Prompt: Mr. Quinlan gets dark urges and cannot stop himself from resisting you.
“Slave driver,” you grumbled under your breath as you climbed shakily to your feet. Quinlan said nothing, even though you know he’d heard you just fine. However, you did spot the corner of his lips twitch up at your remark, something that made you duck your head to hide a small grin. You considered it an accomplishment anytime you appealed to his sense of humor. After a moment to catch your breath, he came at you once more, engaging you in a fierce duel. Both of you were using fake wooden swords for this training. It still hurt like a bitch when he caught you off guard though. He’d really been pressing your left side, where you were weaker at defense. It was hard, but necessary work, and it really did help with your combat skills. You were much better now than when you started this with him.
It wasn’t only the skills you gained from the training that you liked. You had been crushing hard on Quinlan for quite a while now and secretly enjoyed the brief moments where he pinned you down and you could feel the heat and strength of his body. You had picked up small hints that your interest was mutual, like the way he’d look at you, or how he’d hesitate briefly before pulling away from you after besting you in combat. It was fairly distracting to think about, especially when you were fighting. As if he could sense your lack of focus, Quinlan pressed in, increasing the speed and force of his attacks.
Silently cursing yourself for letting your mind wander, you stumbled backwards when your foot caught the ground in a bad way and you began to fall. A month ago, that would have been it, but you were better than that now. You let your momentum carry you into a roll, unfortunately scraping the right side of your face and neck on the hard floor before pushing yourself back onto your feet again. It was a good recovery, but not good enough, and you found yourself quickly disarmed in a single strike, then tackled from the side and pinned to the wall. Naturally, a scolding followed.
demisexual Indonesian girl who is so tired of hearing:
• “demisexual? that’s a thing? so…like….will you get turned on when you see your friends naked”
• “aren’t you chinese omq but your eyes look so chinese lol but you’re not pale and skinny enough to be chinese though” (ya because people of one race should share the exact same look shape and size right)
• “you’ll look pretty if you lose weight” (nah fuck that fam i’m fabulous and mere numbers aren’t gonna tell me otherwise)
• every other comments that indicate that because I have such an ‘asian sweet look’ i will immediately become a 'submissive asian wife’
For my photography class’ “Time” assignment, I repeatedly threw fistfuls of snow into the air. I should have stopped when my hand began to feel numb, but I really wanted this photo. It felt like there was fairy dust raining down on me, and I didn’t want to forget what it felt like to stand in the middle of a fairy dust storm.