#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.

[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.

[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

[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."

[inklore]

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

[im-poe-dameron]

Okay last one I swear "You want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape." with… do I even need to say his name?? RAT BOI QIMIR

DARKNESS WITHIN

a/n: the way i was determined to write this. my laptop committed itself to death and i hand wrote this until i got a new battery. but anything to appease the current brain rot that has overtaken me. i love that we have a feral sith again. rip maul and revan you would have been obsessed with our boi.

summary: balance - the power of light and dark and everything that lingered between. a truth you held onto tightly for fear of losing yourself. but when false hope begins to fade and power tastes sweeter on your tongue than truth, you're left with what remains.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: qimir x f!reader; the stranger x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, lightsaber battle written messily, corruption, corruption kink, cumplay, choking, dubcon (possibly but just in case), the arc of a fallen jedi.

Petrichor lingered in the air as you stepped off metal and down into the soft soil below. The holomap still glowed inside your small ship. Illuminating the darkened space with a familiar blue you’d caught yourself staring at while the cold temperatures from hyperspace sunk into your skin. The name listed beneath caused your heart to leap into your mouth—the bitterness of him stuck to your tongue.

Eriadu.

An unknown jungle planet along the outer rim. The last place you expected to visit.

The cover of darkness and clouds blocked even the moon’s soft gleam. Your hand twitched, fingers stretching inadvertently to your lightsaber attached to your hip. From where you could see, the soft silver practically held its own light. As if to tell you this was not a path you walked alone—you would not carry the heaviness of your heart in solitude.

If you focused long enough, you could practically feel the leather grip along your fingertips. The urge to flick the switch and bring forth the comforting teal you’d come to rely on, nearly overtook you. But darkness was your ally on a hunt this straining.

For weeks you’d traveled between planets, digging for any information. A piece of a map that would eventually lead you here.

Though the one you sought out remained unknown, similar to the far reaches of the galaxy, you somehow managed to pick up a trace of him. Of the Force signature that nearly burned its way through your own. Where you expected a shimmer of light, a void of nothing welcomed you. Begged you for a sliver of company: in the hopes that you wouldn’t be able to resist.

The feeling sunk down into your nerves, echoing in your chest even now. A song you wouldn’t soon forget—yet craved to hear more of.

Darkness remained a Jedi’s sole enemy. Even while the tantalizing remnants of something so forbidden threatened to unravel you. The threads you kept a tight hold of were now frayed. And the more time passed, the more you felt his pull. The way his fingers had gripped you tight—leaving invisible marks you’d trace later in your mind. Shards of that cataclysmic emotion which tumbled through you like a tidal wave.

Jedi weren’t meant for this. For silent hopes kept in secret—the yearning for more clawing at your insides. Attachment held many names and you’d seen its power. Yet this…was raw uninhibited need. A hunger for his flesh, his mouth, his taste, for words that spilled so carelessly. But held enough freedom for you to grasp.

You weren’t stupid. You could see the breadth of his power that lingered under the surface. The signature of something foreign, something ancient.

That alone should have sent fear curling around your spine, stiffening your movements. You were taught as a padawan that Jedi fear nothing. They were the symbol of peace; a beacon of hope for the galaxy to look towards.

No matter how much you tried to fight it, that didn’t rid you of the way your body practically flinched at each sound. Your throat, tight and unforgiving the longer you trekked into the forest.

You knew the terror housed in your body didn’t stem from the thought of facing him. The realization bled through your heart the longer you were out there—you were going against the code you promised to uphold the day you were knighted. A vow that would one day cost you your life. But thus was the price to pay for knowledge, for training, for a purpose. Betrayal from another Jedi was a blow to everything your faith centered around. And what you thought was merely a faint blistering second of desire, fanned the flames of something worse.

A searing ache that refused to be ignored.

Your boots sunk into the ground with every step. Clear footprints now marked into the soil for anyone to follow. Forgoing your robes on the ship, you did what you could to look like a passerby. Someone here for peace and a stolen moment of tranquility. Hopefully they wouldn’t spot the heavy breaths you took, or the way your body was wracked with a type of suffering you weren’t used to: guilt. 

Trees engulfed your line of vision, blocking what you hoped was a path. Instead you were left with a vacant hole in the Force.

What once was loud—the embodiment of chaos—suddenly fell silent.

As if it never existed at all.

“You’re still here,” you murmured, eyes falling shut. The pulse of your own heart filled your senses. A reverberation that grounded you to the planet below. “I can feel you.”

Sucking in a lungful of air, you allowed everything else to melt away. The trees, the earth, the glow of the moon. Until you were left with the steady thump, thump, thump, that rang in your chest. The inky black mess of darkness shrouded your vision; hindering what you could reach. Forgoing a river blocking your only way forward.

You did what you could to push through it. Past the barriers of good and evil; beyond life itself. Until you reached the middle, the balance of everything that lingered between.

Your own soft blue green signature wrapped around your body, acting as a shield to what lay beyond. Pressing further, you felt the icy cold bitterness of him. It spread down your spine, wrapping around bone and marrow. A threat layered as a promise.

The obsidian emptiness was tinged with a soft gleam of crimson. Blood. Spilled by the very hands you craved to hold you.

The vibration of power nearly rattled you from the inside out. The amount of his capabilities that once beckoned you forward, now creeped closer. Mirth and malevolence seeped into the air, invading your senses. Until the pungent taste of copper spread across your tongue. Burning you within moments.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck, chills overtaking you with a wolfish eagerness. And you gasped. Calling your saber swiftly to your palm, you spun—the teal igniting like a flame, illuminating the area. Your eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light, but in the darkness—melted into the shadows—you caught a glimpse of him. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you swung it forward, until the all too familiar sinister hum of a second lightsaber filled the area.

Red clashed with teal—sparks flying into the air—and you were met with the eyes of your mark.

The man who split you open down the center.

He stole the lid from Pandora’s box and watched in glee as every emotion you kept locked away, spilled free.

“What took you so long?” His lips curved into a smirk. Satisfaction gleamed from his eyes—a red reflection cast itself along his brown irises.

“You knew I’d come.”

“I hoped.”

“Hope…” You scoffed, attempting to steady the beat of your heart. “A dangerous thing for someone like you.”

With the tilt of his head you felt the ground level beneath you. “One could say the same for your kind.”

Heat from your blades clashing bled into the air. Yet neither of you backed away. This was no longer a fight of enemies, but rather you claiming back what he so callously stole. The sanity you once prided yourself on. Death would be an honor if it were to occur in battle. A worthy end to a Jedi as prideful as you, but the doubt he placed began to rise to the surface.

The answers to your myriad of questions—desires you sealed away—were gifted to you by him. As if he’d been waiting with baited breath for you to simply…ask him.

His smile deepened. “I can’t heal what’s been broken.”

You pressed your saber down, victory filling your chest at the sight of him sliding back. He’d been expecting a fight. Not your rage.

“Stay out of my head,” you spit.

“But it’s fun.” He huffed, standing to his full height, the strength of his body shoving you back. “Watching you grapple with the meaning of good and bad.”

“Shut up.” You swung at him again. Only for the attempt to be met with a slice of his blade. It nearly toppled you to the ground.

“It’s a lie. Everything the Jedi told you.” He advanced, his steps steady—measured. “There is no such thing as light or dark. It is just power.”

“You’re trying to get in my head. To tear me apart.” The clash of your blades pierced the air with a crack as you rushed at him.

“No,” he whispered, allowing his Force signature to brush against yours. You fell away, fear lacing your heart. “I was already in your head.” He swiped at you, the red crackle of his lightsaber singed your face as you ducked. “You let me in. You let me see every doubt, every fear, every desire. Willingly.”

“Shut up!” you cried, anger forcing its way forward. Hatred for everything you felt blinded you as you lashed at him with vehemence.

Loathing at the lust you gave into, the fear you let consume you. He worked his way into your heart and there was nothing you could do to combat it. You wanted to strip him from your body, tear away the flesh he touched. Yet the memory of how you begged, how you fell to your knees for him ripped through your head—punching the breath from your lungs.

Blow after blow, you watched as he fought you with ease. His slight shifts were enough to keep you off balance. Right where he wanted. Sweat prickled at your throat, pain spreading down your arms. He was purposefully wearing you down. Until your body gave way to exhaustion. Yet that’s not what fueled the rage you did your best to tamp down.

He was enjoying this. The way you struggled.

The final frail thread in your mind snapped and for the first time, you allowed your anger to bleed through. You let it fuel the adrenaline that filled your veins, pushing your body to keep fighting. With a hoarse shout, you shoved what Force you could his way and watched him slide back along the ground. Falling to one knee with a grunt.

Air burned your lungs as you gasped in time with the beat of your heart. Your arms shook with an unforgivable ache.

But you lifted your lightsaber. Teal casting a soft glow on your sweat slicked face—the echo of wrath glinting in your darkened eyes.

“You are the last person I’d let corrupt me.” You weren’t taught to despise someone this viciously. The Jedi spoke against it, but something hot burned in your chest. A promise that you would return to Coruscant with the handle of his lightsaber. His defeat would be your penance for the pain you caused.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

“You’re wrong—”

He laughed, his foot slamming into your hip hard enough for you to hear a pop—pain rushing down your thigh. “I’m wrong? Tell me Jedi. What do you think they will do to you when you return corrupted? What will they do…when they find out how much you wanted me?”

Your scream pierced the air, burning your lungs. Ignoring the pain, you leapt to your feet, swung your blade in parries he quickly blocked, at a speed you’d never before witnessed. He fought against you with ease, but your refusal to back down is what threw him off. You wouldn’t let him win, refusing to back away from something like this. If he wanted to finish what started weeks ago, he’d have to impale you with his blade.

To your wonder, he seemed to avoid doing exactly that. Even as you fumbled, weariness settling deep in your bones.

With a twist of your wrist, his blade flew from his hand and landed mere feet away in the dirt. You half expected him to call it back, to end you where you stood, but he fell to his knees when your boot slammed into his leg. The teal of your saber now pressed close to his sweat glistened skin.

His head tilted up, eyes darker than you remembered, yet he never lost the mirthful smile that graced his lips.

“I didn’t want you,” you lied, in the hopes that he wouldn’t prod out the truth.

One final swing would silence him forever. You could release the Jedi from his threat, return home the same person you were before coming across him. And yet…you hesitated. Your eyes met his, the burn of tears welling up until you could barely see straight. His smile deepened, victory painted across his face, as you both came to the realization that would damn you right along with him. He could see it in your stance, feel how your Force signature begged to sink beside his, to feel the strength he once showed you—the tenderness that you knew existed beneath the surface.

Killing him ceased to be an option the second he opened your eyes to the truth.

“You do,” he said, his voice soft and raspy.

“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears.

He laughed, his hand calling his saber in the blink of an eye. Red flashed in the air, before your lightsaber was knocked out of your hands, now on the forest floor.

Instead of striking you down, he dragged you forward, your body forced to submit as his hand gripped your chin, angling you to face him. Your mind screamed at you to fight him, to resist the temptation, but his grip merely tightened. His eyes falling to your lips, to the way your jacket fell open at your chest, before finding your gaze again.

“You want me,” he whispered.

Where you expected to struggle against him—to flinch from his touch—you found that you craved more. You wanted him to bend you to his will, to show you the path to the dark side that remained like an echo in the back of your mind. A promise of more, wrapped in the threat of everything.

A gasp tore through your chest when he dropped his blade, his other arm hauling you against him as he walked forward. Your back scraped against a tree. Blood sprouting to the surface on the back of your neck. And if you had the ability to…you’d beg for more.

He grinned, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in the Force, the brightness of your familiar teal now a shade darker. His thumb pressed down, forcing your lips to part. To let him in.

Obedience was never difficult for you; having gone your entire life following orders left and right. But this…this knowledge that to follow his rule, to submit to his words, left you breathless. You were nearly angry at the person you let yourself become. Perhaps the Jedi were lying. You’d never know unless you asked, but to do so was to put a sentence on your head. To put questions in theirs. To push for more would reveal what you’d already done—what you couldn’t take back.

He watched the turmoil stream through you with interest. His eyes grasping what he could as you struggled with the truth he already gave you. Desire, want, hunger, it all stemmed from a place of power.

What mattered wasn’t that you needed it. You wanted it.

“I—” Your eyes fell to his lips, greed screaming through the Force as it all clicked into place.

With a snarl, he turned you, his hand wrapping around your throat as the other delved between your thighs, beneath layers of fabric you longed to get off. “I was inside of you.”

Breathing became secondary when his touch burned everything out of you, leaving a path of fire behind. Where he once caressed you with tenderness before, now turned rough. Shame should have ripped you from this intoxicating high, but the smile pressed to your ear when his fingers met your pool of slick, left you lost in the destitute darkness that consumed you.

“I tasted you,” he murmured, the rough pads of his fingers circling your clit—your mouth parting with a broken moan.

Dignity meant nothing to you when pleasure burned at the edges of your vision. Effectively blocking anything that might have come before.

“That is a truth you will never escape.”

Gripping his arm, you focused on the heavy breaths he exhaled, the shift of his body as he held you up where you couldn’t anymore. And beyond that, in the expanse of his darkness, you allowed light to pour through. To blanket him in what was once familiar, what remained buried in the depths of his mind. You gave him a piece of his past as he drowned you in your future.

“The Jedi will reject you,” he gasped, two fingers pressing into you, the memory of before sparking to life in your mind. “And when they do. You will find me again.”

“T-They’ll brand me a traitor—” If you were to return, you could never be a Jedi again. Never go back to the person you were before him.

Pleasure blinded you with every thrust of his fingers, the stillness of the forest now echoed with the mix of your breaths. You sunk into him, nails digging crescent moons into his skin, and he tightened his hold on your throat. He liked you this way. Pliant beneath his touch, eager and desperate for whatever he could possibly offer you. Being your prey was a mere fantasy, an act he allowed you to divulge in for as long as you needed.

Until the time was right.

His lips slid against yours, the kiss wet and heady. All the things you longed for, the past that you could not escape from. He kissed you without mercy. And you met him with an urgent acquiescence. The memory of his tongue against your clit pulsed in your mind, brighter than the day it happened as he stole the breath from your lungs. Saliva dripped down your chin, connecting you to him.

“Don’t you see?” he breathed, fingers curling forward—searching for something. The sharp inhale of satisfaction nearly tore you apart when your torso crumpled forward, a whimpered moan ripping from your throat. “You became a traitor the day you followed me into that temple.”

“I—”

The heel of his palm roughly pressed to your clit; your hips—acting on their own accord—sought his touch, grinding down with a pleaded out cry. You needed the bliss he once gave you. The sensation that haunted your every waking moment; that threatened to break you down and ruin all that you built for yourself. The feeling you were prepared to give up everything for.

“I can give this to you, all the time.”

“Please,” you sighed.

“Whatever you crave, will be yours.” He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, the hitch in your chest burned a hole through his. And like before when you cupped his face with reverence glowing in your eyes, he ignored it. Shoved it down into the pit with the remainder of his memories and feelings.

Your teeth dug into your lip nearly drawing blood when he sped up. The plunge of his fingers wet and loud in the air. To have you like this. Out in the open for anyone to discover, nearly drove him mad. He wanted to see your face, watch you shatter like before, witness the erosion of the Jedi spirit within you.

He wanted to bear witness to the corruption he caused.

“Say you’ll join me.”

Warning bells rang in the back of your mind, teal bleeding into your vision—the final hope of light that tried to pull you away from him. To remind you of why you were there.

Until darkness swallowed it whole, submerging it beneath the waves of a sea you’d never swim out of.

Grasping for the release you knew wasn’t far away, you bucked against his hand, mouth falling open as a cry pierced the air. With a grunt, he pushed his hips against your back, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder as you came with the taste of him on your lips. White flashed behind your eyes, hot and all consuming, your Force signature slamming into him with enough strength to send him stumbling. All with you still in his arms.

He collapsed to the ground, arm wrapped like a vice around your waist and fingers swirling around your pulsing clit.

“Yes,” you gasped, thigh quaking and face contorted in pleasure. “I will.”

Soft green began to morph behind your closed eyes. Dimming and bleeding to the edge of your senses, something brighter taking you over with a hunger you’d never experienced before. A raw ache that thumped in tune with your own heart. He turned your head, his lips finding yours, as your crimson signature called to his, bending and curving where his led.

He smiled, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. “Welcome my love.”

Your eyes fluttered open, lips pulling into a smile, as yellow slowly seeped into your iris. “Thank you.”

[sunnymoonxx]

cave fucking

SOFTQIMIR! who would prepare you a hot bath in the middle of his cave, surrounded with candles and dim light

SOFTQIMIR! who would press his chest against your back as his hands made their way below to water right between your legs, cirling and rubbing their way around. He'd tease you, edge you, just to hear you beg and whisper his name, your moans echoing throughout the cave.

SOFTQIMIR! his fingers scissoring inside of your cunt, spreading you and slowly preparing you for his cock. He'd rub your tits, your shoulders, and leave wet kisses on your neck down to your collarbones. He'd made sure you're perfectly comfortable before turning you around and slamming himself inside of you. And it didn't matter how many times he took you, it still left you gasping for air, as his cock stretched you out.

SOFTQIMIR! if you'd let him, he'd take you on the cold surface of the cave, his lips merging with yours as his hips thrusted into you. His fingers tangling on your hair, his sloppy kisses on your face, and the insane amount of eyecontact. He wouldn't let you look away, holding your head in place, forcing you to stare at him as he fucks you deeper and harder.

SOFTQIMIR! who'd braid your hair before placing your head between his thighs. He'd sweep away any hair strands that would only distract you from your mouth wrapped around his cock. Usually, he's the one giving, but after days of hearing you beg and moan for him to use your mouth as a cumsock he gave into the idea. He was gentle and tender, guiding your head, pushing it deeper with each movement. He'd finish hard around your tongue, his cum dripping down your chin.

SOFTQIMIR! who'd go down on you and devour you like you were his last meal every night. You're on your period? He's a Sith. He doesn't mind getting dirty. He'd hold your hands while his tongue would circle your clit, making you see the Force itself. The groaning and whimpering he'd moan into your cunt as you grab onto his hair.

SOFTQIMIR! who guides your hips as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you. He'd admire your face, overstimulated with ecstasy. His stare would drop on your tits, bouncing as you ride him hard, your cheeks slapping against his thighs.

SOFTQIMIR! who would take care of you and wash you thoroughly after having his way with you. He'd wash your hair and your skin with lavender soup. Caressing your arms as he hugs you from behind, watching you fall asleep in his arms.

[lamamasjamas]

To Serve or Indulge

Summary: Your sensitivity to darkness leads you to a path of vices.

A/n: Saw a tweet that said that Sith should seduce Jedi to the dark side with lust and I thought that was so true. Canon isn’t real to me so reader is a Jedi Sentinel who specializes in being a shadow agent. 🤗

Warnings: Allusion to dubcon smut, freaky foreplay dreams, JediShadow!Reader, a slice of what’s to come… 🤫

Tah’Nuhna. Cold, peaceful, neutral. The order kept a close eye on the Tah’Nuhnans. You were lured there for a reason.

Neutrality meant they never picked sides. It also meant it was a safe haven, for light and dark alike. The darkness was pungent as you wandered the streets of the crystallized city.

The penetrating reflections of the structures shine onto you and make you wince in irritation as you were led to your temporary quarters

The same darkness you’ve tracked has kept you up at night for months. It infiltrates your dreams. It would envelope you every night, making your heart pump, your skin dew in anticipation.

A red flame would catch your eye and before you knew it a heat was upon your neck like a bolt.

You’d wake up with fear and your hands would tremble to your side instinctively. You’d forget that your blade was stored at your bedside.

A shadow can only make itself known with light. Some of your companions would question the existence of your sect. You would question their own devotion to the light.

It was a necessity to act ruthlessly in order to snuff them out. Amulets, talismans, and artifacts of the Sith were still passed and traded throughout the galaxy.

Less so after a millennia of Jedi intervention. But the danger of Sith influence was always a concern to the council.

Despite what they might discuss with others.

Oftentimes, extreme measures were taken to disrupt the spread of Sith knowledge and teachings. Some would die to keep their secrets and you weren’t one to deny them that wish.

Trained to be sensitive to darkness seemed counterintuitive. It threatened to envelope you and shroud the light at times. It was dangerous to be so close.

The exposure of temptations, of power, fear, and anger, some would say, would make you a hazard among your peers.

A spy is what they call you, with their lips pursed and eyes narrowed in slight disdain. You didn't wear the same golden robes they did; you often mimicked the attire of an old Sith.

Dark muted colors served to deter attention, but the saber at your hip was a reminder to those keen enough to look you over that you were part of the order spread over the republic to maintain peace.

A puff of condensation escapes past your lips, the market was full despite the deep chill that morning. Your robes didn't help from the cold shivers passing through your body.

But you had a feeling the discomfort was more than the frigid temperature.

The dark lured you in. Your efficiency in identifying depended on the innate attraction to it. You could feel the air shift.

You stop mid-step, a deep burning dug into your ribs, your cheeks pinched and your skin puckered. It was calling to you. The crowd around you grumbled as you blocked the middle of the path.

Your hand braced against your saber as a hooded figure roughly bumped past you. So rough your shoulders twisted you out of your stoic composition. Their fingers had skimmed right over the clip of your handle tauntingly.

You pause as they look back, revealing the face of a man with a teasing smile, his hair parted along the sides of his face messily. His eyes roamed over your form, analyzing you for a moment before pursing his lips in contemplation.

He turned and rushed away.

It was then that you realized, as he turned the corner. Your heart sunk to your stomach and your lungs stopped mid breath.

He was coated in it, plunged and dripping. But he was looking for something. He was lured by the same darkness you've been sensing the second you landed.

This was a new challenge. You had to find the Sith remnant first.

…

It should start off the same. You wake up inside the temple of Coruscant, soft footsteps litter outside your door. Low whisperings pass by. The room smells of paper, ink and linen.

It was simple, a window, a desk, and a bunk. There was enough space in your drawers to have changes of robes and civilian clothes.

Nothing unnecessary. You reach beside you disoriented, already knowing where the dream was going to lead.

The tips of your fingers barely reach the familiar metal of the handle of your saber. Your relief was cut short.

Your head pounds. In a blink of an eye the room darkens, it was raining, and your window howled as if the water burned its frames.

The tunic and loose pants that you wore plastered against the front of your body, your arm moves to block the stabbing droplets of cold rain from your face.

Then a flash of red blurs your vision, the corner of your eye catching it briefly before you wince heavily from the heat of it.

You feel it at your throat, your eyes are closed in anticipation of the threat of the blade's proximity.

You tremble and stand frozen as firm muscle snakes up your waist and torso, holding your stomach in place against a broad chest.

It has never gotten this far. You always wake up as soon as the heat creeped up your shoulder and to your neck. Another heat creeps up beside your head, it leans against your temple and rests there.

Strands of dark hair fall beside your face and you shiver. It was him.

He smells like fresh wet dirt, green cuttings and a hint of metal. You can feel the exhale of his breaths warm the top of your cheek.

The buzz of the saber taunts you, unmoving.

“Inspiring. Isn’t it?”

You open your eyes to find yourself in a cavern surrounded by stored relics and antiques. All Sith memorabilia. Your mouth is dry as you speak. You were in a daze of confusion and sleep. Even as you dread to admit it, you were struck with fear.

Your mind could barely catch up.

“What?-”

“Show me where this is,” his voice echoed throughout the stone walls, it made you squirm against his chest.

Your eyes widened, your mind was clearing, and you recognized where you stood. A select few knew where shadow agent's findings were kept.

You stiffened and he could feel you prepare yourself to disarm him. He didn’t want that.

His hold on your stomach tightened, the fabric of your tunic twisting in his grip. His temple pushes against yours and his lips skim past the shell of your ear, shushing gently.

Your heart races, something curls in your stomach as he tsks at your weak attempts at escape. You blame it on exhilaration, not…

You close your eyes tightly and shake your head with a thick swallow. He was clouding your mind somehow. All you could feel was the beat of his heart, the strength of his hand rising underneath your shirt and touching the skin of your belly.

You were surrounded by darkness, locked in and trapped like a loth cat sinking in tar. You had to resist and yet you didn't have the strength to.

He puts his weapon away, his other hand glides atop your arm until he reaches your hand, turning it upright until he could cup it in his palm.

You felt… weak. You can feel him smile against you. The same smile he had in the market.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Your ears ring, his lips graze over the soft skin of your neck.

“Let it win," he mutters as he nuzzles against your skin. Your eyes flutter and you exhale shakily.

His hips press against the small of your back. He sucks, you whimper as you shake your head pitifully. You can feel him smile, a hum making your skin erupt in tingling bumps.

He was enjoying watching you squirm weakly, so wavering, so conflicted.

His mouth continues downwards, lightly pecking over the swell of your breasts, returning to their ferocity along your collarbones.

This was only a dream, you repeated in your own thoughts. The hand creeping down your hips, the dark locks you thread your fingers in with acceptance of the pleasure he was giving you.

It had to be a dream.

Fingers slipped underneath the cotton band of your pants. His palm cupped you and flexed. The deep groan of satisfaction he gave, finding you aroused and wet, rumbled through your chest.

His head lifts, his nose bumps into yours and his eyes flicker to your lips. For a few seconds your eyes connect, he smiles playfully.

“I’ll find you.”

The bed springs creaked loudly as you sat up quickly. Your hand went up to your throat, the area feeling sore.

Your skin was tingling, alight by the visions in your dream. With a wince you stand, feeling an ache on your hips from where you were held.

The door to the quarter's restroom slid open loudly enough to make you jump. As you felt around your chest, you could feel more tender spots.

The memory of the mysterious man’s hands flash through your mind. You could almost feel the heat of his mouth, the intention of his touch again.

Shame fills you, these types of interactions were frowned upon, much less with someone so far gone into a path of chaos.

You splash water over your face, the towel feeling rough on your skin. Refreshing. You take deep breaths in, your mind was finally calming.

You almost chuckle from how absurd your night was, you finally look up above the sink.

The reflection on the mirror made your heart stop. Small splotches of raised red and purple were scattered along your neck, your collarbones and over your breasts.

Succumbing to the floor you place your hands over your mouth, trying and failing to will the image of his grin out of your head.

…

A/n update: Reblogs and comments keep authors going, por si no supieran! Please support fics and authors you want to see more of! 🫶❤️

[siempre-bucky]

what am i to you?

Qimir x Reader

Summary: You decide to leave Qimir, thinking your feelings are one-sided till an encounter with the Jedi Order proves otherwise.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: she/her pronouns, mentions of blood

A/N: I hope you like it Anon <3! Requests are still open for Qimir!

“What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him as you placed your hood over your head, your small bag placed at the side of you, “Whore? Helper? Companion? What other names do you use to describe me to your Acolytes?” 

“This is new for you, my dear,” he chuckled, amused as if you were a child trying to use big words. You were never the one to bite back, you would normally happily accept your role as his right hand. Not now, the years of trying to convince yourself he loved you had your patience growing thin.

“You don’t get to call me that, you seethed. “I’m leaving, Qimir. I can’t be here, knowing you don’t feel the same. I’ll never be more than whatever this is.” 

The Sith stayed silent after that, he merely watched as you accepted your defeat and picked up your things to disappear in the night. 

Tears fell as you walked through the forest, trying to expel memories of late night tangled in sheets and days of trips to the beaches of his favorite planet. He showed you all those wonderful things and touched you in a way you could only imagine, only for it to mean nothing. You wasted years on him. 

Something suddenly felt off, the hair on the back of your neck began to rise and the forest grew silent. Someone was there with you in the forest. A small smile tugged at your lips, he came back for you! You turned around and smiled at the figure that stood in the trees. About to tease him, the figure reached for his belt, a lightsaber igniting. Yellow? 

Before you had the chance to run, the Force knocked you to the ground roughtly. The figure grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. The man frowned “You’re the Force wielder?” he questioned. 

“N-no!” You cried, punching at his arm. 

“The Order keeps sending you to die,” a third voice entered the space, and you could recognize that distorted tone from anywhere. 

The Jedi swiftly turned the two of you to face the Sith standing a few feet away. Dressed in his helmet and cloak, Qimir watched as the Jedi released your hair and placed you in a chokehold with his free arm. The other turned off the saber and placed it on your temple, the heat of the metal making you cry out. 

This Jedi wasn’t like the rest of the ones the Order sent after Qimir, there was something in his eye that screamed rogue. “You either surrender,” the Jedi panted, tightening his grip on your throat and his saber pressing harder to your temple, “or I kill your… Acolyte? Is that what she is to you?” 

“Those are words of a Sith, Jedi, are you sure you’re not on the wrong side?” The Stranger spoke calmly, his voice distorted by his mask. He couldn’t see the fear in your eyes or how the Jedi was starting to bleed from you digging your nails into his forearms. 

You wish you could read him, be able to get inside his head, and know what he’s thinking one last time. Maybe he had some compassion for you because love was out of the question. He was here to kill you before you could get away. The Jedi pressed harder, the metal cutting into your skin. You screamed in pain and he laughed? Amused at what was going on. 

This was it. You heard his finger slide to the trigger. 

Qimir. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

If there’s an afterlife I wish for something kinder. 

You heard the ignition of a lightsaber, and in an instant the grip on your throat released. Then there was a thud, the crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs followed after. You fell to the floor and curled into a ball, heaving for air. Were you dead? Was this the afterlife you were just praying to the Maker for? “Get up,” the distorted voice commanded. You crawled a couple of inches and sat up, pushing your hair out of your face and looking behind you. 

Lying on the ground was the Jedi, a red lightsaber right through the center of his head. Your eyes widened and the last of the tears flowed from your eyes. You watched as Qimir called his saber back to his hand, a perfect circle left in its wake. He pulled you up by the shoulder and hurried you back towards the hideout. 

You walked hurriedly in silence, looking back at the deep forest every now and then to make sure you weren’t followed by anyone else. The Jedi Order had been desperate to capture him since the murder of that one Jedi on Udea. Qimir kept a tight grip on your wrist, you didn’t dare to pull away since he was the only thing keeping you alive. 

That silence remained when you got to the small cabin. He whipped off the mask and threw it violently into the corner. Your body stilled, wondering if you were in for a worse fate than with the Jedi. Qimir killed violently, he’d kill anyone. You were nothing special. Not to him.

He turned to you with fire raging in his eyes, they only softened slightly when he saw the blood trickling from your head, a few drops of crimson landing on your chest. He extended his hand, a small wooden box rushing towards him. He caught it effortlessly and sat on the makeshift bed. “Sit.” 

You did as you were told and took a seat by his side. He went to work bandaging your wound, but you noticed something. Why didn’t he just heal it using the Force? Why was he taking the time for something so futile for a Sith? You also noticed his fingers trembling as he picked up the small scissors among the supplies. He made it halfway to your head before he shakily dropped them into your lap, the fabric of your cloak delicately breaking the fall. Your hands connected as you both reached out to collect them. 

Qimir let go of the scissors and held your hand. “Are you ok?” he asked, all bite vacant in his tone.

“I think so,” you nodded. 

Silence filled the air, and you could feel his stare burn into your skin. He just went back to work, dabbing at the blood and cleaning your skin of dirt and blood. You nearly begged him to say something, anything to release you from the choking silence. 

After the job was done, Qimir stood and collected his supplies, putting everything away silently. Your gaze followed him, you had always wondered how he could act so calm in these situations, you almost admired it. Then he stood in the center of the room, his shoulders hunched and his gaze lingered on the ground, analyzing the cracks in the wood. 

“I didn’t know they we—”

“—I love you.” 

I love you. Those words sounded so foreign to him, he had spoken them once, before the Order and before they took him away. It had been so long—too long. He was embarrassed that it took that long to say to you. Qimir had learned his lesson.

You stood up, the wood creaking below you as you closed some distance between you. “Why tell me now? When I’m about to die at the hands of the Jedi.” 

“I should have told you a long time ago,” he jumped in, his hands flexing, “I heard your thoughts, your pleas. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your chin, “What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him the same question as earlier, this time you had no fight left. 

The Sith raised his hand and connected it to the side of your face, “I think they would have called it a soulmate?” He pulled you in closer, “I should have never let you feel differently.” 

“Never do that again,” you said bitterly, jabbing your finger into his chest. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting his eyes flutter closed, “Never.”

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

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[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.

[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.”  

[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.

[starfishstark]

PRINCESS AND THE SITH

NOTE guys this prompt got a hold of me, so blame @ofstarsandvibranium for the midnight horrible writing

WARNINGS 1.6K words, violence, death of a non-MC, smut (you freaks), lots of religious imagery and refrences to Qimir being god-like (he is)

PAIRING qimir x princess! reader

you and young jedi qimir fall in love when he's guarding you as a member of the royal family. you're stricken away from each other in the name of duties and responsibilities, and the love is thought to be a lost cause to you...until you see him again, holding a vibrant red saber to the throat of your betrothed.

Oh my stars, he was just as beautiful as the day he left. Even with grim over his face, and sweat glistening over his skin. The red reflected off of him in a way that she could only compare to heavenly. Oh what a horrible idea…

It was just a mistake, that was all. As a kid, she should have known she couldn’t have grown close to any Jedi. As a teenager, she should have recognized her faults, and moved past them. Not whatever happened between them then, puppy innocent love. Nothing tainted, nothing impure, simply just a love that bloomed between them, first love. 

But it could never meant to be. She knew she had to grow into her royal duties, one day marry into a rich royal family somewhere out there to settle down and provide heirs for that family as she wasn’t the eldest.

And Qimir…he was a Jedi. He could never have that without forsaking what he has stood for all his life. So once the threat on the royals’ lives had ended, he was sent away. And she never thought of him again…

That was completely false, by the way. It was like every waking second after his departure was spent in reminiscence of him. 

Every lesson became a guess if he would like the subject or not. Every lonely stroll became a daydream about his presence. Every late night was spent wishing he was there guarding her room from the inside, holding her in warrior strengthened arms and confessing the sweet love he had for her. 

As time washed past, the remembrance faded away, until the impending face of reality dawned upon her. There was no point in wishing over something she would never have, something that wouldn’t serve her people. 

She had a royal duty to be bound elsewhere and provide heirs. It was time she forgot about the boy that only stayed weeks, but occupied her mind for years.

But he stood here, grinning like a madman, but at least he was grinning.

“Qimir?” She asked softly, not daring to guess if it was him or not. 

The guard took her by the arm, pulling her away, "Princess, you need to step away. Our priority is getting you to safety—”

“What do you mean- oh.” 

She saw it, the reason he was grinning so widely. In his arms he held the man she was meant to marry in the crook of his elbow, squeezing the neck so tightly that the eyes started to bulge out, but her eyes stayed focused on the sheer mass of muscle he displayed. He wore white…white, like her husband was supposed to on the wedding day. White, and red that made him glow in her eyes. 

“Qimir, what is this?”

“I read…” He started off, clearly his throat, trying to soften his voice. “I read about your laws and traditions, princess…” He glanced off at the man he was currently strangling, holding the end of a small dagger like saber, to his head, a look full of disgust and malice. “And this idiots’ laws too…If I kill him off, I get his wife or his kingdom…and to your laws, all you need to provide is a backup heir for your kingdom…it doesn’t matter who the father is.”

“Of course it does, it needs to be of royal blood,” She answered simply, face and thoughts going more and more blank the longer she spent in his presence. He was really here, and it was flattering he wanted to marry her, but really it could never work out he was a Jedi-

The red saber stared back at, as if taunting her to continue her thoughts. 

No, no, ok, makes sense, he’s a Jedi anymore, but…if he wasn’t Jedi, what was he?

Qimir cocked an eyebrow and smirked at the ministry to her right. “Is that so?”

The Ministry looked down in shame. “No, you are wrong princess…He…he is right. The father does not matter if at least the mother is in direct blood of the throne.”

Her face dropped, looking at them equally with shame and a repulsion, and then panicking, looking suddenly at her fiance’s impending death in the eyes. “Wait, wait, Qimir, don’t be rash, we don’t have to kill him, you’ll enable an entire army of attacks, think rationally here-”

“Oh princess…” He crooned, a glaze in his eyes that never left her, not even for a second. He tilted his head, turning her fiance in tow with him. “Shh…If it’ll hurt, you can close your eyes this time. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed for you…and it won’t be the last either. Shhh, sh…close your eyes.”

“You…you can’t do this,” She tried again stupidly. 

“Yes, yes I can…” he whispered, voice impossibly soft when the subject was the murder of a royal in front of her, her supposed fiance… well not anymore, a little voice in her head cooed, sounding impossibly like Qimir in that moment. 

“Just close your eyes, princess, nothing to see here…the wedding will commence like normal…and nothing will come between us again.”

“Qimir, please, he’s innocent,” She whispered, tears springing in her eyes.

“Princess, c’mon now, don’t make this more difficult for yourself…close your eyes, and cover your ears.”

She glanced at the man she was strangling, taking a full moment to beg for forgiveness in herself, before she turned around closing her eyes and covered her ears. She thought she could practically feel Qimir’s grin resonating around her, and the second her ex-fiances’ body hit the floor. After a moment of silence, a hand rested at her shoulder, turning her around. 

Qimir’s handsome face tugged at her heartstrings, even when she knew that the hands he touched her so softly with were stained with blood. His eyes were alike to a puppy, with hope filling a spark in them that she would marry him and they could love again, the love that never truly fades. His hair framed his face, since when was it that long? Oh she hadn’t seen him in that long.

“Ready to get married, princess?”

__

After the marriage, no one really dared to come near him after he so simply beheaded the heir to a million count kingdom. Suffice to say, no one would bother them for a while…especially during their wedding night. When he had face pushed against the pillow while he took his time learning his way around her body once again. 

“When I-” He cut off with a sharp thrust that rendered her useless under him, whining some nonsense about how good everything felt, “saw the wedding announcement, princess, I nearly killed him that night. Almost consumed him in the force itself, that bastard, trying to take what’s mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours, Qimir, I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s ok, princess, I’m not mad at you,” he crooned into her ear, his nose tracing a line up and down her neck in comfort as he forced himself further into her, the mess dripping onto the bedsheets and down her thighs. “You didn’t have a choice, you thought you had to do it…I know you would have chosen me if you could, oh poor baby, you thought you were all alone…”

His voice was so soft onto her, like velvet that soothed all the cuts left behind by the years he wasn’t there. “It’s ok… I’m here now, princess…”

She gasped softly when he pulled out just to thrust all the way in again, his fingers coming up to push her head back into the mattress, forcing her hips higher and straightening back out. “Stars, princess, I dreamed of this so much when I didn’t have you…did you dream of me?”

“Almost every night, Qimir, missed you so much,” She blabbed, feeling tears peak at her eyes with how long he was dragging this out. “Please, please, please, need you, need you now, please—”

“Shhh, shh, baby, maybe if it’s easier, you should close your eyes,” He whispered, a mockery of the circumstances before their wedding, sending a shiver involuntarily down her shoulder. “I know what you need, just-” he thrusted again, pressing a spot inside her that made her see stars “-relax.”

She practically melted in his grip, while he breathed heavily above her, the sound like a symphony to heaven’s gates to her. Like pure bliss exploding on her skin, ever second he was with her. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, princess, baby, you love me too, don’t you? Stars, I did this all for you, I fucking love you.”

“I love you, I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou-” The phrase became a mantra on her tongue, a prayer that died the second he started to move on her. Prayers were answered, an alter laid before her. He had the wings of an angel, and the eyes of the devil when he peered at her with such power laid in his hands. His blood-streaked hands, like the acceptance of a sacrifice, sacrifice in her name, if he was god, what does that make her? The worship he gave to her, laying practically at her feet, jumping down from his pedestal for a touch of mortality from her lips, and the dangers of being young forever when they touched. 

“You’re mine, princess, no other dirty prince will ever touch you,” He whispered to her, and she knew she believed in faith when his words rang like truth itself in her core. 

When they both finished, he laid next to her, curling her hair behind her ear and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, each one like sunlight on her skin. She knew what it was like to be touched by a god. 

[spiritsdiary]

— PRAISE with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 786 | content: p in v smut, i was again reasonably tipsy while writing this

❛❛good.” he breathes the word into the skin of your shoulder, watching intently as you work.

you wonder if he does it on purpose; if he’s feigning complete obliviousness to how suggestive he sounds. like right now— saying good like that when all you’ve done is properly mix a poison the way he taught you. maybe it’s because you’re a quick study when your reward is him.

when you first met qimir, you thought he was just like every other apothecary owner you utilized when necessary: clumsy, generally oblivious, a drunk who saw nothing wrong with being intoxicated before noon. to your defense, he played the part very well. it was only when you mentioned that you’d be extending your stay for a while and could use some work that you started to see the cracks in his facade.

spending so much time with him gave you a glimpse into his true persona— something darker, yes, but instead of scaring you off, it drew you in. you had a feeling that there was more to him underneath his baggy clothes and perpetually messy hair, but you never thought that all you’d have to do was let him teach you his trade in order to find out what more was.

“good,” he says again now as you insert the stopper into the vial of poison. “that’s perfect.”

you chew on your lip as you think about the last time he said that to you. “anything else you need from me?”

he hums, fiddling with the material of your sleeve at your wrist. “stay while i close up?”

you never understand how he’s able to get you to do what he wants so easily until you’re in bed with him.

his arms are so much more built than you’d imagined, his whole body really, and the first time he used that hidden strength to get you exactly where he wanted you, the words “thank you” genuinely slipped past your lips. you told yourself you were thanking the maker.

you do a lot of thanking the maker these days.

he moves differently in bed than he does in all other aspects of his life. here, he’s fluid, powerful, commanding. and he spares no detail.

“yes, yesyesyes,” he moans out when you sink down on him, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises, slowly beginning to guide you back and forth. “just like this. you know how to do it.”

your hands are gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him while he clutches at your back, and your hips seem to move with a will of their own. you don’t care if it exhausts you. if his pleasure is at your own expense.

“there you go, pretty girl,” he says, voice deep with desire, passion, for you. “let me see how good you are.”

you lean forward and press your lips to his, let him pry you open with his tongue, pull depraved sounds from your mouth. his hips cant up into yours as you do everything he taught you, everything that you know makes him feel good.

it makes you feel good too, knowing you’ve earned every gasp and moan and touch he gives you. he’s a different animal when it’s just the two of you, and you love knowing that you’re the only one that can bring it out of him.

“qimir,” you whine into his mouth, right when he hits that spot inside of you that has you seeing white. “good?”

you need to hear him say it. he needs to tell you.

“so good. so warm, so tight, so beautiful, fuck—” his hand is between your legs, thumb brushing you with practiced ease. “always my good girl.”

“only me?” you can’t think properly, not when it feels this good, this right to be so close to him, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, soul to soul with the way he reads your mind.

he nods, pushes your hair back from your face.

“only ever you.” he says it with such a passionate intensity, his dark eyes searching yours.

it sets you aflame, has you crying out mere moments later, collapsing into him as he gives you everything he has to give.

there’s something darker inside of him. a deep, yearning darkness prowling under his skin, simmering in his bones. you can practically feel it as you slide a hand over his chest, his pounding heart. like it’s calling to you.

“you always do so good for me,” he’s whispering into your hair, letting you press yourself against him. “sometimes i think i dreamt you up.”

you smile, kissing his neck just to make him shiver.

maybe there’s something darker inside of you too.

m.list

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[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.