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poisonsage808 · 1 month ago

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Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Steb x Reader

warnings: set before and in season 2, language, angst, violence, police brutality

Judgement was a hard thing to shake. Topsiders were wealthy in their demeaning ideas of how the undercity worked. Fortunately, it often would work in your favor. They could say what they wanted about Zaunites, you took care of your own. Rumors and lies didn’t spread half as fast as a warning.

“Enforcers!”

Promises sacred down here too. Deals? Made to be broken, everyone knew that. Anyone could make a deal knowing full well that double crossings were a daily occurrence. Promises were special, though. Friends hooked their pinkies together in sincerity, a vow to uphold; while lovers whispered sacred oaths coated in devotion. A promise is a promise.

You should’ve known a topsider wouldn’t keep one.

Fuck, your lungs burned and itched like they were turning to cinders. You were on fire from the inside out, set ablaze when you couldn’t outrun the giant, moving, grey cloud that chased you. You could barely breathe inside of it, choking on the ashes of your lungs while your body tried to force them out.

You were staggering blindly on your hands and knees just trying to make it out of the death cloud alive. Another cough racked your body, desperate for air. Through your closed eyes you were blinded by white light. You fought against the hands that gripped you.

Swearing with a scratchy throat, you growled out, “Leave us alone!”

You heard your name, felt an obscenely gentle palm at your cheek and instantly knew who it belonged to. Behind that soulless mask was—

“Steb?” You croaked, peaking out of one bloodshot eye to no avail.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t do something like this.

Not-Steb ripped off his mask and pressed it to your face. The hissing noise made you wince and pull away but the enforcer held it firm against you. Air— real air; not the poorly filtered kind that you were used to— rushed to your lungs. It was frightening, addictive. Something topsiders took for granted every waking day.

Barely clear headed, thoughts and questions began battling in your mind. Weakly, you wrapped your hand around Not-Steb’s wrist. The grey smoke was lingering in the distance but you’d been dragged just far enough that you could breathe again. Suddenly, you shoved the hand and mask away. You kicked back, hitting a wall that you used to get back on your feet. Blinking away the sting, you shook your head until your vision focused.

Your heart sunk.

“You’re…” Your brows stitched together in confusion and rising anger. “What’re you doing?”

Steb, the Steb that you loved and trusted, straightens at your accusatory tone. He blinks carefully, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer.

“I thought when you wanted to become a fucking bucket head, it was to help.”

You never minded that he was quiet, never made him talk when he didn’t want to. The two of you could sit in silence for hours. Sometimes the conversation would go on and on with only your voice filling the gaps, sometimes he felt like contributing more and you’d tease that he was being too chatty. He’d laugh, a sound you loved, and find a way to get back at you.

You and Steb found a way to communicate without words.

“How is this helping, Steb?”

However you needed a fucking answer for this.

Hurried footsteps rush towards you just when his lips part. A smaller enforcer, but an enforcer all the same. Orange whisps peak out from under the barrette and you can feel their glare underneath those haunting goggles. They point their gun at your nose, voice distorted from the mask.

“You got one!” They say, rather cheerfully, to Steb. To you, “Do you have information on the fugitive Jinx?”

You spat at their boots.

Steb’s eyes widen slightly, his brows tilting up. He’d never seen this side of you before. He’s never had to.

The enforcer turns their weapon and the butt of their gun comes crashing, aimed for your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, so you didn’t miss Steb throw his arm out to stop his colleague. There’s a moment of confusion, a struggle as he grabs their weapon and wrenches it away.

“What the hell, Riba!?”

“Yeah, what the hell.” You mock.

“That’s enough, Nolen!” Steb’s deep voice holds a bizarre sense of authority. You’re not used to seeing him this way either.

You’re almost jealous of the silent argument he shares with the enforcer, Nolen, until he pushes their gun into their chest. You smirk, feeling mildly satisfied at their walk of shame back into the grey but it falls the minute you find yourself back in Steb’s gaze.

“So that’s how it is, huh? Gas and beat the answers out of us?”

He reached for you quickly, desperate to tell you that wasn’t what was happening; it wasn’t what you thought it was; this was important. Something along those lines you were sure. Enforcers were predictable that way. And you knew if he managed to get ahold of you again, that you would melt into his touch and believe him because you so very badly wanted to.

“Why d’ya wanna be a bucket head anyways?”

Hopping off the last stone, you made it over the stream only to slip backwards. A hand shot out immediately and locked on your arm, yanking you to the rocky shore. You laughed but your friend didn’t. Steb’s vicious side eye was halfhearted but serious all the same.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanna help people. I didn’t forget! Jus’ think it’s stupid s’all. Never met one enforcer that wanted to help.”

Your heart constricts so tightly it brings tears to your eyes. Anger turns to mourning before you can stop it.

“We pretended as long as we could Stubby, but we can’t ignore it anymore.”

A familiar warmth encased your wrist, smaller sliding down until a smaller digit curled around your pinky. Your shoulder slumped upon contact. You knew when you turned around his ears would be flattened and his big, blue, crystal eyes, soft and pleading.

“Please,” he manages. His mouth open and shuts but he can’t summon any other words.

“Riba!”

You can see his ears flattening at the sound of returning footsteps, and more. Locking eyes with him, you make sure he knows what you can’t bring yourself to say. Steb winces as his name is shouted again, unable to tear his eyes from you. He’s scanning you like he’s trying to commit your face to memory, something he’s done in adoration and longing when you’re forced to part. This time it’s fear. His boot shuffles back, body angled to leave but he refuses to move, torn between duty and love.

“Go do what you have to.” You said as sweetly as you could in hopes it would cover the venom of your words.

“I didn’t forget, Stubby,” you tilted your head, wearing a lopsided smile. Intertwining all your fingers, you held his hand firmly and continued tugging him down the path, “You promised to be the first.”

You made the choice for him and took off running.

comment jinxer or firelight to help me decide part 2

firelight 3 _ jinxer 0

come talk about arcane (and more!) with us on [discord]!

#x reader #imagine #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane x you #steb headcanon #steb arcane x reader #steb imagine #steb arcane #steb x reader #angst

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scruckels · 9 days ago

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HOW STEB COMMUNICATES!

And... that's kinda it. A deep dive into how Steb communicates but I fight to stay on topic the longer you read.

NOTE: I gave this whole post a hazy and blurry zonked glance while muttering to myself before pressing post. There may be some spelling mistakes / incorrect wording.

Question by this person, but I was too lazy to make a separate post since I already had a draft similar to this question saved. I LOVE YOU CORACOOKIECRUMBLE!!! 😁😁😁😁⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️🗣🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

There aren't many scenes of Steb trying to communicate with someone, so it's difficult to say for sure how he communicates, but I think I have a pretty decent idea.

IN THE VIDEO BELOW

You see Steb with Maddie. This is the only scene really showing how they talk to one another, and the situtiain is tense, so it's hard to say how he communicates in more relaxed situations. In this scene, Steb communicates with her that he's ready by grunting, to which she understands.

IN THE GIF BELOW

Once again, in a tense situation, Steb makes some noise to communicate. This time, he speaks. Not only does he speak, but he also motions for everyone to follow him. With that being said, this proves that Steb CAN talk. He just doesn't want to.

This is not the only time Steb uses body language to communicate.

IN THE GIF BELOW

Steb cocks his head to the side, signaling to Maddie that they should go, as well as walking away with her once they're called.

IN THE TWO GIFS BELOW

Steb uses some hand and arm motions to signal to others. In the first one, he signals to Caitlyn to fall back, being that he had planted the bomb. In the second GIF, he signals for the enforces to turn off the beacons, since there didn't appear to be anyone coming to help fight.

IN THESE TWO GIFS BELOW

Steb grabs Mel to help her up, and in the second GIF, he grabs up the other guy to detain him. (I don't know if he has a name, and im too tired to look for one.)

Steb doesn't say anything prior to touching them, but the situations are also something to consider. Steb has his hands out to both of them, catching their attention just before actually putting his hands on them. Whether or not it's intentionally meant to be a signal, it's still something he does.

With these situations, it's hard to say EXACTLY how he is when using physical contact to communicate, but it'd say it isn't something he does often. He grabs Mel because it's an emergency, and he needs to make sure she's alright and out of there as soon as possible. He grabs the guy to detain him, following Caitlyn's orders and arresting him. Every time he touches someone (on screen), it's not really to communicate, and more so to assist / do his job.

CONCLUSION AND ANSWERS:

Is Steb mute?

No.

Is he selectively mute?

It seems most likely........? (Considering the information we have, at least.)

That being said, if he IS selectively mute, he may be open to speaking more frequently with someone close to him. Maybe even if it's just a little bit. (Short sentences, short answers, quiet speaking voice, murmuring, ect.) I can speak more on this at the end of this post for the people who wanna read about it.

Do I think he uses sign language? No. I really doubt it. He communicates both intentionally and unintentionally with small gestures, body language, and expression. He might use some type of hand signs occasionally? Not sign language itself, but just hand gestures that give you a vague idea of what he wants. For example, maybe you'll ask him why he's out somewhere, and he'll tug on the fabric of his enforcer uniform, signaling he's there for work. You'll ask why he's looking at you, and he'll point to his face as reference to your own, signaling that you have something on you and showing where it is.

Again, there's isn't enough Information to be 100% certain, but I feel like my conclusion is relatively sound.

Extra yap you were previously warned about:

I can talk more about selective mutism in another post for the people interested. Keep in mind, I'm NOT a professional. I'm autstic and I'm just nerdy about this. I don't wanna dump a whole bunch of information that is not at least 87% Steb related in this post, so I'm gonna say this next part like I'm one of those youtubers who has an audience of 5 year olds and makes those 3 am challenge videos cause it's funny.

GUYS, IF WE CAN GET AT LEAST FIVE PEOPLE TO COMMENT THAT THEY WANNA HEAR ABOUT SELECTIVE MUTISM IN ANOTHER POST, ILL MAKE A POST ABOUT SELECTIVE MUTISM AND HOW STEB WOULD MOST LIKELY BEHAVE OFF SCREEN IF HE HAS IT!! DONT FORGET TO SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON, SUBSCRIBE, AND TURN ON THE NOTIFICATIONS BELL!!

I LOVE YOU STEB NATION!!! 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯❗️❗️❗️❗️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️🙏🙏🙏🙏

#arcane #steb #steb arcane #arcane fish man #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #arcane s2 #steb x reader #scratching at the walls #foaming at the mouth #I NEED HIMMMMM UGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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six-swords · 1 month ago

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ok first of all i need to commend your commitment to the inhuman biology, especially when it comes to Steb. i feel like people usually go all out when making monster dicks, so reading about a ribbed, egg producing vagina really scratched an strange itch for me. i didn't know i needed to read about someone eating caviar out of a pussy 10/10

the main thing me and my friend talked about was why Steb would have such a large spawn. with regular fish, the need for a large clutch is, in part, to make up for potential predators coming in and eating the babies. Steb and others of his race are humanoids, they don't have to worry about hunters targeting their kids for food, so why does Steb still produce so many eggs? We agreed on the idea that the chances of even one of the eggs getting fertilized is very low, so they likely evolved to produce a large spawn to increase the amount that make it out. idk if you chose a 6 month cycle because of something from actual fish, but i imagine the cycle is that long because it takes that long for the body to reset and then go through the process of making that many eggs. (side note, how late do the eggs start producing in Steb's cycle? Would it be more similar to the luteal phase, ovulatory phase, or a secret third option? Does birth control exist in the Arcane universe? IM GETTING OFF TRACK)

the other thing we discussed was why Steb's eggs were so small. now, we imagined that the eggs were around the size of orbeez, but please let me know if there was something in the actual fic about the size that we missed. what we were wondering was how is the embryo able to reach the size of an average humanoid baby? On one hand, there is the possibility that any fertilized egg could be placed back through whatever Steb's equivalent of a cervix would so that it could develop more like a typical mammals (in this scenario, i suppose the ejection of eggs would be done in order to appraise which ones look most likely to develop). On the other hand, perhaps fishfolk eggs are raised in shallow pools of water, not unlike my understanding of how Zora work in Legend of Zelda. i would imagine with the second option that the embryo either receives nutrients by absorbing them through the water (thus creating a need for the parent to refresh the water while the baby grows) OR the infant hatches when it is super small and spends the first few months in the pool receiving food orally. in the latter choice, the baby might go through a cycle similar to that of a tadpole, starting off very fish like and slowly growing it's more human traits later on.

with how complex this fictional birthing mechanic is, i don't think it'd be very possible for Scar to actually fertilize one of Steb's eggs. maybe there's a fantasy fertility clinic that could take one of Steb's eggs and Scar's sperm to somehow reverse engineer a baby for the two of them? there are a lot of different races in Arcane, so i wouldn't be TOO surprised if some endocrinologist figured it out in all those years.

sorry this is so long. i hope this doesnt sound too insane to you, haha. we really enjoyed your fics!

I love the caviar references /genuine because it's all I could think about when I was writing the first installment of the series LOL. I'm happy that you enjoyed the freaky fish genitalia because yeah, I definitely have been seeing the posts about people wanting more monster pussies to match the monster cock energy, and I wanted to deliver haha. Plus, I just thought it'd be kind of boring if he had a regular vulva, so I wanted it to be externally and internally interesting hence the anal fins and the internal ribbing, etc., so thank you for commenting on it!

more under the cut, lol

And omg, yeah, I had the same thought process about the amount of eggs he produces being really random. I was thinking it was a vestigial trait. I based his reproductive cycle off fish with internal fertilization, so technically, if he was with someone of his own species, they would fertilize the eggs while they're still inside him, and then he'd expel the fertilized eggs. I imagine the chance of fertilization would be higher with internal versus external fertilization, but maybe not? I also didn't make it super clear it's always internal fertilization when he is having reproductively viable sex, so your explanation tracks logically with external fertilization, or maybe even with internal fertilization if his species just has really low rates of fertilization. Anything is possible! Either way, I love hearing the theories.

The six month cycle was not at all from real fish, haha, but yes, the length was to allow his body to reset and also, more frequent spawns felt like they'd be too inconvenient. I'm not too sure at which stage the eggs start producing, but his body starts producing them a couple hours to a day before he needs to expel them, so the window for potential fertilization is oddly short. It's probably an unrealistic timeline. I just didn't want him to have to walk around bloated for days or weeks. Maybe since he has six months to recuperate, the fast egg production reads as a little more feasible :thinking_emoji:

You're spot on with the egg size! I didn't even consider implanting the fertilized eggs back into the womb. That's a really cool concept. It's definitely interesting to consider which mammalian characteristics Steb's species has if any. I've been writing him as warm-blooded, so that's one thing. But to get back to the eggs, while I was writing, I was envisioning something like your second idea where the fertilized eggs are ideally placed in a special pool, tub, or pond. The embryos develop inside the eggs for a bit before they hatch into fish-like infants, and just like you said, they begin to develop humanoid characteristics later on in their maturing process. I imagine they'd look like regular fish for a year or more. If there's already in-universe lore about this and I'm super wrong, lol oops.

I also agree that I don't think Steb and Scar are reproductively viable, and I like your idea about fantasy fertility clinics. I didn't see a lot of furry-like humanoids that look like a combination between multiple animals in the show, so I'd imagine if they do exist, it'd be inaccessible to the average person. And god, I hope birth control exists in their universe. But if it does, I once again think it's not readily available, or Steb would definitely be using it.

And trust, this is the perfect amount of insane! I wrote that unhinged fic, so I'm very honored to inspire other unhinged thoughts and conversations. Thank you so much for sharing your ideas and for reading the fic! <3

#steb arcane #nsft #it makes me so joyous to know ppl r discussing my fics like this #this is the kind of energy i love to see LOL #so thank you #answered asks #long post

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blissfulip · 14 days ago

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Surface Tension

on AO3

Steb x f!reader

Rating: E

Tags: doctor!reader, anthro (does he count as a furry? idk), post-canon, just shameless smut

Cw: Dacryphilia

Words: 3.9k

[A/N: Steb has Selective Mutism in this fic, meaning he has the physical ability to speak but chooses not or is unable to due to social, psychological or other circumstances. Since we don't have any information on this in canon I have decided that for the purpose of the story, what prevents him from speaking is biological, he can only speak if his gills are properly wet, otherwise it hurts him, so he chooses not to most of the time.

Also, for reference on what his body looks like anatomy-wise, refer to this (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @moonstrider9904

Happy Holidays from me to you 🎄

The knock was soft, tentative, like the wind testing the strength of a door. Steb looked up from the book resting on his lap, his fingers frozen mid-turn of a page. He tilted his head toward the sound, waiting, and when a second knock came he convinced himself to stand up. When the door creaked open, it wasn’t a draft that slipped through, but you, coat half-unbuttoned and cheeks pink from the cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you, his fingers lifting up to sign.

“You’re early this month, should I be worried?” His hands hesitated halfway through the sentence.

You smiled faintly, the kind of smile that seemed almost apologetic. “Not unless you’ve developed an allergy to soup.”

“You check on me once a month, doctor”, he signed slowly, “Routine, clinical. This isn’t that.”

“It’s not,” you agreed, unbuttoning your coat the rest of the way and draping it over the back of a chair. “It’s not an official visit, Violet mentioned you haven’t left your room in a while, and I’m on vacation so I thought I’d stop by.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of Vi, nosey, he thought to himself. The word vacation felt out of place in this room, he had been trying to get out of medical leave for the past month and go back to work, with no success. He scrunched up his nose, and then let out a sigh of resignation.

“You didn’t have to come.” he signed.

“I wanted to.”

His hands stilled. The room felt heavier now, the tension fragile but unyielding like a drawn thread. Steb looked away first, his gaze sliding to the window where frost rimmed the edges of the glass. When he signed again, his movements were slower, almost uncertain.

“You’re bad at taking vacations.”

That made you laugh—a soft, short sound that filled the room briefly before fading.

-------------------

“Deep breath,” You instructed, your stethoscope cool against his chest. He complied, the effort visible in the furrow of his brow and the sharp rise and fall of his ribs. You listened, frowning slightly, before stepping back and meeting his eyes directly.

“You’ve had quite the ordeal.” You said. Steb nodded once, his jaw tight. He didn’t need the reminder. His chest still ached faintly, a ghost of the gas that had filled his lungs, its burn raw and relentless. “Does it hurt when you speak?”

Silence. You repeated your question when he didn’t answer, fearing he might not have heard you, and confused when you only received a stern look back. Vi, who had been sitting in a nearby chair keeping him company despite his protest, chimed in. “Do you know sign language? He has mutism”

“Oh, that makes sense”, You said nodding, “I do, you can sign your answers.”

“Selective” He signed for the first time.

“Hm?”

“Selective mutism, and yes, it hurts.”

“Good to know.” You nodded once more before continuing to examine him. “I’m keeping you here for observation for another few days. No arguments.”

Vi smirked. “Oh, he’ll argue.”

“I’m stubborn as well, let’s see if I can outlast you.”

-------------------------------

He watched you move to the kitchenette, unpacking the bag of food with quiet precision. Bread, soup. Simple and practical. Your hands worked with a deliberate ease, as if you were trying to fill the silence with motion.

He stayed seated, his fingers curling and uncurling in his lap. You weren't here because you had to be. That much was clear. But the why of it lingered, unspoken, in the space between you both. He wanted to ask, but instead he watched you.

The room fell quiet again after you left, the faint echo of your footsteps lingering in Steb’s ears like the fading notes of a song. He sat motionless for a moment, staring at the empty bowl and crumbs on the table. Your visit left the space feeling fuller, even though it was now empty.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, his body aching with the subtle pull of exhaustion. He crossed the room to the corner where the tub waited, an old clawfoot basin half-filled with clean water he’d drawn earlier. The air already felt drier than he liked, the faint itch under his skin a reminder that it had been too long since his last proper soak. He shrugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor, his greenish skin catching the dim light of the room, rougher than it should have felt, another sign he’d been neglecting himself. He stepped into the tub, the cool water lapping at his ankles before he lowered himself in completely.

The relief was immediate, a soft exhale escaping his nose as the water embraced him, its touch soothing the ache in his muscles and the dryness on his skin. He tilted his head back, letting his gills on his jaw flutter open as they met the water. He could almost feel his body pulling life from the moisture, the subtle tension in his chest easing with every passing second.

But even as the water worked its way through him, his thoughts stayed tangled. Your face lingered in his mind—your calm, steady voice, the way your fingers brushed the table before you left. The way you looked at him, not with pity or detachment, but with something quieter, warmer. He shut his eyes, sinking further into the water until only his nose and eyes remained above the surface. Your words replayed in his mind, I wanted to. Not I had to, not I should, but wanted.

He cared for you. Deeply, irrevocably, in a way that terrified him.

You stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you, tossed your coat over the back of a chair, not bothering to hang it up, and let the paper bag you’d carried back with you drop onto the counter to then walk over to the living room table. You reached for the book you’d left there, its pages dog-eared and scribbled with notes. The Anatomy and Physiology of Vastayan Subspecies was stamped in gold along its spine—a dense, technical text you’d been studying since Steb became your patient.

You flipped through the pages, fingers deftly skimming over sketches of gills, webbed hands, and intricate scale patterns. When she reached the section on the fish folk, your focus sharpened. The accompanying illustration was striking—detailed renderings of fins that ran in continuous lines down the backs and arms of the species, elegantly integrated into their musculature. You read through the notes in neat, clinical prose:

“The dorsal and arm fins of fish folk are highly sensitive, containing a dense concentration of nerve endings. In social and intimate contexts, tactile stimulation of these fins is known to elicit strong physiological and emotional responses, often interpreted as arousal. The evolutionary function remains speculative, though it is suggested this sensitivity aids in both bonding and self-preservation.”

You sat back, breath catching in your throat briefly. The words lingered with their implications vivid in your mind. You thought about Steb, the way he moved, always careful to not make any abrupt movements, something you had attributed to his personality. Curiosity flared unexpectedly, sharp and unwelcome. What would it feel like, you wondered, to trace the edge of his back…You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks. The thought had come unbidden, intrusive, and entirely inappropriate. With a sharp inhale, you snapped the book shut and pressed your fingers to your temples.

“This is research,” you muttered to yourself aloud, the tone brusque as if saying it could push the thought away. “It’s important to understand. That’s all.”

But even as you placed the book back on the table and tried to focus on something else, the image of him and the way he always held himself with quiet restraint—refused to leave your mind.

Steb made up his mind sometime during the night, as the water soothed him and his thoughts swirled. He needed to see you—not as a patient, but as… something else. Someone else. He couldn’t name what that was yet, but he knew the need was undeniable. By the time he reached your apartment, the air was crisp with the early chill, his breath curling in soft plumes as he adjusted the scarf around his neck. He knocked lightly, a polite rhythm that belied the tension he felt inside.

When you opened the door, you looked startled at first, hair loose and face soft in the morning light. “Steb?” you said, blinking at him. Her eyes flicked to his damp scarf, then back to his face. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head quickly and your brows furrowed in concern as you stepped aside to let him in. The room smelled faintly of coffee and lavender, the latter likely coming from the small candle burning on the counter. He left his scarf on a chair and took a seat at the small table, his movements careful as always, and waited until you settled across from him.

“So?” you said, your voice calm but with a thread of urgency.

He leaned forward, signing deliberately. “When my gills are wet it doesn’t hurt to talk”.

Your eyes widened slightly, “Are you sure?,” you blurted out, as you stood, not waiting for a response. “It explains the discomfort you described, I don't know how I never thought about it.”

Back when you first met him at the hospital, he attributed his elective mutism to the fact that it hurt him to talk. You ran numerous tests on his oesophagus, vocal cords and so many other things that yielded no conclusive results.

He hesitated, feigning a sheepish shrug, “Realized last night”.

“If it’s true this changes everything,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, as you paced back and forth, “We’ll need to adapt your care plan…hydration protocols, speech therapy, we can get a humidifier and…” You stopped on your tracks and looked at him as an idea surged in your mind.

“What?” Steb signed.

“We have to test it.” You said grabbing the anatomy book off the table along with a pencil and quickly moving on to walk all the way to your bathroom, dragging him with you by the arm before he had any time to protest.

The walls of the bathroom were cloaked in the mottled green of old tiles, their edges chipped like broken teeth. Time had sunk into the grout, leaving darkened veins that spidered in uneven paths, whispering tales of hands long gone. The light overhead buzzed faintly, casting a dim yellow halo that couldn’t quite chase the shadows from the corners. The tiles, damp to the touch, exhaled a faint mineral tang that clung to the air, mingling with the metallic drip-drip of the showerhead.

Much like his own bathroom, this one carried the promise of comfort and relief, but with the circumstances at hand the shower itself made Steb feel weary. Its once-proud chrome dulled and speckled with rust, as if it had wept along with those who stood beneath it. Water marked its passage in faint trails, a tapestry of use etched upon the walls.

You leaned over to turn one of the valves and quickly leaned back to avoid the steady stream that cascaded as a result, turning to look at him with an invitation in your gaze. His eyebrows shoot up then furrowed deeply, a silent scoff playing across his face as his nose wrinkled ever so slightly, repelled by the mere thought.

“Do you have a better idea?” You said in response to his negative.

“These shoes are velvet.” He signed.

“Well not with your clothes on, duh” You said.

No more than 3 seconds went by, but the amount of thoughts that went through Steb’s mind made it seem like time did not exist, and he had been standing there in silence looking like an idiot for an eternity and then some. His first instinct was indignation—eyes darting to your face to gauge whether you were serious. You were, of course, your tone carried no malice, just a clinical, matter-of-fact assurance that this was perfectly reasonable.

His chest tightened. He felt heat creeping up his neck, a prickle of something. Embarrassment, maybe, but deeper, sharper. Why did his skin feel so tight, his breath so loud? Yet your eyes held him like an anchor, and against all logic, he found himself nodding, hands fumbling with maroon plastic buttons. Perhaps if you hadn’t looked, if you had kept your eyes somewhere between his face and the far wall, they wouldn’t have hovered over his hands and consequently landed on his collarbones. It was mere scientific curiosity at first—or so you tried to tell yourself—why you marveled at the sight of him.

He was so different from what Piltover knew about his species, and you could pinpoint so many details you wanted to take note of. You stood with the book clasped tightly, fingers curling just a touch too hard around the edges. Your posture was straight and composed, but there was a tautness in your shoulders, a stiffness in the way you shifted the weight between your feet, the collar around your neck unable to mask the faint flush creeping up.

The silence buzzed between you louder than the hum of the fluorescent light above, and was only broken by the sound of his belt buckle falling on the floor tiles, a metallic clang that echoed all over the cold walls and instinctively broke the eye contact you had been trying to maintain, bringing both of you out of the awkward trance you unknowingly shared. He walked into the shower and stood there as the water completely soaked his skin.

“You should walk back a few steps, you’re getting…”

You heard his voice very few times before, and cherished each one of them. Once a few months back you asked him what the nurse had added to his iv drip, the cold dusk lighting coming through the window shone over his sleepy face, and you could see as his eyes looked to the side and worked hard to remember if there was a sign for ‘saline solution’. A big sigh of resignation was followed by him saying it and you gasping in surprise. You tried to play it off but your reaction got a smile out of him, and you could’ve sworn you’d never seen that either. You only heard him twice after that, one time when he called you over to check something and the last one a short ‘eh’ that punctuated a lazy shrug.

An entire sentence was something else, you were able to make out the lilt in his tone and a vague accent dancing on his vowels. You almost asked him to speak again so you could hear the slight rasp in his voice, but your body was quicker than you; before you could even register what you were doing both of your hands were already on either sides of his face and the book on the floor, you let out a full belly laugh, not for one second concerned by your now completely drenched arms. However, it lasted only half a second and the sharp gasp came before the tumble as your foot slid on the slick floor of the shower’s tiled edge. The world seemed to lurch for a split second before Steb’s arms shot out to grip your shoulders instinctively, his chest rumbling with a low, warm laugh, breaking the tension. You stayed like that a moment too long—his hands still cold on your arms, breaths mingling in the close, humid air—before you straightened yourself with a nervous chuckle.

“Could I, eh, compare some of the information I have on the book?” You said delicately slithering out of his grasp to pick up the heavy volume you had hurled across the small room earlier. He nodded, and waited still for you to flip back to the correct page. You skimmed through the text until your eyes landed on the passage you had highlighted the night before; ‘…tactile stimulation of these fins is known to elicit strong physiological and emotional responses…’ you hummed to yourself, unsure.

“Turn around, will you? I want to check the dorsal fins.” And he did, unceremoniously. “Do you know what they do?”

“No, I can’t reach them, does your book say something about it?”

“You look very different, I’m not sure how accurate any of these ‘facts’ are.” You said, looking at him and back at the illustrations on the book a couple of times. “Mind if I test something out?”

“Go ahead,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.

They were translucent and filmy, wet and slightly slimy to the touch, not scaly like you were expecting when you reached over and ran your fingers along the fins on his back. You would have spent hours pondering and observing the taut and elastic webbing on them if you hadn’t been brought back to reality by the husky groan he let out. Panic came over you.

“Did it hurt? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone at it so carelessly, I thought…” You blurted out.

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” He said, leaning on the wall in front of him with both hands, head down like he was trying to catch his breath. It dawned on you like a ton of bricks, out of all the things this stupid book got right it had to be this. Guilt immediately crept up your throat, but you weren’t allowed to mull it over any longer before Steb spoke again. “You…you can do it again, if you’d like, if you need to.”

Once again your hands acted off their own bat, your fingers started a path, slower, more intentional, from the nape of his neck all the way down to the small of his back. This time around you cared not about the impossibly slick and almost amphibian quality of his skin, you observed him. The way his ears twitched slightly and the fins that ran all the way down his arms fluttered, similar to how a human’s skin would get goosebumps. You paid close attention to how the muscles on his arms tensed up and his legs shivered, and a second time, a gravelly sound coming out of his mouth, more whiny than the last.

“I’m sorry, I knew this would happen and still…” He tried to say through heavy panting.

You couldn’t really pretend you were still doing this for the science of it, not after you saw one of his hands come down to his crotch. He turned, both hands covering up what was clearly an erection. You didn’t want him to apologize, not for something you had shared control over, so you showed him.

Both of your hands grazed down the fins on his arms in tandem. His reaction wasn’t different, but this time you could look at his face, a beautiful painting of arousal that culminated with him holding onto both of your arms for balance and his head buried on your shoulder. You allowed him to breathe, and when he sluggishly lifted his head up to look at you, the wicked grin on his face warned you about what was to come.

The kiss was ferocious, hungry, the water almost steaming as it came in contact with the scalding heat of skin. You weren’t used to this much humidity, and he could tell from the way you gasped for air when he turned his attention away from your lips to nibble at your neck, so he helped you out of your soaked shirt and pants before gently pushing out of the bathroom.

It wasn’t his first time at your apartment, so the walk to your room was seamless and the kissing never stopped until you felt the back of your knees graze the edge of your bed. He nudged you down gently but he didn’t come with, instead, he took off your underwear, and as he lowered himself you spread out your legs almost instinctively.

The feel of his tongue was indescribable, rough but not too much that it hurt when he gave a long intentional lick to your folds, but just enough to elicit an initial shock and an immediate whiny moan to come out of you. He licked your still dewy skin all the way to your neck, and after a small nibble to your ear he started to kiss you again, the sharp nails of one of his hands digging into your thigh as the other struggled to remove the damp fabric of his own underwear.

You were still dizzy from the heat of the water and the steam, so it took you a while to notice he was looking at you and waiting for confirmation.

“Huh?”

He looked down at where his hand firmly gripped his cock and then looked back up again, eyebrows raised in a guise that screamed uncertainty.

You nodded, “Please.” You said almost embarrassingly eagerly. But he gave you no time to overthink before he was inches deep.

You could only arch up into each fleeting touch and hope Steb would give you more, each small grunt coming out of him adding fuel to the fire in your core. When he lifted one of your legs to lay over his shoulders it was like electricity ran through your spine with every thrust, and he noticed how you felt, the knitted frown he usually carried turning into a smug look you had never seen before.

Occasionally he would pull back and look at you for a second, a torturous second that felt like a year. He seemed to revel in torturing you, seeing you get whiny and desperate before plunging into you mercilessly. Each time you were incoherent, begging for something and nothing in particular, and each time he would thrust into you harder. He waited longer that time, waited as you arched your hips in frustration and your eyes swelled up with tears, he waited until you vocalized your pleas before he continued and inched closer to your face with a triumphant smile when he saw the tears trickle down your cheeks.

You were too worked up to wipe them off, and that was, you noticed in hindsight, exactly his intention, since he reached out his hand behind your neck and pulled you closer to lick them clean as they streamed out of your eyes. After that it was mostly a blur, he railed into you with no stops or pauses, all you could feel was an overwhelming pressure building up in your core and finally a release as your orgasm crept up. After a few more minutes you heard him groaning loudly in your ears and opened your eyes to a sight of wonder, worked up, panting, his wet hair sticking to the greenish skin of his forehead, and a little smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Breath,” You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until then, and let out a long sigh followed by a chuckle of relief. His skin was mostly dry now, so his voice was hoarse.

He pulled out slowly and started kneading the skin of your hip to dispel the tension when he let your leg down, hoping it wouldn't be sore the next day, but you had a different idea.

“Come, let’s get you wet again, I have so many questions to ask you.” You said as you got out of bed and extended one hand. He took it, but instead of going after you he used it to pull you back to bed next to him.

“Tomorrow,” he signed.

#steb #steb arcane #arcane steb #steb x reader

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scarcane · 3 days ago

Note

This might be too soon but...

Kiss marry kill

Jinx

Ekko

Steb

I’ve answered this already. Kill myself before having to do any of those options.

#the answer never changed btw #ekko #steb #jinx

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vieoeil-riae · 1 month ago

Text

must be dreamin'

steb/fem!reader

warnings: missionary sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, soft/vanilla sex, sexual fantasies, coming inside, minor cockwarming (kinda just mentioned), steb has frills on his cock, 18+ MDNI, 3.6k words

synopsis: despite having a strong sense of duty, steb is still as easily distracted by you as he was years ago

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection

It was your day off, one you preserved for yourself when you hurried around the house last night ticking mundane chores off of your list. That meant that come morning, you could laze in bed watching your beautiful boyfriend pad about your shared bedroom as he got ready for the day.

Even now, as the evening set in, casting long shadows of your blinds over you and your bed, you could clearly remember the sight. Familiar, yes, but no less enticing was his lean body; firm, flexing muscles and a softness that was present even when the low light of dawn left his skin. You had no shame ogling Steb, or throwing salacious compliments his way as he tugged on his civvies.

You’d giggled at the sight of his fluttering face-frills and flushed cheeks, though. Years deep into your relationship and you still got a high from flirting with one another.

Still, the alluring sight of Steb’s partially dressed figure had stuck with you all day — remaining with you as a simmering heat between your legs. It bothered you mildly, but you were engrossed enough in your book that you could push the need aside and settle in for a long day of laying in bed.

Out in Piltover, combing through the streets with a, currently crafted, impartial stare — a similar feeling stuck with your boyfriend.

It wasn’t his fault you looked like temptation itself that morning; sleep-ruffled hair; a thin shirt that liked to ride up; how inviting you looked, tangled in the bedsheets you shared. All the comments, teases and flirts you’d thrown his way that morning had seriously tested his self-control.

Making you moan softly into the morning air, warm with sleep and sex; watching the way you unravelled at his touch; feeling you consume him completely, a much preferable alternative to clocking in at half past six in the morning.

What-ifs and vivid flashes of him pulling your shirt off and burying his face in your chest made work even more intolerable, stoking a less familiar, antsy feeling deep in his chest that found itself as a low buzzing in his hands. It was an itch to call in sick and go home early, to drown in you until the sun went down and came back up again.

No celestial decided to answer Steb’s silent prayers for a quick, easy day. In fact, they seemed to do the opposite; throwing every conceivable minor and major inconvenience at him.

There was a robbery; a carriage accident; several fights he had to break up; and worst of all, having to deal with mouthy, uncooperative people as politely as he was legally obliged to the entire time. The thought of your pliant body and the way you worked with him in understanding started to feel like the promise of water in a desert, and lord was he parched.

The reprieve of paperwork, various forms and reports written in near excruciating detail, had lasted not even five minutes before visions of your soft curves and the way you’d writhe and ruck-up the sheets under his touch infiltrated his train of thought again.

Steb’s ears were pinned back by now, he could just tell, and he sorely hoped no one noticed the flush on his cheeks or the tent in his pants. He could only thank the stars that his coworkers had long since figured out he never talked more than necessary for his job, he was already biting the inside of his lips with a near bruising force.

After hours of sitting with his legs crossed, his problem had nowhere near abated. Chewing his cheek, he shuffled to the locker room once his shift was up.

Opening his locker, Steb eyed the small duffle bag inside; his regular clothes and the remains of a lunch kindly packed by you. Your hands, the image struck him with immense clarity — a slew of imaginings poured behind his eyes. Your hands on him, running over his stomach; carding through his hair; your pretty fingers down his throat. It was almost enough to draw a whimper from him.

He stripped his out layers quickly. One hand almost slipped under the hem of his pants, but out of a lewd sense of shame it was pulled quickly away. You’d do that for him, slip your hands in and fondle his heavy cock, and you’d do it with that loving, knowing smile of yours.

In half-blues, no impulse control to keep himself around long enough to change clothes properly, Steb snuck out the back door. There was a thrill in the minor infraction against the force’s policy, as well as his duty-born sense of guilt that made his neediness feel stickier.

Speed-walking through twisting side streets and alleys in an attempt to get to you, your warmth — hot, wet warmth (he stumbled on a cobblestone) — just a few moments quicker.

He saw you last night, domestic and homey as you flitted around clearing up what would get in the way of your day off, and he’d stared for a long time before you noticed he was there. Steb was lost in the image of you in his home again, something that struck him every now and again but always left him breathless, not dressed up; comfortably un-put-together.

It was an image that sparked a fire in his gut every time he saw it. Maybe getting so turned on by the thought of you sharing the rest of your life together like that was odd but, to Steb who had always been a fan of the simpler joys in life, it meant the world.

You’d probably stayed in bed today, a thought that made him purr inside, the thought of you feeling so at home in the space you shared. The image of you half covered in sheets, bare breasts exposed; nipples pebbled at the peak of your supple skin waiting to be touched, invaded the space behind his eyes and he was forced to blink it away.

God, his limbs felt heavy. Want and need pooled together with the leaden aftermath of a busy day. Climbing into bed with you would save him.

One thought kept Steb in motion however; you splayed out on the bed, legs spread as your fingers plunged into your cunt, mewling under your own touch as your hips bucked up to take your fingers deeper. A blaze took over his chest, maybe you’d be moaning his name. A shiver rolled through his shoulders, his name always sounded so much better on your lips.

Steb dropped the bag the second he shut the door, his breathing laboured as he gulped in the scented air from the humidifier in the entranceway. It had been the same scent as your shampoo since the week he met you. It only served to make his need worse.

You were sprawled out, half tangled in sheets and the same pesky, night shirt as this morning — in the dusk light you looked to be glowing. You noticed him quickly, taking in his tired eyes and flushed cheeks as well as the fact he hadn’t abandoned either of his jacket or shoes by the door.

“Hey, what’s up?” You questioned sweetly, pulling yourself up to sit. The drag of the bedsheets across you, the tantalising curl of them around your legs, made your boyfriend swallow hard.

With shaky fingers, Steb’s jacket was discarded on the bedroom floor followed by his shirt. You bit your lip at the flex of his stomach muscles and the now-ruffled look of his hair. Your eyebrows pinched at the heavy way he sat on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the clasps of his boots.

Slipping off the bed, you knelt down before him, undoing the (rather complicated) fastenings with steadier hands. You looked up through your lashes at him, eyes widening a fraction at the almost hungry look in his eyes. The usual cool, observant look in his eyes was still there but felt entirely underpinned by something hotter. The frills on his cheekbones shivered out of time, though.

You slid one boot off, cupping just above his ankle with care. Treating Steb gently was a reward in and of itself. In your peripherals, you saw his fingers dig into the edge of the mattress. The other boot was removed similarly, all under a smoldering gaze.

The second you were finished, one of his hands darted to your chin, forcing you to look in his eyes. You searched them, feeling more and more confident you understood what he was wanting. You cocked your head, a small smile gracing your lips, letting your tired boyfriend do as he pleased.

You were pulled up and onto the bed, tangling with Steb as he buried his face in the crook of your neck — pushing you back towards the centre where you were laying minutes ago. You scrambled to move against his built body, falling into the pillows you’d messed up for the sake of a better reading perch.

Lifting the bottom hem of your shirt, Steb stuffed his head up it, nuzzling his face into the valley between your tits. The arm free to move slipped under your shirt too, sliding up your back to grip at your shoulder. Only mildly surprised, you brought your hand to his hair, running your fingers through it gently — nails pleasantly scraping at his scalp.

You saw the shiver that ran through him at that, felt the hot puff of breath against your skin. Steb wedged a leg between your thighs, knocking against the place you’ve been wanting him all day. He placed a kiss on your breast bone, before his lips began to travel your curves — the feeling of the outline of his lips, so recognisably his in the way his bottom lip felt plumper than his top.

You sucked in a harsh breath as Steb’s lips found your nipple, kissing it fondly before taking it in his mouth. His teeth found it soon after, lightly worrying it enough for you to arch into his thigh with a breathy sigh.

Soft and needy and wanting, he makes out with your chest — tongue dragging over each arch and dip with goading care. You grind against his thigh, pressing his face into your chest as your swollen cunt, covered only by panties rubs against the thick material of Steb’s uniform.

He bites the flesh of your other tit, licking fat stripes up the soft mound, relishing your nipple in a way that makes you gasp. His hand, once holding onto your shoulder slithers down your back to trace up the sensitive skin over your ribs, cupping your neglected tits gently before palming it in earnest — fat molding itself to the shape of his large palm.

Your head lolled back, leaving your collarbones open. Steb couldn’t reach them, however, as the loose neckline of your shirt didn’t allow him the room to pepper kisses there.

Shuffling out of your shirt that now felt a little emptier without him in it, his hot breath was replaced by his fixated eyes and warm palms feeling up your sides. Dragging them sensually down, his fingers toyed at the hem of your shirt.

You rolled onto your back and he followed, eager hands still attached to your shirt. You stared into his eyes, undeniably warm with adoration and pure need. He motioned for you to lift your arms up, and you did with a helping arch of your back. You heard a choked whine in his throat when your breasts spilled out into the warm light of the room as he pulled the fabric from your body.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in a kiss, slow and lusty, hoisting your leg by your knee to hook around his hip. Steb let his whole body relax into yours, trapping you between the soft bed and his warm body. You felt his hard cock rub against your thigh, and heard his soft panting in your ear.

“You gonna take those off, or are you happy to ruin your work clothes?” You teased, a sultry tone seeping into your words through the kiss. You smiled greedily at the furious blush that overcame him, feeling the heat on your own cheeks before he pulled away to strip himself of the garment.

You eyed his deft hands undo his belt buckle, dexterous fingers you knew felt orgasmic inside of you. He was left in underwear, a wet patch forming where his hard cock strained at the fabric, the last of his uniform discarded as your lover met your lips again.

Steb’s fingers skimmed down your front, caressing your skin with all the romance in his soul. They dipped into the waistband of your panties, parting your lips to gather your wetness, gathering your slick before coming to lazily circle your clit. You whined at the feeling, his rougher fingertips creating delicious friction over your sensitive nerves.

Smoothing the heel of his palm against you, his fingers sank into your wet pussy. You moaned at the stretch, Steb was a tall man with fingers proportional to that — two fingers curling inside you felt like more than it sounded, still overwhelmingly pleasurable.

His tired mind was enraptured with the way you squirmed beneath him, with the way your tits moved with your sharp gasps when his long fingers pressed into the right spot, with the flutter of your eyelashes when your face fell with pleasure. His cock twitched with each lewd squelch of his fingers, and he shivered with a low groan when he felt you clench around his digits.

Medically trained hands, strong and precise, brought you to a tumbling orgasm. You arched hard into Steb’s hand, humping it as you rode out your high. Sex-dazed, you couldn’t look away from him.

“I want you.” You whispered into the space between you, being quiet was never an issue around Steb. His other hand, that had ended up pressed into the mattress by your head, brushed away stray hairs from your face. His eyes darkened, yet the blue of his eyes seemed to shine brighter at the same time.

You flicked the band of his underwear, giggling softly when his trance was partially broken. Steb huffed a quiet laugh with you, brushing your hand with his own as he reached to pull the briefs down.

You eyed the way his cock sprung from the fabric, and not for the first time do you admire it. Long, bent slightly to the left, decorated with frills similar to his face but shorter and less delicate. Drool-worthy, in your opinion, but maybe you're biased from experience.

Cheekily, he returned the favour; pinching at the most sensitive fat of your thigh, right by the junction of your leg and torso. You squirmed at the feeling, gasping half-playfully and half-honestly. Still, Steb slid your panties off with care, thumbs brushing your hip bones as you arched upwards to help him remove them.

He leaned in close to your face, lips ghosting over yours in a brush of a kiss, lining his throbbing cock with your weepy cunt. The head of his cock brushed down your wet slit, drawing a whine from deep in your throat — no matter how many times you moan, it’s a sound Steb can’t find himself any less addicted to.

His cockhead presses against your entrance, pushing in at a slow, relishing pace. You let obscene noises fall from your lips as he inches his cock into you, his head buried in the junction of your neck — fluttering face frills tickling the skin there — where you could hear all the little noises he made much better.

You spread your legs further apart, inviting him further in as you watched his body curl over yours. Knowing the feel of his dick only made the satisfaction of your expectation taste sweeter, familiar veins and ridges and frills scratching the itch inside you just how you liked.

Steb groaned into your ear when you enveloped him to the base, the barest whispers of incoherent words floating to your ears. Having you around his cock was sweet relief all by itself.

You took a moment to bathe in the closeness between you, his cock nestled deep in your gummy walls, before he gave a shallow thrust — rutting into you. You mewled at the sensation, enough to make your body sing with heat but not enough to build your orgasm.

His hips twitched at the sound, rutting into you again but harder, a groan of his own sinking into the skin of your neck. Slowly, enticingly, Steb thrusted into your cunt harder, letting you greedily suck him back in with every motion of pulling out.

You slung your other leg over his hip, winding your legs around him to bring him closer, deeper. Your arms reached for his shoulders, nails bluntly teasing at the skin, scratching enough to feel but not enough to hurt and he shivered under your touch. Steb pulled back to watch your face.

You looked so lovingly ruined beneath him, an expression of utter bliss stretching across your face, the smell of your sweat so close to his nose. Your face twisted in pleasure as he thrusted ever so slightly faster, your head falling to one side as you arched against his cock.

He took full advantage of it, pressing soft kisses down your neck, interrupting them with an occasional nip — soothed with a practiced tongue. Your skin tasted like devotion under his tongue, the frills on his face fluttered happily at the eagerness with which you took him.

Your hand tangled through Steb’s hair, running across his scalp until it met with the delicate shell of his ear. He whimpered against your skin, a sloppy, tongue heavy kiss licked against the column of your throat.

Needily, he picked up the pace of his thrusts, whispering the most mesmeric words of adoration against you like prayers. You responded to them in kind, loving affirmations spoken with truth through a haze of desire, fucking back onto his cock hungrily.

The feeling of the frills on his cock dragging against your walls made you keen, digging your nails into his shoulder as you hissed in pleasure, whining as Steb slowed down for you to feel every single ridge. You protested the change of pace, bucking up into him, muttering ‘please’s making his ears twitch against your gentle fingers.

His hips met yours, you clenched around him but didn’t peak, a sound of abject need slipping through your lips. You took your hand from his shoulder and found his forearm pressed into the mattress above your head, you caressed down the strained muscles towards his hand. He let you trail his hand down your body, shifting to accommodate his weight above you — though if you were being honest, being completely trapped under him sounded wonderful.

You brought Steb’s hand to your aching clit, letting him feel how wet the sensitive nub had become, moaning at his light touch. Chasing his own high, flushed with your pleasure, he rutted into your cunt faster, fingers diligently working at your clit in tight circles.

You writhed against him, moaning and whining and clenching around his cock in a way that never failed to stroke his much hidden ego. It shot a bolt of white-hot pleasure up his spine, to see you come apart from his touch.

“Steb…” You moaned, a drunk slur in your tone that made his hips jerk harshly into your plush cunt. The begging tone wiping reason from his head, he fucked you harder, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. His dick twitched inside of you, sending him back to meshing his lips with yours.

Your cock-drunk obscenities were swallowed by the enveloping kiss Steb had you in, drinking up the noises of your fast approaching peak. The noise and feel of you winded up the coil in his own gut, the world falling away from him completely, lost in you.

“Steb!” You came hard around his cock, a strangled cry of his name clawing out of your throat. Your body shook with satisfaction, mesmerising your lover with the way you twitched and whined in overstimulation as he fucked you through your orgasm — legs locked tightly around his waist.

The flutter of your walls around him had him grinding against your cunt, lost in the soaking, post-orgasm feel of you — desperate in the rut of hips that smacked against yours.

“Inside.” You mumbled breathlessly through the overstimulation. “Want you… inside.”

He groaned against your neck, taking a shuddering breath as your words took him over the edge — fucking his cum into you with jerking hips.

Coming down from the bliss, he peppered all the skin he could find with sweet kisses, before trying to pull out from you. Your legs wound around his waist, not allowing Steb to do anything but sink fully into your warm, soft body with his whole weight.

The leaden feeling sunk into his limbs again, keeping him trapped against you like a pillow. It felt like all the mounting pressure in his body had dissipated into thin air and he huffed against your skin, satisfied.

“I love you.” You murmured into his ear through a smile, hands carding through his now very messy hair. You craned your neck to kiss his temple, basking in the satisfied, contented feeling of having Steb bare in your arms.

You felt his lips trace the same words into your skin, the slight nuzzle he gave you, and the way his arms snaked around you to hold you. You shut your eyes in delight, letting the rest of the world fall away until it was just you and Steb. He squeezed you tighter in his arms.

A/N: thank you to everyone who's dropped their thoughts into my inbox!!! I'm so happy about that 😭😭 u guys wanna interact ilysm 💕💕 I'll get to you when I can, but even if it takes a moment know I haven't forgotten!

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#steb arcane #steb x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #steb arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #steb arcane x reader smut #steb x reader smut #fem!reader

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