I keep checking in on the WaW masterlist soooooo ooooofteeeeen. I’m soooo in love with the character you’ve created and like the world too omfg. I’m so excited for part 2 and everything you’re willing to give us about Tarzan!steve. But uhm… the cumplay thing?? Fuck yes. I mean he’s possessive and my thot is that he just like loves the whole thing of marking the reader?? Like if he accidentally gives her a hickey for the first time and completely looooses it. So like for sure cumplay and marking her with it a bit everywhere… but uhm… wouldn’t be surprised if he also just liked the idea of her just sort of being filled with ✨him✨
𝗔/𝗡 | this made me😵💫 um being railed and filled by Tarzan!steve, yes pls. This is not their first time together !! That will be in part 2. Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
He’s big, bigger than you thought. And rough too, fingertips bruising your hips as he lifts you up and down on his cock. Guttural grunts flow over the wet slapping of your act, undoubtedly disrupting the once peaceful wilderness.
Your hands land on his chest, bracing yourself as his hips roll upward. You whimper, shuddering above him like a leaf.
Pleasure never failed to bring out that feral side of Steve. The beast who had tunnel vision, focussing on making the both of you feel good, pushing you to the brink of insanity with euphoria. He was greedy, hungry for you—he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied, that meant you’d only get a breather when you were begging, trembling with his cum was leaking out of you.
Which it already had. His previous load was planted deep into you when he had fucked you on your hands and knees, now, with each rock of your bodies, it was forced out. Soaking with your juices and his cum, his length was still hard and throbbing. It was thrilling, refractory periods weren’t needed, his stamina was out of the roof.
Again, he wasn’t going to stop until you couldn’t take anymore.
He groans, pulling your body flush against his and keeping you firmly on his dick. His warm hands caress your hips, up your back to the nape of your neck. His breath fans over your skin, rough beard rubbing against your shoulder.
Inhaling deeply, your smell strikes a match inside him. “Mine, only mine.”
The rasp in his voice has you clenching, your whimpers are delicate. Your hips stutter, toes curling when Steve starts grinding into you. Your clit presses against him, your pebbled nipples brush his chest.
Steve moans, your cunt constricting around him like a vice. Suffocating him. Your hole was nothing compared to his cock, and he loved it. How small you looked on his dick, taking it like you were made for him. And he believed that you were, your existence solely created for him, to worship, to protect, to ruin.
He adored how little you looked above him, vulnerable and blissed out.
Steve latches onto your neck, sucking and tonguing at your soft spot. His growls are muffled as yours float freely into the open air, breathy and lovely. He bites particularly hard when your nails pierce his shoulders. Your poor cunt was stretched wide around his girth. He was to the hilt and the bulbous head was touching your cervix. The thick base makes you choke on your breath, reminding you just how gifted he was.
Pulling away, Steve marvels at the new addition to the collection of marks on your neck. Wet and a different colour from the rest of your skin, it was beautiful. And, most importantly, it was from him. When he first marked you, it was by accident and admittedly, he was a little scared about what the hell he did to you. But now, after you told him exactly what it was, he realized how much he liked it.
He struck gold and seeing his mark on you got him off to no end.
Although, marking you from the inside? That was his purpose.
You soak down his cock to his balls, covering him in your scent. And, Steve wanted more, he wanted you all over him, under his skin. You were intoxicating and he was starving.
After one rough rub on your clit, your mind flashes with images of Steve’s mouth on your pussy. He had torn your pants off, bringing your panties to his nose before messily eating you out. Sucking your cunt into his mouth, alternating between his tongue or fingers pumping into your hole to suckling on your nub. His low growls send vibrations through your body. You didn’t even have time to protest, not that you would, before he had you spasming and sopping with his saliva and your juices.
Steve lifts you slightly, “Ah, f-fuck,” You cry out, eyes squeeze shut when Steve’s hand gathers your shared excitement from where you’re connected. The rough pads of his fingers trace your sensitive hole, slipping up your folds.
“Good?”
Your lashes flutter open and you nod quickly. “S-So good, Steve. You’re so good.”
Traces of your arousal were still in his beard, and you can taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. Tongue massaging yours, lips smacking as he swallows your moans. He makes you ride him until he fills you up, his seed splashing against your pulsating walls, triggering your own high. He growls, biting your lip as your pussy chokes his throbbing shaft, milking him.
He’s determined that cumming inside of you was just as good, if not better, than marking you with his mouth or hands. It was planting his seed, his scent, his mark, into you. Claiming you from the inside.
When you climax, your scent only intensifies. That alone sends Steve’s mind spiralling.
Steve, despite cumming, doesn’t stop. He thoroughly fucks up into you, your ass slapping against his muscular thighs with every pound. Your slick and his cum seeping down his girth, adding to the unholy mess at the base of his shaft.
Your sensitive walls convulse and your body loses all control. Thighs trying to close even though you’re straddling him, hands scrambling for purchase on his wide shoulders. He only slows down, sensual drags of his hips into your poor centre and your sounds are sinful, whiney and high-pitched, combined with the downright filthy squelching.
You feel like you can’t take any more of his thickness splitting your cunt, spearing you so deeply that it almost hurts. You lean back. Sweat beading at your hairline, tears brimming in your eyes, lips raw. “W-Wait.”
His gaze darkens as you try to escape, pushing him away with a hand on his chest.
“No, stay.” He yanks you close, forcing you to bounce on his girth. A choked squeal escapes your throat as he smears his hand in your cunt again, bringing it to your face. His fingers drenched with it, his cum and your juices webbing between his digits. “So wet…”
He’s about to suck on his own fingers, eager to taste your combined arousal, but he gets a better idea. Quickly but gently, he lays you down, dick still pierced deep before smearing your shared stickiness on your body.
You gasp as his fingers trail down your neck, trace your nipples and down to your stomach. His thrusts become harder, if possible, groans loud and unabashed. He rubs your juices into your skin, sweeping more from your leaking cunt before bringing it to your mouth.
“Taste.” He demands gruffly.
Your mouth drops open and his fingers reach deep, shoving down your throat as his cock abruptly pulls out. Without anything plugging you up anymore, his cum comes rushing out of your stretched hole. Your legs weakly quiver as his fingers slip in and out of your mouth.
He doesn’t know where to look, your ruined cunt that’s soaked and spent, or your dishevelled face and watery eyes.
He takes away his fingers, now clean but shiny with your saliva, and they disappear between your thighs again. His balls hang heavy and his cock is still hard, flushed red and wet, standing proudly. God, you don’t even know how that fits inside you.
“F-Fuck—Steve!” You moan, trying to push him away but he already has you pinned down. Immobilized and submissive, just for him.
His long fingers pump into you, collecting his cum before spreading it all over your cunt. Paying special attention to your clit, Steve just plays with you. Rubbing his seed, his scent into you, marking your most sensitive part.
Your back arches as he slowly penetrates you again, your hole accommodating his wide girth easily. “So good—can’t stop,” His nose nuzzles yours, almost apologetically because he can hear the rapid beat of your heart.
“Feels too good, smells too good.” He sucks on his fingers, still stained with your shared juices, and keeps eye contact with you. A low rumble comes from his chest as you clench around him, your body desiring more. “Tastes too good. Want more,” He growls, “Give me more.”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I am a whore.
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist
Sorry to bother, love your Tarzan!steve series❤have some ideas ... What about reader asking Steve why he carries her around when there's a chance, because he seems to love doing it, I'll be happy if you write smth about this
𝗔/𝗡 | you aren’t bothering me at all, thank you for sending this !! Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Don’t know. Just like it.” Steve blinks innocently at you, arms locked tight around your waist, keeping you pressed against him. Not really pressed, more like pinned. Your feet are dangling below you since Steve was taller than you, at least at this angle, you were face to face.
You flail your feet. “Well, I can walk too.”
“No.”
You pull a face, “what?”
“No walking.” Steve hoists you higher, his eyebrows furrowed in determination. “Only carry.”
“Steve, no—” You’re cut off as he swings you over his shoulder.
In a flash, the world flips upside down. Your arms hanging as you sway with a started squeak, the giant man continues walking as if he hadn’t manhandled you like a sack of potatoes.
You groan in frustration, you weren’t annoyed by Steve, but rather how he just randomly decides when you deserved to walk, and when you didn’t.
“Put me down, right now.” Not even the mesmerizing view of his backside could distract you.
You were a human, you deserved to make choices for yourself. And right now, you wanted to use your own legs.
“Right now!” You repeat, wiggling roughly until Steve sets you down.
One of his warm hands lands on your waist, the other patting the top of your head. He checks for injuries and comes up empty. “Okay?”
“No. Not okay. I want to walk by myself. I don’t need you to carry me all the time.”
For a moment, you want to take back your words, but quickly decide against it. If you didn’t put Steve in his place now, he’d just get worse and carry you everywhere.
You knew that if it was Steve’s choice, your feet would never touch the ground. Even though that made your heart flutter, you wanted your own control—over your own feet, this would be a useless conversation with anyone else, but with Steve, it was mandatory.
“Got it?”
Steve looks conflicted, “...Okay.”
Smiling, you pat his chest and continue down through the jungle. Traversing the terrain, hopping over overgrown roots and rocks. You breathe in all in, the shades of green and brown contrasting with the vibrant colours of flowers and tropical birds. Excited, you spot a little frog on a stone, and you can’t help but crouch to get closer.
You gasp as you’re swept off your feet, and hauled into a hard chest. Muscular arms wrap tight around your body, hugging you close as the little frog hops away into the bushes.
“Steve! What did I say!” You scold, wiggling and twisting, hoping to be released but Steve only tightens his hold.
The blond pouts deeply, eyes downcast on your face. “But not safe.”
“That frog wasn’t poisonous.” You sigh.
“But still, everywhere… everywhere not safe.” The blond glances around the surrounding jungle, doing a quick once over before meeting your gaze. “Not safe for you. Promised to keep you safe.”
You swooned instantly. His baby blue eyes tell more than his limited vocabulary, Steve was scared of you getting hurt, or even worse, losing you. He was just a gentle giant with a golden heart and a kind smile.
You must be the luckiest woman in the world to have such a sweet fella obsessed with you.
“How about you hold my hand? You can keep me safe that way too.” Steve hesitantly puts you down and takes your open palm, watching carefully as you entwine your fingers. “See? It’s cute. We’re holding hands.”
“Cute… Little hand.” The man murmurs, examining the size difference between his palm and yours, his fingers are much longer and thicker too.
“Isn’t this nice?” You swing your hands and adorably grin up at his inquisitive expression, “Is this better than carrying me?”
A grumpy frown crawls on his lips. “No.”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: soft!tarzan!steve owns my heart
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!steve, he's clueless and lonely :(
𝗪/𝗖 | 849
𝗔/𝗡 | i didn’t want to spoil anything (his backstory/parents) but here’s a bit about stevie baby. Check out this beautiful art by @n00t-no0t of baby stevie<3
Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Growing up (alone) in the jungle wasn’t easy by any means.
Steve missed a lot of life lessons that would be mandatory to keep any normal human being alive in the wild. Things like building a shelter or fire, cooking, knowing what animals were friendly and which ones weren’t. Early on, he found out that he could eat almost anything (raw meat, bugs, fruit and it didn’t matter if it was good or bad, his body could handle anything), and Steve figured it must’ve been normal.
Until Bruce came along but that explanation involves spoilers, so shhh.
Steve is most proud of his beloved treehouse. It’s taken the most of his time too, stemming all the way to his childhood.
It started as a little hangout for him when it rained in the jungle, and his little tent couldn’t survive the puddles or sinking mud. So, he started sleeping in the trees and eventually found a favourite branch that had enough room for him to comfortably rest, with the perfect view of the daytime blue sky and the stars at night.
Slowly but surely, he began constructing his own base in his chosen tree. After plenty of logs, wood slabs and weaved vines over the course of his early teenage years, Steve made his safe place.
It wasn’t the best at the beginning, he wasn’t strong enough to carry what he needed or construct properly, even though he is enhanced, (he was too baby).
So, over time, he renovated his treehouse. Fixing as the days went by, expanding to the other branches, adding little ‘decorations’ like extra loincloth curtains (it was originally because his monkey friends would come and go as they please, and as he got older, Steve started valuing his privacy).
He even tried to make chains of his favourite flowers from around the island, tying them to a vine to add a little colour to the brown and green of his home, but those flowers wilted quickly. He was sad about that until he found that coconuts could be small portable homes for plants (he was stunned, plants growing not from the ground? World-breaking), so he found soil and picked his favourites, then gently replanted them in the hard coconut halves and spread them around his treehouse. He made sure to water them too. Because he knows he needs water, the other animals need water, so plants must too.
He’s gone through his own ‘phases,’ just like any other boy. Given the circumstances, his were very different.
He whittled his own toys to pass the time and carved into the bark of trees. Eventually, he made the (quite remarkable) discovery of charcoal and boom—he was drawing and sketching on cave walls and boulders.
He loved it.
It was magic to him, projecting his own memories and anything he desired onto a surface. It had the chance to stay there forever, and it helped him feel less lonely.
He also drew his friends, which were basically any animal he came across. The elephants, monkeys, gorillas, sloths, parrots, even a jaguar. His favourites to draw were Wendy and Peter whenever they stayed still for long enough.
It was always apparent to him that he didn’t look like his friends, he didn’t have fur all over his body, or spots or large claws or whiskers. The memories in the back of his mind were always hazy and he didn’t know why.
So, when he found a strange thing that stood on two legs, built of shiny material and emitted soft whirring noises, he was rightfully terrified.
And, he smashed it to pieces.
Shattering that thing’s screen face and tearing it limb from limb. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know how to react, (fight over flight for this fella).
After hiding away and examining it from a distance by poking it with a stick, Steve determined it wasn’t an animal, but he didn’t know if it was safe either.
So, when another arrived, he destroyed that one too. And the next. And the one after that, and so on.
Honestly, he didn’t know what was happening. To him, anything unfamiliar was a threat (poor baby).
Although, one time, it made a noise, “Wait!” The screen, the head, showed a creature who had the same evident features that Steve had.
Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth with squared teeth—no claws, or razor-sharp fangs, or fur. The only hair was on their head and above their eyes.
Still, fear won over curiosity, and he tore the head straight off that thing too.
Admittedly, he was upset. The first thing that ever remotely resembled him was lying on the dirt ground, buzzing and twitching.
He sulked for a few days after that until a new one arrived. It looked different, it was taller with thicker plating, it was stronger.
This time when the creature spoke, Steve didn’t tear the head off but a nearby gorilla did.
Steve didn’t know why, but he had a strong suspicion that the thing would return again. He just has to wait.
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hopefully I kept this as vague as possible while also giving you all a taste of Tarzan!Steve—I’m always open for feedback and feel free to share your thoughts !
