens so fast, without contemplation. He’s stripping you out of your clothes delicately, making sure to avoid your tender ankle as he carefully pulls the leg of your trousers over it. The groan of delight that rumbles in his chest when he sees your lacy white set beneath your safari garb makes your heart stop.

“Pretty Thing,” he murmurs, tracing your nipple through the lace of your bralette. It’s Mills, and the touch causes a shuddering exhale to creep from your lungs. “Here.”

That order again. It flips your stomach over, and soon Mills is moving you like a ragdoll, with such ease that it’s almost dizzying. Mills spins your body, facing you away from him before grasping your hips and pulling you back towards him.

When his mouth meets the soaked crotch of your panties, you’re arching back into his face without thinking, a loud sigh of bliss escaping you. At first he sucks at your clit through the fabric, but he loses patience and pushes the panties aside, delving into you and enjoying your taste as he laps at you with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands explore the plains of your body, hands squeezing at the flesh of your ass and thighs. Without looking at them, they feel gigantic against your body, covering an expanse of your skin that puts the distance of the Sahara in the north to shame.

You don’t need prompting. Your hands are pushing the elastic waistband of his boxers down, his cock resting against his stomach as you push them over his thighs. Greedily, you take him into your mouth without even bothering to take in the view, desperate to taste him. The salt of his precum coats your tongue, and you both moan in unison.

“Fuck,” Mills breathes, his palm cracking against the curve of your ass. It’s not too hard, but the spank sends your heart wild, swallowing down his length and whimpering at how he stretches your throat and fills your mouth.

The veins on the underside of his cock pulse against the roof of your mouth, his hips jolting slightly as your tongue traces his frenulum. You’re so needy, letting him fuck your face despite the threat of a gag pulling at the back of your throat. It’s messy, the wet, sopping sounds obscene to your own ears.

Mills’ hands travel all over your body, up your waist, reaching forward and under to squeeze your tits. You’d wanted to make this some form of an appreciation for him carrying you across the safari-lands, but he’s insistent upon making you feel good too.

“Oh, shit-“ he gasps when you take him particularly deep into your throat, gagging around him. Mills’ head falls back onto the pillows, rocking his hips up involuntarily until your nose is pressing into his pubic bone. He’s rambling a sorry, the apology slurred and almost indiscernible over the sloppy sounds of you sucking his dick.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his hand moving between your legs to rub rapidly over your clit. You’re caving inwards at the sensation, hands grasping at the tops of his thighs as he talks you towards your orgasm. “You’re so fucking good. So hot—wanted to drag you into my room the minute you walked in here, giving me those ‘fuck me eyes’ all the time. Can you feel it coming? Huh? Your thighs are trembling. There it is- there it is.”

You cum with a whimper around his dick, mouth stuffed full of him and unable to make much of a sound— but fuck, it utterly obliterates you. Rocking back onto his fingers, onto his face, you sob as he juts his hips up once, twice. He cums down your through with a haggard groan, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your ass in an attempt to muffle the sound he makes.

It becomes a frequent pastime. A long safari ending with a quick, desperate fuck. You discuss what will happen when you return home, the two of you skirting around the fact this has become far more than a vacation hook up. He gives you his number, of course it’s a shitty Nokia phone, but it makes so much sense.

“One of the vervet monkeys took my iPhone,” he grumbles when you arch a brow at his brick phone.

For now, without the stress of leaving, Mills holds you in his arms, your hips slotted between his thighs and head resting on his chest. You’re exhausted, still recovering from your injury while enjoying as many safaris as you can— and fucking Mills every waking minute.

You feel Mills gently touch your shoulder, rousing you from the blissful sleep that almost had you. A whine creeps past your lips, eyelids heavy.

“What?” You mumble, pausing when you see Mills press a finger to his lips and point to the sliding glass doors that he had left open.

A baby giraffe, a few months old, peeks its head into your cabin. Its eyelashes flutter as it looks over the box room, blinking slowly. You can’t help but wake, a grin pulling at your lips as it slowly backs away, unamused by the lack of edible greenery.

“Wow,” you whisper, watching it begin its slow journey back to the herd, tail swishing behind it.

“Worth it?” Mills murmurs, brushing his fingers up your spine softly.

“Worth every single penny.”

END

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