Qimir X You - Tumblr Posts

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.”  

Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

Hi all! So I'll be linking all of my fics here - if you saw my other post already you'll know I'm a little behind but planning to catch up by the end of the weekend! Let me know if there are any requests for the last few days, and also let me know if you want to be on the tallest for any chapters !! I'll also be posting them on AO3 if you would prefer to see them on there! As usual, MDNI 18+ only, and all of this will be NSFW!

Main Masterlist | AO3

First time - Qimir/The Stranger (The Acolyte)

Breath play - Logan/Wolverine (X-men)

Aphrodisiacs/sex pollen - Billy Butcher (The Boys)

Body worship - Matt Murdock/Daredevil (Marvel)

Face fucking - Frank Castle/The Punisher (Marvel)

One night stand - Nanami Kento (JJK)

Secret relationship - Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Forbidden relationship - Obi Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Hate sex - Joel Miller (The Last Of Us)

Mile high club - Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)

Public - Din Djarin/ The Mandolorian (Star Wars)

Voyeurism - Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr/Professor X and Magneto (X-men)

Overstimulation - Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier (Marvel)

Threesome - Matt Murdock and Frank Castle/Daredevil and The Punisher (Marvel)

Thigh riding - Din Djarin/The Mandalorian (Star Wars)

Cockwarming - Billy Butcher (The Boys)

Student - teacher - Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Praise kink - Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto (X-men)

Degradation - Loki (Marvel)

Impact play - Logan/ Wolverine (X-men)

Wax play - Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Sensory deprivation - Matt Murdock/Daredevil (Marvel)

Bondage - Gojo Satoru (JJK)

Edging - Qimir/The Stranger (The Acolyte)

Pain kink - Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)

Dom-sub - Joel Miller (TLOU)

Mutual Masturbation - Obi Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Somnophilia/free use - Din Djarin/The Mandalorian (Star Wars)

Knife play - Frank Castle/The Punisher (Marvel)

Free hit

Free hit

Kinktober Day 1 : First Time

Qimir/The Stranger x you Contents: pwp, fem!readerxQimir (The Acolyte), MDNI 18+ W/C: 1.1k Finally got day 1 done and posted; I'll try and be more on time from here on out! Been thinking about him ever since I watched the show and now I finally have a chance to write something slutty about him for no reason :) enjoy x Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“You’ve never given in to those urges, have you? Even after all these years.”

“I… I’m a Jedi…” You muttered feebly as you sat watching him cook over the small stove, occasionally gazing over at you through those gorgeous, deep brown eyes.

“No, you were a Jedi. A Padawan at that. You aren’t anymore. You're free to do as you please.” You knew exactly what he meant, exactly what you wanted to do. You hadn’t been subtle when he had walked out of the sea earlier, the way the drops of salt water had clung to him as more of his form was slowly exposed to you, as though they didn’t want to let go. You knew the feeling. You hadn’t been able to tear your eyes off of him. But what had followed afterwards was a pang of guilt so intense you could have doubled over with it.

The Jedi had always been good at instilling shame in its pupils.

And you knew that. Logically, you knew that the Jedi way was not a path that you followed anymore, that the values you were taught from a young age were not ones that bound you now. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to cross that invisible line. No matter how much you desperately wanted to.

“I can give you what you want.” He paused, as though gaging your reaction.

“And how do you know what I want?” You asked, angry as he continued to read your every action perfectly.

“Because I have been you before. See…” He moved quickly, striding over to you, pulling off his top and kneeling down. The intensity of his eye contact was unwavering and it made you blush and begin to move backwards, but he reached out gently, enveloping your hand with his and stopping you in your tracks. A soft power spread through your body from the epicentre where your hands met, and by the look on his face, he could feel it too. It was dark and overwhelming, but as flowed further through you, it felt right. He felt right.

He was moving your hand towards him, and you could do nothing but let him, dizzy with the way he was openly sharing himself with you. He finally broke his hypnotic eye contact to turn away from you, and as his hand left yours, you already missed the warmth of his touch. And then your eyes focussed in on what he was trying to lead you to. Your fingertips met the rough skin that streaked across his back like a lightning bolt, a jagged welt that bore unimaginable pain.

“Every Jedi Master leaves scars on their Padawan, whether mental or physical. Mine are obvious. Yours…” He turned around to see your eyes wide, dazed and confused by his admission. He had been a Padawan. And now here he was, a Jedi killer. Maybe he did know what you wanted. He was right, he was you, just a few mere details tweaked. “Your Master killed the girl you were, your ideas, your individuality. Your morals. He rebuilt you whatever way he saw fit. He made you think preserving peace and teaching younglings were all you could be good for. I hope you see now that you can be so much more than that. You are so much more than that.” As though proving his point, his hand grasped yours again, the near dizzying power flowing through you once more. You remembered something he had said earlier, something he had wanted. The power of two. You knew what he meant now. Who wouldn’t want this?

It didn't take long for you to give in to everything you had promised to abstain from. Anger. Fear. Desire.

You spent your days training your body and mind, doing everything to remove the final shackles the Jedi had over you. And you spent your nights with him, legs intertwined, sloppy, opened mouth kisses as he rocked into you, reminding you who had opened your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure and pain. That he was the one who had corrupted you. That he was the only one who would ever see you like this. The only one who would ever make you feel like this.

The night he had told you about his past was the night you had finally allowed yourself to go after what you wanted.

You had kissed him first. You weren’t sure where it came from, but he was there in front of you, shirtless and on his knees, promising you a new life, and you couldn’t help yourself. You gave in so easily. And he reciprocated. He took you to bed and undressed you tenderly. Every touch was addictive, your body reacting to him in a way you didn't think possible. Then he buried his head between your legs, and suddenly this… sensation was starting to overcome you. His tongue was swirling around your core, and there was a pressure building, and it felt good, really good but it was hot and weird and….

“Wait, wait…” you gasped, and he lifted his head immediately, panting and looking up at you with confused eyes. The feeling was gone immediately, but you could still feel the panic rising in your throat.

“Are you ok?” He asked cautiously, hand grabbing yours. You squeezed gratefully.

“Yeah, I… sorry, I just had this weird feeling and I didn't…” He smiled softly, and you blushed, feeling like an idiot.

“Do you trust me?” Everything in your head was telling you no, telling you to scream at him, to let you go back to your old ways, but your heart fought back. You nodded. “Then let it happen, ok?” You nodded again, and watched as his tongue dipped back into your folds. You moaned lightly, running your hand through his hair as he continued, and that feeling was back again. You started to panic, but he gripped your hand tighter, reassuring you, and then something happened. All the pressure was suddenly released and all that was left was a wave of white hot pleasure ripping through your body. Your hips bucked into him instinctively as you rode it out, vision cloudy, hand gripping his tight.

It wasn’t long before he was inside you, his thrusts long and deep. It hurt, you couldn’t deny it, a pain biting at you that almost brought tears to your eyes. But he looked down at you, whispering praises and curses and the pain gave way to pleasure, even more blinding than before. You whimpered, a pathetic cry torn from your lips.

“That’s it, good job…” he muttered, “that feel good?” You hummed in acknowledgment, not quite enough breath in your lungs to say anything else. You ran your hands up and down his arms, feeling the rippling muscles there as he continued to rut into you.

“Maker, you feel incredible…”

And after that, you were his. His pupil. His lover. His acolyte.

The power of two.

AAAAGHHHHHZJOSAHWUIEKSJKS

— SENSORY DEPRIVATION with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 1,328 | content: sexual descriptions of the force (??), fingering, might be bad idk i was drunk writing most of this

❛❛put it on.” he didn’t hold the mask out to you, or drag you to where it sat on the table and force it on. just gave you a command.

“what will you do if i don’t?”

“nothing at all.”

his careless response frustrated you. you wanted him to give you a reason why, something you could use as an excuse for why you wanted to put it on, even before he said anything. and he gave you nothing. he only watched you.

he watched you as you fruitlessly searched for a way out of this and gave up far too quickly. he watched you as you slowly moved towards the table, as you sat face to face with his mask. as your fingertips reached out to touch the cool metal, the entirety of your palm flattening against it shortly after. you could feel something tugging at you, and you looked at him.

“put it on,” he repeated softly. you waited for a moment, and you did.

now, you let the darkness envelop you, take over your mind. you’re wearing the mask that he wore when he killed your friends. when he nearly killed you. and now you know— the whole time, he saw nothing.

all you can hear is your own heavy breathing. was this how he felt when he cut them down? when he made you think he was saving you for last as he tossed you aside with a flick of his hand?

“how does it feel?” he sounds far away and directly in your ear at the same time.

you see flashes, lightsabers clashing, your friends dying—

“this was a mistake.” your hands grip the sides of the helmet, but before you can lift it off, his own hands cover yours.

“clear your mind. breathe.” his thumbs brush your knuckles. “it’s overwhelming, i know.”

you let out a shaky breath. “you don’t see anything.”

“no,” he says, moving his hands to your shoulders. “and that allows my other senses to be heightened.”

you focus on his voice, on the feeling of his palms warming your skin. “and you prefer it that way?”

“it’s better this way. just you… and the force…” he pauses, runs a finger along your collarbone. “and whatever else you… allow yourself to feel.”

his name is loud in your ears when you say it. “would you show me?”

instead of responding, his touch leaves you. with your hands dropped to your sides, you’re left completely vulnerable to him with his mask obscuring your vision. but you can hear him, his breathing, the shift of his weight, the steps he takes to get closer to you. his hand cutting through the air between the two of you to slide up your top and flatten against the plane of your stomach.

“feels different, doesn’t it?” he hums.

“yes,” you breathe.

it’s like you can sense every atom that makes him up, the force flowing through him in a way you’ve never been able to feel, not even within yourself. your hand covers his underneath your top. the power hums, pulses, fills you with the insatiable urge for more.

“feels good.”

it’s not a question. you nod in response all the same.

“i know,” he whispers. “i know it does.”

his hand begins to slips lower, and you let it. your breathing hasn’t calmed, but you don’t hear it anymore, just the hum of the force as he uses it to undo your pants and allow himself access to the part of yourself that you haven’t explored.

your years of jedi training are screaming at you from outside the barrier of cortosis around your head, telling you to stop this, to take the mask off, hurtle it at him to catch him off guard, because this is an attack, he’s attacking your very being and this merits retaliation—

and you ignore it, refuse to let it distract you from qimir’s breath on your chest, his hand cupping the heat between your thighs.

“they would never let you feel this. not just this,” he punctuates the word with pressing a finger inside you, and you choke on air, jaw going slack, “but this power, this energy. this is how i felt you, on khofar.”

you gasp when he adds another finger, his movements more insistent as the force between the two of you thrums, building as you draw him closer.

“that’s how i knew it was you. the one i’ve been looking for. you’re different than the jedi. more powerful.” he laughs breathlessly when you grab the back of his head, dig your fingers into his hair. “come on, use your words.”

“so… so good,” you pant, torn between wanting to remove the mask to see his face, to see if he’s as affected by your touch as you are by his, kiss him, and wanting to never take it off so he can just continue to have his way with you.

though, you think he might have his way with you regardless. even worse, you think you’d let him.

“you’re such a good listener,” he praises, grinding his palm against you as his fingers thrust harder, more insistently. “you’ll make an excellent pupil.”

“n-no,” you stammer, unsure how you even manage to say it with his fingers inside of you and his lips teasingly dragging along the heated skin of your chest.

“no?” you hear him scoff, and can practically see the raised-brows look he’s giving you.

“you don’t—”

“understand?” he pulls the word right out of your mouth, pausing his movements and ignoring your cry of disappointment. “you can feel me. here, now, in the force. feel me, and try to tell me i don’t understand.”

you’re desperate, you realize as he slowly resumes pleasuring you. for him, for the release he’s brought you so close to, for answers as to why he is the way he is.

you reach out to that power in his body, feel the way it moves and slides and aligns with yours. it’s different, it has been for a long time now, but you feel its beginnings. it has the same ones as yours; was once a youngling at the jedi temple.

“it’s hard to walk away. but it’s easier when they don’t leave you anything to walk away from. you’re here. you’re with me. and i’m not going anywhere.” he says it like a promise, his tongue laving the skin of your neck like he can taste your need. “now give it to me.”

and even though he’s technically the one that didn’t leave you anything to walk away from, you believe him. you let it all go.

your doubt, your worry, your half-baked plans of escape, your distrust, your fear. it rushes out of you with your orgasm and you yank him into you, feel the hard plane of his chest against yours, rising and falling with his own labored breaths as he removes his fingers, leaving you shaking with sensitivity.

you fumble with the mask, pushing it off your head with a gasp when the light of the cave sears your eyes. you bury your face in his neck, the both of you letting his mask tumble to the ground as he returns your hold. you don’t know if he’s doing it because he wants to, or if he just knows it’s what you need from him. your jedi master never held you. never gave you the connection that you craved. qimir has given you that and more.

“i want you to teach me,” you whisper, letting yourself melt into the comfort of his arms. “teach me everything.”

he pets the back of your head, strokes your hair. “this was your first lesson, my acolyte.”

you need to know every facet of him, every bit of wisdom he’s gained, no matter how long it takes. you won’t grapple for excuses. you won’t think twice.

you will only ever do what your master wants.

m.list

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