#qimir x reader

[teamred]

focus on me

✩‌ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.

WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!

You stumble back with your palm soiled wet. 

Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.

It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point. 

Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too. 

Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte. 

Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk? 

Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and– 

Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”

“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction. 

He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.  

“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him. 

Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts. 

Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him. 

However, your confidence blinds you.

Too close. 

He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.  

Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down. 

In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength. 

“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him. 

You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.

Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.

And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core. 

Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more. 

You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress. 

“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!” 

Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation. 

With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions. 

Now, your staff is pressed against his throat. 

“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?” 

He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes. 

It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else. 

Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.

“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”  

He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face. 

“Training’s over for today.” 

The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards. 

His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.  

“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more. 

“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.   

You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”

“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.” 

“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?” 

He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth. 

“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.” 

You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs. 

Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours. 

In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest. 

The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him. 

You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.

The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you. 

He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him. 

Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”

The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple. 

“...wanting to see you like this for me.” 

You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit. 

At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.   

Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock. 

When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir. 

As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him. 

You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.  

The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest. 

He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.

When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.

“You take my cock so well.” 

A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.   

You freeze, and then you feel it.

The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.

But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh. 

On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.  

“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.

“Yes,” you mentally scream.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” you manage to croak. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”

You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there. 

“Yes, Qimir.”

His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.

“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.

“Feels good, feels so fucking good…” 

Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close— 

And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.

You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.

“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”

That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Can you do that for me?” 

You nod breathlessly.

Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.

“QimirQimirQimir–” 

And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe. 

Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later. 

Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.

You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated? 

But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code: 

“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’” 

He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.

“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’” 

Holds your hand against his beating chest. 

“‘Through strength, I gain power.’” 

His grip tightens. 

“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’” 

Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.

And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you. 

That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.

[meshla-cyarika]

I've had writer's block for my favourite fic for weeks now and it's actually killing me.

[inklore]

— qimir x f!reader why would you run from him after everything he's shown and given to you. you are supposed to be his perfect acolyte. crafted for him. contents: p in v, over stimulation, semi yandere qimir | wc: 559+

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. How many positions he has put you in. How many times you have begged him for a break, to rest, to catch your breath, to stop the throbbing between your thighs that only gets worse the more he fucks you. 

The more the underside of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. His fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your squirming thighs apart. The force taking over when he grows tired of holding you open for him. 

“Please.” You whined. 

“You sound like you didn’t cause this.” The lack of empathy on his face only makes it worse. Only makes your skin burn and gather sweat, barely filling your lungs. The underside of his cock pushing back and forth through your slit, wet and loud in your eyes. “You did this to yourself.” His words mock you just as much as your arousal does. Evidence of how many times you’ve come, of how your body is spent and can’t stop giving itself over to him. Letting him pull, take, and use you. 

The more his mouth sucks at your clit, the more his fingers curl up inside of you and press against your walls, the more you gush around him. His eyes on yours when you declare you can’t come anymore, and he pulls another from you. 

He allows your fingers to dig into his hair to try and push him away from your swollen cunt. The corner of his mouth pulled up when the flick of his wrist has your hands unable to move. 

Making a show of how powerless you truly are against him in so many ways. So many ways that should fill you with fear. Should anger you. But only heat your cheeks in the opposite effect. The reasons as to why you ran from him long forgotten, long regretted, long praised and thanked by the haze of pleasure, want, the need to rest—to be devoured by him. 

An overwhelming feeling of not being whole, not being able to be put back together unless it’s by his hands taking you apart in the first place. 

His fingers dig into your wrists, your knees pressed against his chest, pushing your ass up from the bed enough to have his hips driving deeper, harder, against it. The tip of his cock hits that part of your pussy that no longer aches when he’s this deep. When your walls are this swollen and fluttering around the thickness of him. 

His mouth leaves bites against your jaw, “are you going to leave me again?” You shake your head, tears sting your eyes, your body spent and overstimulated yet still pulling him in. Still aching for another release and to be awarded his. 

He groans against your cheek, “all I’ve shown you, given you, and you run from me. What happened to my good little acolyte?” His dark eyes look down at you, a hand at the crown of your head, thumb rubbing a soothing circle against your skull. “Are you still my girl?”

You’ll feel pathetic later, no matter how fast your head nods. A sick swoop of joy shoots through your stomach when he smiles down at you. His kisses, once rough, hard, and demanding, now filled with a passion fueled gentleness that makes you come again. 

[rebelscums]

Little Flower (Qimir x Padawan reader)

Rating: Fluff | Kissing | Light grinding | A pillow is thrown

Summary: You are the padawan to a masked man you had no name of. You have been by his side for years, training and mastering the arts of what he refers to as the dark side of the force. However, with Mae entering your life as his new favorite, you are beginning to question whether you belong there anymore. Something that you run to your closet fiend to talk about. Who knew confessing to Qimir about your trouble would bring a life changing moment.

“I’m not strong enough for him.” That was the first thing you said to Qirmir as you entered his shop. Borrowed shop? You didn’t care.

The defeat in your tone was enough to alert him of your dismay.

“That’s it. I’m officially useless to him. He doesn’t need me.” You blurted out all of your frustrations to the only person you have ever been able to call a friend, “All he cares about is his new acolyte Mae.”

You were both stationed here with Mae as she completed the next part of her trial which was to kill Master Torbin… Without a weapon.

“What makes you say that?” Qimir popped his head up from behind his counter.

“He’s been making me run these needless errands lately that literally anyone else in the galaxy can do.” You set a bag of powdered gold leaves onto the counter, “This took me an entire day to find and when I go back to the spot I left him, he was gone! Gone! Didn’t tell me where either.” You said frustratingly, “So I figured you might know what to do with this.”

Qimir took the bag and peered inside, a please look on his face as he hummed, “Actually I do. It’s the leaves I need to make a poison Mae requested.”

“Of course it is.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of her name.

Mae seemed to be taking the eyes of your master and Qimir lately. Something that made your eyes turn green with the overpowering feeling of jealousy… Of being abandoned.

“Look, I love Mae and she has become very dear to me, but… I was here first.” You felt like a child for saying that, “I know that sounds selfish, but it feels like he just tossed me aside for a better version.” You looked up at Qimir showing him the hurt and betrayal in your eyes before looking away to try and suppress your feelings, “And maybe… Maybe she is better than me… Maybe I should just take my loss and go.” You spoke in a near whisper, your throat tightening at the thought.

“No!” The way he quickly voiced his answer had you looking up at him waiting for him to continue, “You are strong with the force and an extremely skilled assassin.” He shook his head, “You don’t have to leave.”

You sighed and moved past him and the counter, “But what if he wants me to leave Qi? You don’t understand. It’s like he doesn’t even see me or the power I possess. All he ever says to me is that I’m not ready to become his acolyte and that I need to help Mae ascend yet…” You slumped into the cot that he called a bed with a huff, “I’m older than she is! I’ve been with him longer might I add. I’ve never questioned him, I’ve followed him loyally and this is what I am granted with? To be a baby sitter?”

“One useful skill may come out of that job.” He noted and you missed the blush in his face at whatever he was thinking about…

“And what might that be?” You muttered tiredly as you stared up at the ceiling contemplating your life and how you could just be better.

“You would make a good mother?” Qimir shrugged his shoulders as he tried to had the small smirk on his lips.

You launched one of the pillows on the bed the moment those words left his mouth. It was going straight for his head to which he surprisingly dodged with ease, but that didn’t stop the surprised look appear on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Not funny.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, turning to face the wall with a pout.

“Okay okay. I’m sorry.” Qimir said as he walked over to where you were. When you didn’t turn to face him, he decided to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside you. There was a thoughtful look on his face before he spoke again, “Maybe… Maybe he is looking out for you.”

That got your attention. You sat up, your shoulders brushing against his as you peered up at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”

A nervous blush creeped up his face as you leaned closer to him, “Well I mean… I…” He trailed off nervously, “I just mean that maybe you just might be more important to him than you realize. He could be looking after you to take on a more important role.”

“What’s more important than being his acolyte?” You huffed in confusion as you look towards your fiddling hands, “I remember what he said to me all those years ago when we first met. He promised he would make me a powerful force weirder and that I would stand by his side as his acolyte and now… Now I’m starting to question if he really meant it.”

Qimir’s hand found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze, “He meant it and… You are powerful. Just as you are brave and unlawfully kind.” He assured and it was your turn to blush.

It seemed like he always knew what to say to you in ways that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn, “Qi…” You breathed out as you glanced at his lips.

He was quick to copy your movements leaning in closer to you as he did so, “Maybe he sees too much good in you to turn you into something your not.” He whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

“You seem to know a lot about what he may think.” You whispered, suddenly lost in his darkening gaze, “Why is that?”

“What can I say? I’m good at reading people.” He smirked slightly as he looked down at your lips again, “I’m also extremely possessive over what I care about. Knowing him means knowing you.”

“Okay…” You hummed accepting his answer, “Alright then mister possessive, what am I thinking about right now?” You mused, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes.

It was something the Qimir couldn’t get enough of. It was your playfulness towards him that was like a breath of fresh air against the darkness he was met with daily.

“I would say…” His speech was slow as he traced your face with his eyes, “That you really want to kiss me.” He teased lowly. There was a small grin on his face in knowing that he was right.

He was always right.

“Do I now?” You didn’t try to deny it as you leaned in closer to him, “And you? What do you want to do?”

A low noise emanated from his throat, almost like a pleading sound as his lips brushed against yours, “I want to kiss you...” He said in a way that made your heart yearn for him.

“Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.” You breathed out, your heart racing wildly in excitement.

That was all he needed to hear as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the soft sensation in the way that he kissed you. It was delicate and gentle as if he was afraid to push you too far, but the way your arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to you, was all he needed to know.

He felt like light between your fingertips as you ran your hands through his hair and he was gentle with his movements in guiding you back against the bed. “Beautiful…” He breathed out, fitting himself snugly between your legs.

“Qi…” You breathed his name against his lips, arching your back as he tugged your bottom lips between his teeth. He held himself back, letting go of your lip to really look at you. You couldn’t help but look at him with awe as he gazed at you with so much love and devotion shining in his eyes.

“You are just… Breathtaking.” He admired you with every part of his being, “Utterly breathtaking…” He seemed mesmerized as his right hand traced along your curves.

You blushed, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked away from him embarrassed by his loving words, “Who knew you were such a flatterer.”

He chuckled lowly as he leaned back down to kiss your lips. All too quickly he left and began leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck. You couldn’t help your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.

“You deserve to be flattered.” He continued losing himself in everything that was you. He rocked himself against you as he held back the urge to devour you entirely. He wanted too so desperately now that he knew you were his, body, soul, and mind. He would never let you go, not now… Not until his last dying breath. “You deserve the galaxy, my little flower.” He muttered softly against your skin.

You have much to learn little flower.

You moaned lightly at the pleasure he filled you with almost kissing his last words, but you heard them. Your mind took a moment to register the deeper meaning behind his endearment, but when you did your eyes opened in realization. It was him. Qimir was him. No one knew about that little nickname except for…

“Master?” You whispered running your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, but your heart beat widely in your chest as he stopped kissing you.

“Hm…” He hummed a small smirk gracing his lips as he breathed against your neck, “You finally figured it out.”

You placed your right hand on his cheek and gentle lifted his head to face you, “He’s you?” You said in awe as you pieced together every moment up until now, “You’re him?”

“I am.” He searched your eyes for any fear or resistance, but his shoulders relaxed as he saw none.

“So… That is why you were never around when he— I mean when you were training me? Because you were already there.” Your brows furrowed, “Does Mae know?” A small pang filled your chest at the possibility of her knowing your masters identity before you.

He shook his head, “No.”

The pang quickly left, filling your chest with relief as you let out a small sigh, “So… That’s how you were so sure about how he was feeling because that’s what you truly felt…” A blush filled your cheeks at the kind words he said to you earlier.

However, you realized something else as well. He was the one who kept you from becoming his acolyte. You gasped as you smacked his chest causing him to groan and you would have cared for the old Qimir if you didn’t already know how strong he truly was as your master.

“Why won’t you make me your acolyte?” You huffed slightly embarrassed now that you know you spilled your guts to him, “This entire time I have told you how I felt. I am devoted only to you master so why will you not let me become your acolyte?”

“I thought you would have figured that out by now.” He chuckled shaking his head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? That is why you train me, it is why you let me stay with you, is it not?”

Strands of his hair fell into his eyes from the way he shook his head. You couldn’t help, but reach up to brush them away, something that had his heart flutter and his lips curl up into a soft smile. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed as he spoke softly, “I don’t want you to become my acolyte anymore because I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you.” His gaze darkened, “I would burn the galaxy before that ever happens.”

You smiled softly and brushed away the creases from his brow, “I know.”

“I want you to be mine.” He nuzzled his nose into your wrist before placing a gentle kiss upon in, “I want you to be my equal… Not as someone who does my bidding, not as my padawan or my acolyte, but someone who stands by me.”

“I want you my little flower because you are everything I wish the world to be.” He finished, a soft look in his eyes.

Love swelled up in your chest at the confession he conveyed so deeply to you. His love sealed your fate to him as you leaned up towards him. You brushed your lips against his, the both of you conveying your strong emotions to one another with the look of your eyes.

“You have my heart Qimir and I will stand by your side, always.” You agreed softly.

It was a promise that the two of you would keep without any doubt. He was yours and you were his until the end of time.

[multific]

The Sith's Tender Heart

Qimir x Reader

Summary: As you navigate the joys and fears of pregnancy with Qimir, his love reaches a new level.

The soft hum of the night came to a stop when Qimir woke up, his hand instinctively reaching for you.

But instead of finding you there lying next to him, where you belonged, he could only find cold sheets.

Panic filled his chest as he quickly sat up and looked for you.

He was quickly on his feet, rushing through the halls.

He ended up finding you in the kitchen, you sat in the dark, almost completely silent, eating.

This was the moment when his poor heart calmed down finally.

“You should be resting,” he said, voice full of concern. He knew you needed to sleep. You needed energy more than ever.

You smiled softly. “Our little one insisted.”

His hand hovered protectively over your belly. He felt his child through the force. “Next time... wake me. I can’t bear the thought of you being alone if something happened.” You smiled and agreed.

Little did he know this would lead to you waking him every night sometimes more than even once.

Apparently, his child had a huge appetite.

---

Later another incident happened when the cool waters called to you, but Qimir’s sharp voice cut through the peace, causing you to jump a little in the water.

“Out. Now.” His breath hitched, eyes burning with fear as he began to walk over to you, entering the water.

You frowned as you turned and found him behind you. “Qimir—”

“It's too cold. What if-”

You reached for him, fingertips brushing his jaw. “I’m safe with you.”

His voice cracked, the weight of his love and terror evident. “It’s not just Jedi. It’s the universe. I couldn’t bear... losing you.”

You cupped his face fully, your voice was soft but certain. “You are my protector. And I will always be yours. We are fine, believe me, My Love”

You pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

In that fragile moment, he wasn't the feared Sith, was simply a man who loved you.

He was willing to tear down the stars to keep your family safe.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[siempre-bucky]

hallucinations

Qimir x Reader

summary: Qimir takes quick action when you get sick on Khofar when you start seeing things

wc: 1.6k

a/n: for the anon that wanted some whump... I hope you like it <3 I'm working on requests rn and they're still open for Qimir!

You wanted to like this planet. Khofar was a planet you had dreamed of visiting since Qimir gave you a map of the outer rim. The dense forest made you feel so at home, one with the galaxy—or at least you wanted it to feel this way. Your head pounded with every step you took as you trekked behind Mae and Qimir, your lungs struggling to fill with air. You weren’t sure when you began to feel so dragged down and exhausted, you didn’t feel this way often. 

Qimir pulled his pack higher onto his shoulder and looked behind to catch a glimpse of you. His eyebrows knitted together in worry, “You alright?” he asked, tripping over a rock but catching himself gracefully. You looked up with tired dry eyes, they burned as you tried to keep your gaze on him. With a nod, you drew in a breath and powered through to close the distance between you and your friend. 

“Fine,” you answered, masking the illness that took over your body. You wanted to crawl back to the ship and bundle up in the small sleeping quarters that barely slept the three of you. This mission wasn’t about you, Mae was eager to please the master and kill the Wookie. Right now you hated the eagerness that was powering her, it made her walk faster. 

“You don’t look fine,” Qimir sighed, “we can stop.” He slowed his movements as you entered deeper into the forest, his eyes looking at your feet to make sure you didn’t trip over a rock or exposed tree root on the small ledge you had to climb down. 

You raised your hand and put it on his shoulder to reassure him, tempted to lean against him for support as you maneuvered around to get to solid ground. “I’m good. We need to help her find Kelnacca.” He noticed the weakness in your tone, followed by the slight hoarseness that had him wondering when the last time you had water was. “It’s just in front of us.” 

The man looked forward, squinting to see what you were talking about. He knew the exact location and you were nowhere close to the cabin where the Wookie resided. He quickly realized that you were so sick you started to see things. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed as it dawned on him. He grabbed ahold of your arm gently to get your attention. You turned to look at him and he was able to take in the sweat on your forehead and the lifelessness in your eyes. “I need you to sit.” 

“I’m fine, Qimir. I feel ok.” 

Famous last words. A wave of lightheadedness crashed into you, and it made you stumble right into his chest. A chill followed, and suddenly you were transported to Hoth; freezing with no solution. Qimir was warm, the thickness of his coat warmed your cheek for a brief moment before he peeled you off of him. Everything was muffled as he sat you down on a rock, you vaguely heard him call out for Mae. The world spun as you watched him give her an empty canteen and urged her to go get water from the creek nearby. You swore you saw womp rats following her closely as she hastily disappeared into the forest.  

You suddenly felt the warmth of his hand hit your cheek, and you leaned into it, your eyes meeting his. His hand felt like a pillow, holding you steady as you struggled to stay conscious. His face finally came into focus. Qimir was just as beautiful as the day you met him, when he was still a gun runner for the Hutts, and you were freshly recruited by the Master for your set of skills.  “I think I’m sick, Qi,” you chuckled, giving in. 

“I know,” he sighed, using the side of his sleeve to gently brush the beads of sweat from your forehead. 

He looked around the forest anxiously, no sight of Mae and he had lost track of when he sent her. He grumbled something about her always taking her time and cursed her lack of urgency under his breath. Qimir felt you slump over and it instantly worried him. He’d never seen you so sick before. You managed to fight off colds with his remedies and hide your sniffles when you needed to. It hurt him to see you like this. 

The world went dark after that, and the next thing you knew, you were waking up to the smell of a familiar remedy. There was something about the spiciness that tickled your nostrils that instantly made you feel better. Qimir made it often when either of you got sick, storing containers of it just in case he couldn’t make it right then and there. He made it the first time for you just months after you met, getting caught in a rainstorm and the doors to the place you were staying wouldn’t budge. You were stubborn and demanded to stay with him after he shouted at you to find shelter while he tinkered with the bolts and screws. You were stuck in bed with a terrible cold for a week and Qimir never failed to bring you the special soup. 

You could hear the metal spoon drag along the bottom of the pot, the warmth of a fire soothing the chill you were still stricken with. A blanket had been draped over your torso, you snuggled in deeper to let it come up over your mouth, touching your nose. It smelled of him, earthy and a scent so uniquely Qimir. With a soft groan, you turned your head to the side to take in the room. It would have made a nice shelter if the Master wanted, it was large enough to hold a few people yet it had a charm to it. You felt as if you could live here for a while, fill up that nearly empty bookshelf in the corner, and bring those rusted-over monitors near the dirty window to life again. Maybe just not now though, your body felt as if an entire ship had been dropped on top of you. You didn't want to move, you couldn’t move. 

Qimir saw you wiggle beneath the blanket out of the corner of his eye. He quickly poured the soup into a bowl and carefully walked it over to you, kneeling beside the makeshift bed. “How are you feeling?” He placed the bowl on the table beside him and placed the back of his hand on your forehead. You were still burning up he noted, he took his hand and crooked his long pointer finger, letting it drag along the side of your face. Your head followed his touch so that your face was looking at the ceiling. It was almost sensual the way he touched you, slow and delicate, taking you in even in this state. He was thankful your eyes were closed or you might have seen the red flush on his cheeks.

“Like I got body slammed by a Wookie,” you answered weakly. “Was there a Wookie?” 

He chuckled a bit and shook his head, hair falling into his face, “No,” he said gently, removing his hand and sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been seeing things all day.” 

“Shit,” you cursed with a small laugh. Your eyes finally opened again and you turned your head carefully so it wouldn’t throb. Maybe he was right and you were seeing things because Qimir had changed? The green and brown baggy clothes you were accustomed to were different. He wore jet black sleeveless robes, well structured and they formed to his well-toned body. Had he always been that toned? You let your hand emerge from the warmth of the blanket and pressed your hand against his chest. His gaze was locked on your hand, watching intently as your fingers danced along the folds of his lapels, feeling the surprisingly soft fabric. 

“I-I have to go,” he told you, voice wavering as you touched the bare center of his chest. 

Your fingers were cold but his skin felt as if it was on fire. Qimir’s watchful eyes flickered over to you and your eyes began to droop closed. He took your hand and placed it gently on your chest, but he didn't let go. Carefully leaning in, he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Stay—” you don’t know what possessed you to say it. You wrapped your hand around his collar again, this time it felt soft like his beloved brown jacket. Another hallucination, but you liked that one. Sure, Qimir had always been handsome, but him in those back robes did you in. Your heart was racing and it wasn’t from the illness. 

 “Eat that when you wake up please,” he whispered against your warm skin. “I won’t be long.” 

You mumbled incoherently and let consciousness slip away as soon as his lips left you. Though it didn’t last long, you woke up once again not knowing how long you slept for. Your eyes slowly opened, and a blurry figure was standing in the doorway. He outstretched his hand, his forearm wrapped in a metal gauntlet that glowed in the moonlight. A large black object flew to his hand. 

You blinked once to sharpen your vision. 

Twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating again. 

The figure had his back turned to you, that object in his hand was a helmet. You watched as he slipped it over his head, his dark hair covered by the metal and he started to levitate inches off the floor. Those robes looked familiar. Qimir, you thought. But then you giggled to yourself—it couldn't be. 

You were just—hallucinating again. It had to be.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

darling, how could i fear any hurricane? [qimir/the stranger x force sensitive!reader]

Summary: Neither the backwater planet you’d chosen for yourself, nor the sanctity of your own mind, is safe from the nightly visitations of your dream stranger. Is he real, or just another trick of the mind? And what of the power he promises? Desire, he’d spoken of. Desire, desire, desire…

Pairing: Qimir/The Stranger x Force-Sensitive!reader [my reader is written ambiguously, but as with all of my reader inserts are written with a Latina!reader in mind]

Warnings: 18+ please – fingering, dry humping, the brief mention of choking, Qimir being a seductive motherfucker, relatively minor smut, all things considered. The briefest descriptions of violence; reader has female anatomy.

Word Count: 5.7k of sinful soliloquy and definitely no manipulation. No, you want this power, don’t you??

A/N: Breaking my writing drought with this. I don’t know if it’s any good, and no one asked for it. But I’m glad to be sharing my writing again. Please be gentle!! Also, if you’ve ever read my Mandalorian x princess!reader fic, there’s an easter egg in here for you!

--

The verdant planet of Vorduun was known for very little – A small, outer-world, far from the shiny Core planets that boast chrome, progress, and bureaucracy. Lush plantlife, a fertile place with brimming riverbanks, and jungles teeming and thrumming to life with flora and fauna at the turn of the seasons. Off the edge of the map. Off the edge of the world. A perfect place to hide.

To lose yourself. 

And the night is stifling, to say the least. Of all the Vorduunian summers you’d endured in your self-isolation, this one had to be the worst. The months’ long deluge of spring rains had made for a stiflingly humid summer, the green jungle steaming with sticky heat. If a saving grace was to be found in the swelter, it was that the night skies were unlike everything you’d ever beheld – a far cry from the fluorescent pollution endemic of your years on Courscant. 

Tonight's Vorduunian sky is no exception – a clear expanse of rich velvet, stars like diamonds crushed into the smooth folds of the expansive sky. Twinkling and winking richly down at you through the gaping slats of the shack you now called home. 

You twist, a serpent in your own threadbare bedsheets, attempting to find comfort in the sticky summer heat of the planet, chasing the elusive promise of coolness as you flip your pillow to the other side with a huff. 

Kind of a sick game, if you thought about it. That if you weren’t running from something, you were chasing something else. 

At present? Chasing a good night’s rest. Preferably dreamless, if you were honest. Your dreams of late are plagued with all sorts of incomprehensible flashes, feelings of being watched, feverish and hazy. Your subconscious’s foreboding certainty that if you’d only just turn around, you’d be met with a face that was not your own -– the disquieting sense of something, or someone, lurking just around a corner. Sprinting down echoing hallways with promises, greatness, a warrior's oath, all just out of reach, certain that if you’d slowed your pace, whatever was pursuing you might just snatch you, an unseen stranger.

Other nights, the dreams were different – the unflinching and unchanging grin set in a mask of metalloid teeth, baring themselves at you . Of ever-watchful eyes judging, as you forced yourself through training drills. The disapproving shake of your Master’s head, his disappointment palpable and always, always directed at only you . The seizing terror of being dropped into combat with no saber – of being skewered through by an unseen shadow with a red plasma blade. Of walls closing in on you. Of the Knights whom you had once considered your friends turning their backs on you while you fought tooth and nail. Of your lungs filled with your unreleased screams – of terror or frustration, you weren’t sure – pulling you down beneath the surface of your failure until you drowned in the disappointment of others’ unfulfilled expectations. Of hands on an unseen body tinkering with phials of something, producing poisonous concoctions of sickly green that the unseen stranger dripped down your throat, pouring them past your lips with sure, warm fingers pressing on your tongue. You swore you could feel the poison upon your waking, the phantom feeling of liquid shredding your veins with horrific heat, your heart thundering. 

Other nights the dreams were different yet, still. Of shadows shedding their inky cloak to reveal hands that caressed. Of hands that held you and wiped your tears. Of thorns falling from vines – leaving what once had pricked and scratched you to now soothe with velvety softness as the vines wound their way around your wrists, tugging you into an unseen embrace with whispers of promises humming in your ears like the tufty wings of insects. And you would go willingly. Of the warm breath of another in your ear, their body warm behind you, distinct in its softness from that of the sunwarmed cliffs the two of you would watch the sunset from, just you and your unseen stranger. Of those same metalloid teeth melting into a radiant smile of brilliant white, beheld in a sharp jaw – the critique of disapproving masters replaced by his balmy, sublime approval. 

Of the tease and taste of his cinnamon lips brushing your own, the fluttering fan of lashes along the peaks of your cheekbones. Of warm, wan whispers of want , desire , soothing your ears. Of warm, fine-boned, assured hands atop your own, guiding yours in a sensuous glide along your own skin. Promises of m ore, more, more as silken lips slipped their way along the column of your throat – your hitching gasps met with his rumbling hums of satisfaction that lasted in your ears for the duration of the following day. Of the gentle lapping of water over smooth-rocked shores, a hand grasping yours with a promise of power. Yet again of more, more, more, if you’d just … Well, you weren’t sure. 

What you were sure of was that it had been weeks of these dreams. Your exhaustion was tugging at the corners of your reality, manifesting itself into silly mistakes – a slipped knife while cutting your meals, or the prickling feeling of someone watching from the dark corner of your room. At times, you weren’t sure what was real and what was dreamscape. A slow descent into madness, torment that felt justified, somehow –-

This purgatory was clearly your penance for your failure. To atone for the fact that you could never be more than what you are now – a former padawan cast out of a renowned Order, thanks in part to her own passions and propensities, roiling rages, and lilting lust. A warrior stripped of all pomp and credential. A blistering reminder of something never to be, of someone you could never be. 

And so here you were. Piteous and exiled in the jungles of Vorduun with no one other than your occasional unseen dream stranger for company. And what of tonight? Had you slept? Were you asleep? The hazy jungle heat made it impossible to tell. When your days consist of the same, tedious routine maintenance to your little corner of jungle, purely isolated, save for irregular treks to the nearest settlement to barter … And when you tossed and turned your nights away in fitful fugue states of half-awake melded with oppressive dreams – well, who was to say what was really real?  

The ghost of a touch along your exposed shoulder didn’t merit a response … Until it happened again. Causing you to sit bolt upright in bed, eyes tracking the room for any disturbance – seen or unseen. 

That prickle, so like static rippling across your skin couldn’t be the Force. No, no. It was the trickle of sweat down the back of your neck, and nothing else. What reason would you have to feel the Force here, now? 

Just another heated night, just another heated dream….

And now, were your eyes deceiving you, or were the shadows in the corner of your room were moving, swirling into shape as a well-toned arm emerges from the darkness, raised in a gesture of … peace? And the rest of him follows, stepping into the muted illumination from your single gaslamp that sputters in the corner of your room, casting his shadow along the opposite wall, sinuous and slinking as he slowly approaches. 

You spring from your bed, eyes darting to the loose slat in your floor where you housed your ill-used saber, quickly considering the relative size of your room and how many steps it would take him to reach you, arms outstretched, to snuff the life from you before you could call the blade to your hand . 

His eyes track yours, clocking the floorboard, before placing both hands up in front of him now, a plea – 

“You don’t need that,” he murmurs, taking a tentative step toward you. And whether it was the room that shrank around you both, or that was just his presence in your space – so unused to anyone but you – you weren’t sure.

“Need what?” Play dumb, and he won't have any reason to harm you, leaving you an opportunity to strike. Your favorite trick, a minor deception for a tactical advantage.

He steps into the dim, flickering light of the gas lamp, a mild smirk blooming along his full lips, the lamplight warming his skin.

“Your Jedi weapon.”

You glance once more between the loose floorboard and the man slowly approaching you, cocking your head as his features became revealed to you, your mind tickling with recognition as you noted the sharp angle of his jaw and the baleful, syrupy darkness of his eyes –

“You,” you breathe. “I know your face.”

“Do you?” His eyes meet yours, searching. 

Yes. You had a good memory for faces, and his you had seen a few times before. Your trips to the nearest settlement every tenday for the open-air market to barter what you had cultivated from the land around your ramshackle home for fruit, thread, and other goods you didn’t often come by on your own. You had seen him at a stall selling tinctures and other apothecary-type goods. You’d never approached, of course. Hadn’t had a need for burn creams or toxins. But there was no denying the swooping lock of hair that would curtain over his eyes, the sharp angle of his features. The way his eyes would track the movement of the market, hawkish, despite the seeming ineffectual haze in them…

A minor deception, you now realize. But for what tactical advantage?

“The chemist from the bazaar,” you reply.

His lips quirk at your realization – the bud of the smirk now unfurling into a full smile. 

“You’re more observant than I gave you credit for, warrior,” he stands before you now, hands still lightly held up in a gesture of peace. “That’s good… A nice surprise ,” his voice taking on an almost-purr of satisfaction.   

You pause, lips parting lightly. What could he mean by that? 

“Qimir,” he gestures to himself by way of introduction.

Qimir. Likely not his real name. Still, you ponder, an interesting choice. Qimir. Like Chimaera, something ancient and unknowable. A monstrous creature signifying the parable of illusion – the promise of something only too impossible to achieve. You wonder if he knew what his “name” sounded like when he’d picked it.

And you hope your face hasn’t betrayed your whirring thoughts as you continue your assessment, hoping to keep a sweep of neutrality across your features as you address him again.

“If you say so. Business must be slow if you’re here to rob me, poisoner. I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed,” your eyes flit around the relatively bare bedroom, gesturing with your chin to the equally Spartan main room of your little ramshackle cabin. “Not much here of value.” 

He crosses one foot over the other as he takes a step to orbit you, almost swordsmanlike. As though he were preparing to duel. You mirror his step, your back to your bed now, facing your doorway. His body between yours and your exit. 

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he brings a finger to his chin as if in ponderment. “You’re here, after all. And why would I give you my name, show you my face, if I intended to rob you?” 

“Why you do anything means nothing to me,” you bite, “and you’ll have to forgive my manners if I don’t feel like giving you my name. Leave, now , while I let you leave, Qimir.” 

His eyes sweep your form, note your weight on the balls of your feet, bracing for a fight. You probably have weapons other than your laser sword stashed away, if he had to guess . He takes a tentative step toward you, a low chuckle escaping him at the fire in your eyes, trying not to smile any wider than he has already, to give away his pleased impression of your fury. 

“I know who you are,” you blink at his statement, trying not to let the surprise show on your face. “You don't have anything to fear from me, little Jedi.”

“I am no Jedi,” you snipped, rolling your eyes at the insolence of the man before you. If he cared at all about your rude display, Qimir said nothing.

“I am more than aware of that, too,” he murmured, his voice like silk in your ears as he takes yet another small step toward you, invading your space, close enough to breathe your air, a hair’s breadth from touch.  

Too close. You flex your fingers, calling your lightsaber from its hiding place under your loose floorboard into the palm of your hand in a flash, the cool metal meeting your palm like an old friend, a sense of relief. You surge forward into Qimir’s space, pressing the hilt of the saber into his abdomen.

“If you know so much, then you also know you shouldn’t have come,” you snarl. “I don’t know if you didn't take the hint, here at the edge of the world, but I don't take kindly to uninvited guests.”  

“You did invite me, little viper,” he insists, his voice never losing its even, dulcet quality.

At your furrowed brow, he gently brings his fingertips to brush the bare skin of your wrist that’s pressing the hilt of your lightsaber into his stomach. A familiar, prickling ripple bursts across your skin, causing goosebumps to stipple your arms. So familiar. So like the feel of lips from your unseen stranger. So like the Force. 

The dark eyes that met yours in the low light of your room were familiar for more than just an observation in passing at the market. 

“Y-you,” you gasp, the realization causing your chest to seize, to clench your teeth in the wave of seething anger. “You’ve been … in my head … for months …” 

He cocks his head at you, watching the emotions process along your face. He had seen your fears and failures, your heart’s greatest desires. He had seen it all …

“The quickest way to your heart,” he reasons. “Through your head. So you’ll have to forgive my intrusion. I wanted to know you.” Sweet words meant to soothe.  

You aren’t sure if that makes it any better. Perhaps the reasoning makes it worse.

“So like a poisoner,” you level his gaze with a steely one of your own. “To try to slip through the cracks unseen. But I know the quickest way to your heart.”

“You do?” He seems surprised at your rejoinder. As if he hadn’t expected you to play. To be so quick of wit as you were of reflex.

“Between your fourth and fifth rib,” you hum, your voice taking on an almost-seductive tone – a contradiction to the reminder of you pressing the hilt of the saber into him, precisely where you mean to. 

“I appreciate a good threat. Clever,” he smiles, placating. “But there’s no need for that, little warrior. After all… I wouldn't leave you to the dark, not like they did,” he assures, brushing his fingertips against the bare skin of your wrist, so lightly you would’ve thought you’d imagined it. Using the contact to connect to you through the Force once more – your shared memories dancing behind one another’s eyes. Of your fellow Padawans succeeding while your Master only saw failure. Of the dazzlingly white smile of your classmate with the bronze skin and twists in his hair, his yellow lightsaber flashing as you drilled together, his smile fading to frown with the rest of his features as you had used the Force to push him away a bit too hard – rage bubbling to the surface – in direct violation of your training ordinances. Of your departure from Coruscant, no one to bid you goodbye, not even your training partner who had once called himself your friend.

You make to turn your head, to break contact with his dark, glimmering, all-seeing eyes. Like tar pits, drawing you ever deeper. His other hand catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, drawing you back to his gaze, an orbit you cannot escape. Would you even want to?

“And do you believe you would have belonged? The Jedi are deceivers. They deal in abandonment … cloaked in empty platitudes,” he trails his index finger along the curve of your  jawline, an almost illusory brush of his skin against yours – the whisper of a touch, as though to illustrate the point. “The wisp of a  promise, like spun sugar. Sweet, but false, their promises of righteousness. Of importance.”

Your lips part, catching the barest bit of his thumb as it does so, your eyes now searching his, seeking motive.

“And what do you offer instead? That's what this is, right? An offer?”

He smiles wider now, nodding in the barest acknowledgment. As though you’ve finally asked the right question.

“I … make the intangible tangible.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning …” his hand leaves the curve of your jaw to touch his fingertips to your temple, pressing, rendering a vision to your mind. And what Force magic was this? To make you see beyond your own eye’s sight. Foresight? An illusion? A vision? A memory? A promise or a deception?

Whatever it is, you see it so clearly – an uninhabited plant roaring with ocean as far as your eyeline can perceive. Waves lapping gently along grey-stoned shores. Moss-covered alcoves where you sit with him, your stranger, the sunset warming your skin as he caresses your face, your hair, whispering praises just beyond your mind’s own comprehension into your ear – the tone sinful, syrupy. His arms securing you in the night as you rest, no more dreams of abandonment. 

Warmth, endless warmth… as his lips trail the shell of your ear, down your neck, bestowing belief of besotted brushes of lips. Adroit affection aimed right at the heart of you. 

“Hmmm … meaning …. Your feelings, your power, your talent all working, to manifest toward something real. Something you want.” His hand leaves your temple and rests on your shoulder, taking advantage of your state of ponderment to gently guide you, ever mindful of the still-unlit lightsaber pressed to his stomach, leading away from your bed to the wall just next to the adjacent doorframe, the patient waltz of a waiting predator. He brings his hand to rest on the wall, next to your head.

“Something I want,” you reply dreamily, coming back to yourself just enough to realize what he’d said, exhaling through your nose in an indignant little huff. “In exchange for … ?”

“Tell me something,” he replies, lithely lilting around your question with one of his own, flexing his fingers where they rest on the wall. “Why are you no Jedi?” 

“I … abjured,” you admit, a bit too primly, the lightsaber now feeling like an unbearable weight in your palm at your words, the weight of choices – both your own and those of whom purported to teach you. To guide you to something greater. Was it as he said? Were their promises so meaningless? “Broke my oath,” you suck your lower lip between your teeth, pausing before daring to meet his gaze again. “I couldn’t … suppress how they wanted me to. I didn’t want to fail anymore. I was so tired of failing. So, I … abjured. I was weak.” 

Your eyes meet his once more at your admission, yours shining with unshed tears waiting to fall like stars. Shimmering promises to slip down your cheeks, unkept and unchecked. Your fingers fumbled, seemingly of their own accord, unwilling to hold the weight, the threat, of the saber against him any longer. The hilt clattered to the floor, a clanging finality to punctuate your words. And when was the last time you had been so honest, so vulnerable with another?

How … unlike you. 

“Not weak,” he cups your cheeks with both hands, fine-boned thumbs tracing the peaks of your cheeks, as though to wipe away your unshed tears. “The same as me. Power searching for its other half. An unwaning, unflickering flame.” 

Your unseen stranger, now seen, takes your hands in his, the buzz of the Force still tingling across your skin at his words, at the recognition of his power.

“You asked what I want. You want the same as me, and I the same as you. A companion . A partner. Unlike them, I won't judge you for your feelings. Won’t judge you for your power …  You want – I can feel it rippling across your skin,” he closes his eyes, cocking his head, shivering as though to illustrate the point. “... Mmm, and I want,  too. We can want together. If you'd let us.”

The flickering light of your room seemed to dim in tandem with his syrupy words, cloying and dripping like honey into golden nettle tea. The swirling honeytar of his eyes appraising you as the Force connection prickled with hazy heat between your bodies and the damnable musk of the jungle air.

You press yourself further into the wall he’d leaned you against, tilting your chin to appraise him in kind, searching for veracity in his words. Something more substantial than the “spun sugar” he’d accused the Jedi of weaving. 

As though he could sense your trepidation before it could cross your face, he placed a hand on your hip, the contact searing you through the thin fabric of your tank top.  

“They kicked you out because you feel. I'd never do that. I want you to feel … to feel power. To feel what you’re capable of. Of what it can become. Rage. Fear. Loss. Desire. Train with me, you’ll feel it all. I want you to feel it all … to feel me.”

Desire, he had spoken of. The gentle roll of his low voice over the syllables echoing perfectly in your ears. Desire, desire, desire. That desire, so  like venom snaking its way through your blood, hot and purposeful. An all-consuming burn through your blood, befitting of a poisoner as he. 

“You felt it, didn’t you? When I came in,” he iterates, somewhere south of a plea. “All. That. Power.” The hand not resting on your hip comes to cup your face once more. “I can teach you.” 

You had read somewhere once, in the Archives, about creatures on long-abandoned planets with the ability to draw their prey in through vanity. The flash of feathers. Or shiny scales. Big, baleful eyes, perhaps. Only to sink their teeth in once their intended had come too close. 

You draw in a breath, searching his pleasing face for any sign of a tell. Of the flicker of eyes that would signify deception. Of hidden fangs beneath his beautiful, full lips. Of anything that would bely his true intentions behind your Force connection. You swept your eyes across broad, defined shoulders, down toned, muscled arms exposed through his sleeveless shift. A warriors’ weapon wrapped in a pleasing package, to be sure. But … with no discernable hint of false suggestion. 

You shift your weight once more onto the balls of your feet, away from the wall and into him . Continuing your appraisal as you tilt your head, allowing the scent of his skin – the tang of sweat from the humid jungle air commingling with something sharp and clean – to wash over you. 

You invade his space now, leaning into the hand that grips your hip and the other that cradles your head, boldly brushing your lips along his with the barest hint of touch, feeling his lips smile against yours.

You whisper, your lips silken against his, “Tell me, poisoner … You seduce me with lies, is that it? You wish for me to call you Master? Forsake all else to worship at your altar?” 

You catch the flash in his eyes as the word “seduce” leaves your lips.

“I haven't lied to you,” his voice is a hum. An attempt to provide reassurance as he couples them with what he hopes is a comforting gesture. His fingers travel from your hip to trail your ribs, a partial embrace.

“Do you consider not telling the entire truth to be a lie?” 

“Have I shown you any lies? No. Just dreams. The promise of what could be. What I –,” he pauses, “– we could be. I cannot fabricate the Force, little warrior. Everything you feel tonight is you . It’s me. What more could you want? ” 

Your once-steely resolve is crumbling under the weight of his insinuation … "everything you feel tonight” –  the honey in his words sweet to your ears, you wonder fleetingly if he'd be even sweeter on your tongue. 

And he knew you, didn’t he? By his own admission, he’d seen your faults and flaws for months … your desires. And he had shown you promises, premonitions, predilections… a future of power. And if there is power in two hemispheres – one of sweltering heat, one of blistering ice. Which were you? And which was he? 

Together you would surely melt…

“No more rules, little warrior,” he sighs, “just the power of two.” He slides his lips across yours, purposeful, before capturing your lower lip between his teeth, nipping once before releasing, admiring the way your expression flickered from defiance to desire before surging forward, pressing you back into the wall as his lips capture yours.

He swallows your gasp, bringing his fingers to wrap loosely around your neck while his other hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. 

You break from his kiss with a gasp between swollen, bitten lips. But he gives you no reprieve, his lips trailing to your neck, where he sets about pressing hot-mouthed kisses. Molten lava flooding the column of your throat, chased with the scrape of nipping teeth. Soothe and scrape. Push and pull. Give, give, give, take.  

You thread your fingers through the silken hair tucked behind his ears, tugging him from his ministrations on your neck and forcing him to meet your eyes – to see if the blaze of want you felt scorching your skin was reflected in the liquid coal, ready to ignite. 

His lips twist into a smirk at your insistent tugging; if he was at all surprised, he didn’t show it. His face the perfect picture of pleasure. 

“What would we do with it?” You inquire, “This power?” 

“Hmmm,” he pretended to ponder, suddenly scooping you, a brief lift as he crossed the short distance to your bed, seating himself with you on his lap. No concession of dominance; merely placing you precisely where he means to. To allow you to feel him beneath you. 

“What would you like to do, little warrior, hm?” His fingers flicked the thin straps of your flimsy sleep shirt, exposing your shoulders, leaning forward to trail his lips along the now-bared expanse of your shoulder, your collar bones, your neck, his eyes glancing up to watch your face as he went. “Make them pay? Take what’s yours?” 

His hands feel their way down your form, down your sides, along your hips, the skin of his palms rasping against the smooth expanse of your thighs has his fine-boned fingers make their way beneath the loose fabric of the cropped pants you sleep in, dangerously close to the precipice of your desire , urging you to move. Guiding your hips in a rhythmic glide in his lap. 

You gasp at his attentions, at the combination of his promises and the heady feel of his skin along yours, bringing your hands to grip his biceps – desperately seeking a way to anchor yourself. 

And if it’s his poison that will bring you to the edge, would you regret it? You were starting to believe you could never regret him , not at the feel of his chest pressed against yours, the toned muscle beneath your fingers. His sharp angles caressing your soft curves, replacing the lonely ache in your bones with the lovely heat of him, both his promises and his attentions.

His mouth was keyed and intentional in its work of you, with pressed kisses like flower petals blooming along the skin of your neck, followed by the scraping thorns of his teeth. Brutish and beautiful, as his fine-boned fingers crept to the inside of your thighs, rubbing along your clothed center, intensifying the ache you felt. He shifts your weight in his lap, causing your legs to spread wider, straddling him lowly as he tugs the offending fabric aside, guiding your hips into a roll over his clothed lap and his growing hardness. Manifesting his delight at the choked gasp you emitted in the form of a teasing little buck of his hips, guiding you down as he guided himself up, delighting in the sharp gasps that met his ears as he continues to sway you to his rhythm. 

“Desire isn't a sin, little warrior,” he breathes the words into your mouth, lips a hairs’ breadth apart, the better to swallow your moans. “What we feel feeds our connection to the Force, gives you strength ... If you know how. Let me show you. Touch me.” 

It was as though electricity was crackling, popping beneath your fingertips as you took his instruction and began to explore the expanse of his body, slipping your hands beneath his tunic to feel the silken heat of his firm torso, the ache within you mounting at the heady combination of the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips – so long since you’d touched another, been touched – and his hardness between the cleft of your thighs. Smoldering, low-heat burned along your skin and beneath your fingertips. Or was it his fingers that were doing the burning? It was hard to tell where he ended and you began, one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you bodily into him, an infinite loop of power and pleasure.

As you continue to touch him, you could feel it – his connection to the force, strong, volatile, like lightning striking the ocean – crackling and formidable like the man who contained it.

And Qimir – you had long since given up trying to determine if it was, in fact, his real name – rewards you with a gift of his own, the velvet rumble of a groan of pleasure emanating from his throat at your touch. A sound of syrup and satisfaction. 

Pleased that you could garner such a reaction from a being as powerful as he, you smile, boldly meeting his lips with a kiss, opening your mouth with a gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, to taste the zip of power that he had determined in his moths of observation was just you, a torrent of citrus drizzle, bold and sweet. 

Reluctantly, he parts his lips from yours, ducking his head to tug the straps of your top down with his teeth, exposing your breasts to the heated air of the room. And if your desire at the repeated rolling of his hips beneath yours wasn’t enough to do you in, you figured this might. Bathing in the celestial feel the press his lips to your nipple, tongue swirling over the peaking flesh. Pleased at the goosebumps that erupt now in the wake of his attention. 

While he continues to tease your breasts with tongue and teeth, Qimir guides his other hand along your thighs, slipping his practiced fingers beneath your shorts, delighting in the wetness he was met with, basking  in the jolting shiver the motion elicited from you, at the friction of his fingers rubbing along the seam of you – causing you to wiggle, to roll your hips into his touch. 

And oh, as he slips his fingers inside of you, your eyes roll back, tilting your head to allow Qimir to admire the curving, elegant slope of exposed throat – prey before a predator, gasping at the pleasure he wrought. Breathless. If you thought he was teasing you before, his fingers inside of you were their own type of mocking punishment, well aware of his effect on you and the way your cunt throbs as he strokes inside of you. You could do nothing but wriggle your hips, whimpering piteously and attempting to roll your hips to follow his fingers as they work you, as this crescendo builds.

“Say you’ll be mine, warrior, and you can have it.” he promises. A new oath. One you’d never forsake. For him, you’d never turn, never abjure. Not so long as his touch made stars erupt behind your eyes, not so long as his lips dripped syrup promises down your throat.  

Kissing you once more, golden and slow, molten and revelatory as he works his fingers inside of you, your thighs parting to accommodate him. His thumb rolls repeated brushes over your clit, delighting in the starshine burst as you reached your peak, a broken little moan that sounded suspiciously like the word “master,” passing your lips in a keening sigh. 

You regard him through bleary, closing eyes and the warm, citrus haze of your orgasm as he slips his fingers from you, guiding you down to recline in your bed, stroking your hair as he does so, lulling you as a lover would. 

“Sleep, warrior,” his velvet voice meets your ears, lyrical and lilting. “I’ll be back for you.” 

And like each night before that one, his figure slips from you… as though he was never there. It wasn’t a dream, was it? It was hard to tell after months of this teasing game. After his promises built so much only to guide you to this release. 

And in the silvery light of the jungle’s dawn, you awoke with that very question on your lips, met with the sight of your saber placed gently on your little bedside table as opposed to its usual hiding spot. You wake to the sweet afterache of something between your thighs, to the scraped marks of teeth along the expanse of your neck. 

And to the promise of something – of a future of power and partnership. If only you’d be so bold as to accept it. As you eyed the saber, you recalled the prickle of his Force power along your skin, increasing with his proximity. And by the time he arrived to meet you again, you knew what your answer would be … 

--

tagging:

@phoenixhalliwell @withahappyrefrain @inklore @spiderispunk @flightlessangelwings @joannasteez @gretagerwigsmuse @kalliravenne @mxgyver @princessphilly @s-u-t @ohmagawd-life @maryannsstrawberry @themultifandompictureshow @kallista-diune @crypt-keeper-soul @monlight-prose @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @themarvelousbee @soulores @moonyslove78 @sio-ina-bottle @theradioactivespidergwen @drew-garfi @thegirlwhowritesfics @lady-morrigen @flordeamatista @forever-rogue @aphrogeneias @withmyteeth @superhoeva @pettyprocrastination @mortwig @petcr3

[fhrlclln]

underneath | qimir

SUMMARY -> ever since you found him and he trained you, he had always concealed his identity to you for his unknown reasons. you were always curious what he looks like underneath the cortosis helm he wears. though, this time the curiosity in you would be sated at last when a particular sparring session turns into an unexpected lesson in trust.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> mild nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, sexual tension, mild violence, master/pupil dynamic & smut is at the end : P

WC -> 2.82k

a/n: surprise! another qimir fic cuz i can’t get him out of my head.

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

"have you ever wondered what he looks like underneath that mask?"

you asked your fellow pupil, mae, one day out of the blue. the particular reason for asking that question had always been because of your undying curiosity for the years you started to train under him.

your masked master.

"i don't." mae would answer, saying that she doesn't care what he would look like underneath the mask. saying that as long as he trains her, his identity doesn't matter to her. you understood her with that, she was his acolyte first and it probably dawned upon you that the years of concealing his identity to her she had thrown away the curiosity of what their master looked like.

but on the other hand, you, you somehow couldn't stop wondering.

you had found him or- he had found you when you were escaping your slave captors after your own sister had betrayed you in selling you to them. you were angry, in rage and unaware of the dormant power that had awoken in you with that rage you had felt. and in your fit of rage, you had managed to slaughter two of the captors chasing you, leaving you feeling guilty for your horrendous actions. you decided to escape and flee the planet. that is until by some chance, you had come across the masked stranger in the middle of the night who had told you about the gift you possessed, telling that you shouldn't be ashamed you used it in your self-defense.

and that's when he had took you under his wing, training you as his pupil.

he had taught you what your gift was, what your power is. he trained you, taught you and for the most part, despite him putting this distance between you and mae, he had helped you. and maybe that’s why you’re so curious to know who he is really, you wanted to see the master who had graciously accepted you despite you knowing your connection with the force was not as strong as mae’s.

he was… well, you could not really put a strong opinion on what kind of a man your master was. for the most part, he was always away and in training sessions, he was closed-off and distant. but when he spars with you and mae, that’s when a hint of his personality is peeking through.

rough, aggressive, strict. the way he spared with you had left you with tired sore knees and bruised arms when defending. on the offensive attacks you made he was quick to dodge and maneuver himself with your predictable attacks. he was ruthless in his combat but there was still that fluidity in it. but you knew he still held back with you despite the aggressiveness. you wished he had put more effort in your sparring sessions just like mae’s but you knew he was focusing more on her since she was at the brink of completing her lessons.

“safe travels, mae.” you wish her luck as she nods at you. the master had given her final lesson- to kill a jedi without a weapon. you were proud of your fellow acolyte but it did upset you how much you were falling behind. the waves splash in the background as you watch her walk to her ship. you wave her off as you saw it fly out the cloudy atmosphere then jumped into hyperspace, on the course to euda.

the sea breeze helps you gather your thoughts, and you wonder if the master would train you further today. seeing that mae had to learn this lesson by herself. sensing him, you feel the pull of the force as you turn around to see your master standing a few feet away from you.

the scene makes you remember that night when you found him. for a moment it did frighten you to see him loom over you when you fell to your knees from running. you were injured then and you had momentarily thought he was one of the slave traders that was trying to capture you. it took you a while to get used to him being like this when he appears out of the blue. well, for a random person, it would seem frightening to see a masked stranger dressed in black robes suddenly appear in mid-air. plus the saber tucked in his belt.

“master.” you greet him, anticipation lingering inside you.

“we shall continue your training today, my acolyte.” his modulated voice says. you feel your chest swell with excitement as you nodded. “be prepared.”

“of course, master.” you bowed slightly as he walks off to where the sparring lessons usually are. you smiled to yourself, maybe this time he’d finally put more effort in your training as you walk with a slight spring in your steps.

・゜゜・．

“focus.”

he says as your feet scraped against the rocks at his force push. you huff, your chest heaving, your leather tunic is starting to stick on your glistening sweaty skin, making you feel uncomfortable. you sigh, frustrated how you were not landing a single blow on him. your mind was elsewhere, seeming that you are still focused on wondering what he looks like underneath that mask.

“use that frustration. focus on your emotions.” he commands and you composed yourself, swatting the questions of his unknown face in your head. you ready yourself in a fighting stance, body facing to the side while you wave your arm in front of you. you clenched your fist for a moment as you heed into his words and attack. you use the force to heighten your leap towards him as you land a blow but he dodges again. an uppercut, he doges, a kick you do he dodges again. you feel yourself get even more irritated but in ease that he was finally not holding back when he blocks one of your blows with his arm.

but still, you were still not fighting the way he has to expect you to fight.

“you are too trustful in me, acolyte.” he scolds you, the modulated tone ringing. he backs away from you as you stopped, confused. yes, you indeed trust him, why was it a bad thing?

“i beg your pardon, master?” your breaths are labored and somehow from the close distance, you could hear him sigh underneath the mask.

“you are too trustful.” he says again. “do not trust me that i will not kill you even if i am training you. trust in yourself. we cannot continue this lesson if you do not learn to do that.” a chill runs through your spine at his words. there’s a slight pang of hurt in those words of his that were true. yes, he could kill you. why wouldn’t he if you failed him? you seem to stiffen at his words as he reminds you again, this time he will take the offensive attack.

“trust is a fragile thing. you cannot trust anyone but yourself, my acolyte. even if the person has sworn to trust you, they would eventually betray you. but yourself? you cannot betray yourself.” he explains as you nodded at his words. “when since you had put your whole trust in someone and they betrayed you in the end?”

you look at him, rage starting to boil in you when you remembered your own sister’s betrayal. your chest tightens and your mind is enraged with it. the pain she had put you in, the survival you had to do, the running you had to tire and the people you had to kill just to be free-

“there it is.” he says, proud. feeling your ever glowing rage.

“now, focus.” he suddenly attacks you as you dodged swiftly. both of you move in a tandem, as if it were a dance. the painful realization that even your master, the one who saved you and took you in, would eventually might betray you as well. the rage in you is at its boiling point as you let out a guttural scream when he almost aims for your neck. you push him back with your force then surging to him with heat in your steps as you attacked. he blocks your powerful blow with two of his arms forming an x. you kick him immediately on the stomach and he lurches, caught off guard.

you were too in to your emotions as you attacked and attacked. he tries to doge and block your every hit but he eventually succumbs to your rage when you finally kicked him to the ground. before he could stand, you immediately come on top of him, preventing that. you fist the collar of his robe, clenched hand in the air ready to land a final punch-

“excellent, my acolyte.” he cuts you off as you suddenly blink back into your rational self. you let go of his collar and you let yourself relax but ultimately surprised how close you are to him. you’re on top of him, your legs caging his waist and he seems not to dismiss you to get off. you can see clearly his helmet now, it was full of marks of previous battles. you take your time to admire him beneath you, how his adam’s apple bob and the sheen of sweat covering his bare muscular arms that were bulging with veins.

you blush, realizing you were staring at your master with ill thoughts.

but… the curiosity of what he looks like underneath it makes you wonder. your hand slowly comes up to his helmet and you feel him watch you with every move you make. he observes silently and you hovered your hand above his masked face. but you snap out of it again, realizing you could have offended him. and he could kill you for this. you know he takes great lengths to conceal his identity.

“a-apologies, master, i-“ before you could retract your hand and get off him. his hand suddenly grips your wrist. your eyes widened as he sits up and you adjust, hovering above his lap. he tilts his head to the side inquisitively, as if he was amused to see your curiosity be revealed. you stay quiet, staring at his masked face, waiting for his words. your cheeks are hot and you feel the anticipation grow in you. he places your hand on the side of his mask, the way he brushes your fingers softly makes you feel wobbly now.

“go on.” he merely says. you stutter, not knowing what to say. did he just agreed for you to remove his mask? your thoughts are jumbled but you succumb to your curiosity. you put both of your hands to both sides of his masked face. you slowly remove it inch by inch whilst you stared at the peaking facial features you have longed imagined what he looked like. you remove the helm completely and your heart skips a beat.

your eyes meet with a strangely beautiful dark ones.

his black hair is disheveled, his skin is smooth and his jawline is handsomely well chiseled. your eyes roam his face and it settles to his pink lips. you feel a hum of arousal between your legs when you look into his eyes again. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath tingle your lips. you put his helmet down to your side as the other brushes the black locks of his concealing his face. his pupils grow dark, your lips are inches to his and you somehow feel in-trance to lock it with yours.

this, this is the face of your master.

he’s beautiful. you think as you let out a noise when his other hand brush against your thigh. the other gently grips your hand that brushed his hair. you wondered why he had hidden his beautiful face from you and mae.

“master…” you plead as he smirks and it makes you blush.

“you did good today.” his low voice with a rasp of approval instead of the modulated one made your stomach churn and your thighs clench. the way his lips are still hovering above yours makes your head dizzy with the anticipation of what he’s doing. his top lip brushes against yours and he leans forward but before you could feel his soft lips lock with yours, you pull back. this is wrong.

“apologies, master.” you place your hands on his chest as you pulled yourself up to your feet. he seems taken aback for a moment with your rejection but composes himself as he eyes you up with a dark glint in his eyes.

“curiosity is normal. don’t be embarrassed.” he chuckles and that rings through your ears. the way he acts now is dissimilar to when he has his mask on and it baffles you how human he now is. you don’t know what to say, fearing that you have failed him in almost every way. you watch him stand up then grabbed his helmet and he looks at you. something in his gaze shines with hunger.

“we’ll continue our lesson another time.” he walks pass you and the brush of his arm against yours makes your heart jump.

“yes, master.” the initial shock of the situation still hasn’t faded when he’s out of your sight. you gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead. was he not upset that you know his face now? would he kill you for it later perhaps? those questions hang in the air. your heart still beats remembering his lips close to yours. you turn back, walking back to the shore, there’s a feeling you can’t seem to place as you let your thoughts linger on your master’s revealed face.

・゜゜・．

you dry your face with a rag then pulled a fresh tunic and bottoms from your pile of fresh clean robes. the dimness of the light inside your room in the cave made it comforting for your wild thoughts. you put on the brown tight bottoms then the grey tunic. but those thoughts soon come alive when you felt a presence near the entrance of your room.

you turn around swiftly, seeing your master standing right by the concave opening of your room. no mask on but just wearing… perfectly normal clothing. he dawned a white tunic and usual black bottoms, his hair is slicked back, damp from his bath you presumed. you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you were used to his mysterious persona.

“you did exceptionally well today.” he begins with a praise. “but, i am surprised how focused you are on knowing what i look like.”

“thank you.” you merely say, eyes shying away when he points out your curiosity. “i apologize for that, master.”

“don’t be.” he steps forward and each step he takes has an anticipation behind them. you stay in your place, taking in how comforting he looks. “i’m glad for your curiosity.” he confesses.

“you are?” you are surprised with that.

qimir nods, adoring the way you seemed so surprised. he had his reasons for concealing his identity to you and mae. it was for to create a distance between the master and pupil. he feared attachment might overcome why he took you under his wing. he knows you already saw him as a person who finally cared for you and in truth, he does. you are a gifted woman with the force and over the years despite the distance he placed, you managed to crawl into his cold heart.

“but i fear your curiosity isn’t sated enough.” he points out and the atmosphere in the room changes. you know what he means. when you had almost kissed him but you hesitated, fearing that things might change drastically after that. he was your master after all. he steps closer to you, the distance is just like the one moments ago.

“am i right?” he asks when you stare at his lips. you wondered if mae would be enraged for what you are about to do as your body moved at its own accord.

you surge forward and lock your lips with his.

and that ends up with you sprawled underneath him. your curiosity is sated and he rewards you more with a thrust of his hips with his cock inside you. you clench around him, your hands caressing the width of his broad back. here you are, your naked body pressed against his as you moan in his ear. he groans, suckling the soft flesh of your neck.

“master…” you sigh, legs wrapped around tight on his waist. his hands are holding your thighs in place as he thrusts his cock into your warm heat. he locks eyes with your heavy one and it makes him soar at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he smirks as he kisses you hotly as he grinds his hips down.

your curiosity indeed was successfully sated by him.

[mirxndatano]

No one is going to silence me

No, Star Wars The Acolyte wasn’t perfect, and it’s not the best of Star Wars. In fact, nothing in this franchise has been perfect, not even The Mandalorian (I’ve just thrown three scorpions at myself, but oh well).

The Acolyte was like breathing fresh air after YEARS of repetitive content focused on: The Empire, Skywalker family, Rebellion, and that’s it.

The Acolyte was a series that reignited a spark and charm in people who had distanced themselves a bit—or a lot—from SW due to the toxicity or simply because they no longer connected with the new content.

The Acolyte made MANY women interested in Star Wars thanks to the fact that it was made and written by a woman who KNOWS what we really like, and that’s why it delivered a tremendous Female Gaze.

The Acolyte DOES deserve or deserved a second season. But as always, they’ve shown what their priorities are: to continually cater to the toxic crowd and the 40+ men who want to keep living in nostalgia and are stuck in The Empire Strikes Back."

[fandomimaginez]

I want to fidget with his hands. Gently tracing each finger, drawing shapes in the palm of his hand, the warmth and weight of his hand in mine soothing me. And we just sit in silence as I do this, each other’s presence being enough to just relax and enjoy the moment of peace.

[teamred]

devilish

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | you fall into bed with sweet, goofy qimir, expecting a tame tryst... but he's not as sweet as he seems in between the sheets.

WARNINGS | smut, dirty talk, breastplay, f*ngering, oral s*x (male receiving), breathplay (safe choking), praise kink (good girl!), piv s*x, unprotected s*x

RATING | explicit

NOTES | please leave some love in comments/tags or inbox if you liked this fic!!! thanks for those who were waiting for this fic <3

He’s going to kill me. 

The thought rings through your mind as you’re sitting in Qimir’s lap, lips intertwined with his. His hands grasp the back of your head and the side of your thigh, while yours tug on the nape of his neck and run through his perpetually messy hair. 

It’s screwed up that you’re thinking of the master you and Qimir share at a moment like this, but it’s impossible not to. 

If your master finds out you’re about to bed the guide he assigned to you, he may never let you see him again. A deeper fear gnaws at you; he might not only kill you for breaking some unspoken protocol, but also Qimir.  

But it’s worth the risk, one you’re both willing to take. 

Consequences be damned, because Qimir’s been undressing you with his eyes all night. 

The same sweet, goofy Qimir who always greets you with a lopsided grin, constantly annoys you about drinking enough water, and trips when he walks up the stairs or even flat ground.

But tonight’s circumstances were different. Both of you were dressed up formally to infiltrate a Senate Gala undercover. 

Him, working as a waiter, his signature disheveled hair temporarily tamed in a small bun and wearing a uniform that highlighted his broad shoulders you weren’t accustomed to. You, adorning a floor-length red halter dress that hugged your body in all the right places. 

The second he saw you step into the ballroom, he stammered into his ear-piece (“Wow, you look—wow.”). And when you blended in by grabbing a drink from his tray, his eyes could not help but roam your body. Your exposed shoulders, the expanse of your bare back, and the amount of leg showing with your high slit. 

After finishing your tasks for the night, you two stormed off in the Exile II to a nearby planet, seeking refuge at a run-down safehouse. What began as winding down with a few drinks soon morphed into spontaneous slow-dancing without any music.

You’ve always had a soft spot for him, and when he mustered the courage to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight, followed by the loaded question—if he could kiss you—you obviously said yes. 

Which led to this current beautiful scene being played out on this grungy, old couch. 

In his loosened button-up shirt, Qimir kisses so delicately, each movement and touch just as gentle, perfectly reflecting his personality. Frankly, you’re not expecting anything more than a pleasant evening with a coworker you've grown to adore. If he's spectacular in bed, that’s merely a bonus. 

As his lips leave yours and travel to the side of your neck, you arch into him while your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt. He holds you close, lips never straying from your skin, and lowers you down onto the couch.

But then, your eyes drift up to the ceiling, and the weight of where you are and who owns this place hits you again, causing you to tense up. 

“Stop thinking about him,” Qimir murmurs against your neck, his hands kneading your waist. This elicits a low groan from you, pulling you back into the moment.

“But what if he—”

“He’ll never know,” he cuts in reassuringly. 

“And if he does?”

“He’ll be fine with this,” he insists, tone bordering frustration. 

“How do you know?” 

Drawing away from your neck, he gazes down at you with a hand braced on the couch’s armrest. His messy, yet gorgeous, hair nearly brushes against your face. When he palms your cheek, his eyes soften. 

“Just be with me for tonight. All of you. Don’t think about anything else besides you and me. Can you do that for me?” 

You glance up at him for a few beats, taking in his beauty, along with his saccharine pleading words. Then, with a small smile, you nod. 

Suddenly, like lightning cutting through a storm, a smirk replaces Qimir’s warmth.   

“Good girl,” he says, his voice now a lower, more seductive tone than you’re used to. You reflexively tighten at the praise.  

Swiftly, he unties your halter dress and pulls the fabric down, baring your breasts to the cool air. 

You gasp sharply as his mouth descends, capturing your nipple between his teeth, gently nipping before he swirls and darts his tongue against it. Your fingers tug at his hair, while his free hand kneads your other breast, his thumb strumming and teasing the hardened tip. 

Hovering over your body, he trails kisses along your skin, switching his attention from one breast to the other, ensuring every inch of your chest is teased and pleasured. 

Eventually, his hand slides down from your breast, the tips of his fingers grazing you in a slow, deliberate path until they find their way between your legs. 

Your breath becomes ragged and your eyes tremble as he drags two fingers over your thin underwear. 

“Fuck,” he chuckles, and you detect a cocky note to it, “you’re so wet for me already.” 

His cockiness, paired with the vulgar comment, makes you shiver. You involuntarily buck your hips in need; he continues to chuckle, clearly indulging his power over you and how weak you become by a mere touch. 

Qimir deftly pushes your panties to one side and plunges his digits into you. Your hands slip underneath his button-up shirt, fingers pressing into the smooth skin of his upper back and shoulders while your rising moans and needy whimpers fill the room. 

But he’s far from finished—he jacks his fingers straighter, angling them even deeper than before.

Your whimpers evolve into heavy groans and wails, your fingers practically leaving marks on him. If he was this good with just his fingers, you were dying to know what he could do with his cock. Despite the raw pleasure, he grounds you with the press of his forehead against yours.

For the cherry on top, his thumb rubs your clit in small circles, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. 

“Be a good girl and come for me.” 

And you obediently do so with the rolling of your eyes, the uncontrollable jolting of your hips, and the ceaseless panting of his own name into Qimir's lips. 

You take a second to come down from your high, but decide not to waste any time and pull away from underneath Qimir to shimmy out of your dress and panties, standing up and kicking them off beside the foot of the couch.

He sits relaxed on the couch now with a hand behind his head, watching you intently as you, now completely bare, drop to your knees in front of him. 

Your hands tremble in anticipation when you reach for his pants, evidently feeling his desire around the seams. Removing his pants and undergarment to his ankles, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his cock springing up against his shirt.

Said shirt is in the way, so Qimir unbuttons it fully and you become slack-jawed over his gorgeous abs, so awestruck that you can’t resist stroking them. 

You continue to touch his abs as you hold his length in your other hand, gifting him gradual, firm strokes. Qimir releases a soft moan, leaning his head back while one of his hands squeeze your shoulder tenderly. 

Finally, you take him into your mouth. On your knees, you worship him. Your tongue traces every inch of him and your lips and palm work together in tandem until his length is slick with your devotion. 

In this moment, you feel an unspoken, strong reverence for Qimir. You can’t explain why you feel this way, but you let your body speak for itself. Each motion you provide is a testament to how much you respect him—as if letting him fill your mouth completely, even occasionally hitting the back of your throat, will prove your admiration.

Although he watches your every move, in such moments such as when you take him fully, squeeze his length harder, or suck hard on his blunt head, his composure slips; he releases throaty groans and his eyes lose focus.

At one point, he warns you he’s close, and you retreat, not wanting the evening to end just yet. Decisively, he rids of his shirt, revealing the expanse of his upper body, and steps out of his other clothes. You ogle at his presence; the more you experience Qimir tonight, the more you realize just how little you know about him.  

Gently taking you by your wrist, Qimir guides you to bend forward in front of him on the couch. You’re surprised at this unexpected position from what you anticipated—a more traditional one like missionary—since it places him in control and leaves you vulnerable, with your face turned away from his. 

His hands grip your hips firmly, and he lines himself up behind you. He eases into you slowly, and you throw your head back when he’s fully inside. Once you’ve adjusted, his thrusts are slow and deep. You savor the feeling of him inside of you, gripping the couch for release with each penetration. 

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you feel me? Every inch of me?” 

You nod, breathless and overwhelmed.

“And do you like it?” 

“I do”—you gasp, throwing your head back at a sudden thrust—“I love it so much.” 

“Such a good girl…” Qimir presses a kiss at the nape of your neck. Just as you're about to lean into it, he’s already gone. 

He removes himself from your warmth, disappointment rising within you in the form of a pout, but he quickly turns you around. 

Qimir lays you on the couch again beneath him once more. As he re-enters you, you think about how the vulnerability of your previous position pales in comparison to this. Now, this position makes you feel even more exposed with how he pins you down with his tenacious gaze with each thrust into your pussy.

Then, intensity flickers in his eyes. His gaze sharpens, and you sense his desire for something more, particularly with how hard he grips your waist. 

“I’m–I’m going to place my hand around your neck,” he pants. “If it’s too much at any point, you double-tap me and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

You nod, drowning in the pleasure, and you barely whisper, “I understand.” 

His fingers first trace the contours of your throat, barely touching it, almost as if he's giving you one last out to say no if you want. But you don't want to; your curiosity is piqued for this darker, dominant side of Qimir you've never seen before.

His hand wraps around your throat with a firm, yet controlled pressure. You can feel the tightness and the pulse of your own blood under his touch, but the sensation is exhilarating, never crossing into pain.

When you don't seem to mind the amount of pressure, Qimir pushes you further, strengthening his hold against the sides of your windpipes. You moan harder, your pussy clenching in tandem with the thrill.

“Remember to breathe,” he instructs. “Focus on how good I feel inside of you.”

Seeing this intense, commanding side of Qimir is addicting. You want more—no, you need more of him like this. Your eyes roll, feeling the rising tension in the pits of your abdomen.

Your gaze drifts to the point where you and he connect, captivated by the sight of his relentless thrusts. You watch the way his body moves against yours, each thrust pushing you closer and closer.

“Look at me as I fuck you,” he demands, his gaze unyielding the whole time. 

You struggle to keep your eyes locked on his, but you try your best to in order to avoid disappointing him. At this point, he's almost just as much of a mess as you: hair sticking to his perspired forehead, eyelids fluttering, teeth gritting hard as if he's holding himself back.

“Good girl. That’s my good”—he hesitates with an elongated moan—“my good girl.”

Pleasure seizes you both, and your faces contort in ecstasy. Jagged moans permeate the air as you come undone first, with Qimir following behind as he paints your stomach with thick, white streaks.

After the clean-up, you lie on the couch on your side, facing him. On the other hand, he’s facing the ceiling with a hand above his head, and you’re in disbelief over the fact that he hides such a toned and chiseled form underneath layers of clothes all the time. You take advantage of the moment and let your hands graze the planes of his chest.

“You’re a completely different person when sex is on the table,” you observe with a hint of awe. 

“Yeah?” He glances at you with a glimmer of a smirk. His voice seems huskier than usual, more seductive really. “Do you like that side of me?” 

“I do,” you admit shyly. 

His hand reaches out from beneath the sheet over your bodies, brushing against your thigh. “Wasn’t too much for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not at all.” 

“Do you…” He absentmindedly draws shapes on your skin. “Do you prefer that side of me over how I normally am?” 

You think about it for a second.

“No,” you say with confidence, reaching for him and tucking some of his loose hair behind his ear. “That was undoubtedly one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced, but I also like how you are with me every day. You respect me, you treat me well, and you make me laugh all the time; you’re one of the funniest guys I know.” 

“On that note”—he leans in to rub his nose against the top of your arm before placing a light kiss on the same area—“can you call me master when we have sex?” 

You immediately swat him on his chest and laugh. “Oh, my God!” 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he says, his pitch now returning to its normal state. “Unless…?” 

“If you’re really into it, I’ll consider it.” you tease, then look away. The mention of the word drags you back to reality. “What are we going to do about him?” 

“I told you already; he’s fine with it,” he says dismissively, waving a hand. It bothers you that he doesn’t seem to care, but then you squint and wonder…

“You say that as if he already knows.” 

He shrugs. “Maybe he does.” 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions seem to be true. “Did you tell him?!” 

“No,” he grunts, “but, I mean, he probably has the place bugged.”

“Oh, God…” You bury your face in one of your hands. “He’s not gonna be happy, especially if he heard everything. I do not look forward to training tomorrow.” 

“Like I said,” he takes one of your hands and presses a kiss onto the inside of your wrist, “he’ll be fine with it. I’m willing to bet on it.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Qimir! How do you know it’ll be okay?” 

“Trust me, all right?” He smiles and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms—

“I just know.”  

[satinestales]

❝erotic melancholia❞ | qimir x reader

pairing: qimir x reader

summary: healing your wounds and sore muscles took longer than expected, so qimir decided to offer you his bathtub in the middle of his cave. along with some side offerings.

warnings: this is more of a short scribble so if you decide to jump in, have a nice stay and enjoy the food, starring very soft and gentle qimir - something to relax to i guess, soft physical touch, sensual touches, comfort, massage?

this is very comforting and romantic, i'd say so all you horndogs can move, with love <3 this is how i want osha and qimir to interact once, GIVE ME THEM FOREHEAD TOUCHES

a/n: as i was writing this a fucking spider dropped on me from the ceiling- i may have had a heart attack and i pissed my pants a little

now playing, 13 beaches by lana del rey

The echo of dripping water resonated through the dimly lit cave, mingling with the soft hum of distant waves crashing against the rocky shore outside. The natural formation of the cave walls created a snug, sheltered alcove where a makeshift bathtub had been fashioned from smoothed stones and lined with soft moss. Small glowing crystals embedded in the rock provided a gentle, otherworldly light that bathed the cavern in a warm, ethereal glow.

You stood at the entrance of the cave, your body aching from the skirmish with the Jedi knights earlier that day. Bruises and shallow cuts adorned your skin, and your muscles protested with every movement. Qimir knelt beside the stone tub, pouring a mixture of healing herbs and soothing oils into the steaming water, the aroma of exotic alien flowers, and restorative essences filling the air.

"I think it's ready now," he said, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. He looked up at you with concern etched in his features. "This should help with the soreness."

You managed a weary smile, your gratitude evident despite your exhaustion. "Thank you." You simply smiled, adoring Qimir from the other side of the cave. As much as you appreciated Qimir's work and his loyalty to you, you kept your distance. Even if your heart desired the opposite.

Qimir stood up, giving you space to approach the tub. You noticed he had even placed a new robe and new clothes. Looking at them as you made your way to them, you appreciated he matched your size and taste. You felt a surge of warmth dancing in your chest as you looked at him, his unspoken admiration clear in every thoughtful gesture.

He was beautiful in the dim lit cave, the light reflecting over his sharp features. You didn't want to push him away, but you weren't comfortable taking your clothes in front of him. You didn't mind him seeing you bare, but his stare as you'd take of your clothes made you uneasy and caused a strange feeling in your stomach.

As if he could read your thoughts, which he probably did, he apologised and made his way to the corner of the cave, to make you more comfortable.

"When you're ready, let me know." his voice echoed through the cave, startling you as you carefully took of your robe and pants, gently throwing them on the ground above the tub.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the warm water, the heat instantly beginning to soothe your battered body. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the tension started to melt away.

Behind the corner of the cave, Qimir lingered for a moment, ensuring you were under the water before he spoke again.

"May I?" he asked, tenderness in his voice. Smile creeped its way to your lips, his voice warming you more than the water around you.

You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod. "You may."

As he appeared again, he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar, adorable way.

As he quietly entered the cave, the sounds of the island and the soft hum of the Force filled the space, you sank deeper into the tub. The warmth seeped into your bones, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing you were safe and cared for in Qimir's hidden sanctuary.

Qimir slowly made his way around you to kneel down behind your back. You kept your eyes closed, dozing off in the warm water that melted your pain away. Slowly, you felt Qimir's hand reach your hair, lifting it up and gently braiding it into a small braid. As he finished your hair, he moved it to the side over your shoulder, leaving your back exposed.

"If you won't be comfortable with anything, tell me." He leaned to your ear, whispering, not wanting to startle you from your peaceful setting.

You murmured something back, too distracted by the comfort of it all. The water hugged and caressed your wounds, the chilliness of the cave and Qimir's hands slowly massaging your shoulders. You wanted to melt, and you were sure you were about to.

Qimir's fingers danced their way around your sore muscles, around your neck, and between your shoulder blades. You liked the way they made you feel relaxed and at peace, clearing your mind from intrusive thoughts. When he offered you his tub, you were sceptical at first and didn't want to listen to him. Now you were glad you did as for all the pain and soreness dissapered, melted into the water and Qimir's fingers.

You were so lost in his touch that you were unaware of the noises you began to make, Qimir's lips turning into a soft smile. He felt proud that he made you feel comfortable and safe after the rough day you went through. He secretly wanted to jump inside and enjoy the smells and hot water together, but he respected your privacy, acknowledging you weren't that familiar with each other yet.

He didn't mind. You were close to him, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment.

"Where did you learn to do this?" you asked out of nowhere, wanting to break the silence no matter how comforting it was. Qimir's voice felt way warmer.

"Friend of mine." he replied, not stopping his movements around your right shoulder blade. "She taught me a lot."

A small sting of jealousy ran through your heart as he mentioned the unknown being. You felt ridiculous. He was obviously very charming, and it would be stupid to think he didn't share himself with anyone over his life.

"She died a long time ago," he added, sensing the tension forming around you. If Qimir's hands didn't hold you in place, you'd sink yourself under the water.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, his hands now around your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You didn't hear him answer, and the urge to turn around and apologise again grew stronger with every passing second.

"You mentioned your arms hurting too," he spoke, changing the conversation. "Do you want me to take a look?" he stopped massaging your neck, but his hands never left your skin, letting them rest on your shoulder.

"If it won't bother you," you replied quietly, staring at your feet below the water.

"I wouldn't ask if it did," you heard him smile, his fingers moving in slow circles on your skin.

"You can jump in while you do it." You didn't know what magical force let you say your thoughts out loud, but it was too late. You felt redness overtake your face as the silence kept stretching.

"Do you want me to?" Qimir wanted to make sure he heard you right before stripping himself.

"I want you to fix my arms." You coughed, hoping he didn't marge into your head and read your thoughts as he pleased to do many times before.

You wanted to speak again as another silence took over, but Qimir's hands leaving your shoulders and the sound of his clothes dropping right next to yours shut you up.

At the moment you saw his bare ankles next to you, you dropped your gaze down, nervously playing with your hands below the water. You heard a splash when Qimir sinked into the water, the close proximity melting your thoughts away. You dared to look up at him, choking on the air.

His jawline and high cheekbones prominent in the light, his two small pigtails on the opposite side of his head exposing his forehead and sharp eyes. He was one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen and no matter how cliche it sounded in your head, you didn't dare to deny it.

His chest glittered as the droplets found his way around him, the water reaching to his hips. He was ethereal.

You notice a small smirk on his lips as he lets you brush your stare on him before reaching out for your arm underwater, his eyes never leaving yours. He could have dropped his gaze and look down. He would easily see through the water, but he didn't. Instead, he admired your face, his fingers dancing its way around your arm to find the tense muscles.

"What is your mask made of?" You genuinely wondered, wanting to ask since you saw it deactivate lightsabers. You watched him now concentrating on fixing your arm, his fingers moving in sharp but tender movements.

"Cortosis," his voice low and raspy, his presence intoxicating. He radiated warmth, beating the hot bath he prepared for you. "Like the one we used as younglings." he explained further, his hand reaching your bicep, making him move closer to you. If you'd extend your hand, you wouldn't be able to stretch it fully before meeting Qimir's chest. The proximity and soft touch drove you crazy.

"So it's just you and the Force," you added before he could finish his further explanation. Despite staring at his hands, you didn't miss the acknowledging look he gave you.

"And whatever you bring with you." he whispered, nodding his head, his eyes falling back to your arm. When he finished your right hand, he reached out for your left, but before he could do so, you hid both of your arms behind your back, looking up at him with amusement playing on your lips.

"And what do you bring there with you?" you wondered, your gaze dancing between his lips and his black eyes. His half lidded eyes made you switch position so you could press your legs together. He didn't miss it even tho he acted like he did.

"My partner, I hope." he tilted his head, trying to read your expression. Nodding, acknowledging his answer, you didn't move. You let your eyes drop to his chest, around his nipples, fown to his abdomen. And back up.

Nervously, you played with your fingers behind your back as the silence took its place again. But this time, it was different. The awkwardness vanished, and something else took over.

"Have you found one yet?" Your mind traced back to the person he mentioned a few minutes back, wondering if she was his partner and he lost her. Or maybe he never found one, forever wondering for someone to fill his soul.

"I think I may have." he replied, moving slowly towards you, the water hugging his torso. "But I'm not sure if the person found me."

He was right in front of you. You could swallow his breath. His deep, longing eyesz scanning yours, his lips partially opened. His hair loosened up, falling over his forehead.

"She did," you whispered back, letting his hand caress your cheek before meeting his lips with yours. The softness of his lips made your knees betray you, but his arms were there to catch you. Your hands moved from your back to rest against his chest, feeling his soft glow skin. Your fingers drew shapes around his scars, wanting to love and learn every single one. His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you even closer to him. Wanting to feel every inch of you.

Candles flickered around the cave, casting a soft, golden glow that danced with the shadows. The fragrance of the candles mingles with the warmth of the water, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility.

You leaned back, enveloped by the soothing embrace of the water and Qimir's arms around you. His chest is firm and reassuring, his lips soft and sweet as you imagined clouds would feel. You felt his steady heartbeat, a reminder of their presence and yearning.

In that moment, all pain and worries melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and security. Qimir's arms were your sanctuary, always ready to catch you when you stumbled and to hold you when you needed it most.

The feeling was a blend of love and ecstasy, as if every touch and whispered word from Qimir's lips was a promise of unwavering yearning and affection. The chill in the air around you only enhanced the cozy, intimate warmth you shared, making this moment all the more precious.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the blissful combination of the hot bath, the ambient candlelight, and the tender embrace of Qimir's lips. In his arms, you didn't find just comfort, but a profound, soulful connection that filled you with an enduring sense of peace and love.

[inklore]

and if i wrote a professor!qimir au what then?!?!?!!!

[yandere-wishes]

The feminine urge to make posts that are so barbiecore yet simultaneously have it chill the reader to the very bone and haunt their minds like Nosferatu.

[multific]

An Empire of Two

CEO!Qimir x Reader

Modern!AU

Summary: Qimir, a ruthless CEO, is used to controlling everything until he meets you, a woman full of warmth and wit. What starts as a chance encounter turns into an intense, passionate love story that changes you both.

This can be read as a part 2 for Claimed by the CEO.

Qimir had never let anyone linger in his life for too long. 

People came and went like passing shadows. Business associates, rivals, and even lovers who thought they could soften him. 

But you? 

You were different from the moment he saw you, lost and confused on that street, looking small against the towering cityscape. He had almost left you there. Almost.

Now, months later, he watched as you moved around his penthouse, effortlessly making yourself at home in a space that had once been nothing more than glass and steel. 

The contrast was almost laughable. Where he was cold, reserved, and calculating, you were warmth incarnate, filling every silent space with laughter and life.

“You know,” you mused, “for someone so rich, you barely have any real food in here.”

Qimir didn’t look up from his newspaper. “I don’t have time for trivial things.”

“You don’t have time to eat?” You scoffed, taking a bite of your breakfast and shaking your head. “That’s actually kind of sad.”

He gave you a look, unimpressed. “I eat. Just not…” He gestured vaguely toward your plate. “…whatever that is.”

You gasped in exaggerated offense. “It’s toast, Qimir.”

“Yes. And it’s burnt.”

“It’s artisanal.”

“It’s charred.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before turning back to the kitchen, humming to yourself as you rummaged through his ridiculously expensive cabinets. 

He had the best of everything, and yet he never used any of it. His life was too structured, too rigid for something as simple as enjoying a home-cooked meal. 

Until you.

He wouldn’t admit it, not out loud, but there was something deeply satisfying about watching you move around his space, filling it with life. 

You were everything he wasn’t.

Where he loomed in dark suits and silence, you sparkled with mischief, turning even the most ordinary moments into something… warm.

And yet, despite that warmth, you weren’t naive. Qimir knew that much. You understood the world he lived in, the enemies he kept close, the ones waiting to strike. And you never asked him to be anything other than what he was.

That was why he kept you close. That was why he couldn’t let you go.

You were his warmth. 

The first time you visited his office, you did it purely to surprise him. 

You hadn’t expected to be met with a room full of silent, stiff-backed executives who all turned to gape at you like you were an alien invading their business-driven world.

Qimir, seated at the head of the long, glass conference table, barely raised a brow. “You’re interrupting.”

“I’m enhancing,” you corrected, stepping inside like you owned the place. “Besides, you left your lunch at home. Again.”

A deafening silence filled the room. Some poor assistant looked like she was about to faint.

One of the executives, a sharp-eyed man who clearly thought too highly of himself, sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

You beamed at him, utterly unfazed. “His girlfriend.”

Murmurs broke out immediately, a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

You ignored them all, making your way to Qimir and setting the small takeout bag in front of him. He glanced at it, then at you, unreadable as ever. “I don’t recall asking you to bring me lunch.”

You leaned down slightly, just enough so only he could hear. “And I don’t recall asking you to be my boyfriend, but here we are.”

For a moment, something flickered in his golden eyes, something almost amused. 

Almost.

Then, with all the ease of a man who controlled empires, he turned back to the room and dismissed them without another word. The executives all scrambled to leave, sparing glances between the two of you before the doors shut behind them.

The moment you were alone, you smirked. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Qimir exhaled through his nose, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “You just made my CFO cry.”

“I’m sure she’ll live.”

He shook his head, but the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

It was supposed to be just fun. 

That was what you told yourself, what you told him. But then one day, you woke up in his bed, draped in silk sheets and his warmth, and realised with an almost startling certainty, you loved him.

The realisation came slowly, then all at once. 

It was in the way he always pulled you close at night, even in his sleep. The way his hand always found yours under the table at events. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this world that could distract him from everything else. Because you are. 

You weren’t sure when you had become so intertwined with him, but there was no escaping it now.

And when Qimir finally looked at you, his eyes dark and steady, his hand lifting yours to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles, you knew, he felt it too.

“You should marry me,” he murmured one evening, his voice quiet, but the weight of his words heavy.

Your heart nearly stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I said you should marry me.”

You blinked, sitting up slightly. “You-you can’t just say things like that out of nowhere.”

He met your gaze, completely unaffected. “Why not?”

“Because it’s insane!” You waved a hand. “We’re just… we’re just…” You trailed off, realising you didn’t actually have an argument.

He smirked. “Yes?”

You groaned, falling back against the pillows. “You are impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.” He shifted closer, his hand trailing along your jaw before tilting your face up to meet his. “So tell me, are you going to make me wait for an answer?”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering. You had walked into his life like a storm, but somehow, he had become the centre of yours, steady, unshakable.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a slow smile, you whispered, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

He kissed you, dark and deep, full of a promise you already knew the answer to.

Tomorrow, you would say yes.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[rebelscums]

Apricity (Qimir x Lover reader)

Ratings: Angst | Slight fluff | Mentions of nudity | He doesn’t realize what he has until it’s gone

Summary: Qimir chooses his padawan over you, going back on his promise and leaving you with one choice… To leave.

For the longest time, it has always been you and him. The two of you against the entire galaxy, searching for a place to belong. Long nights spent tangled up in sheets and days spent traveling the galaxy. It felt nice not to feel so lonely anymore, to belong to someone and have a purpose.

Until he wanted more.

“You want a pupil?” You sat up in bed, the cool air circling from the cave entrance caressing your skin.

He sat up as well, his hand circling around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, “I want to pass my knowledge onto someone else…” His thumb brushed against your side, “I want an acolyte.” He leaned in to press kisses on your neck.

“Then why not just get me pregnant?”

He grinned, breathing a content chuckle against your skin, “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” The thought of a child, a mix of both you and Qimir, running around excited you.

He pulled back to look you in the eyes, “I promise, once my work is done and I have an acolyte to carry out my will. You and I can finally live without constantly hiding and we can have all the children we could want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise my flower.”

That was two years ago before he found… Mae. You believed in his words, kept his identity a secret, and stood by faithfully as he spent all of his time training her.

He said that he didn’t want to risk your life, that was why your love would remain a secret. You could understand his reasoning and you complied as you always did.

Sometimes he would leave you on the unknown planet you both made your home…

You decided long ago to call the planet Apricty because no matter how cold it felt, your love kept it warm. But that warmth slowly began to fade with each passing month he spent away from you. It was always the same line.

“I thought that maybe we could take a tripe to Naboo?”

“I can’t my flower, but I promise soon.”

“Today is our anniversary. I wanted to make something special for us for dinner. When will you be home?”

“I can’t my flower, but I promise soon we will celebrate.”

“Can I come with you this time? I feel…” alone…

“I can’t take you with me my flower, but I promise soon.”

You spent most of your time walking along the beach, collecting shells and taking in the scenery of the waves crashing against the rocks. Today was no different as you sat on the edge of the beach, dipping your toes into the freezing water.

You were bored and lonely and you just, “I miss him.” You admitted quietly to no one. You’ve found yourself talking to the force lately. You weren’t like Qimir, you had no strong connection and you couldn’t wield the force, but you felt close to it as the force reminded you of Qi.

“I miss waking up to him humming as he cooked breakfast… I miss his jokes and that lopsided grin of his… I miss cooking dinner for him and running my hands through his hair… I miss our adventures… I… I miss…” You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt tear drops hit your hands, “I miss him.” You sobbed.

You were concerned and you were scared for him that his ambitions would take him to where you couldn’t follow.

You were cutting potatoes to put in a stew, humming a song that Qimir used to sing to you. It gave you some sense of humanity staying here alone for the past couple of months. Your tears had long since dried from earlier today and your only plan was to eat dinner and go to bed.

“Your voice is just as beautiful as I remember my flower.” You heard him speak behind you and you froze wondering if you were imagining him again.

“Qi…” You whispered his name as you turned to find him standing there, a small smile on his face.

Your eyes tear up as you stood and rushed towards him. He engulfed you in his arms and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“It’s been so long.” You cried into his shirt.

“I know, I’m sorry my flower.” He whispered into your hair as he caressed your body.

You pulled back to look him over, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” You notice the tired look on his face, “What happened?”

“Jedi.” He muttered as he pressed his forehead against yours, “I took care of them.”

You breathed in his scent as closed your eyes… You were happy that he was back and you once again felt safe in his arms… That is until you heard a noise emanating from your room.

“What was that?” You wondered as you pulled away from him.

“My flower, there’s something I need to tell you about.” He said.

There was nothing in his expression that would allow anyone to know what he was thinking… But you weren’t just anyone.

“What is it?” A frown crossed your lips as you could see the guilt in his eyes.

“I brought Osha here.” He muttered knowing he could not lie to you.

“Osha?” Your brows furrowed, “Your acolyte’s sister? Why?”

“Mae betrayed me. I believe Osha is the acolyte I need.”

You pushed him away, your joy of him returning morphing into frustration, “You brought her here?”

“I had no other choice.” He pressed.

“You always have a choice.” You turned away from him. It was ironic how now you wanted space from him.

He took a step towards you wrapping his arms around your waist, “She was hurt, please. I wouldn’t have brought her here if I didn’t have a choice.”

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Alright.” You whispered quietly.

He turned you around and pressed a kiss to your lips, “Thank you my flower. You have always supported me and I love you for that.”

“Of course.” You brushed your nose against his, “I love you.”

You spent your evening tending to the girl’s wound, something you never dreamed of doing, but here you are. You were happy though that at least Qimir was back and hopefully now you can go with him places.

Or so you thought.

You both stood outside of the cave as he told you, “For my plan to work, you can’t tell her that we are together.”

“What do you mean?” You questioned him, “What does our love have anything to do with her as your new acolyte?”

“She needs to see that to truly be powerful she cannot have any attachment to her old life.” He explained, “Trust me on this, please.” He asked once again.

“Who…” You frowned softly, a sad look in your gaze, “Who would you have me be?”

“You’ll be my smuggler, just for a little while.” He placed his hands on your arms, “I swear that it won’t be for long. Just until she accepts who she is.”

“Okay…” You whispered unsure.

Why do you always say yes to him? Why can’t you just tell him that this hurts you more than slicing your own skin? Then being left alone. It felt as if he didn’t want to belong to you anymore…

“Who are you?” Osha asked behind you from where you were making lunch.

“No one important.” You spoke softly, “How is your wound?”

“It’s… Better… Thank you.” She spoke unsure.

“I did what I could with what I had.” You motioned to a bag, “There are some clothes and things for you in there. They are mine, but I’m sure they’ll fit.”

I could hear her make her way over to the bag and open it to inspect the items, “Why are you helping me?” She wondered.

“Because he asked.” You stated as you added more vegetables to the curry, “And because I’m not a bad person.”

You heard her pick up the bag and carry it to the back room to change.

“Qi is outside.” You told her, “I’ll come fetch you both for lunch when it’s ready.”

You hoped that you didn’t seem too mean or awkward as you brushed off your pants. At least the curry turned out good. You thought as you slipped on your shoes and one of Qimir’s coat that you stole. His scent was still there but faded from how many times you’ve worn it while he was away.

“You are not going to give that back are you?” He chuckled.

“You are leaving me for months. The least you can do is leave me this. I may forget you after all.” You teased though you were silently hurting, you didn’t let him know.

He pulled you in for a deep kiss, “I won’t be gone long. Once I find an acolyte everything will be perfect.”

But everything was perfect… At least to you.

You hummed softly as you left the cave, some seeds in your pocket to feed the cute little creatures that live alongside you. The walk felt nice as you finally had somewhere to go to without mindlessly wandering around until your feet felt numb. You wondered if Qi would like to go see the small garden you had been meticulously been cultivating since he left. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

Besides you always told him you wanted a garden and now you have one that you made all on your own.

“A garden hm?” He smiled softly down at you.

“Yes! I would like a big one with the most beautiful and exotic fruits, vegetables, and flowers that we have ever seen!” You explained happily to him as he spun you around in your little home, “Then I can make us the most delicious meals.”

“I see, I guess I will have to get started on building you one then.” He smiled.

He never did build you that garden; but it made you feel proud that you built one yourself. It wasn’t grand and it didn’t have the most beautiful fruits, vegetables, or flowers in the galaxy, but it was enough. It made you content in your lonely state. You continued on your path, knowing exactly where he would be. It was your favorite spot after all, a little cove that was perfect for taking a swim or just relaxing. You remember all of the fond memories the two of you had there when the only thought in mind was your shared future. You thought it was enough… You hoped it was.

You could hear two voices and you sighed silently knowing you would have to put up an act. You had secretly hoped that Osha would try to escape or get lost and you could spend some much needed time with Qimir, but you suppose that the force was not on your side this time.

“If you’re not going to join me then I would like to get dressed.” You heard Qimir say and the odd choice of words made a sick feeling settle in the pit of your stomach.

You turned around the corner of a giant boulder when before you made you step back in shock. There your lover was standing bare in front of a girl who was only supposed to be his padawan.

What was this…?

You didn’t understand as you watched him get dressed. He didn’t try to hide himself or make her turn away. He didn’t…

You turned away and wrapped your arms around yourself, silently leaving the two to their private conversation. There were many emotions and thoughts consuming your mind as you trekked back to your little home.

How long has that been going on? Was he that way with Mae as well? Was I just a placeholder until he found someone better? Why? Why? Why?

Your sadness grew into anger as the realization settled in you like a seed of doubt. He… Didn’t love me anymore. I wonder if he ever did? You thought.

You waited in your home, a place that you have worked hard to make it a warm and welcoming place for the both of you. You could hear them talking as they approached, could see them as Qimir twisted his way inside her mind as he did yours all those years ago. Watched as he grabbed her arm so gently that you wanted to cry. You wanted to look away as she pinned him to the cave entrance and he let her, the lightsaber so close to his neck you wondered if she would actually do it… You wondered if you wanted her to.

He set his claim over her with soothing words and a gentle touch and you knew… He didn’t want you. He didn’t even want a padawan.

He wanted an equal.

You couldn’t give him that, not with your small connection to the force. You weren’t like him. You never would be.

Your heart broke in that moment and nothing saved you from the sorrow that consumed you. All you wanted was a family… He was your family. He was everything to you and you… You weren’t as nearly important to him.

“At least three.” You lied in bed, curled up in his arms.

“Four kids?” He chuckled as he drew circles across your skin, “Why not make it four? Make it even.”

“Four?” You hummed in thought, “Do you think you can handle that many kids?”

“I handle you just fine, how hard can it be?” He teased.

You mockingly gasped in shock before rolling over on top of him, “You’ll see just how hard I am to handle.”

“Oh I’m counting on it.” He grinned, placing his hands on your hips.

You leaned down to press your forehead against his, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone Qi.”

“I’ll never let you go.” He stated sincerely, “Nothing will ever keep me from you, my flower.”

“I’ll keep you to that.” You kissed him.

It seemed that shattered piece of the force reminded him that you were there. He could feel that string of yours begin to fray and when his eyes met yours he knew that there was no way to bring you back.

It was early the next morning and you watched the tide begin to recede as you waited to board your ship, one that was smaller than Qimir’s, but still fast.

“Flower.”

“Please, spare me indignity.” You whispered.

“I can explain.”

You could see the hurt hidden behind his soft gaze, a pleading act that you knew too well. It was a look that he only gave when he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

You continued to look at him with tears in your eyes, “I don’t need you to explain anything to me. I’m not connected to the force like you, but I know you do the very core of my being and I know… I know Qimir.”

“That’s not—” He stepped towards you, but you held a hand up to stop him.

“I want to be loved only by you and… You swore that it would just be the two of us. You used to say you couldn’t bear to be without me… You used to run to see me… I want to be close to you and you still keep me at arms length. You think I’m naive, but I see more than what you want me to see.” You took a breath as you tried to keep your composer without breaking down.

You searched his eyes for the love he once held for you and you wanted to cry because you couldn’t find it anymore.

“You have my heart Qimir, you always have. My love for you is as warm as the sun, but I cannot continue to shine upon something that prefers the darkness.” You confessed, your heart barely keeping it together. You wanted to run back in his arms and forget everything that happened, but that would only leave you right where you are now… Alone.

“What are you saying?” His voice cracked and he felt a gnawing feeling crawl up his chest and towards his heart.

“I can no longer follow you on the path that you are taking, not when your heart no longer belongs to me so please… Give me some decency and let me leave you.” You pleaded not knowing how much your heart could take.

“I can’t.” He shook his head and his voice became desperate, “Please don’t leave me. I can’t bear to loose you. Not you.”

“Then tell her to go.” You looked in the direction of where Mae was watching at the entrance of your home… Your life… Your safe space.

“I…” He looked torn as he tried to decide and that hurt you all the more… He had to think about choosing you and… “I can’t.” He finally responded.

He couldn’t even choose you.

You nodded to yourself at his choice, silently confirming your decision to leave. It was best for you no matter how much pain you were currently in.

“No one will ever be able to truly see you the way I do… You were my apricity.” You turned and began to walk to your ship, “Goodbye Qimir.”

Osha took his place by his side and he suddenly felt a feeling of emptiness, no longer did he feel a purpose nor did he wish for anything except for his beloved flower.

“You won’t kill her?” Osha asked as she watched as your ship took off.

“Never.” He responded quietly.