summer hole-idays: ethan and amy laughing and playfighting in the deep end of the pool while mark watches from the sidelines. ethan definitely, absolutely, 100% gets hard from it. maybe amy touches him under the water. maybe she raises an eyebrow at mark while she does it. maybe they're all already together or maybe this is the tipping point.
this one strayed a little from the prompt but i hope you like it anyway :')
“C’mon, Amy. Just give up.”
“Never.” Straddling Ethan on the pool’s edge, Amy pulled her bikini aside and rubbed his cock-head against her entrance.
Still thumbing her clit, he groaned, “No fair.”
She was soaked enough that his head slipped in, so she sat down and squeezed. She nibbled his earring, laughing when he whined, “Oh, fuck off,” and came.
Amy kissed him. “I win.”
“Again.” Mark ambled over with drinks. He kissed Amy, then Ethan. “Pretty embarrassing, man.”
Ethan scoffed, “Whatever,” chugged his Coke, lay back, and beckoned Amy to sit on his face. “Alright—come get your prize.”
i felt such immense joy when i got a notification that you were posting again ❤️
Awww thanks Cara, that’s so sweet 🥹
I just needed the right show to ignite the brain chemicals that make me wanna open this app haha. The last ep just aired though, so we’ll see how long the happy juices last this time 🥲
You know I need to ask about Zemo/Torres, Secret Sugar Daddy because I also have a fic with a similar name and I want to know how close ours are to being the same fic because of FCCU chats 😂
We have definitely had this convo before, and our similarly named WIPs are 100% based on the same FCCU chats. If you ever get back into Zemo someday, I would totally love to write this fic together because it was a great idea.
For anyone else who’s wondering (and @zsparz you asked about this too, I’ll be answering yours next), this is a story where Torres is working with SBZ on missions, and picks up a daddy on a sugar baby app as his side hustle. He doesn’t know his sugar daddy’s real identity, and of course, it’s Zemo.
Here, have everything I've written, since it's not much.
Torres mentions to his daddy that his upcoming job is somewhere warm and the next gift he receives is a selection of skimpy speedos, which he makes good use of when their mission gives them the chance to turn one of Zemo’s fancy Mediterranean villas into their safehouse for a few weeks. The place is like something out of a travel guide, with its lush courtyards and outdoor patios and grape-trellis enclosed pool area.
While they have a few days to kill, waiting for their contact and running remote surveillance, Zemo spends much of his time lounging poolside, wrapped in one of his many fine silk robes, fruity cocktail in hand, designer sunglasses perched on a slightly sunburned nose. He gives off the air of a man oblivious to his surroundings in his pampered state of leisure, but Torres gets the sense that behind his dark glasses, Zemo is watching him closely as he swims.
He should be weirded out by it. He should feel uneasy, left all alone out here to fend for himself against Sam and Bucky’s adopted terrorist. He knows what kind of man Zemo is, has read his files and details of all he’s done, has spent enough time with him on these missions to understand not to trust half the words that drip off his honeyed tongue.
But the truth is, having the older man’s hungry gaze on him is a bit of a turn on.
The intense midday sun glints on the water as he does lazy laps around the pool, and he can imagine how it must look rippling over the lean muscles of his back. As he pulls himself up onto the ledge after his swim, rivulets of it sluice down his chest, catching in the dips of his well-defined abs. He’s got a nice golden tan already, just from spending these first afternoons in the sun here, and he can feel Zemo’s eyes linger on him, running down his body appreciatively to settle at the telling bulge of his growing hard-on.
It’s titillating having Zemo’s attention on him like this, and the tiny, form-fitting swim shorts don’t hide a thing. He lets Zemo get an eyeful as he slowly towels off, reveling in the thrill of being watched.
Not one to miss an opportunity, he makes his way back to his room, still dripping wet and hard, to take some mirror selfies for his daddy in the ensuite bathroom. He’s well practiced at it by now, knows his best angles, turning just so into three-quarter profile to show off his tiny waist and clenching his muscles to get the desired definition. He squeezes a hand over his cock, gives it a few strokes over the speedo to get it nice and plump for the photo, and then snaps a few in quick succession, making sure to emphasize how well he fills out the tiny shorts.
Choosing the best shot, admiring how the light and shadow plays over his golden skin, what a fucking meal he looks like with the thick head of his cock threatening to burst out from the waistband of his shorts sitting low on his hips, he sends it off to his daddy with a quick message consisting of a string of eggplant and sweat drop emojis.
He doesn’t have to wait long before his phone dings with a reply.
I knew you’d look delectable in them, his daddy writes. Stream for me now?
Torres throws a glance out the window overlooking the pool to make sure Zemo’s still sitting out there on his lounger, and he is, right where Torres left him. Fortunately, the man seems completely engrossed with something on his phone, so Torres can be fairly certain he won’t be interrupted or overheard, can even make some extra noise while filming for his daddy.
He starts up a video call and trails a hand down his chest, over the firm plane of his stomach, slowly inching it down to dip his fingers beneath the stretch of hot pink and neon green lycra where the hefty bulge of his cock is tenting the fabric…
And lest we forget, this is the Torres thirst trap selfie that inspired the fic:
summer hole-idays: ... ethan just in swim trunks, pale and pretty beside a pool or on a beach somewhere and VERY aware that mark is watching him. that's it, that's the prompt. he probably gets hard about it. maybe he has to roll over onto his front and grind down against a bunched up towel or the sand or whatever is under him real casual, honestly i am just asking for ethan half-naked because of course i am 😌
again, this one got away from me a little, but i hope you enjoy it
When Mark grabbed Ethan’s waistband, Ethan knew he was caught.
“What’s up, Ethan?”
“Oh, uh. Nothing.”
“Yeah? Gettin’ some sun?” Mark pulled Ethan’s swim-trunks taut over his dick. “Enjoying the view?”
Gasping, “Yeah,” Ethan clutched his beach towel over his lap. Fingers snuck inside his pocket—he hoped anyone looking dismissed his flushed chest as sunburn.
Amy jogged over, flanked by dogs, pockets rattling with shells. “What’re you guys lookin’ at?”
“Nothing,” squeaked Ethan; Mark purred, “You.”
Assessing her baggy clothes, she snorted. “Seriously?”
“Mhm. You’re pretty. Right, Eth?”
“Uh huh,” Ethan whimpered as Mark groped him through his trunks.
