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༻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝟐/𝟑)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!steve, nomad!steve, fluff, size difference, manhandling, possessive!/protective!steve, gentle giant!Steve, implied parent death, fighting some animals (so implied animal death), SMUT - minors DNI, size kink, manhandling, oral (f), face riding, (an attempt at) dirty talk, spitting, grinding (naked...p*ssyjob), lots of cum, lil cumplay (more like just cum spreading)

𝗪/𝗖 | 16.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | I can’t thank you all enough for the amount of love and kindness you’ve shown me and this new series !! Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to get this much attention—I didn’t think anyone would read tarzan!steve, but you’ve all sent so many great blurbs and asks, you’ve all written this part with me. Thank you so much. No hate to spotted hyenas, I needed pack hunters and it was either them or chimpanzees. I tried to fully proofread, all mistakes are my own. Check out the role reversal of this story: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞

˗ˏˋ𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰�� 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The scream that comes out of your mouth is downright brutal, ripping apart your dry throat—it definitely doesn’t feel good to screech first thing in the morning.

The large, heavy animal treads backwards with huge blinking jasper eyes. Its mouth is now a foot from your face and opens as it lets out a small roar, crispy in the early air as it brushes against your face.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as you scoot backwards and blindly reach behind you for the one person who could protect you against the yellow-and-orange-coated creature. All you feel are soft pillows and plush blankets, they’re cool from the lack of a certain muscular 6’6” frame.

The jaguar inches closer, so slowly you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you. Your brain works in overdrive as you try to make sense of your thoughts, it feels impossible with sleep still heavy in your body.

A large paw lands on the pillow where your face was buried just seconds ago, the claws piercing the fabric with a quiet tear. Another low noise flows from the jaguar’s mouth, whiskers and nose twitching as it noses the bedsheets, wide observant eyes flickering to you.

Another inch closer, another claw mark in the pillow and you’re still frozen. Heart thumping in your ears, easily overpowering the demands of your survival instincts, you’re certain you’re going to die. Here deep in the jungle, on this upper landing in a nest of comfort—what a way to end your wild adventure.

A choked whimper sounds from behind your sealed lips, you’re shaking in your skin as the creature takes another step. This time, smelling you. Its hot breath fanning over the goosebumps of your leg where your shorts had rolled up, it’s nose is cold and wet.

“Tinkerbell.” A deep voice scolds, “Told you to wait for her to wake up.”

You almost faint right there. Your sigh of relief is loud and heavy as if it were a million breaths of air trapped in your lungs.

A large hand grasps your arm, easily hauling you onto your feet before spinning you around.

Blue, kind and concerned eyes melt into yours. Thick lashes flutter as he scans your face, your arms and your body. “Okay?”

Shakily you nod, “I love having a heart attack first thing when I wake up.”

Steve blinks owlishly.

“Not literally.” You clarify. “It would have been nice to know about your friend, uh, Tinkerbell?”

“Oh, sorry… She’s sneaky, scares me too.” He crouches down and pets the animal. Rubbing behind her ears as she slumps in tranquillity. The large cat plops on the sheets, rolling around and twisting, emitting a little noise of comfort. “Told her to wait to meet you—but she doesn’t understand like Peter or Wendy. Mostly just does what she wants…” Steve gives you a toothy smile, “But she is nice. Kind.”

You can’t do more than watch him playfully roughhouse the predator, Tinkerbell gently nipping his hands as he rubs her belly.

A wild jaguar named Tinkerbell, goodness, it’s like you’ve seen it all.

“She’s only nice one here… others are mean.” Steve strokes the animal’s fur coat, the dark rosettes contrasting against the gold and orange, “She’s youngest of her siblings, known her since I was little… took care of me. Bring me strange, uh, dead things… didn’t always eat those but knew she was just being kind.”

The rising sun casts Steve’s skin in a warm glow and delicately bathes him golden and soft. He’s painted with shades of blue, both the hue in his eyes and the solemn expression that falls upon him. “Never trusted animal more than Tinkerbell. As long as can remember.”

“Kind—Kindness is rare sometimes, some things out to hurt, others to love… but can’t trust everything, same as not trust everything.” Before your eyes, you watch him slowly organize his own thoughts. Putting those unknown feelings into words, speaking them with a timid voice. “Uh, understand, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, there’s no rule book that everything follows and judgement can get clouded.”

“Judgement?”

“Like reason, how you’re able to make considered decisions, sort of like awareness.”

If you could see into Steve’s brain, you’d see him making a very careful decision in his own mind.

He stands, lightly touching your arm. “May show you something? Special to me.”

After stopping for some more fresh fruit and, very hesitantly, doing your business by a tree, Steve leads you through the jungle. Although he’d rather carry you, you walk beside him, thankful to stretch your legs after a deep sleep.

He asks questions about your life, the outside world and your family. You tell him about the skyscrapers, tall strong buildings with sleek glass windows, busy grocery stores that don’t sell fruit half as good as the ones in the jungle, and city life. Steve finds movie theatres very interesting.

“So, just big screen? And everyone watch together?” His stare is unrelenting, you fear he might trip and fall. “That’s so… Wow, like giant sleepover—saw that in a book.”

“You could sleep, but most people just get snacks, like slushies, candy or popcorn.”

“What’s popcorn?”

After explaining the—marvellous, in Steve’s opinion—invention of popcorn, you talk about your family, how they’re back in your hometown that you left for school and your career.

“No parents?” Steve’s face falls, steps faltering. “You live alone?”

“If I could, I’d move them up to Manhattan so they’d be closer, but my dad runs the shop and my mom wouldn’t leave, she loves her job at the school too much.” You hop over a log and sidestep a large rock, you’re so watchful of your feet that you fail to notice Steve’s dejected frown.

As the two of you come to a collection of close trees, vines hanging with entwined blooming flowers, he murmurs under his breath. “...if I could, I never leave my family—but not my choice. They leave anyway…”

Before you could question him, he pushes aside strings of vines, the blond allows you to go first. Your boots sink into the soft dirt and the dewy grass brushes your ankles. The heavy smell of mud wafts to your nose and the sound of gentle rushing water coming from the thin river to the side. Lily pads with vibrant pink flowers floating atop the little pond that’s formed over time, tall green rushes and reeds. Surrounding the calm water are shoreline trees and scrubs, bugs and bees buzz fly through the humid air.

After living in the city for so long, you almost forgot that nature could look so effortlessly heavenly. Although, that’s what it was. Plants, animals, the natural world were heaven on Earth, and it was a pity how often it was overlooked.

As your gaze travels around the scenery, it pauses on a lone stone. Too out of place to be there organically, bare of any dirt or moss that grew on the rocks elsewhere in the jungle.

Too different to be there by nature's wishes. And you were right.

Steve goes towards the stone and sits beside it, padding the ground until you follow suit.

He runs a hand through his hair, the blond locks curling at the base of his neck. “Bruce told little about my parents, real parents. Said they were good people—like you—and didn’t want to leave, but had to. Not their choice… forced.”

Your throat tightens.

“Was alone. Didn’t know what to do.”

It pained to know that Steve was abandoned to mourn in solitary, in the vast jungle, so young and pure.

The weight on your chest couldn’t be lifted by even the strongest person, it physically made you cower into yourself. Arms curling around your torso to soothe.

“Don’t remember them, was too small to even remember faces.” His hands brush the grass around the stone before he plucks a yellow flower. He’s quiet for a few moments, and you try not to shift, not wanting to disturb his train of thought or the even-tempered air surrounding the both of you. “But, do remember…” He lightly dusts the stone. “Gorilla—raised me. From,” he raises one hand, a few inches above his head, “to bigger but not like now.”

“Never called her anything, but she was like mother. Feed me, bathe me, protect me—taught how to climb trees, pick fruits…” Steve huffs, “Argh—so hard to speak when not know right words.”

You reach out, holding one of his big hands in yours. Thumbs rubbing the rough skin of his knuckles. “You’re doing great, Steve. It’s okay, just say it how it is in your head.” Craning your neck to catch his eyes, melting at the softness in the pools of azure. “I’m listening, no matter how long it takes.”

The corner of his lip quirks before he nods, and slips the stem of the flower behind your ear. “You cute.”

Delighted to see the faintest of smiles on his beautiful face, you pick a pink flower and do the same. Carefully sweeping the golden strands for the little petals, caressing his bearded cheek before holding his hand again. “You cute.” You repeat.

Steve’s laugh is gleeful, effortlessly joining the dragonflies in the air. “Don’t tell Wendy or Peter, but humans more funny than animals… but can tell Tinkerbell, she won’t understand.”

That’s when you realize how close you both were. You’re sitting cross-legged between his spread legs, leaned exceptionally into his space with his warm palm cradled between yours. His breath brushes your cheeks as his lashes flutter, gaze wandering around the area. Faint shades of green and speckles of the golden sun reflects in the whites of his eyes, like a dance, divine and raw.

You don’t realize you’re veering closer until his eyes snap back to you, one of his brows arched high. “Uh—hi.”

Skin prickling with embarrassment, you quickly move away. Distracting those rapid thoughts with the blades of grass on the ground, trying to fool yourself that they’re far more interesting than the striking man before you.

After gathering yourself, you meekly look at Steve again. Sighing in relief when his attention has moved to the rock as he lines baby flowers on it in an array of colours, orange, purple, blue, pink.

“What was she like?” You ask.

“Old,” His tone hushed, “Met her when she was old and she just get older. Buried here.”

You watch as he reaches for another flower, and the blue one is added to the collection atop the stone.

“Couldn’t speak to me… Couldn’t speak to her, but she care for me too.”

You could almost see it. A young blond boy, clueless with wide eyes, rich with innocence and potential, but lacking in opportunities. Sweet, youthful, alone, you believe anything with a heart would take pity on such a thing.

“Didn’t know teeth fall out when ageing. Was scared for a while… to be alone again. Know I’m not like her—I’m human, but she was family.” He breathes slowly and steadily, “Parents left before I say goodbye, but got to say goodbye to her.”

You pick a yellow flower, about to add it to the nice assembly, but Steve lightly smacks your hand, “Not that one.” He takes the yellow flower from you and puts it behind your other ear. “Yellow for you. Only you.”

“Why?”

Steve tilts his head, “Oh, yellow like sun, warm, comfort… uh, kind? Another word for kind?”

“Nice, friendly, tender, compassionate.”

The giant hums, “Tender… Like it.”

The look in his eyes has you swooning, letting out a dreamy sigh that you cover with a cough. You were losing your mind from being in the presence of this man for less than twenty-four hours.

“Know you won’t leave me, right?”

“Of course not.” The response is automatic, flowing from your lips like a breath of air.

Steve beams, “Ah, knew it. Judgement—I judgement you good person.”

You giggle into your hand, “You judge me to be a good person.”

“...Tender person?”

“A person can be tender, yes.”

“Okay. Tender, cute, good.” Steve lists, with red cheeks. “Little, small… oh, soft.”

This man was going to destroy you in the best way possible. “You’re tender, cute and good too, but big, tall, hard but soft in some places.”

The giant’s face turns a deeper shade of cherry, spreading down his bare chest. “Cute?”

You tell him yes, of course, he’s cute—but leave out the fact that he's also devilishly handsome and the product of so many people’s romantic fantasy. Both his appearance and spirit.

But you were lucky enough to have him before anyone else. That may be your biggest achievement.

Then, Steve starts blabbering about the rest of his friends. Other predators that you’d be fearful of if he weren’t with you, some preys, and strangely enough, a parrot that he only sees a few times a month, but always has great conversations with. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the bird is just mimicking him.

Listening to him speak so lovingly about animals has you hooked, hanging off every word and exaggerated facial expression. The way he pauses and asks for new words to expand his limited vocabulary.

Perhaps everything, no matter the species or circumstances, has the ability to be benevolent. All dependent on their choice, whether it is to be or not, is where the impact lies.

And, Steve, a man who was so greatly disadvantaged in his early years, may have the biggest heart on the planet.

An awful sinking feeling fills you, making you tense and jittery all at once. Your heartbeat picks up, the thumping taking over your senses, you could feel it in your brain. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Steve’s head snaps in your direction, eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Your toes curl over the edge, the rocks digging into your feet. Shaking your head, you step backwards. “I don’t know if I could jump.”

The rushing water should calm you, as should the foam and clear blue that awaits at the bottom of the falls. But at this height, with a good drop of 20 feet, your heart felt like it was in your throat.

Big palms land on your arms, stroking down to your hands. “You’re scared.”

Closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, allowing Steve’s warmth to ease your nerves.

“We can climb down, or take path.” The giant steps closer when you don’t speak. He cradles your face, “Your heart is loud when you’re scared.”

When you open your eyes, your knees go weak. The prettiest of blues with hints of green surrounding his pupil, framed by thick lashes. Steve blinks, pressing his forehead to yours with a quiet grunt. “Don’t like when you’re scared…” His deep tone washes over you, hushing the whirlwind within your head and, most importantly, your fears.

The power he holds in something as simple as his voice.

“When you’re scared—my… I feel the same? Here.” He brings your hand to his chest. Under your fingertips and beneath his skin, you can feel the dull pulse of his heart.

You squirm when his face nuzzles yours, facial hair scratching the side of your face and down to your neck. A single kiss is pressed, followed by a playful nip, “Can go down, don’t have to jump… just thought it would be fun.” He mumbles against you, nosing under your ear as he soaks in your scent. His arms tie around your waist, keeping you flush against him. “Path is just down the side, could still see water—”

“No!” Your shout is so abrupt that Steve jumps, looking down at you in confusion. “I want to. I just—” You couldn’t tell him that you needed to cool down from his affectionate touches, he’d be even more puzzled. The water would probably be cold, and that was what your wild fantasies and heated centre needed. Or else, you feared you’d jump this man at the top of this waterfall.

Looking down at the falls, the oxygen feels thinner as you start to get anxious all over again. Steve notices, you think it’s because your heart’s racing again, yet it’s also because you’ve got a death grip on his hand.

“Ready?” He smiles, a little dimple appearing on his bearded cheek.

Oh, goodness, this man has a dimple. How you had not noticed before was beyond you, but it definitely sealed your fate right then and there.

Together, you pace back with carefully calculated steps until the rock beneath your feet has turned into the moist dirt. One last glance at you and a silent confirmation, and you’re running hand-in-hand to the edge. You almost hesitate, but your body continues.

The high is instant, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you fall. This, not touching the Earth ground in the jungle, or a concrete road in the city, just Steve. With his hand entwined with yours, you can feel his good-natured spirit for a split second before you land in the freezing water.

The splash is loud, the shock of the water waking you up as you swim to the surface. Gasping for a breath, arms and legs keeping you afloat, you look around for Steve. Then, he pops up. Hair smoothed down his head, a few shades darker and contrasting against his skin. He shakes his head, droplets splattering you in the face.

You splash him back, squealing when he returns the action. Of course, you retaliate, but unfortunately, Steve is very competitive. Absolutely almost drowning you in waves of cold water, laughing when your weak plashes barely hit him. Sputtering the water out of your mouth, you plead for mercy.

“Again?” Steve swims closer, “Could… uh, go again…” His eyes fall to the soaked fabric of your shirt sticking to your skin.

You’re tempted to present yourself for him, but instead seize the opportunity and shovel water straight into his face.

The blond gasps, face screwed up. “You said stop!”

“I asked for you to stop—I didn’t say I was going to.” You keep swashing at him. Yours and Steve’s joyous laughter combined with the falling water easily mute the high-pitched buzz of a drone flying overhead.

“Towel,” Steve holds the fabric in one hand, running the other through his wet hair.

You reach to grab it, but he moves away. Licking his lips as he scans your frame.

“I dry you. Uh, will be tender.”

Before you could protest, the giant lifts up your shirt and begins running the towel over your body. There’s no chance for you to be embarrassed, standing in your underwear since your shorts are laid on a boulder to dry.

Steve starts at your back, and he takes his time, examining as he goes. Looking closely at your arms, poking your armpit and trailing down your side. He circles you, curious fingers tracing your skin, connecting beauty marks, moles and freckles like stars in the sky, mapping his own constellations on your body. He grazes your soft parts more than once, and finally settles under your breasts. Hesitantly, he cups it in his hand, just feeling the weight in his palm.

Steve groans lowly. “Like these… a lot.”

Willing yourself not to look away, you squeeze your thighs together and nod.

“This okay? Touching?”

“Y-Yes,” Is your reply, shakily exhaling when his thumb grazes your nipple that pebbles under his touch.

Steve lightly pinches it before switching to the other. Quiet rumbles coming from his chest,

He kneels before you, timid motions of dragging the towel over your shin and working up your leg. Steve clears his throat, making the mistake of inhaling with his nose inches from your centre. Your scent fills his senses, striking a match deep inside him. Igniting an unknown flame. He glares at the cotton covering your heat, drenched from the water and sheer, he could see the faintest outline of your folds.

He growls, “Off?” His fingers slip into the band of your cotton panties.

A sudden distant roar has you snapping back into reality. Your conscience scolds you for letting this go as far as it did—which wasn’t much, but you allowed it to continue nonetheless.

“No.” You quickly take his hands off of you, your heart weeping at the loss. Covering your chest, you try to organize your scattered mind. You know it’s for the better, it’s the right thing to do. Even if you wanted to, your head was too all over the place to explain any of that to him.

Although Steve was strong, tall and smart, his lack of human interaction weighed heavy on his abilities. Expressing himself through words was complicated, obstacles of language and tone made his sentences come out chopped and repetitive. Of course, none of that was his fault. It was his luck of the draw of life, and he got the short stick.

It painted him confused and fresh. A book out of order and missing pages—but not the important ones. The ones of his character, written about his sweetness and lively soul.

You had to remind yourself those were the most valuable ones. They must be protected, even from you.

You never realized the true privilege you had until you met Steve. Darling Steven who preferred Steve, who was friends with wild animals and absolutely adored the word cute. He was untainted, untouched by the cruelty of the wicked, a treasure on this uncharted island.

He didn’t know what he was feeling, or at least that’s what you’ve concluded, given his reactions to your body thus far.

You wouldn’t do that to him, not without him understanding what it was.

An imbalance between the knower and the latent. A scale that was so skewed that it couldn’t stand upright. Even though Steve’s upbringing wasn’t your fault, you still felt guilty. That remorse would only multiply if you allowed him to take this further.

Communication is key, and you couldn’t communicate with him if he didn’t know. So tell him, your mind affirms.

“Am not stupid.” Steve interrupts your train of thought. Powder blue eyes glaring up at you, a fixed frown on his pink lips.

“I know, but you don’t know where this will lead.” You shiver as his hands trail up your legs again, pausing just above the hem of your underwear.

His stare burns through your skin, locked on your stomach and occasionally flickering down to your panties. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you pull on your still-wet shirt and grab the towel from the ground. “Just let me dry you too.”

Begrudgingly, Steve stands. That pensive furrow between his brows as he watches you revolve around him. Delicately rubbing the towel along his body. You’re far too weak to not marvel at his beauty.

Taut skin over defined and bulging muscles, flexing under your hand when you ghost over his arm. Clear of any blemishes, and strangely, he has no scars—but he does have freckles on his shoulders, back and biceps. Dusted across his spine, leading to the damp loincloth around his waist. Oh, his waist, narrow yet a little soft, following after his hips are his powerful thighs. Less hair than his chest and torso, but just as well-built.

You step onto a nearby boulder and start drying his hair. Considerately running your fingers through the strands, admiring the natural highlights that brought out the darker parts. You play with his hair for a few moments, trying to fix it so it stays behind his ears but the shorter rogue hairs fall across his forehead.

When you look at his face, his eyes are closed. Lips parted and peaceful just like his shoulders and fists. Cupping his bearded jaw, you trace the beauty marks on his cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, Steve.”

Steve leans into your touch, breath deepening. “...What’s that?”

“Beautiful is when something is pleasing, makes you feel good—” His eyes meet yours, blinking once, then twice, “—for example, music can be beautiful to our ears. Anything you see can be beautiful to your eyes.” And you’re beautiful to mine.

He cocks his head. “So, cute?”

“It’s more than that.”

You think he’s going to say something, hopefully, do that adorable thing where he repeats the ‘new’ word a few times. But he just frowns and turns away from you with crossed arms. “Here I am, naming you cute when there’s better word.”

You cover your mouth to muffle your giggle. “Steve—”

He moves when you reach for him, “Beautiful… beau-ti-ful! Feel...upset.” His scowl is cute, but not as adorable as the little fit he’s throwing.

“Why?” You can already guess where this is going. To say the least, you’re utterly flattered.

Exasperated, the blond sighs and fumbles over his words, “I, ugh! Don’t know how to say!” He runs a hand over his beard, glaring at the ground. “Cute is not bad, cute is good—but beautiful is better, more… And you,” He looks at you, an adorable pout on his lips, “You’re beautiful. Haven’t called you what you deserve. Makes me frustrated.”

Luckily, Steve doesn’t seem too angry about earlier. In fact, he seems very playful.

Excitedly dragging you around the jungle, showing you his favourite places; where he goes to see the fish, a nest he’s been watching for a while—In case if mother doesn’t come back. Will take care of babies—and the little tree he planted himself that he’s very proud of.

Finally, he brings you to the tallest trees on the island. Easily rivalling the buildings in the city. They had vibrant, huge green leaves, sturdy trunks and branches with dangling vines.

“Want to teach sunshine how to swing.”

“What?”

“Ah—you’re sunshine?” He blinks and points at the sky. “Like from there… warm, kind—tender… one of my favourite things. But also like fruit, but can’t call you banana!”

Your eyes widen, “What?”

“Call me Steve, Steve is nickname… you have nickname too.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. “What?”

Steve laughs. “Broken record! Like radio at home—always repeat and repeat same thing. Will teach sunshine how to swing from vines, easy way to get around. Fast.” He’s giddy, already climbing up a tree to detangle one of the thicker vines, “wait here, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, scaling the tree and maneuvering through the branches with the same fluidity as one of the wild animals.

Now alone, you’re surrounded by the music of the jungle that always faded into the background when Steve was present. You sit on a log, taking off your boot and shaking the dirt and rocks that crept in before putting them back on. Thankfully, the sun is peeking through the trees, bestowing yellow rays on your face. Soaking it in, you lean back on your hands.

The snap of a twig has you looking up the tree, but spotting no sign of Steve. You had no clue why he was taking so long.

Another sound occurs, this time the rustle of a bush. You turn around and through the darkness, you see the faint glowing eyes from behind the shrubs. There’s a faint outline of ears. “Tinkerbell?”

The animal steadily emerges from the shrubbery but cowers back. Their paw only popped out for a moment, too fast for you to see if it was the familiar white keratin.

You sit up at the telltale thud of heavy feet landing and call Steve’s name. Still facing the animal, “I think Tinkerbell came to say hi.”

As he walks around the base of the tree, his body immediately goes rigid, back tense with his shoulders squared. His curious eyes switch to a laser vision, focussed on the animal now a foot from you.

He says your name with a low tone, drawing out each syllable. Reaching a hand for you, but he’s still too far to actually touch you. “Come, now.”

Confused, you face the animal again. Only to realize how foolish you were. This creature was most definitely not Tinkerbell—not even a canine or feline but a species of its own. In fact, it was the biggest of its family.

Its large head tilts as it surveys you. The pupils of its dark brown eyes shift as it steps closer, a terrible scar on one half of its face. The thin mane and short coarse fur in shades of grey with tints of yellow differ against the various dark spots.

Its claws dig into the dirt when it bares its fangs, the hyena narrows its eyes. Drool dripping from its canines, the sharp incisor teeth gleaming in the sunlight. It growls threateningly, sending a shock down your spine.

Then, Steve states the obvious. “Not Tinkerbell.”

Your life starts flashing before your eyes. The most embarrassing moments are easily shadowed by the most wonderful ones, those shared with family and loved ones. Experiencing your early adult life in the big city, making friends with complete strangers and listening to the same three songs on repeat.

Most prominent are your moments with Steve. They gleam amongst the rest, still fresh in your mind and if you try hard enough, you could relive them.

That would be the best way to go. Fading into the memories.

Steve calls your name again, more urgent.

Terror numbs you, tingling your face and immobilizing your bones. Like you’re sewn into the log beneath you, you can’t move. Not even an inch. A still frame in a movie, you were desperately jamming the play button in your mind.

The hyena growls again, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Biting your tongue to muffle your scream. Your shoulders rise and fall in quick fashion, shuttered breaths escaping between chokes. If you didn’t already do your business, you would have emptied your bladder at that moment.

In a split second, it lunges at you with razor claws and an unhinged jaw. One of the nails catches on your collar, tearing the fabric as a massive shadow blocks the sun. It happens too quickly for you to comprehend, you barely catch Steve’s furious expression before he’s tackling the animal, sending them both tumbling through the bushes.

Vicious hisses and loud pounds follow the man and the hyena.

You lurch forward, tripping through the plants and coming upon a small clearing. Immediately, you’re met with a downright brutal fight.

Steve’s monstrous frame allows him to subdue the creature, easily dodging the snapping jaw and shiny claws. His muscles contract under the strain as he repeatedly strikes the animal in the side, pinning it to the soil. Swinging his huge fist back and aimed directly at the jaguar’s chest. Then, he lifts the animal above his head as it roughly squirms, growling and attempting to scratch him before Steve throws the creature straight across the clearing into a tree.

An ear-splitting crack echoes through the jungle, the tree stump split with a dent the size of the animal lying below it. He struggles to stand, still snapping its jaw as Steve draws closer. One final stomp to the head has the animal flopping to the dirt.

Steve darts towards you, snatching your hand. “These pack hunters—need to go, now.” He pulls you hastily after him.

There are bloody scratches down his back and his ribs, in groups of four. No teeth marks from what you could see, although that relief is briskly swept away when another guttural snarl resonates through the wilderness.

Steve only picks up his pace but eventually hauls you into his arms and runs. Given the circumstances, you’d be stupid to make him put you down.

Like nature’s very own haunted maze, with every twist and turn, the animal’s laughter deterred Steve from all directions. The worst part is, you can’t even see them. Only hear their taunts filtering through the jungle trees.

When he sets you down again, your legs are shaking so much that you almost collapse, clutching his forearms for support. He’s speaking to you, but you can’t hear him over the blood rushing through ears.

He cradles your face between his hands, intense eyes begging for you to say something, anything. All you can manage is a quiet whimper.

The next growl comes directly from behind Steve, and that’s when the tears start falling. The giant gradually twists around, feet firmly planted on the jagged floor. Through the hefty leaves surfaces three more pairs of murderous eyes. Automatically, you step backwards, only for Steve to reach behind and press you flat against his back.

“Will fall—stop.”

Finally, fear releases your senses. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the delicate wind ghosting along your skin, and you can hear the rushing water beneath you. The lip of the cliff steady over the rapids.

“Stay behind me, don’t move.”

The marks on his skin are gone, nothing but dried blood streaks in the wake. Your thoughts are whisked away—he doesn’t get sick, he’s inhumanly strong, he heals instantly, he’s survived this long in the wilderness—you thought it was a rumour.

You’re dizzy from the absolute vortex you just went through.

Before you could utter a word, one of the hyenas lunges forward but is flung back with Steve’s fierce kick. He doesn’t look at you when he shoves you aside, his attention locked on the predators. You’re a few feet from the edge of the cliff, torn between crippling fear and utter fascination.

The other two spotted animals stand solid, forelegs longer than their hind legs, incisor teeth snapping menacingly.

Steve was vastly bigger than them, heavier and more muscular—but he was outnumbered.

“Not kind.” Steve crouches down, hunched to stare right back at the circling predators.

Pressure weighing heavy in the air, you scan the hyenas, the hunters as they try to ring around Steve, but he has none of it. Rolling on the ground when one of them pounces for his head, the shrill scrape of its nails catch on the edge before it steadies itself.

Steve has the other pinned down, slamming it into the pile of boulders with thunderous grunts. His hands gripping the neck, squeezing—but the definitive tremble of the Earth has him jumping back. Just in time for a load of rocks to rain down, landing on the hyena. It howls and whines, and the man freezes and his shoulders sag before the other tackles him, slamming him full force into the ground.

Your mind demands to help, do something—so, you dive to the treeline, for a nearby stick. Long and firm enough to be a weapon and as you grab it, a heavy weight lands you on your ass. Another animal, the one booted into the jungle by Steve, is back.

Over your screeching are the brutal gnarls of the hyena. Your back collides with the rough ground as you hold the stick from both ends, sprained wrist throbbing as you struggle to keep the creature at bay with the stick between its teeth. Its saliva dribbles on your face, the stick cracking from the strength of its jaw as your arms tremble under its mass.

Your palms burn as it snatches the stick away, clattering off to the side uselessly. Scrambling backwards, the recognizable pointy surface digs into your spine, killing any faith that you had left.

The hyena bares its devilish canines, mouth unhinged—then it stops short, claws grinding into the ground as it’s hoisted up by its tail and tossed over the cliff. The yowl fading with its descent.

Through your teary vision, Steve stands with a heaving chest, a nasty fresh bite on his shoulder, matching the vibrant red scratches along his once unmarred skin. His hair is messy, eyes hard as he reaches for you, tucking you in to his arms with a relieved sigh.

You hear the pounding of his heart in a frantic rhythm with yours. He breathes into your hair, high-pitched whines vibrate his throat.

You could fall to your knees right there, and you almost do—as a sharp snarl sounds. You desperately wish it's just your mind playing back the trauma, but it’s not. Appearing from the bush are two more hyenas. Blood is visible on one’s teeth, staining the fur around its mouth. The other is wearing that identifying scar on its face.

The man grabs a nearby stick, snapping it over his knee into two. In a flash, he spears one half at the animal, wounding it before it scampers away, crying.

He does the same to the other, but it vaults out of the way. This one, in particular, the one from earlier that tore your shirt has the most ferocious glimmer in its eye—gaze trained on you, the prey, the new addition to the platter. Pure hunger draped in rage—it licks its canines, slobbering on the ragged rock ground.

Steve swings when it pounces, the stick breaks on impact but the hyena doesn’t falter. Simply jumping and latching onto Steve’s arm, brutally dragging him to the ground. The harsh snap could be Steve’s or the creature’s bone breaking. The giant’s consistent strikes land on the face until it unlocks its jaw.

The next moments unfold before your eyes so suddenly, that if you blinked, you would have missed it.

One second, you’re pinned under the brutal nails, its fangs grazing your nose. The next second, you’re gasping for air—terrified, shaking, and most noticeably, alone on the cliff.

Steve and the hyena are tangled, claws tearing skin and terrifying growls paired with rumbling growls. Both of their eyes coloured beastial—feral. Then, Steve disappears over the edge, along with the hyena.

In despair, you spring towards the precipice, landing harshly on your knees but you don't care. Whimpering, you look over the edge, air locked in your throat.

You thank the heavens right there.

His hand is gripping an overgrown root. His hair is tousled, clumps of dirt and moss tangled in the strands and speckles in his beard. Red flush over his cheeks, wide blue eyes staring up at you.

And he smiles. “Okay?”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until one of your tears lands on his face. You reach for him, trying with all your might to lift him.

As soon as Steve’s on solid ground again, you leap into his arms. Wrapping around his figure like a second skin, but you wanted to be closer, deeper until he couldn’t pry you off if he tried.

“I-I thought—fuck,” You hiccup, nestling into his neck, probably slobbering and crying all over him, “—I thought you fell.”

Firm hands squeeze your hips and rub over your back, the man gently shushes. “Didn’t. Said I would protect—meant it.” You’re too busy smothering him to notice he’s kissing your head, trailing down your cheek and nipping the flesh. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you okay?”

Still trembling, you nod. You protest when he sets you down, and cling to his arms. One glance at his body—and the scratches are already starting to heal, on the way to becoming faint marks then fully disappear from his skin.

You curl into yourself as he goes towards the pile of stones, to the abandoned animal, tossing aside the rocks until it wiggles free.

Nose turned high in the air, its once vicious eyes landed on you before Steve steps closer, hiding you behind him. You can’t see his face, but you know it’s screwed in that same threatening expression—the one he greeted you with yesterday. He snarls, his fists clenched tight until the animal scurries away limping.

Once you’re in his arms again, you hum happily. Preening under his affectionate snuggles, you almost lost this man.

Swiftly, you press a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of his lips before burrowing under his jaw again. Digging your fingers into his back, inhaling his musk like an addict. “If you ever do that again, I’m going to—God, I don’t even know what I’d do.”

“Heal fast, not get sick.”

“I know.” You’re greatly thankful for that, who knows the infections he’d get from those wild animals. “I was so,” Hiccuping, you clench him tighter and make the mistake of glancing at the awful bite on his shoulder. Skin tender, flushed bright red and irritated, the blood has started to scab but it still looks painful.

Steve follows your gaze, then tilts up your chin. “I’m okay… would be better if knew you’re okay…”

He smiles small, and you softly trace his dimple. “I’m okay, but I would be better if we went back to your home. I want to look over these marks.” You gesture to his various injuries.

“...but heal fast—”

You cover his mouth, “I don’t care. Take me to your home, and I’ll be perfect, I feel safe there.”

His eyes twinkle, “Safe at my home?”

“And, safe with you. Especially with you, Steve.”

Your journey goes from there. Steve carries you and comfortably traverses the terrain. Stepping over roots and ditches, ducking under low branches and vines. He even picks a flower to put behind your ear, and it’s yellow again.

You slump in his arms, allowing his heat and touch to seep into your nerves, subduing them in a way no one else has.

You can’t imagine what you’d do if you lost him. It ached that everything happened so suddenly too—you didn’t stand a chance to save him, and the loss of his life would be in your hands. Tears start to well in your eyes again, but a hand lightly touches your face.

Steve is looking down at you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He cocks his head.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

Your throat tightens and you tuck your face into his chest, words muffled, “If I lost you.”

The giant’s hand begins massaging the back of your neck. The tension melts away with every circle of his fingertips. “I’m here. Not... I’m not dead… That the best uh, possible-lity. That's the right word?”

“Possibility.”

“Possibility. Best possibility, I’m alive. And, look!” He cranes his neck to peek at your hidden face, with a bright grin. “Alive. Here, now. With you, with sunshine.”

He called you sunshine but he was golden. Illuminating that dark part of your mind, his beams reaching the deepest corners. You can feel his presence in your swelling heart, decorating the walls in his graciousness—making that little place his home.

He left a mark on you and your soul, and you bet he didn’t even know it.

And most times, the best people don’t.

You must have dozed off in his arms because when you open your eyes, his treehouse welcomes your blurry vision. You slip out of his grasp and stretch, yawning as you wait for him to retrieve the vine. But he doesn’t.

“Should go.” Steve refuses to release your hand. He tugs you back into him, eyes darting around the area.

Your legs start to feel weak again, you dreaded another animal attack. “Are the hyenas back?”

Fear creeps back into your head, toeing past that barrier built by Steve and you assume the worst. Maybe the pack of hyenas are back for seconds and they brought certain friends. You’d certainly be outnumbered by the rows of teeth and claws. You anticipate the wet snarling and snapping jaws, but hear a very different sound. Even clicking surrounds you, quiet enough that you strain your ears to hear it.

Circling you and Steve aren’t animals—animals don’t have guns, fully cocked and loaded.

A small cylindrical device rolls towards you and stops a few inches from your feet. Steve moves to shove you behind him just as the deafening bang and blinding flash erupts. And just like that, you’re entirely disoriented. Your ears are ringing, the sound bouncing off the walls of your skull and you’re bent forward with watery eyes.

The blond is the same. Hands covering both his ears, rapidly blinking to see through the sudden smoke. He’s too confused to fight off the agents that come rushing from the treeline.

Strategically, one of them tries to snatch you away, while four people latch onto Steve, yanking him the other way. You dig your feet into the dirt and try to shake off the fuzzy feeling in your head. You helplessly watch, though it’s all distorted like there’s doubles of everything and all sounds muffled like you’re underwater.

One of the agents tries to inject the over-six-foot man, but Steve elbows their middle, the needle falling to the ground. The rest of the operatives attempt to pin him down, one locks their arm around his neck while the others restrain his arms. Steve lets out a strangled growl as he lands on his knees, his eyes squeezed shut.

“—Hey, get off of him!” You wrestle with the arms holding you back, “Let go of him, you’re scaring him!”

A gunshot fires, stopping your heart.

“No shooting—what the hell are you thinking!” A bold voice booms.

That same voice calls your name as the owner steps into your line of view. Tony tells the man to release you. You’re still roughly squirming when he does, and without him holding you up, you tumble into Tony. Your wrist bends awkwardly and you cry out, the pain increasing tenfold.

An array of grunts, groans and one conclusive crack later, you see Steve standing above an agent with their collar in his fist. The rest of them are lying on the ground, moving but clearly hurt in some way.

You’re frozen as you watch Steve rear back his fist, panic wrapping around your throat, cutting your voice.

In the blink of an eye, loud electric sounds break the tension and Steve hunches over, a pained groan pushing out from his clenched jaw as the agent scurries away. On his side are glowing blue probes, a high-pitched buzz filling the air as black boots land on the dirt.

Steve slowly stands to his feet and tears the electroshock bites from his skin, leaving red welts in its wake. They heal immediately.

Everyone collectively inhales as Steve turns around, his face screwed darkly. The ground trembling with his growl.

The familiar redhead stands prepared, steely green eyes set on the giant. Swiftly, she reaches behind her back and whips out batons, one in each hand as they glow with electricity.

You’re about to throw yourself between your best friend and Steve, but Dr. Banner beats you to it. Both his hands are raised, palms open in surrender as he forces their attention on him. Natasha returns Steve’s deadly glare, her red lips sealed tight while he flares his nostrils, stepping forward until Dr. Banner’s hand meets his chest.

“Move.” It’s a single word but it’s spoken with such dominance, Dr. Banner’s hand almost lowers.

He’s quick to recover, eyes darting between the superhuman and the assassin. “No, no, you two aren’t going to hurt each other—calm down, Steven.”

His broad shoulders rise and fall with each dense breath, muscles flexing as his face twists in disgust. “Said move.” He draws closer as both of Dr. Banner’s hands press to his chest.

You don’t know what you do, but Steve’s eyes flash in your direction. Narrowing as they drop to your body that’s too close to Tony’s for his liking. Then, he sidesteps Dr. Banner and escapes his grasp. He yanks you into his body, protectively pinning you against him.

In distaste, he wrinkles his nose. “Don’t touch. Ever.”

Everyone has different reactions. Most are utterly puzzled and suspiciously gazing between you and the blond beast of a man. Tony has one eyebrow raised, same as Dr. Banner who’s mouth was agape.

Natasha turns to you, concern taking over her features as she says your name, just as confused as everyone else. She reaches for you.

“No—mine.” The giant snaps. “Only mine.”

You flinch as another slam echoes through the plane. Nearly shaking the aircraft with the force. Tony stands to shut the door as if it would muffle the obvious struggling. He clears his throat, “How was the weather out there?”

Sinking in your seat, you examine the new bandage around your wrist. “Is small talk the only reason you brought me here? You do understand he’s only going to tear apart those restraints you slapped on him, right?”

Maybe a sick part of you wanted to see that.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry. We’ll get you safe and sound in his beefy arms again. After we have a little conversation.”

“Not little in the slightest.” Dr. Banner pipes up, sipping on his coffee as steadily as he can. “Steven will have to be patient.”

Tony eyes the shirt you’re wearing, “He brought you to his home?”

You nod, thankful the tear is not directly exposing your breast. You didn’t need Tony seeing you exposed too. You hope Dr. Banner forgot, but the way his cheeks heated up as you fidgeted made you doubt it.

Tony leans to the side, covering his mouth but still speaks loud and clear. “He never brought you home, huh?”

Dr. Banner sighs, “I’m not a woman.”

“Or he just didn’t think you were pretty.”

“Shall we start from the basics?” Dr. Banner flips open the document before him, ignoring Tony’s take it away, Jolly Green. “Uh, communication. Limited vocabulary as of now—”

“—Though he seems to like the word mine. Huh, Doc?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose. “You’re lucky I’ve grown used to your lighthearted perspective.”

As Tony opens his mouth with a snarky reply on his tongue, another thud sounds through the jet. His watch flashes and he glances at it, cringing. “Yikes, seems that the beast has knocked out another agent, what’s that make his count? Three?”

“If you don’t want it to get any higher—you should continue.” You cross your arms, facing Dr. Banner again. “Please.”

“Right. Sign language was the first step, we didn’t know if he developed vocally since he’d only make grunts, hoots—very similar to the gorillas and monkeys in the area.”

Peter and Wendy, you didn’t even get to say goodbye before you and Steve were forcefully escorted into the plane for the first flight back to the city. You could only imagine what the camp looked like now—if anyone even knew you were missing.

“He used it with a monkey.”

Clapping his hands, Tony beams. “Well, isn’t that a delightful surprise? I think you’ve found your own Disney prince, Doc. Prince Steven of the jungle has a nice ring to it.”

“He prefers Steve.” You correct.

The two men look at you, then at each other. Tony slowly nods, accepting with a low hum. “How do you know that?”

“I asked him.”

He raises his hands, “Fair enough. No further questions. Bruce?”

The brunet frowns, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t ask him, I’ve called him Steven this entire time. Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“You should ask the fella himself—” Another loud bang, and another blip on his watch, “—alright, down goes Freddie, where were we?” He snatches the folder, flipping through the pages.

Admittedly, you were feeling guilty about the agents piling up in the infirmary but a part of you needed this conversation to happen. The curiosity eating you alive—that your own bosses were on the island for a wildly different purpose, not for plants or water samples, but for a whole man.

“How did you know someone was living here? If not your satellites, then how?” You inquire.

“Why do you think we were there?” Tony shoots back.

“Definitely not to research an unknown island discovered by one of Stark’s wondrous satellites.”

Dr. Banner clears his throat and tugs at the sleeves of his button-up, a habit of his. “You, along with many other people, may have been under the impression that this expedition was very sudden. Which isn’t true.”

“The island was not undiscovered—okay, it was but it was purposefully uncharted. Under Stark Industries, actually, my father was planning on using it for reasons way above your paygrade.”

You make a face. “And knowing about Steve isn’t?”

“In due time, the public will know about him too, and I’m not paying them hundreds of thousands of dollars a year,” Tony states matter-of-factly, with that same smart-ass attitude you’ve grown to tolerate. Only because it suits him. “We’ve been studying the island from afar for over a year before deciding to physically visit it. I’ve had drones and bots gather samples, videos and photographs.” He lists on his fingers, “We were never solely interested in the flora and fauna. Nor the animals either. Obviously.”

“When the shield files were released—a lot of theories were proven to be true.” Dr. Banner purses his lips. “Although, we were able to bury a few again, wiping them from the Internet before people had the chance to search through and find them.”

“A lot of bribing too. Not as massive a dent compared to last year's Christmas shopping.”

Exasperated, Dr. Banner continues. “Decades ago, the Erskine formula was successfully developed. I’m sure that after spending almost a day with Steve that you’ve noticed some peculiar traits.” Dr. Banner pushes his glasses up his nose, his salt and pepper hair falling over his forehead, “Enhanced body functions like his metabolism and senses. Peak human strength, speed, agility, recovery—he isn’t absolutely immune to physical injuries but he’s insusceptible to any diseases or infections, and he heals incredibly fast. His mental processing should be advanced, but we aren’t sure about that yet.”

“You’re forgetting durability and reflexes—oh, and stamina. Does that please you, Doc?”

Instead of replying, you roll your eyes. Tony just laughs.

“We haven’t been able to test his photographic memory which was among the list of the conditions of the serum.”

Another loud thump and Tony checks his watch, sighing. He turns his attention to you, tsking. “Your boyfriend is a menace.”

“Has he had the serum his whole life? And he isn’t my boyfriend.” You grumble.

“According to the files, he was given the formula as a child.” Dr. Banner slides the document to you.

Your eyes scan over the pages. There’s a grey picture of a young boy in the corner, his full name, along with a birthday in July and two bolded names, sharing the same family name: Rogers.

“Doctor Rogers was able to recreate Erskine’s formula—down to a T. She worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. at the time,” his brown eyes flicker to Tony, who was busy twiddling a pen between his fingers, “she was also fairly close with Howard Stark while she was an intern.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Not in that way, geez, you couldn’t explain it any better?” Tony scoffs, “close, as in, she was appointed to lead the re-creation of the Erskine formula. Super smart woman, quite remarkable credentials, if you asked me.”

“There were a multitude of theories surrounding the circumstances of her and her husband's disappearance. Ranging from kidnapping and ransom, to experiments gone wrong, even, uh, an assassination from a certain soldier—all of which turned out to be false. But the overall speculation of the serum being recreated was in fact true.”

“I thought it was just a rumour.” You mutter, glaring at the printed words on the pages. Several stand out to you: Hydra, fled, missing.

Tony noisily opens a bag of nuts, offering you some that you take. Chewing, he hums, “long story short, they were being hunted by all sorts of people, obviously very terrible people, so they ran off to an island my father had. Uncharted, secret, the perfect place to hide. The whole existence of the island was kept under wraps, until a group of researchers went on a trip only to never be heard from again.”

“What?” Your breath hitches.

“—He’s lying, there were no missing researchers,” Dr. Banner scolds, “I swear, you can’t be serious for five minutes?”

Two more loud bangs echo through the plane, and yet again, Tony checks his watch. “Jesus, this man is brutal. Okay, there are going to be more agents unconscious than conscious if we don’t hurry this up. Chop, chop.”

“To correct what he said—the island was actually documented because Doctor Rogers was very valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D. although her files were heavily redacted. Vague mentions of an unknown island, off the grid and scheduled supply drops. Any evidence of the serum project was buried deep.”

Your throat constricts, head throbbing dully. “What happened to them?”

Dr. Banner reaches over and takes the folder, closing it with a sigh. “We don’t know for sure, since they suddenly stopped reporting back.” He looks over at Tony, gesturing between them, “we hypothesize that someone came clean about their whereabouts to the wrong people, the very ones who were hunting Doctor Rogers.”

“Located and taken, in shorter, blunt terms.” Tony’s forehead is knitted tight, “we assume without the formula, seeing that there aren’t evil super-soldiers running around and Hydra isn’t the supreme worldwide leader. Because that would be a nightmare itself.”

“The Rogers’ haven’t been seen since—neither the squad sent to capture them.” Dr. Banner adds, “Several shipping accidents were reported around the time they went missing—Uh, Tony?”

The other man clears his throat, “To be clear, we’re still searching the surrounding oceans. But, thirty-plus years at sea, the chances are…” he trails off, uncomfortable shifting in his seat.

Starting to connect the dots, everything seems to make sense now. Most notably, the absent serum and a genetically enhanced man. They gave the formula to their only child, but why?

“Also, the serum is definite—so it’s not the jungle that gave him those spicy muscles.” Tony smirks, “Whether he chooses to eat fruits or whatever ‘junk food’ exists in the wilderness, he’d be the same.”

You could only guess the Rogers’ reasons. Perhaps for his survival, even though they could have destroyed it. Hopefully, they didn’t do it with cruel intentions—for Hydra. But you aren’t positive, so you ask.

“They didn’t know about Hydra under S.H.I.E.L.D.—they strictly thought they were working for a good cause.” Tony answers, “I can see that look in your eyes, they loved Steve. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for him.”

You knew that now, and it wasn’t your place to say whether or not parents cared for their child, but you couldn’t help it. “They experimented on him.” You conclude. “A child who could barely speak—let alone understand what’s happening to him.”

Poor, sweet Steve, he must’ve been so confused and afraid.

It’s tense for a few seconds as you try to organize your thoughts. So scattered on the floor of your mind, you’re sifting through everything to make sense of the information dumped on you.

“They left him letters.” Dr. Banner speaks up, pointing to the document. “The photocopies are in there. But Steven—Steve can’t read yet. So, I’ve been holding back. It wouldn’t be fair for anyone else to read them, even if it was for him.”

“That’s the last thing they left him?”

Tony nods, his hands clasped on the table. “Some old family polaroids were all that we found, they were sealed in an album. Everything else must’ve been destroyed by the wildlife or nature. There were barely any signs of humans when we sent the first drone.”

“How many people know?”

The two men exchange pointed looks, having a nonverbal conversation right in front of you. Finally, after an array of raised and wrinkled eyebrows, Tony speaks.

“Well, counting you—us, a few other scientists, the kid, and the team back home. Of course, everyone on this plane, but they’re all agents so they’re sworn to secrecy.”

“The team back home?”

Tony sighs exaggeratedly. “Must I tell you everything—on second thought, don’t answer that.” He begins counting on his fingers, “Director Fury, Hill, Barton, pretty sure Barnes knows but he hasn’t outright said it.”

“And, Natasha knew the whole time.” You’re bewildered that your best friend knew the purpose of a trip you went on, she wasn’t even invited! Or she was and was laying low in a hidden tent. You wouldn’t be surprised. “Was she here the whole time?” The suspicion is audible in your tone.

“Not until this afternoon, these past four weeks she’s been in sweet, sweet civilization. Sipping on margaritas and grilling fresh paninis.”

A series of louder bangs shake the plane—and heavy footsteps stomp straight to the door.

The door handle rattles before it’s swung open, slamming into the wall behind it, denting it.

The tall blond stands there. The remains of the high-tech restraints around his wrists like bracelets. The button-up shirt taut against his shoulders and biceps, the fabric nearly bursting at the seams. His loincloth switched out for an actual pair of pants, that did little to conceal his thick thighs—and his gracious gift.

You helped change him in the back room. Forcing him into clothes felt like going against your own morals but everyone collectively agreed he needed something more than the tiny cloth around his waist. You remember helping him into pants, his bare cock inches from your face—you felt hot and bothered when you noticed it was slightly hard.

You almost slip into that foggy state of mind but a slew of agents pop up behind Steve, at the front is Natasha wiping a bloody nose.

Tony stands, hands on his hips. “All right! That’s it—the beast is in an extended timeout.”

The fearful expressions that take over the agents’ faces is almost hilarious. They all take a few steps back, wide eyes flickering between Steve and Tony. One of them even shakes their head.

“Ugh, what the hell are you all being paid for, then?”

Dr. Banner rushes to stand, taking Steve’s arm. “Perhaps it’s best that he just sits here with us.” He’s gentle, shutting the door and bringing Steve into the room and Natasha follows, her eyes meeting yours. “Right, Steve? I’m assuming you just wanted to see her.” He points to you.

Then, Steve is grabbing you. Lifting you from your chair and taking your spot, plopping you on his lap. Nuzzling into your neck and grumbling as if no one is there watching.

Awkwardly, you pat his head. “Uh…”

“Not your boyfriend, huh?”

“Boyfriend?” Steve repeats, the first words he’s spoken since stepping foot on the plane. He pulls away from your neck, only to rub his beard on your face. “Mhm, mine.”

Tony hums in amusement. “Well, when you have a romantic or sexual relationship, you’re someone’s partner or companion—boyfriend is a possible title, and so is girlfriend.”

“Girl-friend.” Steve pronounces. “Romantic…”

“As in expressions of love.” Tony was adoring this. “Embracing, kissing, cuddling. Gift-giving—like courting, hugging, maybe flowers. Hm, lap sitting, intimate snuggling. Like what you’re doing right now.”

Steve’s eyes glimmer, a tiny smile appearing on his once grumpy pout. “Flowers? Gave you flowers. You gave me flowers too, sunshine.”

“Sunshine! That’s just lovely!” Tony gushes.

Dr. Banner thankfully steps in. Successfully deterring the conversation away from Steve nipping on your skin, kissing your neck, and keeping the giant from asking Tony what other things partners do together.

Natasha stays by the door, arms crossed and silent but her eyes are hinting at the millions of questions you know you’ll be grilled with later.

Dr. Banner sits down again, sliding a cup of water to Steve, although he’s too wrapped in you to care. “We’ve been sending bots to the island for the past few months to avoid any harm for all parties. It’s safe to say that Steve has improved immensely in that regard. The first few—”

“—fifteen—” Tony mutters.

“—he attacked, easily squashed millions of dollars with his bare hands like it was nothing.” Dr. Banner’s gaze falls to the giant arms around your waist, “I suppose he can be… delicate when he wants.”

Steve grunts, manhandling you around until he can muzzle into your chest. Nose buried very close to your breasts. His hot breath seeped through your shirt, and he just stays there. Content with his eyes shut.

“Girlfriend—boyfriend… Mhm.” He mumbles. “No one touch, right?“

You shake your head.

He snuggles into your shirt. “Good. Just mine.”

Oh goodness, why did you find that attractive?

“He was very anxious at first. Eventually, he grew to trust the bots and was actively interacting with them. I controlled them remotely. He started picking up different mannerisms and behaviours briskly—standing on two feet instead of a crouched position, his posture improved greatly as well.”

“He used to run around naked sometimes. So, good luck with that, Doc.” Tony laughs madly while Dr. Banner has red cheeks and is intently staring at the table.

The laugh that joins Tony’s is from behind you, undoubtedly the redhead who found humour in your current embarrassment. You’d glare at her, but Steve’s hold was firm.

“Eventually, we decided it was time to take it to the next level and formally introduce ourselves. And hope that he won't tear us in half. The serum altered every part of him, his genes were enhanced exceptionally. Regardless of missing key developmental stages, he’s still able to remedy those in a way.”

“Man-beast isn’t a lost cause.” Tony summarizes, “Far from it, actually. He learns things very fast, despite not being taught how to speak when he was younger, he understood speech, grammar, tone, even sarcasm, like it was nothing. But he has trouble using it himself, but hey, practice makes perfect.”

“It’s remarkable. We’ll do tests when we get back to Manhattan. Should be fairly quick—oh, and you’ll have to be present so he doesn’t… go out of control again.”

You’re in the cafeteria stirring a pot of soup when the elevator dings open. Tony and Dr. Banner waltzes in with an array of books. Stacked to their chins, all differing in colours and widths.

“Another day, another random question from the man-beast. Today, he asked me what fuck was.”

As if on cue, a voice echoes after him as a body emerges from the elevator. “Fuck!”

You hope the world could swallow you whole.

“What did you tell him?” You’re already prepared for the mass of muscles that encloses your body, lifting you off the ground in a suffocating but lovely hug. He’s shirtless, you don’t know how or why because before you left, he was wearing a tight t-shirt.

Steve settles you down and pats your head. Moving to the stove to taste the soup.

Tony slams the books on the counter, grinning wildly. “Both definitions, he only knew of the curse. He was absolutely curious about the other version, asking very detailed questions about the birds and the bees. I answered to the best of my ability, but brought in a specialist and told him to stay away from the internet for help.” He smirks at you, tutting his tongue, “Don’t worry, Doc, I’ve got you. Only healthy sex here.”

“You can leave if you’re done.” Your voice is muffled by your hands, you peer through your fingertips.

“Hey, now, don’t you want to know what’s going to happen to your boyfriend?”

It’s been a little over three days since you returned to civilization. Three days of Steve flipping his temporary room upside down whenever you left for work or to just get space—get your mind out of the gutter when he’d grind all over you in his sleep. These three days felt like a month. Being in constant worry that Steve would harm people—but with you in the room, he’s obedient and follows instructions from the scientists.

It was also an advantage that Dr. Banner was always present in the room. Someone who was familiar and had a connection with Steve. You thought it was fine, but yesterday, you had to run downstairs in your towel after FRIDAY alerted you that Steve broke a table.

You wanted to stay with him all the time but today you had gone out for lunch with Natasha for a very mandatory conversation. Thankfully, it was more heartfelt than angry. The truth coming from both sides, you telling your wild adventure in the jungle and her confessing that she knew about Steve. She teased you as much as Tony, clever quips about your lover—you don’t know why she called him that, the two of you haven’t even made-out.

Then, she was called for an abrupt mission down in India and left within an hour.

You didn’t know how she did it sometimes.

“What’s going to happen to him now?” You try to remain indifferent but fail miserably.

They wouldn’t send him back to the jungle, but then what options were left? Keep him captive, or experiment on him, or tell the media and stir up one of the biggest storms in the century.

Dr. Banner takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Well, it depends. It’s not a secret that he’s formed an attachment to you, specifically. You weren’t even the first woman he’s seen, so it’s not because of that.”

Well, that boosted your ego.

So did Steve’s delighted hum as he shovels more soup in his mouth. Still hot on the stove.

“You’ve got the golden stamp of approval from the beast. So, I guess your feelings are reciprocated.”

You cover your face with your hands, groaning.

“It’s not bad!” Dr. Banner affirms, “I mean, you two having… feelings for each other. Quite the opposite—it’s motivational for him, but our studies have shown that he's progressed immensely. Academically, language, writing, he’s set to start reading fluency level books next week.”

Tony holds up a hand, silencing the man. “Bruce, you’re taking away the magic.”

“What I mean to say is that this could be the best thing for Steve.”

Hands grip your hips as a hard chest presses against your back. “Missed you.”

“And yourself, Doc. When was the last time you went on an actual date?”

“Tony!”

“What? It’s an innocent question.”

“With ulterior motives. You’re match-making.”

“Oh, what match-making is left to be done when he’s doing that!” Tony points to Steve peppering kisses all over your head, grumbling affectionately.

“I think you’ll be pleased to know that we’ve set up a floor in the tower; optional soundproofing, specialized tempered window with projection, reinforced furniture and a cookbook—Steve requested that, oddly enough. Oh, and mind the area right by the elevator, it’s monitored twenty-four-seven—all other rooms are private.”

You shoot up, eyes bouncing between both of the distinguished men. “Oh—wow, thank you, Tony.”

That little temporary room in the basement was horrible, but you’d never say that. It was put together during the flight back and only consisted of a bed, desks, a television and a bathroom. All the food was delivered, and at first, Steve didn’t eat it. Too unfamiliar with the strange platter—until you had him try one spoonful of soup and he loved it.

He demanded soup every morning. Along with fresh fruit, although he was still hesitant to try anything else. He liked bread, though, and pudding. But he would only try new things if you tried it first and made those exaggerated hums.

‘Living’ with Steve for three days wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t easy. He was anxious, you could tell from his hyperventilation, sweaty skin and tense muscles. He couldn’t sleep the first night, kept tossing and turning before lying on the cold ground because the bed was too soft compared to the mattress in his treehouse.

You went with him and curled up together on the ground. Trying to get his mind to relax, you started talking about yourself. Disclosing just every secret you’ve ever had, even the mortifying ones. Steve didn’t judge, he just clutched you tighter and sometimes asked what certain words meant.

The next day, you were exhausted but sat next to Steve while the scientists tested on him. Needle wounds healed in seconds, and he watched as they hauled off his blood samples.

Then, they tested his cognitive skills. They weren’t obnoxious or unfriendly, quite the opposite. More inquisitive and entranced by the giant man who passed every test with flying colours.

Truth be told, you didn’t know Steve was that capable. In the time you spent with him, he asked about things that you would have thought he already knew.

Cute. Beautiful.

You suppose those books in his bookshelf didn’t have anything about that.

“It was Bruce’s idea, actually. Although, I’ll probably take partial credit if anyone asks. Being responsible for the craziest love story of the modern age? Sign me up.”

The brunet leaves, the doors sliding shut behind him. It finally hits you. You’ll be moving into the tower. Sharing an apartment with the fella currently slurping soup behind you.

Soaking in the news dumped over your head like cold water, you lean on the counter. It was relieving that you didn’t have to say goodbye to Steve, or that you had to stand by and watch him be poked and prodded at.

You were falling quick and hard for a man you’ve only known for a few days.

“Thank you, Dr. Banner.”

The man smiles, rubbing your shoulder softly. “C’mon, we’ve known each other for years now and we’re friends, call me Bruce.”

The rain patters against the large floor-to-ceiling windows, a gloomy grey painting the Manhattan sky. The rhythmic splats of the droplets flow over the movie playing on the television, and combined, they make a soft background noise for the thoughts running through Steve’s head. Although, they’re more like fantasies—about you.

The blanket around your shoulders slips and drags the strap of your tank top, revealing the skin of your shoulder. Pretty, Steve would describe that spot, it was a new word he learnt and he thinks it suits the little spot he likes to nuzzle and kiss.

Couples kiss. They hug and cuddle. They exchange sweet touches like secrets that were only for one person. Subtle yet affectionate, and Steve had a problem of letting you a foot out of his reach.

He blames his lack of human touch growing up and that he doesn’t remember his parents. Perhaps he’s making up for it now—those long years alone took a toll on him. He’s scared of letting you go, and every time, he fears that you’d never return. And as a result, he’d be alone again.

That was his worst fear. It was something that hit all too close to home. He never realized how much he liked being around people until he met you. Your presence lit up a place in his heart he didn’t know existed. To be fair, he didn’t know a lot of things existed before you came along.

When he saw you use a blender the first time, he was utterly terrified. The loud noise startled him, and watching the fruits being shredded to bits freaked him out, but then he tried the drink you made and now he has to have a smoothie every day. His favourite new discovery were hair ties, clips and headbands, that you used to keep his hair back and out of his face.

You have always been so kind to him, in his eyes, you could do no wrong. You were patient and lovely, even when he asked a billion questions. Oh, and you were never mean, not like particular animals in the jungle. You were sunshine, warm and good and one of his favourite people.

He can’t help but want to tear those papers from your hand and flop on top of you. Touch you all over and show you just how much you mean to him. His heart yearns for it—he has been longing for your comfort since he met you and he’s never realized until recently.

Lucky, is how he would describe it. Meeting you, coming to the city and staying with you, he feels very lucky.

Across the couch, Steve stares at you. Blue eyes trained on your face as you scan the folder in your lap. You mark a few spots then flip the page.

Very lucky, Steve thinks, is there word for better lucky?

Your shirt slips lower, exposing the top of your breast and he adjusts his crotch, the answers of the specialist heavy in his mind. The knowledge he was struck with was enough to topple him over—and he wanted to test it out, with you. He wanted to be closer than he already was, emotionally and physically.

“What are you staring at?”

Steve stiffens, blinking at you wide-eyed. “Huh?”

You smile and choose not to mention how much shorter the distance between you both was than before. He was sneaky sometimes, but other times, not so much. “You’ve forgotten how to blink, Steve?”

The blond quickly shakes his head, cheeks flushing a bright red. He looks back at the television and scoots another inch closer. “Just… watching screen box.”

“It’s a television.”

“Television. Watching, uh, that.” He points across the room at the movie.

You hum unconvinced and sip your coffee, returning to your work. The projection windows are off and display the city lights and seemingly starless sky, the rain has slowed down. Steve was very thankful for being here, getting to shower with fancy soaps and experiencing new things every day but he didn’t like that you couldn’t see the stars here—every night in the jungle, he went to sleep under their twinkling lights.

It seemed so bare now. Like an unfinished painting, sitting in the corner collecting dust. The sky without the stars was like an empty vase. Of course, it wasn’t useless, but there was nothing to admire, no flowers to smell. And the sky in the city was that, rid of anything to look at and appreciate.

Somehow, Steve’s head turned in your direction again. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you this time, but you haven’t said anything. He grunts, eyes flickering to the screen on the wall showing a collection of moving pictures—a movie, it was a movie. Like in the theatres you spoke about, but for home.

Oh, his home, his jungle. His friends.

He almost reaches for you right then, whenever he gets upset, you always manage to make him feel better. Sometimes you’d talk about random things, the sound of your voice soothed that rushing water in his mind, as your delicate fingers combed through his hair. He always fell asleep whenever you did that. It calmed him deeply.

But right now, soft touching like that wouldn’t relax him. He wanted—he needed something more. He needed to finally experience you.

Although, he wishes the two of you were back in his treehouse. His little home that was crafted by his own two hands. That would complete him, feeling you so intimately in his place of growth. He’d make it special too. Decorating with flowers and little coconut half potted plants, he’d also find a way to close off the windows so Wendy and Peter didn’t barge in.

Steve could only imagine how beautiful you’d look under the moonlight, bare for him, your heart, soul and body naked for his eyes.

But if you two were back in the jungle, experiencing you wouldn’t be number one on his list.

First, he’d want to see his friends. Check on that baby elephant in the herd, the bird’s nest, the parrot and his little tree. Most importantly, Wendy, Peter and Tinkerbell. He couldn’t express how much he missed them but he thinks you can tell. And he was right because you’d always ask if he’d like to go to the observational room with all the drone feed. But they never spotted anything the first few times which was disheartening.

Up until yesterday, when they caught a glimpse of a monkey wearing a scarf. Steve didn’t stop smiling the whole day. It was nice to know that they were all right since he’s explicitly aware of the dangers that lurk in the wilderness.

Although, he does wish he said goodbye. Or at least had the chance to tell them he might not come back.

Steve had a lot of wishes, some he didn’t even know.

His mind was like that a lot—putting thoughts into words was hard, saying those thoughts were even worse. But he was trying, that was all that counted, and you continued to be his number one fan.

That was also why you were currently marking his ‘homework.’

It’s been over a week since you’ve both moved into the tower officially. Domestic life suited you, in the only misshapen way it could given your circumstances.

Steve hasn’t been out into the world yet, the team is still working out how to tell the press about a genetically enhanced man in the wilderness. And a little part of you wanted to keep him to yourself, the inevitable buzz that would surround him could potentially be overwhelming. Plus, you adored having the big fella all to yourself.

He hasn’t been too eager to go outside either. It was too unfamiliar, too loud and bright sometimes. Right now, he much prefers staying inside with you. Especially since you had started to do all your work here with him when he wasn’t doing tests in the laboratory.

It was nice, strange, and foreign, but it was okay.

Specifically, this floor in the tower was strikingly different from his treehouse.

In place of the logs and slabs of wood were sleek countertops and plush cushions. Opened holes in the walls were now thick planes of glass—that could show things like a television! He was astounded. The options were endless; an ocean view, beach sunrise and sunset, different places in the world that he’s never seen before and, his favourite, the jungle.

There was a cold box in the kitchen, it had food of all sorts, solids and liquids. Most of which he hasn’t tried, maybe one day, but that’s not the thing he wants on his tongue today. Especially after that in-depth conversation with a certain specialist.

Looking at you, Steve feels that same tingling sensation in his heart and lower. You’ve been so understanding with him, kind, tender, cute—no, you’re beautiful, more than cute.

He’s seen animals in the jungle mate for life. Those rituals vary, but always with the same end result. Two beings together and untied to each other.

Simply enough, he wanted that with you.

It was one of the few things he knew without anyone telling him. Just a sheer want and desire to call you his, and for you to call him yours, for forever and a day.

He thinks you’re getting it. He’s tried to cook you breakfast—right now, all he can do is make those packets of oatmeal with water from the kettle—it just warms up water? How?—and toast, and you were so thankful for it, and for him when he sits on the side of your shared bed with a tray and a smile.

He’s cuddled you, wrapping around you tight to keep you safe from all threats, including the cold because Steve did not like the cold. He kissed you, rubbed all up on you, most of the time just because he wanted to and he’s addicted to your scent.

He’s doing everything he’s researched about romantic relationships, gaining knowledge from both people and asking FRIDAY—who was just a voice without a body to him, but she was very smart, so he tried not to be too freaked out when her voice sounded out of nowhere.

To him, you two have a connection. A relationship? Boyfriend and Girlfriend? Companions—Steve liked that word a lot.

Your connection was mutual that involved lots of touching and him following you around like a lost puppy. He tends to just linger with you while you do work, like now. Usually, he’s quiet—as quiet a man over 6 feet could be—sometimes he would do his own ‘homework.’ This time, he hasn’t been able to sit still.

He wants you. He wants you more than he wants to see the stars. Maybe that’s because you’re more beautiful than the stars, but he won’t tell them that—they might get jealous since he used to talk to them at night in the jungle.

“Can I ask something?”

You nod, turning your attention to him.

Steve scoots closer until your arms touch. He looks at you, then your body, and back to your face. If he didn’t have such a prominent tent in his pants, you’d ask him what he wanted, but you already knew.

He’s been making offhand comments—as subtle as he could be. Touching you until you wake up, just tracing his hands over your body, gripping the soft parts. Mentioning romantic actions like kissing or holding hands. Both of which he did quite often with you. Although, his kisses were never firmly on your lips, mostly on the corner of your mouth or your cheeks, sometimes just any part of you he could reach.

“Know in that movie… they, uh, kissed?” Obvious as ever, his gaze falls to your lips as he licks his own.

You decide to save him the trouble. “You want to do that with me?”

More than anything. “Want to do everything with you.” Steve murmurs, leaning closer, “please? Know lots, tried to—I understand now. Want to… experience you.”

When he kisses you, you can’t help but giggle against his lips. Even though you told him there was no pressure to be perfect around you—the stiffness catches you off guard, making you pull away after he just pressed closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheeks.

“You can open your mouth.”

“...Oh, forgot.” He blushes beautifully, hand tightening on your waist. “Try again? Will be better?”

“You don’t have to be better—if that’s how you want to kiss, I’m fine with it.” You were just glad he finally took that step, not that you couldn’t but you were scared of taking advantage of the poor man. At least when he made the conscious decision to take it one step further, your guilt disappeared. You trace his pouty lips to his thick beard, thankful he didn’t have to shave or cut his hair. “We could have our own way to kiss.”

“No—want to taste you.” His voice deepens, lashes fluttering as he flips around. Your back flops on the couch, a little squeal escaping your lips. “Here,” He touches your mouth, trailing his finger down the buttons of your shirt to the heat between your thighs, “and here.”

When he kisses you the second time, it’s different. He’s less tense, more relaxed as he hesitatingly parts his lips as you do the same. You take control, tongue slipping into his mouth, delicately massaging his. Tasting him. Steve groans, the lower half of his body drops and squishes you, his head tilting to the side as he becomes more confident.

One of his hands slips behind your head, maneuvering you and dipping your head back. He takes over the kiss, almost naturally, plump lips sliding along yours, wet sucking noises flowing in the air. He drinks you up, becoming more eager and intense as the seconds drag on.

His groin presses into your clothed cunt with slow innate grinding motions. He grunts, cock quickly stiffening in his pants, rubbing against your covered folds with every drag.

His breathing gets heavier. The once shy kiss grows into a sloppy exchange, messy and wet. His tongue slides into your mouth, making your thighs tighten around his narrow hips. A heat blooming from your chest, down to your stomach and your pussy. The longing, the desire that’s been built up since you met him is being satisfied. Rightfully so, with no wrongdoing lurking around the corner—but just the two of you, and the perfect sin.

Steve forces himself away, his lips are swollen and eyes wide. “Taste your—” he nods between your legs, he tries to recall what the specialist called it, “—uh, vagina, please?”

Your heart swells and you laugh lightly. “Yes, Steve.” You run your fingers through his hair that’s fallen over his face, “You can call it other things, you know?”

“I know… Specialist gave lots of words to use. Just wanted to say correct one—learnt it in science.”

He was the only man who could make you into a dripping wet and giggly mess. He was going to be your undoing, and it was only the beginning. And you couldn’t wait for what the future held, the anticipation was prickling along your skin.

Steve has never had a woman, touched one, tasted one.

As half of your clothes fall to the floor, your lower half is naked before his dark eyes. You feel him lift your legs over his shoulders as his breath hits your hot centre. For a moment, he just lies there, inches from your cunt, your most sensitive part before leaning forward. You cry out as his tongue swipes up your slit, his hands pinning your thighs to the couch. A tentative lick, and another until building a pattern. Your wetness on his taste buds only fuels the fire in his belly.

It makes sense that he’s very generous and takes his sweet time experiencing you. Treating it like a little lesson, and learning as he goes. Figuring out what makes you wet, and moan the loudest.

Very lightly, his teeth drag along your inner thighs, nipping as they trail across your skin. Here between your legs is where your scent is the most prominent, and he’s drunk on it.

“Took so long to do this—smells so good, tastes even better.” He speaks against your wetness, the roughness of his beard brushing your folds. He mouths at your cunt, slurping and greedily savouring you. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you in his mouth, or the high-pitched moans escaping your lips. “Want more.”

He hums, nosing at your folds before licking up your juices sloppily, perking up when you cry out. “Okay?”

You make the mistake of looking at him, his cheeks flushed red with your arousal in his beard and around his lips. He’s barely started—and he’s already proven how much of a messy eater he is. “I-I’m okay. That just felt really good.”

Steve’s eyes drop between your legs, your pussy shining with your juices—that tastes delicious in his opinion—as it drips to the cushions, staining the fabric. He grunts, ticked off as your slick gets wasted before his eyes.

So he dives forward, mouth open and heavy tongue collecting the wetness. Digging in deep, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pierces into your hole. His guttural groans vibrate through your body, his fingertips bruising your thighs.

“Ooh, f-fuck,” Your voice trembles, hands shooting down to grip his hair. He’s greedy with it, facial hair rubbing your poor folds raw as he suckles on your cunt. Tugging your clit between his lips when you moan loudly.

“This is sensitive? Think that’s what I remember.” He asks, pulling away for a breath before leaning forward again, flicking his tongue against your nub. An appreciative grunt rumbling his chest when your hands tug on his hair.

“Uh-huh,” your breath hitches. Eyes fluttering shut as pleasure washes over you.

“Focus on it…” Steve says to himself. Kissing your pussy, especially your clit. Slowly, one of his fingers circles your opening, gathering your slick before slipping in. “What about this? Said fingers help too.” His voice dies at the end, attention tunnelling on your tight hole stretching around one of his fingers. As he pulls back, it’s covered in your juices so he sucks it clean before penetrating you again. He goes deeper this time, hungry for more of you.

His bearded cheek rubs against your inner thigh as he inhales deeply, your scent taking over his senses—all he can think of is you, how you feel on his tongue and fingers, your smell, your taste—he can’t get enough.

He’ll never get enough.

And you were going to be destroyed.

You gasp when his pouty lips suckle on your clit again and his two fingers curiously feel inside of you. Swirling and brushing along your walls. He’s moving slowly and thoroughly, his dark gaze set on your reactions. So, when his digits press up and touch a part that feels different from the rest, and your thighs snap shut around his head, Steve knows he did something good.

He touches that special spot, tonguing your nub as you get wetter and he catches every last bit. He’d be damned if he wasted even a drop.

His own groans are muffled by your cunt. “Like that?”

Your hips lift off the cushion, tiny whimpers escaping your throat as you nod desperately.

He manhandles you until your ass is off the couch, your bottom half supported by him. At this angle, he looks ten times bigger. Muscles bathed in the warm light as he looms above you, strong but gentle, bare chest rising and falling in time with yours.

Big hands folding your thighs to your chest, pussy soaked with your slick and his saliva. You’re exposed to the open air and his inquisitive, yet wild eyes.

Once again, his thick and long fingers thrust into you. Curling up as he experiments with speed and power, figuring out what motions you like the most.

He even spreads his fingers in you, groaning lowly as your juices spill out.

“Then, I won’t stop.” He promises, not even realizing he’s grinding on the couch, cock rock hard and throbbing between his thighs. “Won’t stop until you push me away—maybe not even then, but will try.”

Steve has been deprived of pleasure for his whole life, never knowing what to do when his cock got hard, most times he’d just ignore it. But now, with you under him—your trembling frame, wet centre between your thighs and scent were an awakening. His awakening to a pure form of intimacy.

He was strung between heightened and clouded senses—on one side, he could feel every twitch of your body, taste you so deeply and feel you the same, but on the other side, he couldn’t focus on one part of you, his motions feel natural but out of control, hands running up and down your sweat body as his eyes dart between your pussy, blissed-out face and now naked chest.

He reaches up and gropes one of your breasts, pinching your nipple and feeling the weight in his hand.

You lose your mind with his touch and his mouth on your cunt. Tongue flicking against your clit between harsh suckles, saliva dripping down and mixing with your juices.

“The wetter the better? I like when really wet…” He lifts up and a dribble of spit lands on your pussy.

Without waiting for your reply, he dives forward again. His bulging muscles and tall frame allow him to manhandle you how he wants. Suddenly, you’re hovering over his face, taken aback at how fast this escalated.

“Uh, Steve—ah!” You’re cut off by a loud moan, choking out his name a second time as he pulls you firmly on his face.

His tongue enters you again, spearing deep as his facial hair rubs against your folds. It burns, and you’re addicted to it. Back arching as you brace yourself on the arms of the couch, thighs tensing as he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. He’s animalistic, his gaze intently watching you gasp for air, eyes struggling to stay open.

He grinds up, cock weeping in his pants—he wants to touch it, but he’s far more focussed on you. Sucking your pussy folds into his mouth, he groans, your taste exploding on his tongue, deepening his overall hunger for you and everything you have to offer. He lifts you up to marvel at the delicious spot between your legs, inhaling once more as your scent fills his lungs.

“Just… beautiful here. Been keeping away from me.” His fingers trace your opening. “Hm, feels good. Would feel good on something else too…”

He yanks you back onto his face, bruising your hips with his fingers. Your high hits as soon as his fingers slip into your hole, three this time, and the stretch sends tingles up your spine. He knows what’s happening when you start grinding down on his mouth, body convulsing as your cunt twitches against his lips. Your juices flooding his mouth.

He growls when you try to sit up, keeping your sensitive cunt hostage until he’s had his fill, for now anyway. He pops off noisily, licking his lips as a combination of your wetness and his saliva drips down. He wants to mark you with his scent—just like your slick staining his beard.

Steve moves fast. Stripping off his own pants and his hard, long cock bobs against his taut abs. Then, he’s pinning you down by your hips on the couch. Big, wide frame hovering over you like a beast. Heavy lashes flutter as his cock touches your pussy.

He jumps at the feeling. “Oh, it’s..” He trails off into a groan. The thick head of his dick trailing up and down your wetness, smearing it. “Okay?”

You think you say something but you can’t be sure because suddenly, he’s rutting messily between your folds, his thighs tense as he grows desperate for his own release.

Your mind has faded long away, another orgasm quickly building. Just filled with Steve, and the pleasure zipping through your body. His heavy cock is sliding through your petals. The red bulbous tip nudging your sensitive clit with every rock of his hips. Your delicate folds twitch against his thick girth, soaking down to his balls.

“Won’t go inside, just—” He grunts, hips speeding up, “—want to feel.”

You were rubbed raw with his beard, and the feeling of his big shaft grinding against your weeping pussy had you crying out pathetically. Your hands scramble for him until entwining at your waist. His face is flushed, blue eyes cast dark with a passionate glimmer.

“So little, soft, wet.” Steve growls, “Small compared to me. Mine, only mine.”

He’s relentless yet sweet at the same time. Dipping down to kiss you and nuzzle your face, all while his dick is grinding against your pussy, squelching noises filling the room. You should feel shameful about how wet you are, how wet you’re getting, but with Steve hovering over you like this—you didn’t care. And he’s so vocal. Grunts, moans, whimpers, everything. You’ve never been with someone so brazen.

“Want to mark you with me. Cover you in me—want that too?” You nod into his neck, moaning straight into his ear. Your sounds will be burned into his brain for the rest of his life, as will the feeling of your warmth on him.

He groans, eyes flickering down to your sloppy centres. “So wet, I—doing something right?” He spits down on you again, “Speak. Now.”

“Yes, yes! You’re so good, Steve, I’m going to cum!” Your thighs threaten to close again but he pins them apart.

Your cream spills out as you squirm and squeal, that same euphoric look on your face as before you flop on the cushions. Quiet whimpers leave your lips as your pussy coats his length, the veins and the very tip covered in your essence. The pleasure increases tenfold when you start matching his movements, grinding up as he presses down. His muscles contracting and flexing, chest heaving with each hearty breath. A sheen of sweat appears on his skin, highlighting the most prominent parts.

He keeps you spread for him, and his throbbing cock. “Feels so good.” He gasps, “What—” His words are cut off by his own moan, loud, guttural, nearly rumbling the floor.

His seed splatters all over your stomach, some shooting up to your breasts, covering you just as much as you’re covering him. The load is almost concerning, from how long it lasts and how much there is. It’s thick and creamy, some pooling on your cunt, dribbling down on the cushions.

You cry out as he still moves, cum spreading all over both of your chests as he drops down. Kissing you again.

When he pulls away, you feel like you can’t breathe. This man has just stolen the oxygen straight from your lungs.

Then, Steve slides down until his face is between your thighs again. You want to push him away but can’t find the energy. His thick fingers trace down your stomach, dipping between your folds to gather his spilt cum. You whimper and shiver as he spreads it around your pussy, smearing his seed on your clit and down to your leaking hole. Just playing, feeling, and making you whine in your throat.

He groans lowly, animalistic as he mouths at your inner thigh, eyes zeroed on the mess he’s made. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: you all hear that? Tarzan!Steve thinks you're beautiful. I never thought this part would be so long, I'm astounded. This was originally going to be a two part series but changed—many parts were shifted around and will be in part three instead !

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! My new series has been posted, it's a role reversal of this lovely work with feral!reader — 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Thank you all for reading ! I'm always open for your thoughts/feedback <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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disneyprincessbuffyannesummers · 20 hours ago

Text

༻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝟏/𝟑)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!steve, nomad!steve, fluff, scientist!reader, size difference, manhandling, soft!steve but also possessive!steve, gentle giant!steve, he doesn’t have the best grammar but he’s trying, disney vibes but no talking animals or musical numbers.

𝗪/𝗖 | 7.1K

𝗔/𝗡 | and I present to you, soft!tarzan!Steve. not fully proofread, all mistakes are my own.

˗ˏˋ𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Checking under your bed once more, you hope for a miracle, but it looks the same, clean and tidy. Standing up on your feet, you prop your hands on your hips, observing the tent again.

You were one of the lucky ones who didn’t have to share a pod, but your ‘room’ was on the smaller side. Only enough space for a small foldable rack for your clothes, a single cot and a desk with a chair.

Over your stay, you tried to make it homier. Hanging small dried flowers from the jungle, and polaroids of you and your team, but it still felt so temporary. You suppose that’s the point. This expedition was only for four weeks.

It was an honour to be offered a spot on the first research mission, you rushed to pack since you only had two days to gather your belongings for the one month on a freshly discovered island that was untouched by civilization, science, everything. Covered with trees as tall as skyscrapers, thick vines hanging from the branches and the ground sprouting plants you’ve never seen before. New species of flora and fauna and other organisms.

You wonder who would even think to steal your little scarf. The fabric was probably reeking of your smell, after all, you’ve tied it around your head to keep your sweat from dripping down your face and, to be honest, the pattern wasn’t the prettiest. Mixed with stubborn dirt and grime from your stay on the island, it was more of a rag than a scarf.

But you loved it dearly, and now it was missing.

Perhaps Tony or Dr. Banner would know where to look, they stayed in camp yesterday while you went into the jungle with a team. Walking to the canopy, you try to block the late afternoon sun. It was brutal, the hot temperature and humid air, there was never a time you weren’t sweating. And you enjoyed it.

For science and your career, it was worth it. The cherry on top is able to experience nature at its purest form, unscathed by humanity.

The noises of the surrounding tropical forest welcome you. The leaves brushing against each other, the faraway wildlife, the distant sound of the ocean, all of which you bask in. It was a fresh change from the bustling city of Manhattan.

“Where’s Dr. Banner?”

Tony’s eyes are locked on the projector screen, his fingers swiping as he sips from a smoothie. “Hm?”

“Have you seen Dr. Banner?” You question.

His desk, similar to the one back in the tower, is littered with documents and various Stark technology. Tony couldn’t focus on one thing at once. He claimed he had a system, no one else knew it, but he did and that was all that mattered. So you let him be.

“No. He’s probably still sleeping, he didn’t get back until two in the morning.” He answers absentmindedly.

That was unlike Dr. Banner. “Why was he out so late?”

Tony’s eyes bulge, fingers faltering before he clears his throat. He closes the projection, spinning around to face you. “You know, doc, I think Peter needs your help with the new results from the river sample. Something about the PH levels being all over the place—he’s on the south side of camp. Just take one of those jeeps and you’ll be there in a jiffy.”

Did he think you were stupid? By the way that he was studying you, he must’ve thought you were dim.

You slowly nod, stepping backward. “Uh, sure, I’ll go meet him now.”

“Great! Tell the kid he deserves a break afterward too. At this rate, his brain will be fried by the time we go back home.”

As you walk toward the jeeps, you take one of the keys. Glancing over your shoulder, Tony is still staring at you. He waves with an exaggerated smile, one that you return. You can’t help but suspect the worst as you drive to the south end.

What was he hiding so terribly? Were you even doing research here? You must be, there were a lot of you and everyone was divided into teams to ensure efficient work during the stay. Tony hasn’t hid things from you before. Over the endless nights spent in labs together, running over theories and experimenting, the two of you were quite close.

Well, maybe he did hide things from you, but he didn’t hide them well. And you were going to find out why.

You take a turn and go down one of the dirt roads, waving to security as you pass by. The camp gets further away as you drive down the narrow and the ride is bumpy as you traverse the uneven terrain.

The longer you drive, the more you feel guilty. Maybe there was nothing and you were overthinking. It wouldn’t be the first time Tony has acted strangely since you got here, maybe it was the isolation, he didn’t have all of his gadgets here, in particular, his drone that delivered his lattes or maybe he missed Pepper. You missed your home, hell, you missed your neighbour who played the electric guitar until the early morning hours.

It was all a hunch. Simple as that.

Fine, I’ll go back, you decide. As you drive over a rough bump, you spot the faint beige of another jeep through the trees. There wasn’t anyone in or near it, nor could you hear anything. You park your jeep to the side and approach the vehicle.

Hanging from the rearview mirror is Dr. Banner’s laminated badge, his ID attached to the lanyard.

A sinking feeling appears in your stomach, there’s no doubt in your mind that Tony was hiding something now.

Curiosity tends to get the better of everyone, including you.

The sounds of nature offer comfort, as does the shade of the tall trees from the burning rays, but it’s futile against your wandering thoughts. Instead of calling out for him, you set off to track him down. If there was something you weren’t supposed to know about, you’d rather sneakily find out than give him a chance to hide or run away.

Following the footprints in the moist dirt, you maneuver through the overgrown roots and vines. Bugs fly into your face, birds sing and little frogs hop about. On the tall branches above your head, there are a few cute chimpanzees, they make soft hoot noises as you pass.

As the minutes draw out, you don’t even know how long you’ve been walking. The boot prints were becoming tougher to track and the sun was getting lower, taking the warmth and light with it.

At least you could get back easily, just follow your footsteps the other way, but you couldn’t see anything without a light. And, you’d hate to be lost in the jungle at night. Who knows what predators lurk in the darkness.

As you come up to a clearing, a shiver ghosts over your heated skin and you freeze. Heart hammering in your chest, beating against your ribs, sending the vibrations straight to your head. You’re crossed between feeling confusion or alarm.

Dr. Banner is sitting on a log, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and intently watching something. His notepad and pen are abandoned next to him as he speaks so quietly you can’t hear him.

There is another man with him. A head full of blond hair, long enough that it curls at the base of his neck and blocks his face from your view. He’s fumbling with something in his hands, crotched to the ground with his neck craned low.

A moment later, the beast of a man stands to his full height and your jaw drops. His Herculean physique yanks the oxygen from your throat as the powerful muscles shift under the smooth skin of his back, rippling with every move. Oh, his body, buff arms that could probably punch straight through a tree trunk, broad and vast shoulders that tapered into his narrow waist, leading down to his thick thighs. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, the old, tattered brown loincloth shielding his groin—it was hanging by a thread.

In his big hands, he holds the object to the light. A colourful cube of six solid colours, it’s dwarfed by his huge palms, but more importantly, it’s solved.

Dr. Banner smiles the widest you’ve ever seen, the laugh that escapes him is full of wonder and disbelief. He holds up his hand, and the blond man looks at it, then tilts his head. Dr. Banner says something, then takes the other man’s free hand and slaps their palms together in a high-five.

Then, the unknown man does the most adorable thing, he drops the Rubix cube, smiles and claps.

In an instant, you’re as captivated as Dr. Banner. Eyes wide in fascination, interest blooming deep within you, but it quickly transforms into fear.

The giant goes rigid, his nose pointing high in the air before his head snaps directly to you.

His features are just as chiselled as his body, although he’s sporting a thick beard and moustache, you can see his prominent cheekbones and his strong clenched jaw. His eye colour is unknown, but his glare is dark and threatening. Eyebrows furrowed aggressively as he scowls, shiny teeth showing between his pink lips.

Dr. Banner’s face goes pale, eyes as wide as the moon. He calls out to you and reaches out, taking one step.

But the blond stranger stands in front of him, veiny arm pushing the doctor behind him protectively. His face screwed menacingly as he growls loudly. Either it rumbled the ground or your legs were trembling.

You spin around and break into a full-blown sprint, arms pumping by your sides as leaves and branches scratch you, undoubtedly tearing your skin. You can hear the blood rushing through your ears, muffing the heavy footsteps that are right on your tail.

An ear-splitting scream escapes you when you’re tackled to the ground, crashing with a thump and whacking your wrist on a rock. Immediately, you start screeching, desperately crawling away but you’re abruptly flipped over and pinned, a warm hand over your mouth. You feebly shove at the man’s chest as he straddles you. His weight flattens you to the ground until your legs are as useless as your arms that he restrains above your head.

Thoughts running a mile a minute, you forget about Dr. Banner. You’re not only physically immobilized by the giant man, but his sparkling blue eyes imprison you. The rich cerulean framed by thick eyelashes, surveying raptly.

Then, he draws closer and his breath fans over your face. You can count every freckle on his face, the faded scars too. He licks his lips, breathing in sharply.

Your emotions are all over the place, traces of terror and awe mixed with that familiar tingle you haven’t felt in a long time. A heat blossoms between your thighs and it’s all because of this giant above you.

The man drops completely on you, your squeal silenced by his hand. His face nuzzles yours, nose burying into your hair as he smells you. His hips press down harder, oh, and you can feel that he has absolutely nothing under that loincloth. Grunting, he softly rubs his skin on yours, appreciative rumbles vibrating his naked chest as he switches to the other side of your head and repeats the action.

That tingle flourishes into dampness in your panties. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly in shame, you half pray someone comes to save you or just leave you here to be affectionately smothered to death by this god.

A shout of your name has you flung back to reality, you wildly buck your hips and scream again. The giant is still unmoving above you, nothing but a grunt and his hands tighten, his hips forcing yours to the ground.

“Steven! Get off her!”

The man-beast stiffens and growls, this time it was more intense than his previous. His head lifts from your neck, and he blinks at you like a puppy, before licking from your jaw to your cheek.

Your squeaks are muffled as his tongue trails down your neck and he begins nuzzling there, pressing open-mouthed kisses. You squirm, managing to free one of your wrists before pushing his chest with all your might. Okay, maybe you should hit the gym because the stranger only moves one inch, but even that was stretching it.

“Steven, let her go. She’s friendly,” Dr. Banner’s voice is clearer now, calm but cautious. “Friend.” He emphasizes.

Steven was his name. Steven was the mostly naked man mounted above you, assaulting your neck like an animal.

“Smells good.” Steven’s voice sends heat shooting through your body. A deep rasp and a heavy, almost commanding tone. “So good.”

He takes his hand from your mouth, only to rub your noses together softly. An enthusiastic hum comes from his throat, he pulls away and actually smiles. The setting sunshine framing his head like a halo, oh, this man is an angel.

The night sky must be empty because the stars were twinkling in his eyes.

“Steven, off. Now.”

Slowly, Steven releases you. His hands brush over your clothes curiously as he stands to his full height. When Dr. Banner steps closer with his arm outstretched, Steven grunts. His fists clenched as his arms flex and this time, his terrifying glare isn’t set on you, it’s set on Dr. Banner.

“No.” The giant snaps, shoving the other man back. Firm enough that Dr. Banner staggers into a vine, he holds onto it for support. “Don’t touch.”

Dr. Banner gulps, reaching for the walkie-talkie on his belt. His wary eyes land on you before he coaxes the giant. “She’s hurt, look at her arm.”

Steven’s frown deepens when he sees your swollen wrist cradled to your chest. Your startled eyes meet his, and he crouches next to you. He’s still so big like this but the softness in his eyes wraps around you like a heavy weighted blanket.

“Hurt?”

“Oh… uh, sprained, I think.” He doesn’t reply, only gives you another clueless quirk of his eyebrows. You rush to correct yourself in simpler terms. “Yes, yes. I’m hurt… Ouch.” You add but regret it instantly.

“Help?” Steven questions.

Dr. Banner sighs in relief, smiling at you. “Yes, I’ll call some help right now.” He speaks into the walkie quietly, looking away.

“I will help. No other help.” Steven declares, rough hands quickly lifting you from the ground with ease.

“Oh!” You sway from the abruptness, thankful to be back on your feet. But that’s snatched away when you’re swept off the ground and hauled into his muscular arms.

“Only my help,” Steven vows, adjusting his grip on you. He looks down at you and tilts his head, “Good?”

Your arms wrap around his neck, his intoxicating musk filling your lungs and you press your lips together tightly, just barely stopping the whimper that escapes you. It felt like a dream, being mauled by a handsome rugged man, who rubbed, licked and kissed all over your face and neck.

If it was a dream, you hoped you didn’t wake up anytime soon.

“You good?” He repeats. “Ready?”

“Yes, I’m good. But ready for—” You yelp as Steven takes off running.

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms, limbs flailing and head bobbing harshly. His speed leaves Dr. Banner in the dust, the man freaking out as Steven carries you deeper into the jungle.

“Steven!” You exclaim, trying to see over his shoulder, only catching a glimpse of Dr. Banner’s distressed face before it disappears behind a thick bush. “Stop!”

“I will help.” The giant shushes, and weaves through trees and vines, jumping over rocks effortlessly. His breathing remains controlled, fingers digging into your flesh.

The wind wisps against your cheeks as you bury your face in Steven’s chest, clinging to him, dearly hoping he won’t trip and tumble with you in his arms. Your nails are probably piercing into his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, only slowing to a light jog.

You feel fingers prodding at your face, “Open.”

With uncertainty, you slowly unburrow yourself from his hard chest, peeking one eye open.

For the third time today, you almost get a heart attack. A huge trunk is before your face, it curls up and touches Steven’s head before moving away. The owner of the trunk is a graceful creature, quiet and its big eyes meet yours.

An elephant, an adult elephant—it was so quiet. Such a huge animal exists in utter silence.

As the animal starts walking away, Steven sets you down and follows.

You stand there dumbly for a moment, watching them step into the wide-open clearing, into the sunshine. Tentatively, you trail after them, pushing aside vines and branches, the dirt squishing beneath your boots.

The clearing is picturesque. Shades of green and beige grass over gentle hills, a few trees of different sizes scattered around, their shadows dancing on the earth.

“Come, she is friendly.” Steven beckons, his hand petting the massive elephant with gentle strokes. “Friend.”

Timidly, you obey, fingertips barely brushing the rough skin. An audible gasp escapes you as the animal nudges your hand, leaning into it. You can’t help but laugh, the bubbly feeling stripping away your hesitation, replacing it with that familiar childlike amazement.

“She has a baby. Over there.” Steven beams, pointing to the rest of the herd. Amongst the elephants were a few calves, playing and tumbling over their trunks.

You giggle. “They’re so cute.”

Steven blinks, “Cute?”

Right. He wouldn’t know that word, he probably doesn’t know a lot of words. It’s obvious he’s spent a great amount of time in the jungle, judging by his stature, clothing and behaviour, he’s been here most, if not all of his life.

“It’s when something is endearing, pretty, or delightful,” You try to put it in simple terms, “It makes you feel pleased, good… in a soft way.”

“Cute.” He tests.

“Yes, cute.”

Steven points to your chest, licking his lips. “You, cute.”

You’re about to thank him, but you look down. The buttons of your shirt have popped off, undoubtedly from being attacked to the ground. Since you didn’t wear a bra because laundry day wasn’t until tomorrow, your breasts were completely exposed. Jesus, they’re in his face! Embarrassment floods as you think how long you’ve been like this. Oh no, did Dr. Banner see?

You quickly cover yourself, humiliated, holding your shirt closed to the collar. “Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

“No, don’t—” You quickly cut yourself off. Steven was old enough to swear, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, but should he curse if he doesn’t know what the words mean?

“What is fuck?”

You take a slow breath, desperately wishing the world would offer a break. You’d take anything to get out of this situation. “It’s a curse word. People say it when they’re angry, frustrated or upset, or when something goes wrong.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m frustrated. Do you have clothes?” Your mouth snaps shut as you scan over his very lovely body, almost getting distracted again. It’s unlikely he has much more than what he’s wearing. “Nevermind.”

“Clothes are at home.”

You almost jump up in victory, “Oh, thank goodness! Where’s home?”

Steven points behind him into the vast jungle, the tall trees and dangling vines blurring in the distance. The faint roar of a creature causes that familiar fear to arise again. Just beyond that treeline were animals who could hurt you, or even worse, kill you and haul your corpse somewhere to never be seen again.

This was a deep wilderness, further than your team ever explored. These animals have never seen another human other than Steven, who knows what they’d do to you. You didn’t even have anything to defend yourself.

Like nature had eyes of its own, it felt like it was judging you. Plotting your demise, or maybe the sun was making you lose your mind.

Steven steps in front of you, blocking you from the mass of trees and faceless predators. “I’ll protect you. Keep cute lady safe.” The determination in his face almost makes your legs weak. Command in his commitment as he stands with squared shoulders, eyebrows knitted tight. “Okay?”

With a single nod, Steven hauls you into his arms again. Again, your protests fall on deaf ears as he carries you across the clearing.

“I can walk, Steven.”

His steps halt as he glances down at you and his hair falls over his eyes. “I know…”

“So, let me walk.” Wiggling until he sets you on the ground, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “I appreciate the chivalry but you don’t need to treat me like a damsel in distress.” He definitely has no clue what that phrase means.

Steven proves you right and makes a confused noise.

You sigh, cradling your sprained wrist. “Which way?”

The giant points forward and you tell him to lead the way—at least he understands that phrase.

You walk closely behind him. It comforted you that if anything were to happen, he was in arms reach.

You cave and ogle at his body. The muscles of his defined back, narrow waist and plump backside. This man had the build of a superhero and the face of an angel. How could he be real? Ugh, even his walk was attractive. And he had no shoes.

You want him to maul you all over again. Nearly starving for it. Also, you were actually starving, given that you missed breakfast too.

Spotting a vibrant fruit hanging from a low branch, as if it was waiting for you, you walk towards it and pluck it off. After giving the orange a quick once over, you start to peel it.

That was until Steven smacked your hand, the fruit falling to the ground.

“Hey!” You snap. He’s lucky it was your good hand.

“Not good.” He cringes.

Then, Steven jumps up and grips a thick branch, lifting himself up. His arms flex as he easily climbs higher on the tree. The wind flutters his loincloth and you quickly look away, but it’s too late, you’ve already seen the generous gift between his thighs. With a warmth blooming from your chest, you berate yourself for accidentally upskirting the poor man. How could you sleep knowing that Steven, the rugged, feral fella of anyone’s dream was so very blessed?

There’s a loud crack, then a branch of oranges lands on the ground a few feet from you. Following right after is Steven’s feet, his knees bent to secure his landing. He picks up the branch and begins picking the bright fruits, examining them closely and smelling them. He separates them into two different piles, each of them placed gently on the dirt.

Once the branch only has leaves, he grins up at you. “These are good, safe. Will not make you sick.” He pats a spot next to him.

You sit slowly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Do you, really? A little voice asks. “But, we should go back to Dr. Banner.” Helplessly looking in the direction you last saw the man, or at least where you think. The thing about the jungle, everything looked the same.

“You are hurt.”

“Yes, and Dr. Banner was going to call help.”

“Only my help.” Steven frowns and taps your head. “Do you remember? You will get my help.”

The gesture catches you off guard, how would this man know anything about the human brain?

Your theories stump when Steven holds a freshly peeled orange to your mouth, pushing it against your lips. “Open.”

He stuffs it into your mouth, chirping in victory. “I feed you?”

You swallow before speaking, giving him a gentle smile. “I’ll feed myself.”

Grabbing the fruit, you wipe the juices from your chin. It was perfectly ripe and looked delicious. Eagerly, you separate the slices and eat them one by one, a bright contrast to Steven who bit into the peeled fruit like an apple.

In seconds, his orange is gone and he reaches for another. You reach for your second when he’s on his third or fourth, and as you grab the fruit, Steven snatches it from your hand.

“Will make you sick.”

You frown, “You said it wouldn’t.”

“This,” He points to the right pile, then the left. “Not this.”

“You’re eating those ones though.” You counter and attempt to peel an orange from the safe stack, it was hard with your wrist injured.

“Don’t get sick,” Steven replies, voice gruff as he takes the fruit and peels it for you. Handing it back with a jut of his chin, “Never get sick.”

“How do you know that?”

Steven thinks for a moment, eyes darting around the surroundings. “Uh—Oh, Experience! That’s the word. Know from experience. And, Bruce too, says I will never get sick.”

“How long have you known Dr. Banner?”

The blond eats another orange messily, pieces of fruit and the juices dripping down his beard. “Metal Bruce or soft Bruce?”

Metal?

“Metal Bruce, known for long while. Met soft Bruce when bunch of people came. Huge flying things, so many people inside…”

“Did metal Bruce have this?” You point to the Stark Industries patch on your shoulder, right under your name.

“On the chest.” Steven nods, unaware of the absolute confusion clouding your head.

It, being ‘metal Bruce,’ was a bot, or whatever Tony created in that technology lab of his. Whatever it was, it met Steven long before your team arrived.

Although you were bitter and utterly bewildered by everything that’s happened from the moment you stepped out of that jeep, you weren’t angry. In this case with Steven, a man who at first glance, looks intimidatingly feral but clearly shows some signs of correct development, curiosity weighed heavy on the scale. Steven was giant in size, wild yet tamed, a mystery before you.

You almost forgot he called your boobs cute.

Once the both of you have had your fill of fresh fruit, Steven avidly eating from both piles, you set off to his home. Thankfully, you don’t come across anything too frightening. Only a few frogs you hop over and snakes dangling from branches.

When Steven comes to a stop, he unties a bunch of weaved vines from a branch. Following the vines up, there’s a structure sitting high in the tree, shrouded by thick leaves. Handmade from what you could tell, scraps and logs secured together with vines.

“Carry?”

“Up there?” You squeak.

The blond laughs. “How else do we get up?”

As his hands grip your waist, you gently push him away. “I’ll climb, it’s safer that way.”

“But, you’re still hurt.” Steven makes a face, “I don’t want cute lady to get hurt more.”

Could he get any more adorable?

“Get on. Seen mothers do this with babies.”

He spins around and kneels as you stand there. An inner debate going on in your mind, on one side he was right, climbing by yourself would be complicated with your wrist but was this any safer. Eyes bouncing between the structure and Steven, you can’t decide.

He waves, “Hurry, before tiger comes, she won’t be happy with visitor…”

In a flash, you’re wrapped around the man like a koala, Steven letting out a grunt of surprise. Hanging off him like a backpack, legs and arms firm around his neck, cautious of your wrist. Your face tucked in his neck, hiding from the ground as it gets further away, you breathe in his scent. It’s not terrible, far from it. Half expecting him to reek, he actually smells clean and natural, thickly musky.

As Steven reaches the top, he yanks the rest of the vine and sets it aside. Patting your head, “Here.”

Untangling yourself from the man, you’re immediately picked up and plopped on a plush surface. It’s a mattress, just flat on the floor and definitely not from the jungle if the pillow and bedsheets had anything to do with it.

Steven simpers, “Soft? Metal bruce gifted it long ago, along with—where is it?” He fumbles around the room, searching in makeshift cabinets and shelves.

The treehouse is quite impressive. Made of wooden slabs and logs, it was sturdy and clean. Of the four walls, one was a doorway into another room and three had windows that were draped with a fabric similar to Steven’s loincloth. The entrance was an actual door, hinges and all, that was wide open with a small landing like a porch.

What was the most surprising was the full bookshelf by the bed. Stacked with books, ranging from dictionaries to colouring books and beginner novels, even math and science. A cup of pencils and pencil crayons, a modern CD player next to a much older rusted radio.

You stand, reaching for the player but Steven pops out from a corner.

“Found! Clean.” Steven holds up a big t-shirt, “Not dirty. It’s okay?”

Relieved, you nod, “It’s perfect.”

Steven’s eyes brighten, “Perfect is… better than okay.” Then his eyes land on your hand still cradled to your chest. “First, I need a bandage for cute lady.” Then he disappears out the doorway again. But just as fast as he went, he appeared again, holding a white kit.

He sits next to you and takes your arm, delicately running his fingers over your skin, careful of your swollen wrist. Eyebrows knitted tight, he looks down at you. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Was—I couldn't control myself.” Blue eyes swimming with remorse, he leans closer and nuzzles your head, “Was caught off guard, and have never seen you before.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart gushes about the man next to you. The man was straight from a steamy fictional romance novel, except he was real, as real as the clouds in the sky and the grass on the ground.

Steven makes a small grunt, nose trailing down to your face. His breath fans across your skin, “I’m sorry, please speak?”

The rumble of his words have the butterflies in your stomach transforming into hummingbirds, gentle flutters growing in speed and rattling against your ribs. “I—It’s okay.” Your heart thumps heavily, “I forgive you.”

“You do?” He pulls back, gleefully stunned. “Thank you, cute lady. Don’t want to lose a new friend so soon.”

This time, you lean into him. Pressing your cheek to his arm, his hot temperature is enough to rival that of the jungle. You blink up at him, “Will you help me now, Steven?”

It’s adorable how the giant nods enthusiastically, quickly unclasping the box and fishing out a wad of bandage. Under his breath, you hear him mutter “I have a new friend.”

“Your name is Steven,” You hesitate, tasting it on your tongue, “Do you want to be called Steven?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Don’t know.”

“What do you want to be called? Some friends have nicknames for each other.” You inquire, earning a shrug in reply. Pondering, you watch as he carefully but efficiently wraps your wrist in the fabric. Finishing off with a knot. “Do you have a nickname or something?”

The man perks up, face lighting up like a diamond in the sky. Lunging forward, he grips your shoulders, “Yes! Steve!”

You squeak, head bouncing as he shakes you. This man was truly oblivious to his strength, you were certain he could rip you in little pieces if he desired. “Ah! O-Okay, I’ll c-call you Steve.”

“Steve!” He bubbles, lifting you off the ground and into his arms. Holding you like before with his arms hooked under your knees and around your back. He beams down at you, jerking you up to rub his cheek on yours. “I’m Steve. Who are you?”

You tell him your name, unable to contain your giggles as he scrapes his beard on your face. It was so strange, Steve was so strange and you’ve never been caught off guard so charmingly.

He pulls away and whispers your name, then repeats it louder with confidence. “That’s you?”

“Yes.” You chirp, a little breathy from being snuggled by the man-beast.

“I’m Steve, you’re Y/N.” His gruff voice lifted by the innocence on his face, amazement twinkling in his eyes. “Y/N is cute.”

Oh, was this man trying to claim your heart? Because he was doing a flawless job at it, and you were utterly powerless.

“You’re telling me, you lost a woman on an island? In a jungle that’s still widely uncharted and potentially full of species we’ve never seen or heard of.”

“First of all, we highly doubt there are undiscovered animals here, maybe a man-eating plant, but that’s it.” Tony crosses his arms, stating matter of factly. “In Bruce’s defence, she was snatched away by the six-foot-six enhanced beast. You think he could fight a man who’s spent his entire life in the wilderness?”

Director Fury’s glare, although from one eye, was still menacing, even through a projection. “His green friend could.”

“Yes, but as stated in the contract, Dr. Banner is to be excluded from all stressful situations, or instances he could be agitated.” Tony defends, “And, would you want the Hulk to destroy this island, this beautiful piece of mystery?”

A long sigh follows, Fury pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just rescue Dr. L/N and secure Rogers. And, I’ve decided to cut your mission short. Rendezvous time has been changed to tomorrow at noon.”

“But we haven’t even tracked them down.”

“Why is that?”

Bruce scratches his head nervously, “well, Steven hasn’t let me near his home, not even before. And he’s broken every drone that gets a certain distance away from camp.”

“He breaks drones like balloons at a carnival.”

“Dr. Banner, what have you been doing all this time? You confirmed Rogers wasn’t a threat months ago, and now you’re telling me this superhuman has tantrums?”

“It isn’t his anger—he is actually a very gentle giant. He’s protective and that includes his privacy or the invasion of that.”

“Well, Dr. L/N must be distracting him somehow. He won’t notice if you send out a few more to track him down.” Fury argued, “Seriously, he’s a man who’s never touched a woman—do you think he’d be staring up at the sky for a flying robot?”

The projection closes swiftly and takes the bright blue light with it. The two scientists stand opposite of each other, Bruce hunched over and examining the incomplete map of the island.

Tony clears his throat, quirking a brow. “You said he was rubbing all up on the poor girl?”

“This is from Bruce but I have never worn. Clothes… I don’t like it.”

You wait for him to look away, but the man’s eyes are fixated on your body. “Uh, Steve?”

The giant inhales deeply. “Yes?”

“Can you close your eyes, please?” Tightening your grip on your shirt, you feel naked but, you’d be lying if you said you hated his heated gaze.

His hand trails under the loincloth around his waist, he groans deeply. “Why?”

“I need to change and I can’t if you’re looking.”

“I scare you?” His wide puppy eyes are wildly different from his looming height and mass shadow.

“No, no. Just—please, I need privacy. Which means you have to look away or close your eyes.”

Begrudgingly, Steve turns away and faces the open entrance of the treehouse. With a wide stance and his hands on his hips, his posture is alert, watchful eyes lasered on the entryway. Like he’s on guard.

You hurriedly take the shirt and slip it on with caution of your sprained wrist. Neatly folding the torn button-up, you set it on a branch that doubled as a shelf, just in time for a small hand to snatch it through the window.

A shriek erupts from your throat as you stagger backwards, crashing into the mattress, or you would have if large hands hadn’t caught you at the last second. Steve spins you around and almost lifts you off the ground, frantically checking you for any injuries.

He’s about to speak, but something catches his eye over your shoulder. He visibly relaxes, shaking his head. “Wendy, have told you to knock, remember?”

Whipping around, you watch a monkey, Wendy, do a series of actions with its hands, making short squeaks between each. Steve responds with skilled gestures. As if the world was determined to add to the long list of unexpected instances that occurred today, you watch Steve and the monkey communicate through sign language.

The blond let out a chuckle. “Okay, okay. Wendy is sorry, didn’t mean to scare.”

The animal tilts its head, big brown eyes doleful. She comes closer and holds out her small hand. When you place yours in hers, she squeezes your fingers, making a chattering noise.

“She thinks you smell good. That’s why she steal your clothes.”

That was endearingly peculiar. “Oh?”

“Wendy, where’s Peter?” The man asks and signs.

The next minute, you’re standing on the landing of the treehouse. You try not to look at the ground that was a distance away, and instead gape at the other monkey sitting on the branch, chewing on a flower. The fabric wrapped around its neck is vaguely familiar.

Then, it hits you.

“That’s yours, yes?” Steve quizzed sheepishly. “Saw him with it yesterday… had no clue where it came from.”

You laugh in disbelief. “I thought I lost it.” Who knew wildlife was little noisy thieves.

“They’re not wrong, you do smell good. Very good—better than flowers. Look nicer than flowers too, uh, cute. Super, very, so cute.”

You thank him, a shyness taking over as those hummingbirds return tenfold. Every moment you spent with Steve was a dream, he was divine. How you dreaded being found and disrupting this taste of strange heaven.

“So, Peter and Wendy?” You whisper, not to disturb the two monkeys closely inspecting and sniffing your shirt. Little hoots and squeaks exchanged between them.

“From a book I read. A boy, Peter, comes to Wendy’s home and takes her and her… siblings to an island. And there’s a fairy—uh, very small person, has wings? Also, young boys who live on the magical island… Not like here, there’s no magic here.” Steve blinks slowly, “… actually, I haven’t found magic here. Wouldn’t know if was.”

You were sure your heart was going to explode out of your chest. There was something about a giant man, rugged and gruff, being so innocently clueless that made you melt. He was a fresh gasp of air, bare of even the slightest wickedness, eyes as golden as the hair on his head.

“Is there magic where you’re from?”

To put it simply, yes but not in the sense he would understand. Your world has come across super robots, alien invasions, people with enhanced abilities, and gods from faraway galaxies, you shrug instead. “It’s nothing compared to Neverland.”

Steve’s mouth drops open and he beams, “Neverland! You read the book too?” When you nod, he grabs your shoulders, shaking you again. “So much in common!”

It’s true what they say about time. It flies when you’re having fun, no matter what it is.

And lying here, on another landing of Steve’s treehouse, it was the most fun you’ve had in a while. A small solar-powered lamp flickers as the giant talks about the constellations, from another book he read. Sputtering and pausing between words, you let him take his time. Honestly, you could listen to him speak for hours.

You get distracted every time you look at him. The moonlight cast upon his pale skin and freckles, accentuating his cheekbones, shadows enhancing his deeper features and the stars reflecting in his eyes. You blink at him slowly, tired like a child as your eyes get heavy.

“Sleepy?”

“A little.” You say after sipping from the water Steve gave you. A bottle from Bruce, he said, that he filled from the watering hole.

Steve switches off the lamp and reclines on the mound of cushions and blankets that he set up. After you mentioned what the stars looked like in the jungle, how much brighter they were without light pollution, he dragged out the mattress and every soft or plush thing he could get his hands on.

“You sleep. I will stay up.”

You yawn, stretching and inhaling deeply. “You should sleep too, aren’t you tired?”

“Don’t get tired often. Don’t sleep most nights, too.” The rasp in his voice flows over the open air. He inches closer to you until your shoulders touch. “It’s okay, I will protect you. Remember?”

You laugh breathily when his fingers tap on your head again. “I remember.”

The quiet drags on, nothing but the song of the crickets and the wisping wind among the leaves of the trees brushing against each other. Your eyes eventually fall shut, sleep taking over you.

As you drift into unconsciousness, Steve pulls you close. His arms envelop you tightly against his chest, his body heat instantly stops the chill crawling up your spine. His chest is hard under you, although firm, his muscles are comfortable. His chest hair tickles your cheek as he pulls a blanket over you.

Steve freezes when you shift. That strange feeling returned to his chest again, that same one he felt when he saw you the first time. Of course, he feels guilty about hurting you, but he doesn’t regret sweeping you away.

You were his new friend, his new cute friend. You weren’t the first woman he’s seen, but you were the first to ever make him feel this way. Steve has wracked his brain relentlessly, trying to find words to describe how he feels—maybe you would know what he’s feeling.

Judging from your badge, you were like Bruce, so you must be knowledgeable. Maybe you can help him with other things, like the funny heat that he felt when he saw your chest. He’s tried to understand the book that Bruce gave him, but things were still fuzzy.

He also wants to show you the waterfalls. Hopefully, the clear blue water could compete with the stars that you seemed so interested in. He’d hate to disappoint you.

“Goodnight,” He utters, nestling your head as his fingers dig into your hips. How did you smell so good? He couldn’t get enough. “Can’t wait for you to wake up.”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: here it is and I hope you all enjoyed it !! soft!Steve just makes me melt :') Mhm, did someone say possessive!steve with a size kink for the next part? Well it’s coming anyway😌 I'm always open for feedback, feel free to share your thoughts !!

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