Day 2; suit

Listen, i absolutely love Childe, and his ability to never wear his clothes correctly will never fail to make me smile

how their weekly spars usually go ⚔

this just started as a random doodle but alas,

surprise attack

sweet dreams

my two genshin favorites

decided to color and messily compile some of the chilumi doodles i did over the last couple months✨

polar star

祝大家端午節快樂✨
一起開開心心吃飯就會想到他們兩個XD

Happy Dragon Boat Festival!!✨

practice

gnshn sketches

Kinktober 2021, Day 9

As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

I feel like CNC in a Reader-insert setting is a bit tricky, since generally the reader knows whatever the thought process is, or is supposed to be? But I’ve done my damndest for this, and I hope it paid off! Also, I really wasn’t sure whether you tag CNC for Rape/Non-Con Elements or not? So decided to go with ‘Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings’, along with the tag itself.

One last note as well. Idk what you’re actually supposed to refer to him by. Childe, Tartaglia, the other name? So I just went with the nickname he initially introduces himself as, since it’s easier to type out multiple times over.

(If you think any additional tws are needed on this post, please comment or send me a DM and I will add them.)

Summary
Sometimes things are more fun when there’s fight involved.

Tags/Warnings
Combat, Consensual Non-Consent, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Prompt, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex

Kinktober 2021, 09: Consensual Non-Consent (Reader x Childe/Tartaglia | Genshin Impact)

Weapons clashed with a flurry of force and motion, ripping away from one another just as quickly, only to come back again as their owners strove to outwit one another. You pushed harder into the sweep of your weapon, using it to shunt yourself back and away and allow yourself an opening to think. You glared through narrowed eyes at the man standing opposite you, a casual, smug smile alighting on his lips as if you were playing some pleasant, peaceful game.

But looks were quite deceiving, and you and Childe put your earnest strength into the contest of combat and wit. Neither held back nor gave quarter. That was the only way either of you would have it, after all. Until one of you was forced into submission or surrender, there could be no end.

Your reprieve to process your next move was brief, interrupted by your whims and Childe’s. You leaped forward again, making a low sweep with an outstretched leg in an attempt to off-balance or surprise your opponent. But he cleverly predicted your motion, dancing aside before striking back. You narrowly scrambled out of the way, the point of one end of the charged weapon slicing through nothing but adrenaline-heavy air.

Hopping back once more, eyes locked and scrutinizing one another’s every move, Childe only seemed more enthused and entertained. “Really giving your all today, hm?” he said, his voice calm, with an almost gleeful undertone clinging to it. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Like a flash of lightning, he took the role of aggressor, the latest break in the battle coming to a close as he thrust himself toward you. His weapon flashed forward again, and you hurriedly moved into a more flexible stance to weave and dodge the jabs and swings, knowing how dangerous the force behind each one was. Your efforts were triumphant, for the most part, save for one keen stroke that split a long, thin cut over the curve of your cheek.

The tacky, hot creep of blood down your cheek prompted you to strike out in return, catching him with a knee and once more using the momentum to kick away and gain breathing room. The sight of him just before you had shoved him away was one that made you suppress a shudder. A deceptively charming face looming so very close, an almost predatory enjoyment and calm coloring his features.

The dance went on that way for a while. Brief pauses and tactical retreats, followed by bursts of energy and dervishes of swipes and slams, kicks and shoves more worthy of a street fight than an honorable duel. Here and there, you each left your marks on the other, though all shallow. Scrapes and cuts and bruises came to litter cheeks and arms and knuckles, until both of you, at last, broke apart for a longer respite.

Your chest heaved, and you blew puff after hard puff of breath out your nose. Your heart thrummed in your chest like a rampaging wild beast, while electric heat set every limb and nerve alight and every little hair standing on end. The fight was wearing you both down, slowly but sure, though you knew begrudgingly Childe’s stamina was superior to your own. You needed to strike a decisive, game-changing blow soon and force him to surrender, or the victory and whatever came with it would belong to him.

Yet the thickness of the air, the almost tangible tension hanging in the atmosphere like some dark, cloying cloud was distracting. Its influence made it harder to think, yet magnified each primal, electric feeling singing through you. Blood pounded in your ears and pulsed through your body, and the smell of blood, sweat, and ozone filled your nose. The self-same coppery likeness of blood lingered on your tongue as well, and you wondered when you had managed a cut to the inside of your lip.

Your gaze swept over Childe once more, searching for an opening, any weakness or fatigue. You lingered overlong with an intensity that could have been taken for some different feelings entirely, brought back to reality by the sight and sound of Childe launching another onslaught.

His latest attack was his most fierce yet, the swiftness of it almost startling you, and you strained to react. You needed to bat his blows aside and strike out, break through the flurry and interrupt it - you wouldn’t last much longer playing defense.

Yet his blows were misleading. A feint toward your upper body and head, concealing his true target. You winced when a blow of staggering force struck your hands, your fingers going numb for an instant from the intensity and the energy crackling through his weapon. Your weapon was flung aside, cartwheeling through the air and landing with a clatter several feet from you. You needed it back, and you needed to do it the old-fashioned way if you were to conserve energy.

You reached out quickly to grapple with Childe, trying to hold back his arms from another strike until you could pull back and make a rush for your weapon. Your arms strained and wavered against the brutal strength Childe brought against you, and you knew quick action was the only way out. With a burst of strength, you shoved back and turned to bolt away. With luck, Childe would be thrown off balance enough to grant you the time you sorely needed.

Your hopes were crushed, though, when halfway to retrieve the weapon, a firm grasp locked onto your shoulders, and the weight of Childe’s body slammed into you. You tumbled to the ground immediately, gritting your teeth and trying to avoid biting your tongue when you fell. A shock of pain raced through you, and all your previous wounds seemed to screech in protest.

“So quick to run, but not nearly quick enough,” echoed Childe’s voice behind you, silky smooth and mocking.

His weight followed you down, and even once you lay lie flat on the floor, his body remained. He felt so much heavier than you thought he ought to, his hard grip flashing up to wrangle your wrists together. You fought aside the daze leftover from your fall, thrashing and squirming against his weight and trying to strike him with whatever - and wherever - you could. Even once he had claimed both wrists in a hand and pinned your arms in front of you, it didn’t stop your struggles. You cried out angrily as if verbally venting your fury might make him release you.

His knees pressed down against the backs of your legs, preventing you from kicking out with them. Bereft of the use of your limbs, you jerked your body as violently as you could muster, like a horse furiously struggling to buck an ill-liked rider. Even that did you no good though, just winding you and draining your already fading reserves of strength.

While he somehow contained your struggles as if they were no bother at all, Childe pressed closer, his breath ghosting hotly over your neck and the shell of your ear. “When you get so worked up like this, how can I be gentle like I promised?” he cooed, equal parts sarcasm, excitement, and pretend displeasure.

His derisive words served to inflame you more, the thundering pulse surging through you growing ever stronger as if your whole body beat in time.

“Let me go!” you demanded, as if it were that simple, using another burst of energy to return to thrashing about.

“I guess the hard way is exactly what you want, then. Excellent.”

He pressed himself down on you more forcefully, crushing your renewed resistance back down. Every part of him felt close to you, the planes of his chest and torso defined against your back, and an unmistakable thick, hot hardness pressing against your ass. Your heart jumped especially hard, and you let out a mixed, strangled sound when Childe shifted, rubbing himself more suggestively against you. Again, you tried to break free, failing and digging your nails into your palms until they stung.

When your latest round of struggling died away, leaving you slack and breathless, Childe’s weight was removed from you briefly, your wrists still held down by one hand while the other roamed free. The shuffling of cloth was all that met your ears along with the thundering beat of your heart, before something tore at your clothes and underwear, slicing through them effortlessly and cleanly. You shivered violently at the sudden rush of air your ass and cunt were exposed to, and you fought weakly against Childe’s one-handed hold.

The hardness you had felt through both layers of clothes returned, pressing against your skin with no barrier to keep it at bay now. Childe gave you little time to react or to renew your efforts, bearing down on you and thrusting himself forward. His free hand moved to reinforce his hold on your wrists, sealing away any remaining ideas of escape his weaker grip might have held for you. You stiffened at the instant of his intrusion, and bite down on your lip, suppressing a yelp.

There was no window to adjust, no thoughtful minute where Childe stopped and waited for you to grow used to his uninvited entry, nor accommodate your comfort. He buried himself as deep as he could reach, groaning bawdily. He pulled out, allowing you a steadying breath before his speared you on his cock all over again. You arched up reactively, a hiss breaking free from your mouth. He didn’t stop there, rocking his hips mercilessly into you, each pump accompanied by some sound of obvious satisfaction.

You clenched your jaw, biting back noises of your own, noises far more sensual than the yelp or gasp of pain at his initial penetration. Try as you might though, in the room filled only with the lewd sound of skin on skin and Childe’s pleasure, you couldn’t muffle the noises well enough.

“Wouldn’t it feel so much better to let it out?” Childe said, the same derisive tone coating his words, though his voice was far huskier than before.

You shook your head, as best you could, at least, with how it lay against the floor. You wanted to shout ‘no’ or some insult or vitriol, but you could hardly trust yourself to open your mouth at all. Out of it would only flow a moan or gasp or something else that would fuel his pleasure. Soft, cruel laughter tickled your neck, your continued refusal to give in a great source of amusement for Childe.

Your resistance could only hold back so much, though, just like your attempts to stifle the embarrassing noises you made. At first, the rough slap of Childe’s hips and the thick length of his cock filling your cunt up repeatedly were uncomfortable, painful. But the longer he went on, the pain dulled, and pleasure, like a bundle of liquid heat, pooled in its place.

You dug your nails into your palms again, the renewed pain there failing to distract you from the growing knot of pleasure curling in your gut. Your heart pounded wildly still, but in a different way, and your breath, already ragged from strain and struggle, pitched shallow and thin. On a thrust that was especially brutal and deep, the tightening coil exploded all at once, and the barrier of your lips split open involuntarily, the sounds of climax rolling over your tongue unhindered.

Childe, already riding high on his own pleasure, was only encouraged by the perverse, unsuppressed cries, meeting a tipping point. His pace turned more vigorous, each hard smack of his hips sending a jolt through you and heightened the unbidden orgasm dominating your body. Your cunt clung to him with each thrust, demonstrating a craving for his cock you had no control over, and urging Childe to his release.

He stiffened, and in a rush, you were filled to the brim with the warm, wet sensation of his cum. He bucked into your heat more weakly as he emptied his cock into your fluttering cunt, until he fell still, thoroughly milked dry. His body slackened and his grip loosened, finally freeing your wrists.

You made no attempt to get up or move away, lying limply on the ground, your brain still fogged over from the intensity of the orgasm that had rocked you. The trickle of cum down your thighs and onto your torn clothing was a background to the hard rise and fall of your chest, and your pounding heart in your ears, just then barely starting to calm.

“That is always well worth the cuts and bruises,” you admitted, sounding breathless, but relaxed, at last dropping the act of furious and resistant combatant.

Childe chuckled again, the sound much less devious and mocking as he, too, let the rouse slip away. His weight remained heavy on your body, though, but it was comforting, despite how hot you felt.

“When hasn’t it been?” he chirped, sounding rather self-assured, all hints of menace gone from his speech.

You made a half-muffled sound of agreement, the myriad aches and pains inflicted upon your coming back as you came down from the afterglow. “Next time, let’s play where there’s something soft nearby for after, alright?” you suggested.

You could have passed out there on the ground, but you knew if you did, you would regret it. So began then the arduous chore of adjusting your ripped clothes as best as you could, and making to find some place more comfortable to sleep off the aches and adrenaline high.