bitchin-beskar

[bitchin-beskar]

#jurassic park #lol #twitter

[bitchin-beskar]

he’s tryin his best okay

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

👀👀

you rang???

listen…. I am a feminist first and foremost…. except when it comes to that man.

but the best part???? he’d never take advantage of that and THATS why I love him

I am a strong independent woman until I laid eyes on Price. That man wouldn’t even need to ask- my ass would be in the kitchen making dinner and greeting him with a drink in my hand. The THINGS that man does to my brain is not fair u.u

honestly MEEEE TOOOO

i don't get down on my knees for no man...except for price 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

he's just soooooo.......so much and i love him..............the beard and the competency and his shoulders andandandand

he can bend me over the counter and push my skirt aside any day....

calling @bitchin-beskar and @yeyinde and all the rest of the price hoes

#price #captain price #moots

[bitchin-beskar]

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

So I'm thinking more Sith!Obi-Wan thots 😈😍

Suppose it's your first time as his date to some fancy Imperial gala. He's delighted to show you off, and of course, dance with you. Maybe dancing gets him in the mood for other intimate embraces, and you find yourself being tugged into a nearby coat room/closet for a secret tryst.

Ohohooo, yes, bestie 😏❤️

Imperial Love

Ship: Sith!Obi Wan x f!reader

Summary: Sith Lord Kenobi invited you for a gala evening and things get heated after first round of dancing.

Rating: explicit smut, 18+, minors don't interact

Warnings: vaginal fingering, pussy licking, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, pussy drunk Lord Kenobi deserves his own warning 😏, squirting

It all started with a single package with a fancy sticker. For my love.

You sigh and smile, knowing who sent it, even if it wasn't signed. Lord Kenobi had an exquisite taste for beautiful things. So when you opened it, and found beautiful, long, high slit, dark blue dress with little diamonds, that look like starry night sky, you were not surprised, although your eyes widened with adoration. The dress hugged your figure so well, enhanicng every curve, cleveage being deep just enough to tease.

You couldn't stop at yourself in the mirror, feeling so pretty. You finished your makeup and hair and eventually it was time to meet with Lord Kenobi.

Obi Wan already waited before your room. His golden-red eyes widened at the sight of you, lips parting in admiration and awe. His possesive side tells him to fuck all Imperials and their galas and to destroy you right now at your bed, but this evening was somehow important, to his annoyance. Obi Wan watches you with hungry eyes, making you blush and your stomach flutters. You smile at him, watching him kissing your hand like a gentleman he is.

"Sith hells, you look incredibly gorgeous, my sweetheart," he pulls you for a passionate kiss. When he pulls away, you look breathless and panting. Absolutely delicious. And only his.

"Shall we go, love?" You nod and Obi Wan leads you to the gala event. You both look so good and everyone turns to you, admiring how you look together. Sith Lord proudly shows you off, but his hand never leaves your side.

You both have a great time and dancing round already started. Lord Kenobi pulls you closer to him, as you dance, his hands slowly roam over your body. You can't stop looking at him, biting your lips in attempt to muffle your moans, and when your ass grinds against him slightly, Obi Wan can't handle it anymore.

"Fucking hell, girl, you drive me crazy," he growls and leads you away to nearest empty room. He locks it behind you and in the second is on you, kissing you so passionately, leaving you breathless and needy for him.

"Mhmmm, my Sith Lord, please, fuck me already," you moan, rubbing your thighs together, as his mouth cover your neck in hickeys and love bites. Obi Wan groans, his rock hard cock twitches at your words. He slides hand between your legs, finding you soaked with arousal. He smiles.

"How can I say no to such a good girl? You are my good girl, only mine," he praises you, rubbing circles on your clit, before sliding two fingers into your pussy. You whimper his name, holding onto him for dear life, as he starts such a pace, that has you keening and panting for your Sith Lord. It doesn't take you long to cum hard on his fingers. Obi Wan watches you, as he licks his fingers clean and kneels before you.

"Good fucking girl, deserve a reward," he winks at you and throws your leg over his shoulder, his hands and the Force keeps you in place, as he latches his mouth on you. You moan loudly, hot pleasure flowing your veins, warmth spreads from your lower abdomen to your other parts. Obi Wan eats you out with vigor, like a man starving. His eyes eventually close and he actually moans, feeling your walls flutter around his tongue.

"A-Hhhh, ahhh, Obi Wan, mmghhnn, I'm- fuckinghellshitrightthere- gonna-"

"Cum for me, my dear, let me taste you, give it to me all," Obi Wan purrs and you climax again, grinding hips needily into his mouth. He laps at your juices, dripping down his chin. When you come down from your high, a sight for gods awaits you. Sith Lord Kenobi kneeling before you, his lower face drenched in your release, panting and moaning with eyes still closed.

Eventually he gets up and kisses you again, you can taste yourself on him. He picks you up, letting you wrap legs around his waist, as he frees his painfully hard cock, already leaking precum, and rubs it against you, making you whine.

"My pretty woman, I'd do anything for you," he whispers and slips inside you. You both moan in unison, he lets out string of curses, as he desperately tries not to cum right now, feeling your pussy tighten around him.

"Ah, fuck, so tight- so good sweetheart-"

"F-fuck yes, Obi, right there, fuck- don't stop, please- ahhh-"

Your needy groans of pleasure echo in the room. Lord Kenobi angles hips, slamming into your sweet spot only he can hit, and you keen, eyes rolling into your skull. Obi Wan curses again and fucks you faster, harder against the wall. He doesn't give a shit, who hears you, the only thing that matters right now, is your pussy clenching around his cock. He's lost in your pleasure, totally lost in the sauce.

"Ahhh, fuck- Obi Wan- ahh-"

Your orgasm hits you like a brick wall, hard and unexpected, you can feel warm liquid soaking Obi's lower abdomen and at the same time he spills inside you with a growl of your name, some of his cum drip down your thighs. He thrusts few more times, before stilling completely, holding you in his arms and kissing you softly, leaning his forehead against yours.

After few minutes, when you both calmed down, he slides out of you. Your legs feel like a jello, when you try to stand, your knees buckle and Obi catches you, before you can fall. He smirks at you.

"Ready to come home, love? I am not done with you yet."

#sith!obi beloved #moots writing #sith!obi wan x female reader

[bitchin-beskar]

literally have never seen anything more relatable

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

pedro pascal doesn’t owe you shit.

it is absolutely fine to be disappointed by his absence at cannes. i am too. but he does not have to be there.

for whatever reason he’s pulling away from the attention. the esquire article talked about how guarded he is and his socials have really slowed down. maybe he’s unprepared or overwhelmed by all the tlou hype. i mean his follower count went up by the tens of thousands the day after the premiere. that’s insane.

but some of you have lost the plot. the ones wearing d*ddy’s little girl shirts in fucking public and yelling d*ddy at him at events and trying to convince everyone whether he’s queer or not and complaining there isn’t an explicit scene of him fucking in the strange way of life. it’s not a gay porn made for your fetish. ‘oh but narcos!!’ that’s called characterization. read literally any article from almodovar and understand why sex isn’t the point.

interacting with paparazzi content and making cute little edits - jfc. that’s creating demand and supply and paparazzi know no fucking boundaries. man’s got anxiety and no doubt the paps and fans watching his every move are probably making that worse.

let him make movies and rotate through his four shirts in peace. pedro pascal doesn’t owe anyone shit.

#que whoooo #they way some people act around him #in public #are you not embarrassed??

[bitchin-beskar]

You know the biggest loss of the decline of physical media and the rise of streaming? DVD special features.

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

Live Gaz reaction

Special treatment

#que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

tumblr being all adults nowadays is so funny because my mutuals are either unemployed chainsmokers or Ezra, Bioengineering PHD Candidate at University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill

#que whoooo #gotta include the prev. tags -> #i’m barely removed from being an unemployed chainsmoker #and one of my best friends is in grad school and the other is literally a phd candidate #so not only is the gap not that large #sometimes they’re friends

[bitchin-beskar]

I know Cody was the madlad who jumped on Grievous but I NEED to know who the two other dudes who immediately backed him up were. It's one thing to make a bad decision but imagine watching someone make a bad decision and then going YES I AM GETTING IN ON THIS

And Cody was on the bottom of the pile so it definitely wasn't him that hit Grievous with the grappling line, what complete fucking nutcase used the hookshot on Grievous

#que whoooo #commander cody #he’s a badass

[bitchin-beskar]

so the thing about my family is that we have two ancestors on my dad’s side who were buried in france, where I currently live. one died in the spanish civil war, and one died prior doing…we don’t know what. but he somehow managed to get buried in père lachaise. 

so anyhow, my gran sends me a message like “pls put flowers on ur uncle samuel’s grave because he’s gone over a century with none and it will make the ghost mad if he hasn’t already” because my family spends time in europe but never long enough to go all the way to père lachaise and give ya boy samuel jr. his death rites. so im like “ok gran I can do that” bc im a good grandson and you do not fuck with gran she doesn’t DESERVE THAT 

i figure out which plot he’s on and ask someone specifically where you can find uncle samuel jr. and they tell me where and so I arrive at the junction and. 

HE GONE. 

WHERE DID YOU GO UNCLE SAMUEL. 

*celine dion’s smash hit “my heart will go on” playing in the distance* 

in other words either someone stole my entire great great uncle samuel or he has risen again, ready to party in paris for all of eternity. 

#uncle Samuel partying it up #que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

#ALL OF THESE #que whoooo #don’t come for me

[bitchin-beskar]

#reblogging for the tag #que whoooo

[bitchin-beskar]

soapghost public transit drabble pt. 2

When Soap had gotten home that late Tuesday afternoon in March, Isla immediately began to interrogate him on why he had such a stupid look on his face. Unprepared for the assault, he didn’t have time to control his body’s instinctive reaction, and his blush gave everything away. Isla-clever shit that she was-didn’t let up until he’d admitted to finally having a conversation with the masked stranger that covered the pages of his sketchbooks.

She proceeded to crow about it to his ma and the rest of his sisters, chanting relentlessly. “John’s got a crush! John’s got a crush! John’s in looooooooove!!”

“Isla if ye don’ shut yer trap-”

“JOHN! ISLA!”

“Sorry, Ma!”

“Sorry…”

Even with the relentless teasing, Soap couldn’t deny the way his heart began to beat a little faster when he went to board the bus the next day. What the hell was he supposed to do? Did he just pretend that the day before was merely a fluke, that Ghost had only offered the spot because the bus had been full? Did he try to sit next to him and risk getting the death glare that businessman had gotten? Soap wasn’t sure how he’d handle a rejection like that.

But it turns out his worries had been for naught, because as he boarded, he made eye contact with Ghost, who very deliberately shuffled over a bit to make more room on the seat next to him. Soap couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips if he’d tried, and he made his way over to sit beside the hulking man.

“Fancy seein’ ye here, Ghost.”

He got a dry look in return, one eyebrow quirked up, looking far more attractive than he had any right to with less than half his face showing.

“We’ve ridden the same bus for 3 months, Johnny.”

Soap gasped in mock surprise.

“Ah dinnae ken ye’d been counting, Ghost! Should ah be worried?”

Another dry look, although the corners of his eyes crinkled, indicating his own amusement.

“If anyone should be worried, it’d likely be me. How many times did you draw me?”

Soap shrugged sheepishly. “Ah couldnae tell ye.” He paused, before adding indignantly, “is no fault o’ mine yer such a bonnie subject, Ghost.”

“Speak English.”

“Ah’ll have ye ken I speak perfect English, thank ye very much!”

When Ghost rolled his eyes and very deliberately looked out the window and away from Soap, he sighed.

“Attractive.”

Ghost looked back at him.

“Sorry?”

“Bonnie. Means attractive. Pretty, handsome, ye ken? How’d ye live in Glasgow an’ nae ken that?” Ghost stared at Soap for a long moment, and he worried he’d overstepped. It was a bad habit of his, coming on way too strong at the start and scaring people off.

But then Ghost looked away, and Soap could see the faintest hints of pink peeking out from the edge of his balaclava. Soap realized quite abruptly that Ghost was embarrassed.

“Well, ‘s not a word anyone’s had reason to use with me before, how was I supposed to know?”

“Ye tellin’ me no one’s ever told ye how handsome ye are?”

Ghost looked at Soap out of the corner of his eye. “I wear a mask, Soap. No, I’ve never been told that.”

“So, take it off.”

There was a pause.

“Show my face?”

Soap grinned. “Yessir.”

Ghost paused for another long moment.

“Negative.”

Soap didn’t know when to leave the hell alone.

“Are ye ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

Soap blinked, his brain short-circuiting at the almost flirtatious tone of Ghost’s voice. He felt his own cheeks beginning to flush, and it was his turn to turn away and break eye contact. “Steamin’ Jesus, Simon,” he muttered, one hand coming up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. A hot flare of arousal curled low in his gut, and Soap cursed his body’s hairpin trigger.

Sometimes he felt like those explosions he loved so much, needing just the flip of a detonator switch before he went off. It could be both a blessing and a curse, although right now he was leaning towards curse.

Ghost chuckled, low and rough, and Soap almost groaned out loud as another wave of heat coursed through him. “Cat got your tongue, Johnny?”

“Och! Away an’ bile yer heid!”

“English.”

Soap narrowed his eyes at the smug Brit.

“Go fuck yerself.”

Ghost only laughed again, falling silent as the bus approached Soap’s stop. Soap was grateful for the reprieve.

He honestly wasn’t sure he’d wanted to continue that line of banter in such a public place. It was quickly approaching dangerous territory, and as eager as Soap was to see if he could pull another blush from the man beside him, he wasn’t sure he could risk the danger to himself, if Ghost continued to throw little comments back like that. He didn’t have a mask covering his features, and he’d been told on more than one occasion that his poker face was absolutely horrendous.

As the bus started to slow to a stop, Soap went to get up, only for a large, glove-covered hand on his thigh to stop him in his tracks. He looked over at Ghost, trying desperately to ignore the heat of Ghost’s palm searing into his skin through the fabric of his jeans. In Ghost’s other hand was a small scrap of paper that Soap took with a confused look.

Ghost’s eyes merely crinkled again, looking very much like a predator who had his prey in his sights. “Maybe I’d rather do that to you, Johnny.”

Ghost winked at him with that parting remark, before removing his hand from Soap’s thigh and allowing him to stand up.

Soap wanted to ask what the hell that cryptic phrase meant, but the bus jerking to a stop prevented him from doing that. He moved to get off the bus, turning once his feet were on solid ground to see Ghost’s eyes tracking him as the door shut behind him.

The bus pulled away, and Soap stood there at the bus stop, staring after the taillights until it turned the corner and disappeared from view. It took him longer than he’d like to admit for him for finally look down as the little scrap of paper that Ghost had pressed into his hand.

Unfolding it, his eyes widened as he saw the phone number scrawled there, along with a little doodle of a skull. He blinked, looking back and forth between the paper and the empty road in front of him. As he did, Ghost’s parting remark finally clicked in his brain.

Soap had told him to go fuck himself. Ghost’s response to that was to suggest he’d rather fuck Soap. His cheeks blazed bright red, and he stared dumbfounded at that little slip of paper. For maybe the first time, he was at a loss for words.

…

God, Isla was never gonna let him live this down.

#soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #drabble #soapghost drabble #also on the stupid bird app #sfw... for now