thudnerbolt boys when you go down on them in the showerr
Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob watch you go down on them in the shower
Warning: 18+ NSFW Minors DNI, lots of swearing, nudity in shower, explicit sexual content (pure dirty smut), oral sex (male receiving), praise kink, cumplay w/ swallowing, mild overstimulation, heavily detailed shower scene, and the boys just getting absolutely wrecked so please read at your own expense
Note: This is absolute filthy smut. Very explicit content below the cut. Please enjoy!
Thunderbolts Masterlist
Bucky: The hot water cascades down your skin as you run your hands through your wet hair. You tilt your head back ever so slightly and keep your eyes shut to relish the feeling of the water trailing down your body. It cleansed you of the day's hardships, relaxing the tight muscles in your shoulders in the process.
You barely register the soft knock before the door opens slightly. When you turn your head to peer through the foggy glass, Bucky stands in the doorway with his hand clutching the handle.
“Hey… mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice is low. His eyes shamelessly drag down the length of your body, drinking it all in for his own pleasure.
You know better than to rely on your voice so you nod your head timidly. You try to distract yourself and turn back to the shower head. But your heart begins to race when you hear the rustle of his clothes.
He steps in behind you only a moment later. His metal hand grazes your waist first; it's cool against the heat of your skin and his flesh hand tucks damp strands of hair off your neck.
Neither of you speaks at first. He simply presses close, his forehead resting against your shoulder and his lips ghosting over damp skin. You feel him breathe in slow and deep like he’s grounding himself with you.
When you finally turn to face him, his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted. His hands find your hips. He kisses you like he’s starving—soft at first, then deeper and wetter. His tongue sliding against yours. The water pounds against your backs as his hands slide down to lift your thigh, pulling you closer.
“You’re killin’ me,” he murmurs against your mouth. His voice ragged as he trails his mouth down your throat, sucking hard enough to leave bruises.
You let out a soft hum, teasing. “Good.”
Desperately needing you, Bucky leans forward to capture your lips once again, but the hand that shoots out lays flat against his chest and stops him. His brow furrows in slight confusion until he watches you sink to your knees in front of him.
“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand through his wet hair, cock already hard, thick, flushed dark.
Coming face to face with his hard length, you can't help but wrap your hand around him, stroking his length slow and deliberate. You glance up at him to watch the way his stomach tenses at the first stroke. His jaw clenches, lips parting on a broken breath as you lean in and lick a slow stripe along the thick vein.
“Shit,” he groans, leaning back against the tile.
You take him into your mouth—slow at first, inch by inch, until the thick head nudges the back of your throat. His breath punches out of him in a guttural moan. His metal hand grips the back of your head, trembling with restraint.
“Oh baby, fuck—” Bucky sounds so desperate, drunk on pleasure.
The heat of your mouth drives him insane. He can’t tear his eyes away, jaw clenched as he watches you suck him deeper, cheeks hollowing, water streaming down your skin. His thighs tense when you moan around him, the vibrations wrecking him completely.
His groans only grow louder as you suck him deeper, water streaming over both of you. His metal hand fists in your hair, his thighs trembling as you hollow your cheeks, working him with your mouth. He guides your head gently, thrusting his hips to fuck into the warm of your mouth. You happily take all that he has to offer.
“Please—please don’t stop,” he gasps, utterly wrecked, his thighs trembling as you take him deeper, swallowing around him. “You feel so fucking good—shit, I’m close—fuck, you’re gonna make me—”
He can’t even finish the sentence. His body tenses, hips jerking as the first pulse hits.
“Fuck—fuck—” Bucky groans, voice breaking completely as he spills in your mouth. It's hot and thick.
His metal hand gripping you like he’s barely holding on. His breath comes in ragged moans, head thrown back, his entire body shaking with the force of it.
You swallow around him, the warmth filling your mouth as he chokes on another broken gasp. His thighs tremble. He looks down at you—wrecked, flushed, eyes blown—watching you take every last drop with a look of dazed, breathless adoration.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, barely able to stand. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”
He pulls you up gently—hands cupping your face—pressing soft, trembling kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your forehead as the water pours down around you, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his chest.
John: The bathroom door clicks shut and the lock gets set in place. You already in the shower, but you don't look towards the noise. The quiet drag of his footsteps on tile sends a shiver down your spine. You know exactly who it is. You don’t need to look to feel the weight of his gaze raking over every inch of your wet, bare skin.
The door to the shower slides open slowly and he steps in behind you. Before you can even draw in a steady breath, his hands are on your hips—big, rough palms that roam over slick wet skin. His chest presses flush to your back; his cock already hard and heavy against the curve of your ass.
"Look at you," John's lips brush against the shell of your ear teasingly. The rasp of it makes your stomach clench. "You drive me crazy."
His fingers trail up, gliding over your ribs, sliding higher until they cup your breasts—palming and teasing. The rough pads of his thumbs brushing across peaked nipples as you shiver under the steady assault of his touch.
“You gonna be good for me?” he murmurs, teeth grazing your ear. “Gonna let me have you the way I need?”
Despite fighting everything in you to let him have you right there, you decide to flip it. You turn slowly to face him.
The water is running down the curve of your spine, your chest is brushing his as you look up at him through soaked lashes. Without a word, you sink to your knees on the slick floor.
John’s breath punches out of him in a low, wrecked sound. His cock twitches, hard and flushed. Then his hands fall uselessly to his sides because his control is slipping fast.
His cock is already hard, thick and heavy against his stomach, and when your hand wraps around him, his head tips back with a guttural growl.
“Fuck, sweetheart… ”John grits out. You take him into your mouth, sucking him deep, and working the underside of him with your tongue.
His hands tangle roughly in your hair, guiding you faster, groaning low and dark every time you moan around him. Your lips wrap around the head, tongue circling, tasting the salt of pre-come as you suck gently, then deeper. His fingers brush the wet strands of hair out of your face so he can get a better look at you.
“Look at you… fuck, you’re so good—so good for me—” John praises.
Every time you hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, his groans grow louder—rough, filthy sounds that let you know exactly how close he is.
“Shit—fuck—” His hips jerk forward. His hand is tightening, but he still fights to keep it controlled. You only take him deeper, your hand stroking the base in time with the slow bob of your head. “Fuck—gonna—gonna come—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”
You suck harder, moaning softly around him, and it’s over.
With a strangled groan, his whole body jerks, muscles locking tight as he spills in your mouth. His thighs tremble as you swallow, your hand stroking him through it as he pants your name like a curse.
“Fuck—fuck—” He shudders violently, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his cock twitching with the last aftershocks as you pull back and lick him clean just how he likes it.
When John finally manages to catch his breath, he lets out a wrecked, breathless laugh—still shaking, still ruined—before reaching down to pull you up and kiss you hard, tasting himself on your tongue, his hands gripping your face like he can’t let you go.
“Next time,” he murmurs roughly against your lips, voice still shot, “I’m not letting you get away with just that.”
Bob: When you made the announcement that you were going to shower and extended the invitation for him to join you, Bob was quiet as he followed you into the bathroom. He watched your every move—the way you laid your clothes out with careful hands, the soft way you folded a towel, the small hum of contentment as you tested the water temperature.
There was something so gentle in the way he looked at you. Like you were something fragile he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch.
He didn’t turn away when you started to undress. His eyes followed each slow reveal of skin, and he mirrored your actions without a word—shedding his layers until there was nothing left between you.
By the time the bathroom filled with steam, you stepped under the spray, sighing as the heat hit your skin. He came into the shower behind you and closed the shower door softly.
“Hey,” you murmured softly, offering a shy smile over your shoulder.
His tongue darting over his lips and he swallowed hard. “You’re… you’re beautiful,” he said, voice quiet almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.
He stepped closer, hands tentative at first—tracing the curve of your waist, fingertips feather-light as though still asking permission. His breath was shaky, his chest rising and falling faster as his hands slid over slick skin.
When you turned to face him fully, his eyes were wide, dark with something soft and achingly sweet. He captured your lips with his own, slow and gentle at first.
His tongue glides against your lower lip, tasting the water dripping from your mouth. He exhaled against you, then kissed you deeper this time, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer, pressing your bodies together beneath the stream.
“God, I love you,” Bob whispers against your mouth. Your lips curve into a beautiful smile.
When you pulled back, you held his gaze, your hands trailing down his chest. Then, without a word, you sank slowly to your knees on the slick tile.
Bob’s breath caught sharply. His eyes went impossibly wide, mouth parting in shock as his back hit the cool tile wall behind him. His cock was already hard—flushed and heavy—and he made the softest, broken sound when your hand wrapped around him.
“What are you—” Bob started, voice trembling, but it cut off in a sharp gasp when you leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the flushed tip. "You don’t have to—"
“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, looking up at him through wet lashes. That look you gave him made him cave.
“Oh Jesus—” he choked out, his head falling back for a split second before his eyes snapped back down, locked on you like he physically couldn’t look away.
The first pass of your tongue made his knees nearly buckle. His hand darted out and clutched at the wall for balance. The other buried instinctively in your wet hair, not to push but to anchor himself.
When you sucked him in deeper—slow, unhurried, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t take—he let out a wrecked, breathless moan.
“Baby—oh my God—” Bob’s voice cracked, soft and desperate, his eyes glassy as he watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way your cheeks hollowed. His whole body trembled, hips barely rocking forward, his self-control fraying fast.
You moaned softly around him, the vibrations making him whimper—an actual whimper, soft and helpless. You move your head a little faster, taking as much of him in your mouth as physically possible.
“Please—fuck—please don’t stop,” Bob gasped, his breath coming faster, the pink flush rising all the way to his throat. “Feels—feels so good—Jesus, I—”
His voice kept breaking—his cock twitching deep in your mouth—as you worked him steady, your eyes never leaving his flushed, wrecked face. He looked overwhelmed, lips parted, brows drawn tight like he could barely handle it.
“I—baby, I’m gonna—” His voice dissolved into a moan. His hips jerking helplessly as he came hard.
The hot salt of it filling your mouth in thick pulses. You swallowed around him, soft and slow, still stroking him gently as he shuddered, his legs nearly giving out. You greedily swallowed just about everything.
His hand trembled against your head, his breath torn from his lungs in broken little gasps: “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—fuck—”
When you finally pulled back, wiping your mouth, he was staring down at you with wide, dazed eyes, still breathless, still red, still visibly shaking.
“Are you okay?” you teased softly, standing to press a kiss to his jaw.
He let out a weak, wrecked laugh, pulling you into his arms and resting his forehead to yours.
“I’m—I’m more than okay,” Bob whispered, still trying to catch his breath. “You just… you ruin me.”
