#*elora | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunslora · 2 months ago

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i'll die anyway ᯓ★ bff.ᐟellie x reader

summary: lesbian yearning..

tags: suggestive , alcohol consumption , men dni .

wc: 618

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"never have i ever—" ellie looks at you, straight faced, fully serious. "oh fuck off, are you twelve?" you shoot back, trying to stifle a giggle. you pass her the shitty bottle of rum the two of you had swiped from joel while downstairs moments before. ellies space patterned bedsheets crinkle beneath her lap as she takes a swig of the liquor. her face scrunches at the harsh taste, and you notice yourself watching in silent endearment, something that is not an uncommon occurrence for you.

"fine—" you look at her intently, barely long enough for it to mean anything. barely long enough for her to notice. at least, thats what you tell yourself. what you've been telling yourself. "never have i ever.." you make an over exaggerated show of pondering as you pretend to think. "never have i ever been caught by my father looking at—you know what, im actually not going to recount it..however i am confident you can fill in the blanks—" ellie rolls her eyes, as you continue whatever monologue you've prepared for her. "while being at a family dinner." you make sure to emphasise each word as you attempt to hold back a laugh that threatens to spill out from your chest.

"yeah, no, its not funny if you're the only one laughing," ellie grumbles, trying to make an effort to look entirely unamused. "also—" she starts, apparently not done, "you can't say things you know i've already done." you catch her gaze, "well—shall i try again?" you tease. "uh, no, dickhead its my go" she says in turn. "okay, so stop whining and get on with it then." you say, stealing the bottle from her grasp.

you drink from the bottle, grimacing as the taste refuses to improve. "never have i ever been a pretentious asshole." ellie says, looking almost proud with her question. you smile at her, amused, and ask, "define pretentious." ellie glares at you, although there is no real malice in the action. "unfortunately, that doesn't answer my question" she retorts, as she leans impossibly closer, you could almost taste the liquor on her breath—a contradiction, given that the two of you were already practically sitting on top of each other.

the bottle, now getting awfully close to being three-quarters empty, rested at the curve of your smile as you bring it closer to your lips for another sip. you lean back, offering a sliver of distance between you both. the motion causes your shirt to ride up, allowing for a glimpse of your laced underwear to peak above the waistband of your jeans. too subtle to be an invitation, yet too deliberate for it to feel unintentional. feigning innocence, you pretend not to notice the way ellies gaze trails down from your face to your torso. her hand wraps around yours, gently loosening the bottle from your grip before bringing it to her lips for a swig of the liquor.

"ellie—" you look at her as you begin to steady yourself, the hum of alcohol becoming more prominent. you move closer, continuing whatever you had begun to say. "you're staring." you announce, like she wasn't already aware. theres a beat of charged silence before she responds—"am i?" she says, attempting to convey ignorance, but the implications are still laid out in front of you both.

you sigh, "you're impossible", and with that ellie looks at you—the atmosphere swims with something inescapable; adoration? love? desire? devotion? whatever it is, ellie smiles regardless, a look that could almost be catagorised as hesitancy before she speaks. "i think you like it" she says. "and i think you're drunk." you say in return. takes one to no one.

inbox ⤿ open

might do a part 2!!

link to moodboard ⋆˙⟡

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ncrthofnowhere · 4 months ago

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kisses for you

summary: you are a different person to every woman you've ever kissed in piltover.

tags: nsfw! sexworker!reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, cuckolding, cheating, slightly angsty, dom/sub dynamics, you kiss a lot of people!

wc: 2.9k

notes: you make out nastily with a bunch of women from the hit netflix animated series arcane

Grayson.

You were sitting alone at The Last Drop, sipping on a sweet, fruity cocktail you had gotten for yourself as a treat when she walked in. Easily twice your age and over six feet tall with chiseled cheekbones. Score.

It delighted you even further when she walked up to you, the sound of her heavy boots was unmistakable. You smiled up at her sultrily.

“Do you happen to know where Vander is?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down your spine. You had to have her.

“Wow, buy a girl a drink first,” you giggle.

Luckily, rather than be annoyed at your flirting, the woman raises an amused eyebrow at you.

“If I buy you a drink, will you tell me where he is?”

You pretend to think for a moment.

“Hmm… maybe.”

She laughs, one that comes deep from her diaphragm, “what do I have to do for you to tell me?”

At that you saunter up closer to her, your face inches away from hers.

“Well… there is one thing,” you say coyly as you traced the intricate pattern of the badge on her chest. Her gaze flicks to your hand, then your eyes, intrigued.

“A kiss.”

She chuckles, “you’re young enough to be my daughter, little girl. Besides, you don’t want to kiss an old woman like me.” You gasp, fake shocked, “You are not old!”

Both of your arms wrap around her neck and she startles slightly at the sudden movement.

“Besides,” you mimic, grinning impossibly wide, “I like what I see.”

That’s how you end up in the alley next to the bar, being fucked into the wall by this woman, named Grayson as you’ll learn later. Her fingers feel nice against your clit and her gravelly voice murmuring into your ear sends steady pulses up and down your spine. Grayson is experienced, reserved, she kisses you with the patience of a saint. You kiss back with all the reverence of one.

After you two are done, you tell her you don’t know where Vander is. She groans.

Ambessa & Maddie.

“Again.”

Maddie cries out, trying to writhe out of your grip. You’ve lost track of how many times she’s come already, four or five? Six even? As you bring your dominant hand down on her clit once more, Maddie jerks, letting a high pitched keen out of her mouth. Ambessa, you think, is a cruel, cruel woman.

“Now, now, child,” The General tuts, “there is no need for that. I’ve taught you better.”

At Ambessa's words, Maddie seems to cry harder, clearly overstimulated and struggling not to break apart in your arms. You almost feel bad, if she didn’t wring five good orgasms out of you earlier at Ambessa’s command.

With a curl of your fingers, you enter Maddie’s soaked cunt. You start out slowly, massaging at her walls, teasing her. She groans, but even she knows that this is the calm before the storm.

“Faster.”

What Ambessa Medarda demands, Ambessa Medarda gets. You go faster, rubbing at her upper walls and g-spot with much more force and speed than before. The thumb on your opposite hand teases at the hole below her cunt, which makes her clench around your fingers tightly.

A low, pathetic “unf,” is the only warning noise Maddie makes before she comes, squirts, over your front. It surprises you, but it's not unwelcome. She bucks, trying to get away from your fingers or to follow your thrusts, you don’t know. Maddie starts shaking uncontrollably when you don’t stop, because Ambessa hasn’t ordered that of you yet. When her wails get ear piercingly loud, Ambessa halts your ministrations.

“Good.”

Is all Ambessa says before she takes your mouth into hers. The warlord kisses like she’s running out of time, like she has to devour you whole with her lips and teeth this minute or else she’ll die in the next. It’s surprisingly desperate, but still dominant. The feeling makes you weak in the knees.

Ambessa hums when she pulls away, satisfied.

—

(“I fucking hate this ginger hair.” Maddie groaned as she tugged at short strands of hair.

You laugh at her, “why didn’t you dye it blonde or something?”

“I tried! It turned ginger!”

“Pfft,” you start, tickled at her confession, “that haircut isn’t doing you any favors either,”

“You know what — fuck you.”)

Mel & Elora.

Mel Medarda was an odd woman, you thought to yourself as you scratched your nails down the expansion of Elora’s back. You delighted in the assistant’s hiss at the sensation. Though, you supposed it wasn’t too surprising for a politician to have odd kinks.

The woman sat daintily in a plush chair in the corner of her bedroom, nursing a glass of Noxian red. She had her legs up under her, casual and uncaring like the scene in front of her was just another casual Friday. You scowled.

Elora moaned as you thrust your strap-on up into her particularly harshly. You were a bit annoyed at Councilor Medarda, at her non-reactions and indifference. You don’t know why you were so vexed at the woman, it was completely irrational, all you had to do was fuck her cute little assistant silly while she watched. It was an easy job.

(You wanted her to join, to ravage Elora with you. Oh, well. If she liked watching, then a show you would give her.)

You bent Elora over so that she was head down, ass up on the bed. One hand tangled in her usually neat hair while the other steadied your balance as you leaned your weight against her and continued thrusting. Elora whimpered at the way your cock rubbed against the walls of her cunt. In the corner of your eye, you can see that a particularly high squeal from her assistant had caught Councilor Medarda’s attention.

Good. She’s really watching now.

You use the last bit of your strength to flip Elora over on her back — she mewls at the movement. Your dominant hand reaches for her swollen clit as you mash your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. Elora’s usually a better kisser this, but you'll give her a pass, your dick is inside her is surely scrambling her brain into a fine paste.

You smile at how her mouth goes slack when she comes, hard. She’s still recovering when you hear gentle footsteps coming toward you. Councilor Medarda stops at the edge of the bed, staring holes right into your face.

“Good?”

Mel brings her pointer and middle finger to the underside of your chin and lifts them up so that you’re looking directly up at her. She leans in and gives you the softest kiss of your life. Mel smells like florals, roses, and tastes like vanilla and black raspberries. She’s delicious and you bring your own hand up to her face to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away, leaving you reeling. Mel smiles at you affectionately.

“Very good.”

Cassandra.

You snaked your hands through Cassandra’s salt and pepper hair and yanked. The older woman squeaked indignantly, both surprised and slightly incensed at the rough treatment, but not exactly angry enough to not want you to do it again.

“I bet Tobias doesn’t kiss you like this,” you smirk, needling the older woman was your favorite part of being with her, “he doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?”

Cassandra’s eyes widen at the mention of him. Maybe she’s finally realized just how fucked up her arrangement with you is.

(Maybe she wants to leave everything behind and lick at your high heels forever. You could live with that.)

“Don’t you dare talk about—” She snarled, irate.

Your hand, as fast as a viper and just as vicious, cuts her off with a curl of your fingers around her throat.

“You don’t get to talk back to me, girl.”

Cassandra’s heart pounds deliciously underneath your palm. You can feel her squirm at the degrading pet name — she’s twenty years your senior and not a trembling inexperienced girl by any account, but in your bed, for the night, she’ll be one, for you.

You press your mouth to hers. Cassandra even kisses like a damn politician. Selfish, slow, and languid, like she has all the time in the world. You almost always lead — perhaps her position on the council has her needing to give up that control just for a moment, even if it is to you. You bite at her thin bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and she moans into your mouth. You smile, how good Cassandra was for you.

(Her sudden death had you trembling in your bed for a week.)

Caitlyn.

It wasn’t all that uncommon for those in Topside to come down to Zaun for a taste of the cuisine. For a peoples so uppity, they loved the desperateness that existed in the Under City, the depravity that was born from it.

Caitlyn Kiramman was just like any other pretentious, rebellious daughter of rich parents in that regard.

She’s lucky she met you first and not someone else because anyone with working eyesight could have recognized that she was Caitlyn Kiramman and robbed her blind. You probably don’t even need working eyesight though, since her accent was so damn distinct.

The first time you two meet, she asks you about life here. How it was like to be born here, to have lived here all this time. You shrug, you were still young and dumb and had no life experience, this was all you’ve known — you can’t compare it to anything else.

You ask her about life in Topside. How it was like to be born there, to have lived there all this time. She had pursed her lips and looked around, saying nothing.

She didn’t have to say anything. The silence spoke the words she didn’t.

One night, she asks you:

“Do you ever want to leave here?”

You tilt your head, contemplating with your knees drawn up to your chest.

“Where would I go?”

Caitlyn looks at you with a pity in her eyes that you cannot stand.

“Anywhere.”

You look away with clenched fists and jaw.

“I hear Ionia’s nice.”

Caitlyn smiles at you, you see it in the corner of your eyes. You can’t stay mad at her for too long, she’s endearing to you like how a kitten would be. You grin back at her.

Suddenly, the other girl closes the distance between you two and smacks her lips onto yours. She’s inexperienced, doesn’t know how to move her lips or where to put her tongue, but the kiss excites you nonetheless. It’s chaste, exploratory, and full of a puppy love that makes your heart ache.

When you two pull back you’re both blushing madly. Caitlyn stumbles over her words trying to apologize, to take back what she had just done.

All you do have to do is place your hand on top of her pale ones, and she calms.

(As Caitlyn and you grow older, she visits less and less. She’s busy, you’re busy, it’s understandable. You haven't met with her for a very long time when you see her use The Grey in Zaun. Your heart aches.)

Jinx.

Everyone tells you to avoid the blue haired girl who hangs around The Last Drop. She’s crazy, they say, she’ll kill you, they say.

You think she’s pretty endearing.

You were the one that came up to her first. She was in the bar, sitting at a booth and writing formulas and doodling what you’re sure were engineering marvels if you knew anything about building shit. You had asked to see what she was working on; she enthusiastically agreed.

From that day forward, whenever Jinx spots you in the bar or around town, she shows you her blueprints. She always tries to explain what she’s doing, and you want so desperately to understand, but you don’t have the brain for engineering and she is too smart to put what she means in simpler terms. But, you like the sound of her voice, so you listen anyway.

Today, she seems frustrated with something in her blueprints. No matter what she builds and how she builds it, the machine just doesn’t seem to cool well.

You hum as she complains, just content to listen. When you try to take a sip of water, Jinx gasps and you startle.

“What?” you look around, “did something happen?”

Without warning, Jinx places her hands on your shoulders and gives you a fat kiss on your mouth. Her lips are slightly chapped and the kiss is entirely unromantic and too short, but the feeling of her mouth on yours gives you butterflies anyway.

“You’re a genius! I’ll see you later!”

With that, she bounces away, presumably to work on her blueprint again.

You sigh, touching your bottom lip and watching Jinx skip away at an alarming speed. That girl will be the death of you.

Lest.

You don’t know what to make of Lest. You can’t read her very well, and you’re damn good at reading people. But, when you feel sharp nails teasing at the lips of your cunt, you decide that maybe you’re overthinking things. Lest’s hand trails up to press harshly at your clit, making you hiss.

Your hand tugs at one of her fluffy ears, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Lest yelp.

“Behave.”

Lest grins at you deviously.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Your eyes close as you lean your back onto the concrete wall. The other woman wastes no time, she is on the ground, tugging down your skirt and lapping at your hole. You hum in satisfaction, a hand in her brown hair.

Lest, the cheeky thing, bites at your clit, just to provoke you before she makes you come. You growl in response.

“What did I just say?”

You tug harshly at her ears. The rough treatment makes her whine and you can see how hard she’s grinding herself on her hands.

“Oh?” you smirk, “You like that, huh?”

You push yourself harder onto Lest’s open mouth, trying not to pant, “If you behave, I’ll play with them a bit more, hmm?”

You think Lest tries to nod, but your thighs between her head and your hands on her ears prevent her from doing so. All she can do is lap at your pussy with a renewed vigor.

After you come, Lest brings herself back up to height. She kisses at you hungrily and without care, spreading your musk and juice all over your faces. She nips at the fat on your bottom lip and you run a tongue over both her canines, tasting yourself on her mouth. When you pull back, you’re half asleep in her arms.

“Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Lest.”

Lest blushes.

"Shut up."

Sevika.

Sevika’s your best friend. She gets a little overprotective over you, like all best friends do. She snarls at the thought the various women you’ve fucked for your job, like all best friends do. She looks at your tits, your fingers, your lips, all for a little too long, like all best friends do.

You’re Sevika’s best friend. Not that she really needs defending, but you yell at anyone who’s mean to her, like a good best friend. You get just a little catty with the women she brings over, like a good best friend. You look at her muscles, the gap in her teeth, her lips, all for a little too long, like a good best friend.

You two also flirt, like best friends. It’s a nice day, you and Sevika are hanging out in her messy as fuck apartment, having fun. You’re tipsy and she’s tipsy and everyone’s a little drunk. You can’t remember the night very well, but you had said something about wanting her to sit on your face. You remember how red she flushed at that comment and you had laughed real hard. Never one to not tease Sev, you closed your eyes and made exaggeratedly cartoonish kissy noises at her.

The next thing you knew, her lips were on yours. You had opened your eyes in shock for a moment, but quickly melted in the kiss. Sevika kissed like she loved you, like she wanted to do this forever ago. With a firm hand on your ass and your arms around her neck, she hauled you over to her bedroom and flung you on the bed with ease.

You wake up with hickies in places you can’t reach and to a sheepish Sevika offering you water. Your smile is uncontained and bright as you bring her down to taste her lips again.

Bonus: Babette.

“You should eat.”

You whip your head around to see Babette by the doorway, holding a bowl of stew.

“I–” you try to argue, but a withering glare from her has you shutting your mouth. There’s no use challenging her, if she said you should eat, you were going to eat.

Babette sighs, “you need to take care of yourself, I’m not always going to be here to do that.”

You frown, “don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true,” she shrugs.

You take the stew from her hands and set it on your nightstand. You crouch down to hug her and she hugs back, just as tight. Babette places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight, sweetie.”

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